The FORTUNES OF NIGEL
by Sir WALTER SCOTT Bart
INTRODUCTION
But why should lordlings all our praise engross?
Rise, honest man, and sing the Man of Ross.
Pope
Having, in the tale of the Heart of Mid-Lothian, succeeded in some
degree in awakening an interest in behalf of one devoid of those
accomplishments which belong to a heroine almost by right, I was next
tempted to choose a hero upon the same unpromising plan; and as worth
of character, goodness of heart, and rectitude of principle, were
necessary to one who laid no claim to high birth, romantic
sensibility, or any of the usual accomplishments of those who strut
through the pages of this sort of composition, I made free with the
name of a person who has left the most magnificent proofs of his
benevolence and charity that the capital of Scotland has to display.
To the Scottish reader little more need be said than that the man
alluded to is George Heriot. But for those south of the Tweed, it may
be necessary to add, that the person so named was a wealthy citizen of
Edinburgh, and the King's goldsmith, who followed James to the English
capital, and was so successful in his profession, as to die, in 1624,
extremely wealthy for that period. He had no children; and after
making a full provision for such relations as might have claims upon
him, he left the residue of his fortune to establish an hospital, in
which the sons of Edinburgh freemen are gratuitously brought up and
educated for the station to which their talents may recommend them,
and are finally enabled to enter life under respectable auspices. The
hospital in which this charity is maintained is a noble quadrangle of
the Gothic order, and as ornamental to the city as a building, as the
manner in which the youths are provided for and educated, renders it
useful to the community as an institution. To the honour of those who
have the management, (the Magistrates and Clergy of Edinburgh), the
funds of the Hospital have increased so much under their care, that it
now supports and educates one hundred and thirty youths annually, many
of whom have done honour to their country in different situations.
The founder of such a charity as this may be reasonably supposed to
have walked through life with a steady pace, and an observant eye,
neglecting no opportunity of assisting those who were not possessed of
the experience necessary for their own guidance. In supposing his
efforts directed to the benefit of a young nobleman, misguided by the
aristocratic haughtiness of his own time, and the prevailing tone of
selfish luxury which seems more peculiar to ours, as well as the
seductions of pleasure which are predominant in all, some amusement,
or even some advantage, might, I thought, be derived from the manner
in which I might bring the exertions of this civic Mentor to bear in
his pupil's behalf. I am, I own, no great believer in the moral
utility to be derived from fictitious compositions; yet, if in any
case a word spoken in season may be of advantage to a young person, it
must surely be when it calls upon him to attend to the voice of
principle and self-denial, instead of that of precipitate passion. I
could not, indeed, hope or expect to represent my prudent and
benevolent citizen in a point of view so interesting as that of the
peasant girl, who nobly sacrificed her family affections to the
integrity of her moral character. Still however, something I hoped
might be done not altogether unworthy the fame which George Heriot has
secured by the lasting benefits he has bestowed on his country.
It appeared likely, that out of this simple plot I might weave
something attractive; because the reign of James I., in which George
Heriot flourished, gave unbounded scope to invention in the fable,
while at the same time it afforded greater variety and discrimination
of character than could, with historical consistency, have been
introduced, if the scene had been laid a century earlier. Lady Mary
Wortley Montague has said, with equal truth and taste, that the most
romantic region of every country is that where the mountains unite
themselves with the plains or lowlands. For similiar reasons, it may
be in like manner said, that the most picturesque period of history is
that when the ancient rough and wild manners of a barbarous age are
just becoming innovated upon, and contrasted, by the illumination of
increased or revived learning, and the instructions of renewed or
reformed religion. The strong contrast produced by the opposition of
ancient manners to those which are gradually subduing them, affords
the lights and shadows necessary to give effect to a fictitious
narrative; and while such a period entitles the author to introduce
incidents of a marvellous and improbable character, as arising out of
the turbulent independence and ferocity, belonging to old habits of
violence, still influencing the manners of a people who had been so
lately in a barbarous state; yet, on the other hand, the characters
and sentiments of many of the actors may, with the utmost probability,
be described with great variety of shading and delineation, which
belongs to the newer and more improved period, of which the world has
but lately received the light.
The reign of James I. of England possessed this advantage in a
peculiar degree. Some beams of chivalry, although its planet had been
for some time set, continued to animate and gild the horizon, and
although probably no one acted precisely on its Quixotic dictates, men
and women still talked the chivalrous language of Sir Philip Sydney's
Arcadia; and the ceremonial of the tilt-yard was yet exhibited, though
it now only flourished as a Place de Carrousel. Here and there a high-
spirited Knight of the Bath, witness the too scrupulous Lord Herbert
of Cherbury, was found devoted enough to the vows he had taken, to
imagine himself obliged to compel, by the sword's-point, a fellow-
knight or squire to restore the top-knot of ribbon which he had stolen
from a fair damsel;[Footnote: See Lord Herbert of Cherbury's Memoirs.]
but yet, while men were taking each other's lives on such punctilios
of honour, the hour was already arrived when Bacon was about to teach
the world that they were no longer to reason from authority to fact,
but to establish truth by advancing from fact to fact, till they fixed
an indisputable authority, not from hypothesis, but from experiment.
The state of society in the reign of James I. was also strangely
disturbed, and the license of a part of the community was perpetually
giving rise to acts of blood and violence. The bravo of the Queen's
day, of whom Shakspeare has given us so many varieties, as Bardolph,
Nym, Pistol, Peto, and the other companions of Falstaff, men who had
their humours, or their particular turn of extravaganza, had, since
the commencement of the Low Country wars, given way to a race of
sworders, who used the rapier and dagger, instead of the far less
dangerous sword and buckler; so that a historian says on this subject,
"that private quarrels were nourished, but especially between the
Scots and English; and duels in every street maintained; divers sects
and peculiar titles passed unpunished and unregarded, as the sect of
the Roaring Boys, Bonaventors, Bravadors, Quarterors, and such like,
being persons prodigal, and of great expense, who, having run
themselves into debt, were constrained to run next into factions, to
defend themselves from danger of the law. These received countenance
from divers of the nobility; and the citizens, through lasciviousness
consuming their estates, it was like that the number [of these
desperadoes] would rather increase than diminish; and under these
pretences they entered into many desperate enterprizes, and scarce any
durst walk in the street after nine at night."[Footnote: history of
the First Fourteen Years of King James's Reign. See Somers's Tracts,
edited by Scott, vol. ii. p.266.]
The same authority assures us farther, that "ancient gentlemen, who
had left their inheritance whole and well furnished with goods and
chattels (having thereupon kept good houses) unto their sons, lived to
see part consumed in riot and excess, and the rest in possibility to
be utterly lost; the holy state of matrimony made but a May-game, by
which divers families had been subverted; brothel houses much
frequented, and even great persons, prostituting their bodies to the
intent to satisfy their lusts, consumed their substance in lascivious
appetites. And of all sorts, such knights and gentlemen, as either
through pride or prodigality--had consumed their substance, repairing
to the city, and to the intent to consume their virtue also, lived
dissolute lives; many of their ladies and daughters, to the intent to
maintain themselves according to their dignity, prostituting their
bodies in shameful manner. Ale-houses, dicing-houses, taverns, and
places of iniquity, beyond manner abounding in most places."
Nor is it only in the pages of a puritanical, perhaps a satirical
writer, that we find so shocking and disgusting a picture of the
coarseness of the beginning of the seventeenth century. On the
contrary, in all the comedies of the age, the principal character for
gaiety and wit is a young heir, who has totally altered the
establishment of the father to whom he has succeeded, and, to use the
old simile, who resembles a fountain, which plays off in idleness and
extravagance the wealth which its careful parents painfully had
assembled in hidden reservoirs.
And yet, while that spirit of general extravagance seemed at work over
a whole kingdom, another and very different sort of men were gradually
forming the staid and resolved characters, which afterwards displayed
themselves during the civil wars, and powerfully regulated and
affected the character of the whole English nation, until, rushing
from one extreme to another, they sunk in a gloomy fanaticism the
splendid traces of the reviving fine arts.
From the quotations which I have produced, the selfish and disgusting
conduct of Lord Dalgarno will not perhaps appear overstrained; nor
will the scenes in Whitefriars and places of similar resort seem too
highly coloured. This indeed is far from being the case. It was in
James I.'s reign that vice first appeared affecting the better classes
in its gross and undisguised depravity. The entertainments and
amusements of Elizabeth's time had an air of that decent restraint
which became the court of a maiden sovereign; and, in that earlier
period, to use the words of Burke, vice lost half its evil by being
deprived of all its grossness. In James's reign, on the contrary, the
coarsest pleasures were publicly and unlimitedly indulged, since,
according to Sir John Harrington, the men wallowed in beastly
delights; and even ladies abandoned their delicacy and rolled about in
intoxication. After a ludicrous account of a mask, in which the actors
had got drunk, and behaved themselves accordingly, he adds, "I have
much marvelled at these strange pageantries, and they do bring to my
recollection what passed of this sort in our Queen's days, in which I
was sometimes an assistant and partaker: but never did I see such lack
of good order and sobriety as I have now done. The gunpowder fright is
got out of all our heads, and we are going on hereabout as if the
devil was contriving every man should blow up himself by wild riot,
excess, and devastation of time and temperance. The great ladies do go
well masqued; and indeed, it be the only show of their modesty to
conceal their countenance, but alack, they meet with such countenance
to uphold their strange doings, that I marvel not at aught that
happens."[Footnote: Harrington's Nugae Antique, vol. ii. p. 352. For
the gross debauchery of the period, too much encouraged by the example
of the monarch, who was, in other respects, neither without talent nor
a good-natured disposition, see Winwood's Memorials, Howell's Letters,
and other Memorials of the time; but particularly, consult the Private
Letters and Correspondence of Steenie, _alias_ Buckingham, with his
reverend Dad and Gossip, King James, which abound with the grossest as
well as the most childish language. The learned Mr. D'Israeli, in an
attempt to vindicate the character of James, has only succeeded in
obtaining for himself the character of a skilful and ingenious
advocate, without much advantage to his royal client]
Such being the state of the court, coarse sensuality brought along
with it its ordinary companion, a brutal degree of undisguised
selfishness, destructive alike of philanthropy and good breeding; both
of which, in their several spheres, depend upon the regard paid by
each individual to the interest as well as the feelings of others. It
is in such a time that the heartless and shameless man of wealth and
power may, like the supposed Lord Dalgarno, brazen out the shame of
his villainies, and affect to triumph in their consequences, so long
as they were personally advantageous to his own pleasures or profit.
Alsatia is elsewhere explained as a cant name for Whitefriars, which,
possessing certain privileges of sanctuary, became for that reason a
nest of those mischievous characters who were generally obnoxious to
the law. These privileges were derived from its having been an
establishment of the Carmelites, or White Friars, founded says Stow,
in his Survey of London, by Sir Patrick Grey, in 1241. Edward I. gave
them a plot of ground in Fleet Street, to build their church upon. The
edifice then erected was rebuilt by Courtney, Earl of Devonshire, in
the reign of Edward. In the time of the Reformation the place retained
its immunities as a sanctuary, and James I. confirmed and added to
them by a charter in 1608. Shadwell was the first author who made some
literary use of Whitefriars, in his play of the Squire of Alsatia,
which turns upon the plot of the Adelphi of Terence.
In this old play, two men of fortune, brothers, educate two young men,
(sons to the one and nephews to the other,) each under his own
separate system of rigour and indulgence. The elder of the subjects of
this experiment, who has been very rigidly brought up, falls at once
into all the vices of the town, is debauched by the cheats and bullies
of Whitefriars, and, in a word, becomes the Squire of Alsatia. The
poet gives, as the natural and congenial inhabitants of the place,
such characters as the reader will find in the note. [Footnote:
"Cheatly, a rascal, who by reason of debts dares not stir out of
Whitefriars, but there inveigles young heirs of entail, and helps them
to goods and money upon great disadvantages, is bound for them, and
shares with them till he undoes them. A lewd, impudent, debauched
fellow, very expert in the cant about town.
"Shamwell, cousin to the Belfords, who, being ruined by Cheatly, is
made a decoy-duck for others, not daring to stir out of Alsatia, where
he lives. Is bound with Cheatly for heirs, and lives upon them a
dissolute debauched life.
"Captain Hackum, a blockheaded bully of Alsatia, a cowardly, impudent,
blustering fellow, formerly a sergeant in Flanders, who has run from
his colours, and retreated into Whitefriars for a very small debt,
where by the Alsatians he is dubb'd a captain, marries one that lets
lodgings, sells cherry-brandy, and is a bawd.
"Scrapeall a hypocritical, repeating, praying, psalm-singing, precise
fellow, pretending to great piety; a godly knave, who joins with
Cheatly, and supplies young heirs with goods, and money."--Dramatis
Personae to the Squire of Alsatia, SHADWELL'S Works, vol. iv.] The
play, as we learn from the dedication to the Earl of Dorset and
Middlesex, was successful above the author's expectations, "no comedy
these many years having filled the theatre so long together. And I had
the great honour," continues Shadwell, "to find so many friends, that
the house was never so full since it was built as upon the third day
of this play, and vast numbers went away that could not be admitted."
[Footnote: Dedication to the Squire of Alsatia, Shadwell's Works, vol.
iv.] From the Squire of Alsatia the author derived some few hints, and
learned the footing on which the bullies and thieves of the Sanctuary
stood with their neighbours, the fiery young students of the Temple,
of which some intimation is given in the dramatic piece.
Such are the materials to which the author stands indebted for the
composition of the Fortunes of Nigel, a novel, which may be perhaps
one of those that are more amusing on a second perusal, than when read
a first time for the sake of the story, the incidents of which are few
and meagre.
The Introductory Epistle is written, in Lucio's phrase, "according to
the trick," and would never have appeared had the writer meditated
making his avowal of the work. As it is the privilege of a masque or
incognito to speak in a feigned voice and assumed character, the
author attempted, while in disguise, some liberties of the same sort;
and while he continues to plead upon the various excuses which the
introduction contains, the present acknowledgment must serve as an
apology for a species of "hoity toity, whisky frisky" pertness of
manner, which, in his avowed character, the author should have
considered as a departure from the rules of civility and good taste.
ABBOTSFORD.
1st July, 1831.
INTRODUCTORY EPISTLE
CAPTAIN CLUTTERBUCK TO THE REVEREND
DR. DRYASDUST
DEAR SIR,
I readily accept of, and reply to the civilities with which you have
been pleased to honour me in your obliging letter, and entirely agree
with your quotation, of _"Quam bonum et quam jucundum!"_ We may indeed
esteem ourselves as come of the same family, or, according to our
country proverb, as being all one man's bairns; and there needed no
apology on your part, reverend and dear sir, for demanding of me any
information which I may be able to supply respecting the subject of
your curiosity. The interview which you allude to took place in the
course of last winter, and is so deeply imprinted on my recollection,
that it requires no effort to collect all its most minute details.
You are aware that the share which I had in introducing the Romance,
called THE MONASTERY, to public notice, has given me a sort of
character in the literature of our Scottish metropolis. I no longer
stand in the outer shop of our bibliopolists, bargaining for the
objects of my curiosity with an unrespective shop-lad, hustled among
boys who come to buy Corderies and copy-books, and servant girls
cheapening a pennyworth of paper, but am cordially welcomed by the
bibliopolist himself, with, "Pray, walk into the back-shop, Captain.
Boy, get a chair for Captain Clutterbuck. There is the newspaper,
Captain--to-day's paper;" or, "Here is the last new work--there is a
folder, make free with the leaves;" or, "Put it in your pocket and
carry it home;" or, "We will make a bookseller of you, sir, and you
shall have it at trade price." Or, perhaps if it is the worthy
trader's own publication, his liberality may even extend itself to--
"Never mind booking such a trifle to _you_, sir--it is an over-copy.
Pray, mention the work to your reading friends." I say nothing of the
snug well-selected literary party arranged round a turbot, leg of
five-year-old mutton, or some such gear, or of the circulation of a
quiet bottle of Robert Cockburn's choicest black--nay, perhaps, of his
new ones. All these are comforts reserved to such as are freemen of
the corporation of letters, and I have the advantage of enjoying them
in perfection. But all things change under the sun; and it is with no
ordinary feelings of regret, that, in my annual visits to the
metropolis, I now miss the social and warm-hearted welcome of the
quick-witted and kindly friend who first introduced me to the public;
who had more original wit than would have set up a dozen of professed
sayers of good things, and more racy humour than would have made the
fortune of as many more. To this great deprivation has been added, I
trust for a time only, the loss of another bibliopolical friend, whose
vigorous intellect, and liberal ideas, have not only rendered his
native country the mart of her own literature, but established there a
Court of Letters, which must command respect, even from those most
inclined to dissent from many of its canons. The effect of these
changes, operated in a great measure by the strong sense and sagacious
calculations of an individual, who knew how to avail himself, to an
unhoped-for extent, of the various kinds of talent which his country
produced, will probably appear more clearly to the generation which
shall follow the present.
I entered the shop at the Cross, to enquire after the health of my
worthy friend, and learned with satisfaction, that his residence in
the south had abated the rigour of the symptoms of his disorder.
Availing myself, then, of the privileges to which I have alluded, I
strolled onward in that labyrinth of small dark rooms, or _crypts_, to
speak our own antiquarian language, which form the extensive back-
settlements of that celebrated publishing-house. Yet, as I proceeded
from one obscure recess to another, filled, some of them with old
volumes, some with such as, from the equality of their rank on the
shelves, I suspected to be the less saleable modern books of the
concern, I could not help feeling a holy horror creep upon me, when I
thought of the risk of intruding on some ecstatic bard giving vent to
his poetical fury; or it might be, on the yet more formidable privacy
of a band of critics, in the act of worrying the game which they had
just run down. In such a supposed case, I felt by anticipation the
horrors of the Highland seers, whom their gift of deuteroscopy compels
to witness things unmeet for mortal eye; and who, to use the
expression of Collins,
----"heartless, oft, like moody madness, stare,
To see the phantom train their secret work prepare."
Still, however, the irresistible impulse of an undefined curiosity
drove me on through this succession of darksome chambers, till, like
the jeweller of Delhi in the house of the magician Bennaskar, I at
length reached a vaulted room, dedicated to secrecy and silence, and
beheld, seated by a lamp, and employed in reading a. blotted _revise_,
[Footnote: The uninitiated must be informed, that a second proof-sheet
is so called.] the person, or perhaps I should rather say the Eidolon,
or representative Vision of the AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY! You will not be
surprised at the filial instinct which enabled me at once to
acknowledge the features borne by this venerable apparition, and that
I at once bended the knee, with the classical salutation of, _Salve,
magne parens!_ The vision, however, cut me short, by pointing to a
seat, intimating at the same time, that my presence was not expected,
and that he had something to say to me.
I sat down with humble obedience, and endeavoured to note the features
of him with whom I now found myself so unexpectedly in society. But on
this point I can give your reverence no satisfaction; for, besides the
obscurity of the apartment, and the fluttered state of my own nerves,
I seemed to myself overwhelmed by a sense of filial awe, which
prevented my noting and recording what it is probable the personage
before me might most desire to have concealed. Indeed, his figure was
so closely veiled and wimpled, either with a mantle, morning-gown, or
some such loose garb, that the verses of Spenser might well have been
applied--
"Yet, certes, by her face and physnomy,
Whether she man or woman only were,
That could not any creature well descry."
I must, however, go on as I have begun, to apply the masculine gender;
for, notwithstanding very ingenious reasons, and indeed something like
positive evidence, have been offered to prove the Author of Waverley
to be two ladies of talent, I must abide by the general opinion, that
he is of the rougher sex. There are in his writings too many things
"Quae maribus sola tribuuntur,"
to permit me to entertain any doubt on that subject. I will proceed,
in the manner of dialogue, to repeat as nearly as I can what passed
betwixt us, only observing, that in the course of the conversation, my
timidity imperceptibly gave way under the familiarity of his address;
and that, in the concluding part of our dialogue, I perhaps argued
with fully as much confidence as was beseeming.
_Author of Waverley._ I was willing to see you, Captain Clutterbuck,
being the person of my family whom I have most regard for, since the
death of Jedediah Cleishbotham; and I am afraid I may have done you
some wrong, in assigning to you The Monastery as a portion of my
effects. I have some thoughts of making it up to you, by naming you
godfather to this yet unborn babe--(he indicated the proof-sheet with
his finger)--But first, touching The Monastery--How says the world--
you are abroad and can learn?
_Captain Clutterbuck._ Hem! hem!--The enquiry is delicate--I have not
heard any complaints from the Publishers.
_Author._ That is the principal matter; but yet an indifferent work is
sometimes towed on by those which have left harbour before it, with
the breeze in their poop.--What say the Critics?
_Captain._ There is a general--feeling--that the White Lady is no
favourite.
_Author._ I think she is a failure myself; but rather in execution
than conception. Could I have evoked an _esprit follet_, at the same
time fantastic and interesting, capricious and kind; a sort of
wildfire of the elements, bound by no fixed laws, or motives of
action; faithful and fond, yet teazing and uncertain----
_Captain._ If you will pardon the interruption, sir, I think you are
describing a pretty woman.
_Author._ On my word, I believe I am. I must invest my elementary
spirits with a little human flesh and blood--they are too fine-drawn
for the present taste of the public.
_Captain._ They object, too, that the object of your Nixie ought to
have been more uniformly noble--Her ducking the priest was no Naiad-
like amusement.
_Author._ Ah! they ought to allow for the capriccios of what is, after
all, but a better sort of goblin. The bath into which Ariel, the most
delicate creation of Shakspeare's imagination, seduces our jolly
friend Trinculo, was not of amber or rose-water. But no one shall find
me rowing against the stream. I care not who knows it--I write for
general amusement; and, though I never will aim at popularity by what
I think unworthy means, I will not, on the other hand, be pertinacious
in the defence of my own errors against the voice of the public.
_Captain._ You abandon, then, in the present work--(looking, in my
turn, towards the proof-sheet)--the mystic, and the magical, and the
whole system of signs, wonders, and omens? There are no dreams, or
presages, or obscure allusions to future events?
_Author._ Not a Cock-lane scratch, my son--not one bounce on the drum
of Tedworth--not so much as the poor tick of a solitary death-watch in
the wainscot. All is clear and above board--a Scots metaphysician
might believe every word of it.
_Captain._ And the story is, I hope, natural and probable; commencing
strikingly, proceeding naturally, ending happily--like the course of a
famed river, which gushes from the mouth of some obscure and romantic
grotto--then gliding on, never pausing, never precipitating its
course, visiting, as it were, by natural instinct, whatever worthy
subjects of interest are presented by the country through which it
passes--widening and deepening in interest as it flows on; and at
length arriving at the final catastrophe as at some mighty haven,
where ships of all kinds strike sail and yard?
_Author._ Hey! hey! what the deuce is all this? Why,'tis Ercles' vein,
and it would require some one much more like Hercules than I, to
produce a story which should gush, and glide, and never pause, and
visit, and widen, and deepen, and all the rest on't. I should be chin-
deep in the grave, man, before I had done with my task; and, in the
meanwhile, all the quirks and quiddities which I might have devised
for my reader's amusement, would lie rotting in my gizzard, like
Sancho's suppressed witticisms, when he was under his master's
displeasure.--There never was a novel written on this plan while the
world stood.
_Captain._ Pardon me--Tom Jones.
_Author._ True, and perhaps Amelia also. Fielding had high notions of
the dignity of an art which he may be considered as having founded. He
challenges a comparison between the Novel and the Epic. Smollett, Le
Sage, and others, emancipating themselves from the strictness of the
rules he has laid down, have written rather a history of the
miscellaneous adventures which befall an individual in the course of
life, than the plot of a regular and connected epopeia, where every
step brings us a point nearer to the final catastrophe. These great
masters have been satisfied if they amused the reader upon the road;
though the conclusion only arrived because the tale must have an end--
just as the traveller alights at the inn, because it is evening.
_Captain._ A very commodious mode of travelling, for the author at
least. In short, sir, you are of opinion with Bayes--"What the devil
does the plot signify, except to bring in fine things?"
_Author._ Grant that I were so, and that I should write with sense and
spirit a few scenes unlaboured and loosely put together, but which had
sufficient interest in them to amuse in one corner the pain of body;
in another, to relieve anxiety of mind; in a third place, to unwrinkle
a brow bent with the furrows of daily toil; in another, to fill the
place of bad thoughts, or to suggest better; in yet another, to induce
an idler to study the history of his country; in all, save where the
perusal interrupted the discharge of serious duties, to furnish
harmless amusement,--might not the author of such a work, however
inartificially executed, plead for his errors and negligences the
excuse of the slave, who, about to be punished for having spread the
false report of a victory, saved himself by exclaiming--"Am I to
blame, O Athenians, who have given you one happy day?"
_Captain._ Will your goodness permit me to mention an anecdote of my
excellent grandmother?
_Author._ I see little she can have to do with the subject, Captain
Clutterbuck.
_Captain._ It may come into our dialogue on Bayes's plan.--The
sagacious old lady--rest her soul!--was a good friend to the church,
and could never hear a minister maligned by evil tongues, without
taking his part warmly. There was one fixed point, however, at which
she always abandoned the cause of her reverend _protege_--it was so
soon as she learned he had preached a regular sermon against
slanderers and backbiters.
_Author._ And what is that to the purpose?
_Captain._ Only that I have heard engineers say, that one may betray
the weak point to the enemy, by too much ostentation of fortifying it.
_Author._ And, once more I pray, what is that to the purpose?
_Captain._ Nay, then, without farther metaphor, I am afraid this new
production, in which your generosity seems willing to give me some
concern, will stand much in need of apology, since you think proper to
begin your defence before the case is on trial.-The story is hastily
huddled up, I will venture a pint of claret.
_Author._ A pint of port, I suppose you mean?
_Captain._ I say of claret--good claret of the Monastery. Ah, sir,
would you but take the advice of your friends, and try to deserve at
least one-half of the public favour you have met with, we might all
drink Tokay!
_Author._ I care not what I drink, so the liquor be wholesome.
_Captain._ Care for your reputation, then,--for your fame.
_Author._ My fame?--I will answer you as a very ingenious, able, and
experienced friend, being counsel for the notorious Jem MacCoul,
replied to the opposite side of the bar, when they laid weight on his
client's refusing to answer certain queries, which they said any man
who had a regard for his reputation would not hesitate to reply to.
"My client," said he-by the way, Jem was standing behind him at the
time, and a rich scene it was-"is so unfortunate as to have no regard
for his reputation; and I should deal very uncandidly with the Court,
should I say he had any that was worth his attention."-I am, though
from very different reasons, in Jem's happy state of indifference. Let
fame follow those who have a substantial shape. A shadow-and an
impersonal author is nothing better-can cast no shade.
_Captain._ You are not now, perhaps, so impersonal as here-tofore.
These Letters to the Member for the University of Oxford--_Author._
Show the wit, genius, and delicacy of the author, which I heartily
wish to see engaged on a subject of more importance; and show,
besides, that the preservation of my character of _incongnito_ has
engaged early talent in the discussion of a curious question of
evidence. But a cause, however ingeniously pleaded, is not therefore
gained. You may remember, the neatly-wrought chain of circumstantial
evidence, so artificially brought forward to prove Sir Philip
Francis's title to the Letters of Junius, seemed at first
irrefragable; yet the influence of the reasoning has passed away, and
Junius, in the general opinion, is as much unknown as ever. But on
this subject I will not be soothed or provoked into saying one word
more. To say who I am not, would be one step towards saying who I am;
and as I desire not, any more than a certain justice of peace
mentioned by Shenstone, the noise or report such things make in the
world, I shall continue to be silent on a subject, which, in my
opinion, is very undeserving the noise that has been made about it,
and still more unworthy of the serious employment of such ingenuity as
has been displayed by the young letter-writer.
_Captain._ But allowing, my dear sir, that you care not for your
personal reputation, or for that of any literary person upon whose
shoulders your faults may be visited, allow me to say, that common
gratitude to the public, which has received you so kindly, and to the
critics, who have treated you so leniently, ought to induce you to
bestow more pains on your story.
_Author._ I do entreat you, my son, as Dr. Johnson would have said,
"free your mind from cant." For the critics, they have their business,
and I mine; as the nursery proverb goes--
"The children in Holland take pleasure in making What the children in
England take pleasure in breaking."
I am their humble jackal, too busy in providing food for them, to have
time for considering whether they swallow or reject it.--To the
public, I stand pretty nearly in the relation of the postman who
leaves a packet at the door of an individual. If it contains pleasing
intelligence, a billet from a mistress, a letter from an absent son, a
remittance from a correspondent supposed to be bankrupt,--the letter
is acceptably welcome, and read and re-read, folded up, filed, and
safely deposited in the bureau. If the contents are disagreeable, if
it comes from a dun or from a bore, the correspondent is cursed, the
letter is thrown into the fire, and the expense of postage is heartily
regretted; while all the time the bearer of the dispatches is, in
either case, as little thought on as the snow of last Christmas. The
utmost extent of kindness between the author and the public which can
really exist, is, that the world are disposed to be somewhat indulgent
to the succeeding works of an original favourite, were it but on
account of the habit which the public mind has acquired; while the
author very naturally thinks well of _their_ taste, who have so
liberally applauded _his_ productions. But I deny there is any call
for gratitude, properly so called, either on one side or the other.
_Captain._ Respect to yourself, then, ought to teach caution.
_Author._ Ay, if caution could augment the chance of my success. But,
to confess to you the truth, the works and passages in which I have
succeeded, have uniformly been written with the greatest rapidity; and
when I have seen some of these placed in opposition with others, and
commended as more highly finished, I could appeal to pen and standish,
that the parts in which I have come feebly off, were by much the more
laboured. Besides, I doubt the beneficial effect of too much delay,
both on account of the author and the public. A man should strike
while the iron is hot, and hoist sail while the wind is fair. If a
successful author keep not the stage, another instantly takes his
ground. If a writer lie by for ten years ere he produces a second
work, he is superseded by others; or, if the age is so poor of genius
that this does not happen, his own reputation becomes his greatest
obstacle. The public will expect the new work to be ten times better
than its predecessor; the author will expect it should be ten times
more popular, and 'tis a hundred to ten that both are disappointed.
_Captain_. This may justify a certain degree of rapidity in
publication, but not that which is proverbially said to be no speed.
You should take time at least to arrange your story.
_Author_. That is a sore point with me, my son. Believe me, I have not
been fool enough to neglect ordinary precautions. I have repeatedly
laid down my future work to scale, divided it into volumes and
chapters, and endeavoured to construct a story which I meant should
evolve itself gradually and strikingly, maintain suspense, and
stimulate curiosity; and which, finally, should terminate in a
striking catastrophe. But I think there is a demon who seats himself
on the feather of my pen when I begin to write, and leads it astray
from the purpose. Characters expand under my hand; incidents are
multiplied; the story lingers, while the materials increase; my
regular mansion turns out a Gothic anomaly, and the work is closed
long before I have attained the point I proposed.
_Captain_. Resolution and determined forbearance might remedy that
evil.
_Author_. Alas! my dear sir, you do not know the force of paternal
affection. When I light on such a character as Bailie Jarvie, or
Dalgetty, my imagination brightens, and my conception becomes clearer
at every step which I take in his company, although it leads me many a
weary mile away from the regular road, and forces me leap hedge and
ditch to get back into the route again. If I resist the temptation, as
you advise me, my thoughts become prosy, flat, and dull; I write
painfully to myself, and under a consciousness of flagging which makes
me flag still more; the sunshine with which fancy had invested the
incidents, departs from them, and leaves every thing dull and gloomy.
I am no more the same author I was in my better mood, than the dog in
a wheel, condemned to go round and round for hours, is like the same
dog merrily chasing his own tail, and gambolling in all the frolic of
unrestrained freedom. In short, sir, on such occasions, I think I am
bewitched.
_Captain_. Nay, sir, if you plead sorcery, there is no more to be
said--he must needs go whom the devil drives. And this, I suppose,
sir, is the reason why you do not make the theatrical attempt to which
you have been so often urged?
_Author_. It may pass for one good reason for not writing a play, that
I cannot form a plot. But the truth is, that the idea adopted by too
favourable judges, of my having some aptitude for that department of
poetry, has been much founded on those scraps of old plays, which,
being taken from a source inaccessible to collectors, they have
hastily considered the offspring of my mother-wit. Now, the manner in
which I became possessed of these fragments is so extraordinary, that
I cannot help telling it to you.
You must know, that, some twenty years since, I went down to visit an
old friend in Worcestershire, who had served with me in the----
Dragoons.
_Captain._ Then you _have_ served, sir?
_Author._ I have--or I have not, which signifies the same thing--
Captain is a good travelling name.--I found my friend's house
unexpectedly crowded with guests, and, as usual, was condemned--the
mansion being an old one--to the _haunted apartment._ I have, as a
great modern said, seen too many ghosts to believe in them, so betook
myself seriously to my repose, lulled by the wind rustling among the
lime-trees, the branches of which chequered the moonlight which fell
on the floor through the diamonded casement, when, behold, a darker
shadow interposed itself, and I beheld visibly on the floor of the
apartment--
_Captain._ The White Lady of Avenel, I suppose?--You have told the
very story before.
_Author._ No--I beheld a female form, with mob-cap, bib, and apron,
sleeves tucked up to the elbow, a dredging-box in the one hand, and in
the other a sauce-ladle. I concluded, of course, that it was my
friend's cook-maid walking in her sleep; and as I knew he had a value
for Sally, who could toss a pancake with any girl in the country, I
got up to conduct her safely to the door. But as I approached her, she
said,--"Hold, sir! I am not what you take me for;"--words which seemed
so opposite to the circumstances, that I should not have much minded
them, had it not been for the peculiarly hollow sound in which they
were uttered.--"Know, then," she said, in the same unearthly accents,
"that I am the spirit of Betty Barnes."--"Who hanged herself for love
of the stage-coachman," thought I; "this is a proper spot of work!"--
"Of that unhappy Elizabeth or Betty Barnes, long cook-maid to Mr.
Warburton, the painful collector, but ah! the too careless custodier,
of the largest collection of ancient plays ever known--of most of
which the titles only are left to gladden the Prolegomena of the
Variorum Shakspeare. Yes, stranger, it was these ill-fated hands That
consigned to grease and conflagration the scores of small quartos,
which, did they now exist, would drive the whole Roxburghe Club out of
their senses--it was these unhappy pickers and stealers that singed
fat fowls and wiped dirty trenchers with the lost works of Beaumont
and Fletcher, Massinger, Jonson, Webster--what shall I say?--even of
Shakspeare himself!"
Like every dramatic antiquary, my ardent curiosity after some play
named in the Book of the Master of Revels, had often been checked by
finding the object of my research numbered amongst the holocaust of
victims which this unhappy woman had sacrificed to the God of Good
Cheer. It is no wonder then, that, like the Hermit of Parnell,
"I broke the bands of fear, and madly cried,
'You careless jade!'--But scarce the words began,
When Betty brandish'd high her saucing-pan."
"Beware," she said, "you do not, by your ill-timed anger, cut off the
opportunity I yet have to indemnify the world for the errors of my
ignorance. In yonder coal-hole, not used for many a year, repose the
few greasy and blackened fragments of the elder Drama which were not
totally destroyed. Do thou then"--Why, what do you stare at, Captain?
By my soul, it is true; as my friend Major Longbow says, "What should
I tell you a lie for?"
_Captain._ Lie, sir! Nay, Heaven forbid I should apply the word to a
person so veracious. You are only inclined to chase your tail a little
this morning, that's all. Had you not better reserve this legend to
form an introduction to "Three Recovered Dramas," or so?
_Author._ You are quite right--habit's a strange thing, my son. I had
forgot whom I was speaking to. Yes, Plays for the closet, not for the
stage--
_Captain._ Right, and so you are sure to be acted; for the managers,
while thousands of volunteers are desirous of serving them, are
wonderfully partial to pressed men.
_Author._ I am a living witness, having been, like a second Laberius,
made a dramatist whether I would or not. I believe my muse would be
_Terry_-fied into treading the stage, even if I should write a sermon.
_Captain._ Truly, if you did, I am afraid folks might make a farce of
it; and, therefore, should you change your style, I still advise a
volume of dramas like Lord Byron's.
_Author._ No, his lordship is a cut above me--I won't run my horse
against his, if I can help myself. But there is my friend Allan has
written just such a play as I might write myself, in a very sunny day,
and with one of Bramah's extra-patent pens. I cannot make neat work
without such appurtenances.
_Captain._ Do you mean Allan Ramsay?
_Author._ No, nor Barbara Allan either. I mean Allan Cunningham, who
has just published his tragedy of Sir Marmaduke Maxwell, full of
merry-making and murdering, kissing and cutting of throats, and
passages which lead to nothing, and which are very pretty passages for
all that. Not a glimpse of probability is there about the plot, but so
much animation in particular passages, and such a vein of poetry
through the whole, as I dearly wish I could infuse into my Culinary
Remains, should I ever be tempted to publish them. With a popular
impress, people would read and admire the beauties of Allan--as it is,
they may perhaps only note his defects--or, what is worse, not note
him at all.--But never mind them, honest Allan; you are a credit to
Caledonia for all that.--There are some lyrical effusions of his, too,
which you would do well to read, Captain. "It's hame, and it's hame,"
is equal to Burns.
_Captain._ I will take the hint. The club at Kennaquhair are turned
fastidious since Catalan! visited the Abbey. My "Poortith Cauld" has
been received both poorly and coldly, and "the Banks of Bonnie Doon"
have been positively coughed down--_Tempora mutantur._
_Author._ They cannot stand still, they will change with all of us.
What then?
"A man's a man for a' that."
But the hour of parting approaches.
_Captain._ You are determined to proceed then in your own system? Are
you aware that an unworthy motive may be assigned for this rapid
succession of publication? You will be supposed to work merely for the
lucre of gain.
_Author._ Supposing that I did permit the great advantages which must
be derived from success in literature, to join with other motives in
inducing me to come more frequently before the public,--that emolument
is the voluntary tax which the public pays for a certain species of
literary amusement--it is extorted from no one, and paid, I presume,
by those only who can afford it, and who receive gratification in
proportion to the expense. If the capital sum which these volumes have
put into circulation be a very large one, has it contributed to my
indulgences only? or can I not say to hundreds, from honest Duncan the
paper-manufacturer, to the most snivelling of the printer's devils,
"Didst thou not share? Hadst thou not fifteen pence?" I profess I
think our Modern Athens much obliged to me for having established such
an extensive manufacture; and when universal suffrage comes in
fashion, I intend to stand for a seat in the House on the interest of
all the unwashed artificers connected with literature.
_Captain._ This would be called the language of a calico-manufacturer.
_Author._ Cant again, my dear son--there is lime in this sack, too--
nothing but sophistication in this world! I do say it, in spite of
Adam Smith and his followers, that a successful author is a productive
labourer, and that his works constitute as effectual a part of the
public wealth, as that which is created by any other manufacture. If a
new commodity, having an actually intrinsic and commercial value, be
the result of the operation, why are the author's bales of books to be
esteemed a less profitable part of the public stock than the goods of
any other manufacturer? I speak with reference to the diffusion of the
wealth arising to the public, and the degree of industry which even
such a trifling work as the present must stimulate and reward, before
the volumes leave the publisher's shop. Without me it could not exist,
and to this extent I am a benefactor to the country. As for my own
emolument, it is won by my toil, and I account myself answerable to
Heaven only for the mode in which I expend it. The candid may hope it
is not all dedicated to selfish purposes; and, without much
pretensions to merit in him who disburses it, a part may "wander,
heaven-directed, to the poor."
_Captain._ Yet it is generally held base to write from the mere
motives of gain.
_Author._ It would be base to do so exclusively, or even to make it a
principal motive for literary exertion. Nay, I will venture to say,
that no work of imagination, proceeding from the mere consideration of
a certain sum of copy-money, ever did, or ever will, succeed. So the
lawyer who pleads, the soldier who fights, the physician who
prescribes, the clergyman--if such there be--who preaches, without any
zeal for his profession, or without any sense of its dignity, and
merely on account of the fee, pay, or stipend, degrade themselves to
the rank of sordid mechanics. Accordingly, in the case of two of the
learned faculties at least, their services are considered as
unappreciable, and are acknowledged, not by any exact estimate of the
services rendered, but by a _honorarium,_ or voluntary acknowledgment.
But let a client or patient make the experiment of omitting this
little ceremony of the honorarium, which is _cense_ to be a thing
entirely out of consideration between them, and mark how the learned
gentleman will look upon his case. Cant set apart, it is the same
thing with literary emolument. No man of sense, in any rank of life,
is, or ought to be, above accepting a just recompense for his time,
and a reasonable share of the capital which owes its very existence to
his exertions. When Czar Peter wrought in the trenches, he took the
pay of a common soldier; and nobles, statesmen, and divines, the most
distinguished of their time, have not scorned to square accounts with
their bookseller.
_Captain. (Sings._)
"O if it were a mean thing,
The gentles would not use it;
And if it were ungodly,
The clergy would refuse it."
_Author._ You say well. But no man of honour, genius, or spirit, would
make the mere love of gain, the chief, far less the only, purpose of
his labours. For myself, I am not displeased to find the game a
winning one; yet while I pleased the public, I should probably
continue it merely for the pleasure of playing; for I have felt as
strongly as most folks that love of composition, which is perhaps the
strongest of all instincts, driving the author to the pen, the painter
to the pallet, often without either the chance of fame or the prospect
of reward. Perhaps I have said too much of this. I might, perhaps,
with as much truth as most people, exculpate myself from the charge of
being either of a greedy or mercenary disposition; but I am not,
therefore, hypocrite enough to disclaim the ordinary motives, on
account of which the whole world around me is toiling unremittingly,
to the sacrifice of ease, comfort, health, and life. I do not affect
the disinterestedness of that ingenious association of gentlemen
mentioned by Goldsmith, who sold their magazine for sixpence a-piece,
merely for their own amusement.
_Captain._ I have but one thing more to hint.--The world say you will
run yourself out.
_Author._ The world say true: and what then? When they dance no
longer, I will no longer pipe; and I shall not want flappers enough to
remind me of the apoplexy.
_Captain._ And what will become of us then, your poor family? We shall
fall into contempt and oblivion.
_Author._ Like many a poor fellow, already overwhelmed with the number
of his family, I cannot help going on to increase it--"'Tis my
vocation, Hal."--Such of you as deserve oblivion--perhaps the whole of
you--may be consigned to it. At any rate, you have been read in your
day, which is more than can be said of some of your contemporaries, of
less fortune and more merit. They cannot say but that you _had_ the
crown. It is always something to have engaged the public attention for
seven years. Had I only written Waverley, I should have long since
been, according to the established phrase, "the ingenious author of a
novel much admired at the time." I believe, on my soul, that the
reputation of Waverley is sustained very much by the praises of those,
who may be inclined to prefer that tale to its successors.
_Captain._ You are willing, then, to barter future reputation for
present popularity?
_Author. Meliora spero._ Horace himself expected not to survive in all
his works--I may hope to live in some of mine;--_non omnis moriar._ It
is some consolation to reflect, that the best authors in all countries
have been the most voluminous; and it has often happened, that those
who have been best received in their own time, have also continued to
be acceptable to posterity. I do not think so ill of the present
generation, as to suppose that its present favour necessarily infers
future condemnation.
_Captain._ Were all to act on such principles, the public would be
inundated.
_Author_ Once more, my dear son, beware of cant. You speak as if the
public were obliged to read books merely because they are printed--
your friends the booksellers would thank you to make the proposition
good. The most serious grievance attending such inundations as you
talk of, is, that they make rags dear. The multiplicity of
publications does the present age no harm, and may greatly advantage
that which is to succeed us.
_Captain._ I do not see how that is to happen.
_Author._ The complaints in the time of Elizabeth and James, of the
alarming fertility of the press, were as loud as they are at present--
yet look at the shore over which the inundation of that age flowed,
and it resembles now the Rich Strand of the Faery Queen--
----"Besrrew'd all with rich array,
Of pearl and precious stones of great assay;
And all the gravel mix'd with golden ore."
Believe me, that even in the most neglected works of the present age,
the next may discover treasures.
_Captain._ Some books will defy all alchemy.
_Author._ They will be but few in number; since, as for the writers,
who are possessed of no merit at all, unless indeed they publish their
works at their own expense, like Sir Richard Blackmore, their power of
annoying the public will be soon limited by the difficulty of finding
undertaking booksellers.
_Captain._ You are incorrigible. Are there no bounds to your audacity?
_Author._ There are the sacred and eternal boundaries of honour and
virtue. My course is like the enchanted chamber of Britomart--
"Where as she look'd about, she did behold
How over that same door was likewise writ,
_Be Bold--Be Bold,_ and everywhere _Be Bold._
Whereat she mused, and could not construe it;
At last she spied at that room's upper end
Another iron door, on which was writ--
BE NOT TOO BOLD."
_Captain._ Well, you must take the risk of proceeding on your own
principles.
_Author._ Do you act on yours, and take care you do not stay idling
here till the dinner hour is over.--I will add this work to your
patrimony, _valeat quantum._
Here our dialogue terminated; for a little sooty-faced Apollyon from
the Canongate came to demand the proof-sheet on the part of Mr.
M'Corkindale; and I heard Mr. C. rebuking Mr. F. in another
compartment of the same labyrinth I have described, for suffering any
one to penetrate so far into the _penetralia_ of their temple.
I leave it to you to form your own opinion concerning the import of
this dialogue, and I cannot but believe I shall meet the wishes of our
common parent in prefixing this letter to the work which it concerns.
I am, reverend and dear Sir,
Very sincerely and affectionately
Yours,
THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL
_Knifegrinder._ Story? Lord bless you! I have none to tell, sir.
_Poetry of the Antijacobin._
THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL
CHAPTER I
Now Scot and English are agreed,
And Saunders hastes to cross the Tweed,
Where, such the splendours that attend him,
His very mother scarce had kend him.
His metamorphosis behold,
From Glasgow frieze to cloth of gold;
His back-sword, with the iron hilt,
To rapier, fairly hatch'd and gilt;
Was ever seen a gallant braver!
His very bonnet's grown a beaver.
_The Reformation._
The long-continued hostilities which had for centuries separated the
south and the north divisions of the Island of Britain, had been
happily terminated by the succession of the pacific James I. to the
English Crown. But although the united crown of England and Scotland
was worn by the same individual, it required a long lapse of time, and
the succession of more than one generation, ere the inveterate
national prejudices which had so long existed betwixt the sister
kingdoms were removed, and the subjects of either side of the Tweed
brought to regard those upon the opposite bank as friends and as
brethren.
These prejudices were, of course, most inveterate during the reign of
King James. The English subjects accused him of partiality to those of
his ancient kingdom; while the Scots, with equal injustice, charged
him with having forgotten the land of his nativity, and with
neglecting those early friends to whose allegiance he had been so much
indebted.
The temper of the king, peaceable even to timidity, inclined him
perpetually to interfere as mediator between the contending factions,
whose brawls disturbed the Court. But, notwithstanding all his
precautions, historians have recorded many instances, where the mutual
hatred of two nations, who, after being enemies for a thousand years,
had been so very recently united, broke forth with a fury which
menaced a general convulsion; and, spreading from the highest to the
lowest classes, as it occasioned debates in council and parliament,
factions in the court, and duels among the gentry, was no less
productive of riots and brawls amongst the lower orders.
While these heart-burnings were at the highest, there flourished in
the city of London an ingenious but whimsical and self opinioned
mechanic, much devoted to abstract studies, David Ramsay by name, who,
whether recommended by his great skill in his profession, as the
courtiers alleged, or, as was murmured among the neighbours, by his
birthplace, in the good town of Dalkeith, near Edinburgh, held in
James's household the post of maker of watches and horologes to his
Majesty. He scorned not, however, to keep open shop within Temple Bar,
a few yards to the eastward of Saint Dunstan's Church.
The shop of a London tradesman at that time, as it may be supposed,
was something very different from those we now see in the same
locality. The goods were exposed to sale in cases, only defended from
the weather by a covering of canvass, and the whole resembled the
stalls and booths now erected for the temporary accommodation of
dealers at a country fair, rather than the established emporium of a
respectable citizen. But most of the shopkeepers of note, and David
Ramsay amongst others, had their booth connected with a small
apartment which opened backward from it, and bore the same resemblance
to the front shop that Robinson Crusoe's cavern did to the tent which
he erected before it.
To this Master Ramsay was often accustomed to retreat to the labour of
his abstruse calculations; for he aimed at improvements and
discoveries in his own art, and sometimes pushed his researches, like
Napier, and other mathematicians of the period, into abstract science.
When thus engaged, he left the outer posts of his commercial
establishment to be maintained by two stout-bodied and strong-voiced
apprentices, who kept up the cry of, "What d'ye lack? what d'ye lack?"
accompanied with the appropriate recommendations of the articles in
which they dealt.
This direct and personal application for custom to those who chanced
to pass by, is now, we believe, limited to Monmouth Street, (if it
still exists even in that repository of ancient garments,) under the
guardianship of the scattered remnant of Israel. But at the time we
are speaking of, it was practised alike by Jew and Gentile, and
served, instead of all our present newspaper puffs and advertisements,
to solicit the attention of the public in general, and of friends in
particular, to the unrivalled excellence of the goods, which they
offered to sale upon such easy terms, that it might fairly appear that
the venders had rather a view to the general service of the public,
than to their own particular advantage.
The verbal proclaimers of the excellence of their commodities, had
this advantage over those who, in the present day, use the public
papers for the same purpose, that they could in many cases adapt their
address to the peculiar appearance and apparent taste of the
passengers. [This, as we have said, was also the case in Monmouth
Street in our remembrance. We have ourselves been reminded of the
deficiencies of our femoral habiliments, and exhorted upon that score
to fit ourselves more beseemingly; but this is a digression.] This
direct and personal mode of invitation to customers became, however, a
dangerous temptation to the young wags who were employed in the task
of solicitation during the absence of the principal person interested
in the traffic; and, confiding in their numbers and civic union, the
'prentices of London were often seduced into taking liberties with the
passengers, and exercising their wit at the expense of those whom they
had no hopes of converting into customers by their eloquence. If this
were resented by any act of violence, the inmates of each shop were
ready to pour forth in succour; and in the words of an old song which
Dr. Johnson was used to hum,--
"Up then rose the 'prentices all,
Living in London, both proper and tall."
Desperate riots often arose on such occasions, especially when the
Templars, or other youths connected with the aristocracy, were
insulted, or conceived themselves to be so. Upon such occasions, bare
steel was frequently opposed to the clubs of the citizens, and death
sometimes ensued on both sides. The tardy and inefficient police of
the time had no other resource than by the Alderman of the ward
calling out the householders, and putting a stop to the strife by
overpowering numbers, as the Capulets and Montagues are separated upon
the stage.
At the period when such was the universal custom of the most
respectable, as well as the most inconsiderable, shopkeepers in
London, David Ramsay, on the evening to which we solicit the attention
of the reader, retiring to more abstruse and private labours, left the
administration of his outer shop, or booth, to the aforesaid sharp-
witted, active, able-bodied, and well-voiced apprentices, namely,
Jenkin Vincent and Frank Tunstall.
Vincent had been educated at the excellent foundation of Christ's
Church Hospital, and was bred, therefore, as well as born, a Londoner,
with all the acuteness, address, and audacity which belong peculiarly
to the youth of a metropolis. He was now about twenty years old, short
in stature, but remarkably strong made, eminent for his feats upon
holidays at foot-ball, and other gymnastic exercises; scarce rivalled
in the broad-sword play, though hitherto only exercised in the form of
single-stick. He knew every lane, blind alley, and sequestered court
of the ward, better than his catechism; was alike active in his
master's affairs, and in his own adventures of fun and mischief; and
so managed matters, that the credit he acquired by the former bore him
out, or at least served for his apology, when the latter propensity
led him into scrapes, of which, however, it is but fair to state, that
they had hitherto inferred nothing mean or discreditable. Some
aberrations there were, which David Ramsay, his master, endeavoured to
reduce to regular order when he discovered them, and others which he
winked at--supposing them to answer the purpose of the escapement of a
watch, which disposes of a certain quantity of the extra power of that
mechanical impulse which puts the whole in motion.
The physiognomy of Jin Vin--by which abbreviation he was familiarly
known through the ward--corresponded with the sketch we have given of
his character. His head, upon which his 'prentice's flat cap was
generally flung in a careless and oblique fashion, was closely covered
with thick hair of raven black, which curled naturally and closely,
and would have grown to great length, but for the modest custom
enjoined by his state in life and strictly enforced by his master,
which compelled him to keep it short-cropped,--not unreluctantly, as
he looked with envy on the flowing ringlets, in which the courtiers,
and aristocratic students of the neighbouring Temple, began to indulge
themselves, as marks of superiority and of gentility.
Vincent's eyes were deep set in his head, of a strong vivid black,
full of fire, roguery, and intelligence, and conveying a humorous
expression, even while he was uttering the usual small-talk of his
trade, as if he ridiculed those who were disposed to give any weight
to his commonplaces. He had address enough, however, to add little
touches of his own, which gave a turn of drollery even to this
ordinary routine of the booth; and the alacrity of his manner--his
ready and obvious wish to oblige--his intelligence and civility, when
he thought civility necessary, made him a universal favourite with his
master's customers.
His features were far from regular, for his nose was flattish, his
mouth tending to the larger size, and his complexion inclining to be
more dark than was then thought consistent with masculine beauty. But,
in despite of his having always breathed the air of a crowded city,
his complexion had the ruddy and manly expression of redundant health;
his turned-up nose gave an air of spirit and raillery to what he said,
and seconded the laugh of his eyes; and his wide mouth was garnished
with a pair of well-formed and well-coloured lips, which, when he
laughed, disclosed a range of teeth strong and well set, and as white
as the very pearl. Such was the elder apprentice of David Ramsay,
Memory's Monitor, watchmaker, and constructor of horologes, to his
Most Sacred Majesty James I.
Jenkin's companion was the younger apprentice, though, perhaps, he
might be the elder of the two in years. At any rate, he was of a much
more staid and composed temper. Francis Tunstall was of that ancient
and proud descent who claimed the style of the "unstained;" because,
amid the various chances of the long and bloody wars of the Roses,
they had, with undeviating faith, followed the House of Lancaster, to
which they had originally attached themselves. The meanest sprig of
such a tree attached importance to the root from which it derived
itself; and Tunstall was supposed to nourish in secret a proportion of
that family pride, which had exhorted tears from his widowed and
almost indigent mother, when she saw herself obliged to consign him to
a line of life inferior, as her prejudices suggested, to the course
held by his progenitors. Yet, with all this aristocratic prejudice,
his master found the well-born youth more docile, regular, and
strictly attentive to his duty, than his far more active and alert
comrade. Tunstall also gratified his master by the particular
attention which he seemed disposed to bestow on the abstract
principles of science connected with the trade which he was bound to
study, the limits of which were daily enlarged with the increase of
mathematical science.
Vincent beat his companion beyond the distance-post, in every thing
like the practical adaptation of thorough practice, in the dexterity
of hand necessary to execute the mechanical branches of the art, and
doubled-distanced him in all respecting the commercial affairs of the
shop. Still David Ramsay was wont to say, that if Vincent knew how to
do a thing the better of the two, Tunstall was much better acquainted
with the principles on which it ought to be done; and he sometimes
objected to the latter, that he knew critical excellence too well ever
to be satisfied with practical mediocrity.
The disposition of Tunstall was shy, as well as studious; and, though
perfectly civil and obliging, he never seemed to feel himself in his
place while he went through the duties of the shop. He was tall and
handsome, with fair hair, and well-formed limbs, good features, well-
opened light-blue eyes, a straight Grecian nose, and a countenance
which expressed both good-humour and intelligence, but qualified by a
gravity unsuitable to his years, and which almost amounted to
dejection. He lived on the best of terms with his companion, and
readily stood by him whenever he was engaged in any of the frequent
skirmishes, which, as we have already observed, often disturbed the
city of London about this period. But though Tunstall was allowed to
understand quarter-staff (the weapon of the North country) in a
superior degree, and though he was naturally both strong and active,
his interference in such affrays seemed always matter of necessity;
and, as he never voluntarily joined either their brawls or their
sports, he held a far lower place in the opinion of the youth of the
ward than his hearty and active friend Jin Vin. Nay, had it not been
for the interest made for his comrade, by the intercession of Vincent,
Tunstall would have stood some chance of being altogether excluded
from the society of his contemporaries of the same condition, who
called him, in scorn, the Cavaliero Cuddy, and the Gentle Tunstall.
On the other hand, the lad himself, deprived of the fresh air in which
he had been brought up, and foregoing the exercise to which he had
formerly been accustomed, while the inhabitant of his native mansion,
lost gradually the freshness of his complexion, and, without showing
any formal symptoms of disease, grew more thin and pale as he grew
older, and at length exhibited the appearance of indifferent health,
without any thing of the habits and complaints of an invalid,
excepting a disposition to avoid society, and to spend his leisure
time in private study, rather than mingle in the sports of his
companions, or even resort to the theatres, then the general
rendezvous of his class; where, according to high authority, they
fought for half-bitten apples, cracked nuts, and filled the upper
gallery with their clamours.
Such were the two youths who called David Ramsay master; and with both
of whom he used to fret from morning till night, as their
peculiarities interfered with his own, or with the quiet and
beneficial course of his traffic.
Upon the whole, however, the youths were attached to their master, and
he, a good-natured, though an absent and whimsical man, was scarce
less so to them; and when a little warmed with wine at an occasional
junketing, he used to boast, in his northern dialect, of his "twa
bonnie lads, and the looks that the court ladies threw at them, when
visiting his shop in their caroches, when on a frolic into the city."
But David Ramsay never failed, at the same time, to draw up his own
tall, thin, lathy skeleton, extend his lean jaws into an alarming
grin, and indicate, by a nod of his yard-long visage, and a twinkle of
his little grey eye, that there might be more faces in Fleet Street
worth looking at than those of Frank and Jenkin. His old neighbour,
Widow Simmons, the sempstress, who had served, in her day, the very
tip-top revellers of the Temple, with ruffs, cuffs, and bands,
distinguished more deeply the sort of attention paid by the females of
quality, who so regularly visited David Ramsay's shop, to its inmates.
"The boy Frank," she admitted, "used to attract the attention of the
young ladies, as having something gentle and downcast in his looks;
but then he could not better himself, for the poor youth had not a
word to throw at a dog. Now Jin Vin was so full of his jibes and
jeers, and so willing, and so ready, and so serviceable, and so
mannerly all the while, with a step that sprung like a buck's in
Epping Forest, and his eye that twinkled as black as a gipsy's, that
no woman who knew the world would make a comparison betwixt the lads.
As for poor neighbour Ramsay himself, the man," she said, "was a civil
neighbour, and a learned man, doubtless, and might be a rich man if he
had common sense to back his learning; and doubtless, for a Scot,
neighbour Ramsay was nothing of a bad man, but he was so constantly
grimed with smoke, gilded with brass filings, and smeared with lamp-
black and oil, that Dame Simmons judged it would require his whole
shopful of watches to induce any feasible woman to touch the said
neighbour Ramsay with any thing save a pair of tongs."
A still higher authority, Dame Ursula, wife to Benjamin Suddlechop,
the barber, was of exactly the same opinion.
Such were, in natural qualities and public estimation, the two youths,
who, in a fine April day, having first rendered their dutiful service
and attendance on the table of their master and his daughter, at their
dinner at one o'clock,--Such, O ye lads of London, was the severe
discipline undergone by your predecessors!--and having regaled
themselves upon the fragments, in company with two female domestics,
one a cook, and maid of all work, the other called Mistress Margaret's
maid, now relieved their master in the duty of the outward shop; and
agreeably to the established custom, were soliciting, by their
entreaties and recommendations of their master's manufacture, the
attention and encouragement of the passengers.
In this species of service it may be easily supposed that Jenkin
Vincent left his more reserved and bashful comrade far in the
background. The latter could only articulate with difficulty, and as
an act of duty which he was rather ashamed of discharging, the
established words of form--"What d'ye lack?--What d'ye lack?--Clocks--
watches--barnacles?--What d'ye lack?--Watches--clocks--barnacles?--
What d'ye lack, sir? What d'ye lack, madam?--Barnacles--watches--
clocks?"
But this dull and dry iteration, however varied by diversity of verbal
arrangement, sounded flat when mingled with the rich and
recommendatory oratory of the bold-faced, deep-mouthed, and ready-
witted Jenkin Vincent.--"What d'ye lack, noble sir?--What d'ye lack,
beauteous madam?" he said, in a tone at once bold and soothing, which
often was so applied as both to gratify the persons addressed, and to
excite a smile from other hearers.--"God bless your reverence," to a
beneficed clergyman; "the Greek and Hebrew have harmed your
reverence's eyes--Buy a pair of David Ramsay's barnacles. The King--
God bless his Sacred Majesty!--never reads Hebrew or Greek without
them."
"Are you well avised of that?" said a fat parson from the Vale of
Evesham. "Nay, if the Head of the Church wears them,--God bless his
Sacred Majesty!--I will try what they can do for me; for I have not
been able to distinguish one Hebrew letter from another, since--I
cannot remember the time--when I had a bad fever. Choose me a pair of
his most Sacred Majesty's own wearing, my good youth." "This is a
pair, and please your reverence," said Jenkin, producing a pair of
spectacles which he touched with an air of great deference and
respect, "which his most blessed Majesty placed this day three weeks
on his own blessed nose; and would have kept them for his own sacred
use, but that the setting being, as your reverence sees, of the purest
jet, was, as his Sacred Majesty was pleased to say, fitter for a
bishop than for a secular prince."
"His Sacred Majesty the King," said the worthy divine, "was ever a
very Daniel in his judgment. Give me the barnacles, my good youth, and
who can say what nose they may bestride in two years hence?--our
reverend brother of Gloucester waxes in years." He then pulled out his
purse, paid for the spectacles, and left the shop with even a more
important step than that which had paused to enter it.
"For shame," said Tunstall to his companion; "these glasses will never
suit one of his years."
"You are a fool, Frank," said Vincent, in reply; "had the good doctor
wished glasses to read with, he would have tried them before buying.
He does not want to look through them himself, and these will serve
the purpose of being looked at by other folks, as well as the best
magnifiers in the shop.--What d'ye lack?" he cried, resuming his
solicitations. "Mirrors for your toilette, my pretty madam; your head-
gear is something awry--pity, since it is so well fancied." The woman
stopped and bought a mirror.--"What d'ye lack?--a watch, Master
Sergeant--a watch that will go as long as a lawsuit, as steady and
true as your own eloquence?"
"Hold your peace, sir," answered the Knight of the Coif, who was
disturbed by Vin's address whilst in deep consultation with an eminent
attorney; "hold your peace! You are the loudest-tongued varlet betwixt
the Devil's Tavern and Guildhall."
"A watch," reiterated the undaunted Jenkin, "that shall not lose
thirteen minutes in a thirteen years' lawsuit.--He's out of hearing--A
watch with four wheels and a bar-movement--a watch that shall tell
you, Master Poet, how long the patience of the audience will endure
your next piece at the Black Bull." The bard laughed, and fumbled in
the pocket of his slops till he chased into a corner, and fairly
caught, a small piece of coin.
"Here is a tester to cherish thy wit, good boy," he said.
"Gramercy," said Vin; "at the next play of yours I will bring down a
set of roaring boys, that shall make all the critics in the pit, and
the gallants on the stage, civil, or else the curtain shall smoke for
it."
"Now, that I call mean," said Tunstall, "to take the poor rhymer's
money, who has so little left behind."
"You are an owl, once again," said Vincent; "if he has nothing left to
buy cheese and radishes, he will only dine a day the sooner with some
patron or some player, for that is his fate five days out of the
seven. It is unnatural that a poet should pay for his own pot of beer;
I will drink his tester for him, to save him from such shame; and when
his third night comes round, he shall have penniworths for his coin, I
promise you.--But here comes another-guess customer. Look at that
strange fellow--see how he gapes at every shop, as if he would swallow
the wares.--O! Saint Dunstan has caught his eye; pray God he swallow
not the images. See how he stands astonished, as old Adam and Eve ply
their ding-dong! Come, Frank, thou art a scholar; construe me that
same fellow, with his blue cap with a cock's feather in it, to show
he's of gentle blood, God wot--his grey eyes, his yellow hair, his
sword with a ton of iron in the handle--his grey thread-bare cloak--
his step like a Frenchman--his look like a Spaniard--a book at his
girdle, and a broad dudgeon-dagger on the other side, to show him
half-pedant, half-bully. How call you that pageant, Frank?"
"A raw Scotsman," said Tunstall; "just come up, I suppose, to help the
rest of his countrymen to gnaw old England's bones; a palmerworm, I
reckon, to devour what the locust has spared."
"Even so, Frank," answered Vincent; "just as the poet sings sweetly,--
'In Scotland he was born and bred,
And, though a beggar, must be fed.'"
"Hush!" said Tunstall, "remember our master."
"Pshaw!" answered his mercurial companion; "he knows on which side his
bread is buttered, and I warrant you has not lived so long among
Englishmen, and by Englishmen, to quarrel with us for bearing an
English mind. But see, our Scot has done gazing at St. Dunstan's, and
comes our way. By this light, a proper lad and a sturdy, in spite of
freckles and sun-burning.--He comes nearer still, I will have at him."
"And, if you do," said his comrade, "you may get a broken head--he
looks not as if he would carry coals."
"A fig for your threat," said Vincent, and instantly addressed the
stranger. "Buy a watch, most noble northern Thane--buy a watch, to
count the hours of plenty since the blessed moment you left Berwick
behind you.--Buy barnacles, to see the English gold lies ready for
your gripe.--Buy what you will, you shall have credit for three days;
for, were your pockets as bare as Father Fergus's, you are a Scot in
London, and you will be stocked in that time." The stranger looked
sternly at the waggish apprentice, and seemed to grasp his cudgel in
rather a menacing fashion. "Buy physic," said the undaunted Vincent,
"if you will buy neither time nor light--physic for a proud stomach,
sir;--there is a 'pothecary's shop on the other side of the way."
Here the probationary disciple of Galen, who stood at his master's
door in his flat cap and canvass sleeves, with a large wooden pestle
in his hand, took up the ball which was flung to him by Jenkin, with,
"What d'ye lack, sir?--Buy a choice Caledonian salve, _Flos sulphvr.
cum butyro quant. suff._"
"To be taken after a gentle rubbing-down with an English oaken towel,"
said Vincent.
The bonny Scot had given full scope to the play of this small
artillery of city wit, by halting his stately pace, and viewing
grimly, first the one assailant, and then the other, as if menacing
either repartee or more violent revenge. But phlegm or prudence got
the better of his indignation, and tossing his head as one who valued
not the raillery to which he had been exposed, he walked down Fleet
Street, pursued by the horse-laugh of his tormentors.
"The Scot will not fight till he see his own blood," said Tunstall,
whom his north of England extraction had made familiar with all manner
of proverbs against those who lay yet farther north than himself.
"Faith, I know not," said Jenkin; "he looks dangerous, that fellow--he
will hit some one over the noddle before he goes far.--Hark!--hark!--
they are rising."
Accordingly, the well-known cry of, "'Prentices--'prentices--Clubs--
clubs!" now rang along Fleet Street; and Jenkin, snatching up his
weapon, which lay beneath the counter ready at the slightest notice,
and calling to Tunstall to take his bat and follow, leaped over the
hatch-door which protected the outer-shop, and ran as fast as he could
towards the affray, echoing the cry as he ran, and elbowing, or
shoving aside, whoever stood in his way. His comrade, first calling to
his master to give an eye to the shop, followed Jenkin's example, and
ran after him as fast as he could, but with more attention to the
safety and convenience of others; while old David Ramsay, with hands
and eyes uplifted, a green apron before him, and a glass which he had
been polishing thrust into his bosom, came forth to look after the
safety of his goods and chattels, knowing, by old experience, that,
when the cry of "Clubs" once arose, he would have little aid on the
part of his apprentices.
CHAPTER II
This, sir, is one among the Seignory,
Has wealth at will, and will to use his wealth,
And wit to increase it. Marry, his worst folly
Lies in a thriftless sort of charity,
That goes a-gadding sometimes after objects,
Which wise men will not see when thrust upon them.
_The Old Couple._
The ancient gentleman bustled about his shop, in pettish displeasure
at being summoned hither so hastily, to the interruption of his more
abstract studies; and, unwilling to renounce the train of calculation
which he had put in progress, he mingled whimsically with the
fragments of the arithmetical operation, his oratory to the
passengers, and angry reflections on his idle apprentices. "What d'ye
lack, sir? Madam, what d'ye lack--clocks for hall or table--night-
watches--day watches?--_Locking wheel being 48--the power of retort 8
--the striking pins are 48_--What d'ye lack, honoured sir?--_The
quotient--the multiplicand_--That the knaves should have gone out this
blessed minute!--_the acceleration being at the rate of 5 minutes, 55
seconds, 53 thirds, 59 fourths_--I will switch them both when they
come back--I will, by the bones of the immortal Napier!"
Here the vexed philosopher was interrupted by the entrance of a grave
citizen of a most respectable appearance, who, saluting him familiarly
by the name of "Davie, my old acquaintance," demanded what had put him
so much out of sorts, and gave him at the same time a cordial grasp of
his hand.
The stranger's dress was, though grave, rather richer than usual. His
paned hose were of black velvet, lined with purple silk, which
garniture appeared at the slashes. His doublet was of purple cloth,
and his short cloak of black velvet, to correspond with his hose; and
both were adorned with a great number of small silver buttons richly
wrought in filigree. A triple chain of gold hung round his neck; and,
in place of a sword or dagger, he wore at his belt an ordinary knife
for the purpose of the table, with a small silver case, which appeared
to contain writing materials. He might have seemed some secretary or
clerk engaged in the service of the public, only that his low, flat,
and unadorned cap, and his well-blacked, shining shoes, indicated that
he belonged to the city. He was a well-made man, about the middle
size, and seemed in firm health, though advanced in years. His looks
expressed sagacity and good-humour: and the air of respectability
which his dress announced, was well supported by his clear eye, ruddy
cheek, and grey hair. He used the Scottish idiom in his first address,
but in such a manner that it could hardly be distinguished whether he
was passing upon his friend a sort of jocose mockery, or whether it
was his own native dialect, for his ordinary discourse had little
provincialism.
In answer to the queries of his respectable friend, Ramsay groaned
heavily, answering by echoing back the question, "What ails me, Master
George? Why, every thing ails me! I profess to you that a man may as
well live in Fairyland as in the Ward of Farringdon-Without. My
apprentices are turned into mere goblins--they appear and disappear
like spunkies, and have no more regularity in them than a watch
without a scapement. If there is a ball to be tossed up, or a bullock
to be driven mad, or a quean to be ducked for scolding, or a head to
be broken, Jenkin is sure to be at the one end or the other of it, and
then away skips Francis Tunstall for company. I think the prize-
fighters, bear-leaders, and mountebanks, are in a league against me,
my dear friend, and that they pass my house ten times for any other in
the city. Here's an Italian fellow come over, too, that they call
Punchinello; and, altogether----"
"Well," interrupted Master George, "but what is all this to the
present case?"
"Why," replied Ramsay, "here has been a cry of thieves or murder, (I
hope that will prove the least of it amongst these English pock-
pudding swine!) and I have been interrupted in the deepest calculation
ever mortal man plunged into, Master George."
"What, man!" replied Master George, "you must take patience--You are a
man that deals in time, and can make it go fast and slow at pleasure;
you, of all the world, have least reason to complain, if a little of
it be lost now and then.--But here come your boys, and bringing in a
slain man betwixt them, I think--here has been serious mischief, I am
afraid."
"The more mischief the better sport," said the crabbed old watchmaker.
"I am blithe, though, that it's neither of the twa loons themselves.--
What are ye bringing a corpse here for, ye fause villains?" he added,
addressing the two apprentices, who, at the head of a considerable mob
of their own class, some of whom bore evident marks of a recent fray,
were carrying the body betwixt them.
"He is not dead yet, sir," answered Tunstall.
"Carry him into the apothecary's, then," replied his master. "D'ye
think I can set a man's life in motion again, as if he were a clock or
a timepiece?"
"For godsake, old friend," said his acquaintance, "let us have him
here at the nearest--he seems only in a swoon."
"A swoon?" said Ramsay, "and what business had he to swoon in the
streets? Only, if it will oblige my friend Master George, I would take
in all the dead men in St. Dunstan's parish. Call Sam Porter to look
after the shop." So saying, the stunned man, being the identical
Scotsman who had passed a short time before amidst the jeers of the
apprentices, was carried into the back shop of the artist, and there
placed in an armed chair till the apothecary from over the way came to
his assistance. This gentleman, as sometimes happens to those of the
learned professions, had rather more lore than knowledge, and began to
talk of the sinciput and occiput, and cerebrum and cerebellum, until
he exhausted David Ramsay's brief stock of patience.
"Bell-um! bell-ell-um!" he repeated, with great indignation; "What
signify all the bells in London, if you do not put a plaster on the
child's crown?"
Master George, with better-directed zeal, asked the apothecary whether
bleeding might not be useful; when, after humming and hawing for a
moment, and being unable, upon the spur of the occasion, to suggest
any thing else, the man of pharmacy observed, that it would, at all
events, relieve the brain or cerebrum, in case there was a tendency to
the depositation of any extravasated blood, to operate as a pressure
upon that delicate organ.
Fortunately he was adequate to performing this operation; and, being
powerfully aided by Jenkin Vincent (who was learned in all cases of
broken heads) with plenty of cold water, and a little vinegar, applied
according to the scientific method practised by the bottle-holders in
a modern ring, the man began to raise himself on his chair, draw his
cloak tightly around him, and look about like one who struggles to
recover sense and recollection.
"He had better lie down on the bed in the little back closet," said
Mr. Ramsay's visitor, who seemed perfectly familiar with the
accommodations which the house afforded.
"He is welcome to my share of the truckle," said Jenkin,--for in the
said back closet were the two apprentices accommodated in one truckle-
bed,--"I can sleep under the counter."
"So can I," said Tunstall, "and the poor fellow can have the bed all
night."
"Sleep," said the apothecary, "is, in the opinion of Galen, a
restorative and febrifuge, and is most naturally taken in a truckle-
bed."
"Where a better cannot be come by,"--said Master George; "but these
are two honest lads, to give up their beds so willingly. Come, off
with his cloak, and let us bear him to his couch--I will send for Dr.
Irving, the king's chirurgeon--he does not live far off, and that
shall be my share of the Samaritan's duty, neighbour Ramsay."
"Well, sir," said the apothecary, "it is at your pleasure to send for
other advice, and I shall not object to consult with Dr. Irving or any
other medical person of skill, neither to continue to furnish such
drugs as may be needful from my pharmacopeia. However, whatever Dr.
Irving, who, I think, hath had his degrees in Edinburgh, or Dr. Any-
one-beside, be he Scottish or English, may say to the contrary, sleep,
taken timeously, is a febrifuge, or sedative, and also a restorative."
He muttered a few more learned words, and concluded by informing
Ramsay's friend in English far more intelligible than his Latin, that
he would look to him as his paymaster, for medicines, care, and
attendance, furnished, or to be furnished, to this party unknown.
Master George only replied by desiring him to send his bill for what
he had already to charge, and to give himself no farther trouble
unless he heard from him. The pharmacopolist, who, from discoveries
made by the cloak falling a little aside, had no great opinion of the
faculty of this chance patient to make reimbursement, had no sooner
seen his case espoused by a substantial citizen, than he showed some
reluctance to quit possession of it, and it needed a short and stern
hint from Master George, which, with all his good-humour, he was
capable of expressing when occasion required, to send to his own
dwelling this Esculapius of Temple Bar.
When they were rid of Mr. Raredrench, the charitable efforts of Jenkin
and Francis, to divest the patient of his long grey cloak, were firmly
resisted on his own part.--"My life suner--my life suner," he muttered
in indistinct murmurs. In these efforts to retain his upper garment,
which was too tender to resist much handling, it gave way at length
with a loud rent, which almost threw the patient into a second
syncope, and he sat before them in his under garments, the looped and
repaired wretchedness of which moved at once pity and laughter, and
had certainly been the cause of his unwillingness to resign the
mantle, which, like the virtue of charity, served to cover so many
imperfections.
The man himself cast his eyes on his poverty-struck garb, and seemed
so much ashamed of the disclosure, that, muttering between his teeth,
that he would be too late for his appointment, he made an effort to
rise and leave the shop, which was easily prevented by Jenkin Vincent
and his comrade, who, at the nod of Master George, laid hold of and
detained him in his chair.
The patient next looked round him for a moment, and then said faintly,
in his broad northern language--"What sort of usage ca' ye this,
gentlemen, to a stranger a sojourner in your town? Ye hae broken my
head--ye hae riven my cloak, and now ye are for restraining my
personal liberty! They were wiser than me," he said, after a moment's
pause, "that counselled me to wear my warst claithing in the streets
of London; and, if I could have got ony things warse than these mean
garments,"--("which would have been very difficult," said Jin Vin, in
a whisper to his companion,)--"they would have been e'en ower gude for
the grips o' men sae little acquented with the laws of honest
civility."
"To say the truth," said Jenkin, unable to forbear any longer,
although the discipline of the times prescribed to those in his
situation a degree of respectful distance and humility in the presence
of parents, masters, or seniors, of which the present age has no idea--
"to say the truth, the good gentleman's clothes look as if they would
not brook much handling."
"Hold your peace, young man," said Master George, with a tone of
authority; "never mock the stranger or the poor--the black ox has not
trod on your foot yet--you know not what lands you may travel in, or
what clothes you may wear, before you die."
Vincent held down his head and stood rebuked, but the stranger did not
accept the apology which was made for him.
"I _am_ a stranger, sir," said he, "that is certain; though methinks,
that, being such, I have been somewhat familiarly treated in this town
of yours; but, as for my being poor, I think I need not be charged
with poverty, till I seek siller of somebody."
"The dear country all over," said Master George, in a whisper, to
David Ramsay, "pride and poverty."
But David had taken out his tablets and silver pen, and, deeply
immersed in calculations, in which he rambled over all the terms of
arithmetic, from the simple unit to millions, billions, and trillions,
neither heard nor answered the observation of his friend, who, seeing
his abstraction, turned again to the Scot.
"I fancy now, Jockey, if a stranger were to offer you a noble, you
would chuck it back at his head?"
"Not if I could do him honest service for it, sir," said the Scot; "I
am willing to do what I may to be useful, though I come of an
honourable house, and may be said to be in a sort indifferently weel
provided for."
"Ay!" said the interrogator, "and what house may claim the honour of
your descent?"
"An ancient coat belongs to it, as the play says," whispered Vincent
to his companion.
"Come, Jockey, out with it," continued Master George, observing that
the Scot, as usual with his countrymen, when asked a blunt,
straightforward question, took a little time before answering it.
"I am no more Jockey, sir, than you are John," said the stranger, as
if offended at being addressed by a name, which at that time was used,
as Sawney now is, for a general appellative of the Scottish nation.
"My name, if you must know it, is Richie Moniplies; and I come of the
old and honourable house of Castle Collop, weel kend at the West-Port
of Edinburgh."
"What is that you call the West-Port?" proceeded the interrogator.
"Why, an it like your honour," said Richie, who now, having recovered
his senses sufficiently to observe the respectable exterior of Master
George, threw more civility into his manner than at first, "the West-
Port is a gate of our city, as yonder brick arches at Whitehall form
the entrance of the king's palace here, only that the West-Port is of
stonern work, and mair decorated with architecture and the policy of
bigging."
"Nouns, man, the Whitehall gateways were planned by the great
Holbein," answered Master George; "I suspect your accident has jumbled
your brains, my good friend. I suppose you will tell me next, you have
at Edinburgh as fine a navigable river as the Thames, with all its
shipping?" "The Thames!" exclaimed Richie, in a tone of ineffable
contempt--"God bless your honour's judgment, we have at Edinburgh the
Water-of-Leith and the Nor-loch!"
"And the Pow-Burn, and the Quarry-holes, and the Gusedub, ye fause
loon!" answered Master George, speaking Scotch with a strong and
natural emphasis; "it is such land-loupers as you, that, with your
falset and fair fashions, bring reproach on our whole country."
"God forgie me, sir," said Richie, much surprised at finding the
supposed southron converted into a native Scot, "I took your honour
for an Englisher! But I hope there was naething wrang in standing up
for ane's ain country's credit in a strange land, where all men cry
her down?"
"Do you call it for your country's credit, to show that she has a
lying, puffing rascal, for one of her children?" said Master George.
"But come, man, never look grave on it,--as you have found a
countryman, so you have found a friend, if you deserve one--and
especially if you answer me truly."
"I see nae gude it wad do me to speak ought else but truth," said the
worthy North Briton.
"Well, then--to begin," said Master George, "I suspect you are a son
of old Mungo Moniplies, the flesher, at the West-Port."
"Your honour is a witch, I think," said Richie, grinning.
"And how dared you, sir, to uphold him for a noble?"
"I dinna ken, sir," said Richie, scratching his head; "I hear muckle
of an Earl of Warwick in these southern parts,--Guy, I think his name
was,--and he has great reputation here for slaying dun cows, and
boars, and such like; and I am sure my father has killed more cows and
boars, not to mention bulls, calves, sheep, ewes, lambs, and pigs,
than the haill Baronage of England."
"Go to! you are a shrewd knave," said Master George; "charm your
tongue, and take care of saucy answers. Your father was an honest
burgher, and the deacon of his craft: I am sorry to see his son in so
poor a coat."
"Indifferent, sir," said Richie Moniplies, looking down on his
garments--"very indifferent; but it is the wonted livery of poor
burghers' sons in our country--one of Luckie Want's bestowing upon us
--rest us patient! The king's leaving Scotland has taken all custom
frae Edinburgh; and there is hay made at the Cross, and a dainty crop
of fouats in the Grass-market. There is as much grass grows where my
father's stall stood, as might have been a good bite for the beasts he
was used to kill."
"It is even too true," said Master George; "and while we make fortunes
here, our old neighbours and their families are starving at home. This
should be thought upon oftener.--And how came you by that broken head,
Richie?--tell me honestly."
"Troth, sir, I'se no lee about the matter," answered Moniplies. "I was
coming along the street here, and ilk ane was at me with their jests
and roguery. So I thought to mysell, ye are ower mony for me to mell
with; but let me catch ye in Barford's Park, or at the fit of the
Vennel, I could gar some of ye sing another sang. Sae ae auld hirpling
deevil of a potter behoved just to step in my way and offer me a pig,
as he said, just to put my Scotch ointment in, and I gave him a push,
as but natural, and the tottering deevil coupit ower amang his ain
pigs, and damaged a score of them. And then the reird raise, and hadna
these twa gentlemen helped me out of it, murdered I suld hae been,
without remeid. And as it was, just when they got haud of my arm to
have me out of the fray, I got the lick that donnerit me from a left-
handed lighterman."
Master George looked to the apprentices as if to demand the truth of
this story.
"It is just as he says, sir," replied Jenkin; "only I heard nothing
about pigs.--The people said he had broke some crockery, and that--I
beg pardon, sir--nobody could thrive within the kenning of a Scot."
"Well, no matter what they said, you were an honest fellow to help the
weaker side.--And you, sirrah," continued Master George, addressing
his countryman, "will call at my house to-morrow morning, agreeable to
this direction."
"I will wait upon your honour," said the Scot, bowing very low; "that
is, if my honourable master will permit me."
"Thy master?" said George,--"Hast thou any other master save Want,
whose livery you say you wear?"
"Troth, in one sense, if it please your honour, I serve twa masters,"
said Richie; "for both my master and me are slaves to that same
beldam, whom we thought to show our heels to by coming off from
Scotland. So that you see, sir, I hold in a sort of black ward tenure,
as we call it in our country, being the servant of a servant."
"And what is your master's name?" said Master George; and observing
that Richie hesitated, he added, "Nay, do not tell me, if it is a
secret."
"A secret that there is little use in keeping," said Richie; "only ye
ken that our northern stomachs are ower proud to call in witnesses to
our distress. No that my master is in mair than present pinch, sir,"
he added, looking towards the two English apprentices, "having a large
sum in the Royal Treasury--that is," he continued, in a whisper to
Master George,--"the king is owing him a lot of siller; but it's ill
getting at it, it's like.--My master is the young Lord Glenvarloch."
Master George testified surprise at the name.--"_You_ one of the young
Lord Glenvarloch's followers, and in such a condition?"
"Troth, and I am all the followers he has, for the present that is;
and blithe wad I be if he were muckle better aff than I am, though I
were to bide as I am."
"I have seen his father with four gentlemen and ten lackeys at his
heels," said Master George, "rustling in their laces and velvets.
Well, this is a changeful world, but there is a better beyond it.--The
good old house of Glenvarloch, that stood by king and country five
hundred years!"
"Your honour may say a thousand," said the follower.
"I will say what I know to be true, friend," said the citizen, "and
not a word more.--You seem well recovered now--can you walk?"
"Bravely, sir," said Richie; "it was but a bit dover. I was bred at
the West-Port, and my cantle will stand a clour wad bring a stot
down."
"Where does your master lodge?"
"We pit up, an it like your honour," replied the Scot, "in a sma'
house at the fit of ane of the wynds that gang down to the water-side,
with a decent man, John Christie, a ship-chandler, as they ca't. His
father came from Dundee. I wotna the name of the wynd, but it's right
anent the mickle kirk yonder; and your honour will mind, that we pass
only by our family-name of simple Mr. Nigel Olifaunt, as keeping
ourselves retired for the present, though in Scotland we be called the
Lord Nigel."
"It is wisely done of your master," said the citizen. "I will find out
your lodgings, though your direction be none of the clearest." So
saying, and slipping a piece of money at the same time into Richie
Moniplies's hand, he bade him hasten home, and get into no more
affrays.
"I will take care of that now, sir," said Richie, with a look of
importance, "having a charge about me. And so, wussing ye a' weel,
with special thanks to these twa young gentlemen----"
"I am no gentleman," said Jenkin, flinging his cap on his head; "I am
a tight London 'prentice, and hope to be a freeman one day. Frank may
write himself gentleman, if he will."
"I _was_ a gentleman once," said Tunstall, "and I hope I have done
nothing to lose the name of one."
"Weel, weel, as ye list," said Richie Moniplies; "but I am mickle
beholden to ye baith--and I am not a hair the less like to bear it in
mind that I say but little about it just now.--Gude-night to you, my
kind countryman." So saying, he thrust out of the sleeve of his ragged
doublet a long bony hand and arm, on which the muscles rose like whip-
cord. Master George shook it heartily, while Jenkin and Frank
exchanged sly looks with each other.
Richie Moniplies would next have addressed his thanks to the master of
the shop, but seeing him, as he afterwards said, "scribbling on his
bit bookie, as if he were demented," he contented his politeness with
"giving him a hat," touching, that is, his bonnet, in token of
salutation, and so left the shop.
"Now, there goes Scotch Jockey, with all his bad and good about him,"
said Master George to Master David, who suspended, though unwillingly,
the calculations with which he was engaged, and keeping his pen within
an inch of the tablets, gazed on his friend with great lack-lustre
eyes, which expressed any thing rather than intelligence or interest
in the discourse addressed to him.--"That fellow," proceeded Master
George, without heeding his friend's state of abstraction, "shows,
with great liveliness of colouring, how our Scotch pride and poverty
make liars and braggarts of us; and yet the knave, whose every third
word to an Englishman is a boastful lie, will, I warrant you, be a
true and tender friend and follower to his master, and has perhaps
parted with his mantle to him in the cold blast, although he himself
walked _in cuerpo,_ as the Don says.--Strange! that courage and
fidelity--for I will warrant that the knave is stout--should have no
better companion than this swaggering braggadocio humour.--But you
mark me not, friend Davie."
"I do--I do, most heedfully," said Davie.--"For, as the sun goeth
round the dial-plate in twenty-four hours, add, for the moon, fifty
minutes and a half----"
"You are in the seventh heavens, man," said his companion.
"I crave your pardon," replied Davie.--"Let the wheel A go round in
twenty-four hours--I have it--and the wheel B in twenty-four hours,
fifty minutes and a half--fifty-seven being to fifty-four, as fifty-
nine to twenty-four hours, fifty minutes and a half, or very nearly,--
I crave your forgiveness, Master George, and heartily wish you good-
even."
"Good-even?" said Master George; "why, you have not wished me good-day
yet. Come, old friend, lay by these tablets, or you will crack the
inner machinery of _your_ skull, as our friend yonder has got the
outer-case of his damaged.--Good-night, quotha! I mean not to part
with you so easily. I came to get my four hours' nunchion from you,
man, besides a tune on the lute from my god-daughter, Mrs. Marget."
"Good faith! I was abstracted, Master George--but you know me.
Whenever I get amongst the wheels," said Mr. Ramsay, "why, 'tis----"
"Lucky that you deal in small ones," said his friend; as, awakened
from his reveries and calculations, Ramsay led the way up a little
back-stair to the first storey, occupied by his daughter and his
little household.
The apprentices resumed their places in the front-shop, and relieved
Sam Porter; when Jenkin said to Tunstall--"Didst see, Frank, how the
old goldsmith cottoned in with his beggarly countryman? When would one
of his wealth have shaken hands so courteously with a poor
Englishman?--Well, I'll say that for the best of the Scots, that they
will go over head and ears to serve a countryman, when they will not
wet a nail of their finger to save a Southron, as they call us, from
drowning. And yet Master George is but half-bred Scot neither in that
respect; for I have known him do many a kind thing to the English
too."
"But hark ye, Jenkin," said Tunstall, "I think you are but half-bred
English yourself. How came you to strike on the Scotsman's side after
all?"
"Why, you did so, too," answered Vincent.
"Ay, because I saw you begin; and, besides, it is no Cumberland
fashion to fall fifty upon one," replied Tunstall.
"And no Christ Church fashion neither," said Jenkin. "Fair play and
Old England for ever!--Besides, to tell you a secret, his voice had a
twang in it--in the dialect I mean--reminded me of a little tongue,
which I think sweeter--sweeter than the last toll of St. Dunstan's
will sound, on the day that I am shot of my indentures--Ha!--you guess
who I mean, Frank?"
"Not I, indeed," answered Tunstall.--"Scotch Janet, I suppose, the
laundress."
"Off with Janet in her own bucking-basket!--No, no, no!--You blind
buzzard,--do you not know I mean pretty Mrs. Marget?"
"Umph!" answered Tunstall, dryly.
A flash of anger, not unmingled with suspicion, shot from Jenkin's
keen black eyes.
"Umph!--and what signifies umph? I am not the first 'prentice has
married his master's daughter, I suppose?"
"They kept their own secret, I fancy," said Tunstall, "at least till
they were out of their time."
"I tell you what it is, Frank," answered Jenkin, sharply, "that may be
the fashion of you gentlefolks, that are taught from your biggin to
carry two faces under the same hood, but it shall never be mine."
"There are the stairs, then," said Tunstall, coolly; "go up and ask
Mrs. Marget of our master just now, and see what sort of a face he
will wear under _his_ hood."
"No, I wonnot," answered Jenkin; "I am not such a fool as that
neither. But I will take my own time; and all the Counts in Cumberland
shall not cut my comb, and this is that which you may depend upon."
Francis made no reply; and they resumed their usual attention to the
business of the shop, and their usual solicitations to the passengers.
CHAPTER III
_Bobadil._ I pray you, possess no gallant of your acquaintance with a
knowledge of my lodging.
_Master Matthew._ Who, I, sir?--Lord, sir!
_Ben Jonson._
The next morning found Nigel Olifaunt, the young Lord of Glenvarloch,
seated, sad and solitary, in his little apartment, in the mansion of
John Christie, the ship-chandler; which that honest tradesman, in
gratitude perhaps to the profession from which he derived his chief
support, appeared to have constructed as nearly as possible upon the
plan of a ship's cabin.
It was situated near to Paul's Wharf, at the end of one of those
intricate and narrow lanes, which, until that part of the city was
swept away by the Great Fire in 1666, constituted an extraordinary
labyrinth of small, dark, damp, and unwholesome streets and alleys, in
one corner or other of which the plague was then as surely found
lurking, as in the obscure corners of Constantinople in our own time.
But John Christie's house looked out upon the river, and had the
advantage, therefore, of free air, impregnated, however, with the
odoriferous fumes of the articles in which the ship-chandler dealt,
with the odour of pitch, and the natural scent of the ooze and sludge
left by the reflux of the tide.
Upon the whole, except that his dwelling did not float with the flood-
tide, and become stranded with the ebb, the young lord was nearly as
comfortably accommodated as he was while on board the little trading
brig from the long town of Kirkaldy, in Fife, by which he had come a
passenger to London. He received, however, every attention which could
be paid him by his honest landlord, John Christie; for Richie
Moniplies had not thought it necessary to preserve his master's
_incognito_ so completely, but that the honest ship-chandler could
form a guess that his guest's quality was superior to his appearance.
As for Dame Nelly, his wife, a round, buxom, laughter-loving dame,
with black eyes, a tight well-laced bodice, a green apron, and a red
petticoat edged with a slight silver lace, and judiciously shortened
so as to show that a short heel, and a tight clean ankle, rested upon
her well-burnished shoe,--she, of course, felt interest in a young
man, who, besides being very handsome, good-humoured, and easily
satisfied with the accommodations her house afforded, was evidently of
a rank, as well as manners, highly superior to the skippers (or
Captains, as they called themselves) of merchant vessels, who were the
usual tenants of the apartments which she let to hire; and at whose
departure she was sure to find her well-scrubbed floor soiled with the
relics of tobacco, (which, spite of King James's Counterblast, was
then forcing itself into use,) and her best curtains impregnated with
the odour of Geneva and strong waters, to Dame Nelly's great
indignation; for, as she truly said, the smell of the shop and
warehouse was bad enough without these additions.
But all Mr. Olifaunt's habits were regular and cleanly, and his
address, though frank and simple, showed so much of the courtier and
gentleman, as formed a strong contrast with the loud halloo, coarse
jests, and boisterous impatience of her maritime inmates. Dame Nelly
saw that her guest was melancholy also, notwithstanding his efforts to
seem contented and cheerful; and, in short, she took that sort of
interest in him, without being herself aware of the extent, which an
unscrupulous gallant might have been tempted to improve to the
prejudice of honest John, who was at least a score of years older than
his helpmate. Olifaunt, however, had not only other matters to think
of, but would have regarded such an intrigue, had the idea ever
occurred to him, as an abominable and ungrateful encroachment upon the
laws of hospitality, his religion having been by his late father
formed upon the strict principles of the national faith, and his
morality upon those of the nicest honour. He had not escaped the
predominant weakness of his country, an overweening sense of the pride
of birth, and a disposition to value the worth and consequence of
others according to the number and the fame of their deceased
ancestors; but this pride of family was well subdued, and in general
almost entirely concealed, by his good sense and general courtesy.
Such as we have described him, Nigel Olifaunt, or rather the young
Lord Glenvarloch, was, when our narrative takes him up, under great
perplexity respecting the fate of his trusty and only follower,
Richard Moniplies, who had been dispatched by his young master, early
the preceding morning, as far as the court at Westminster, but had not
yet returned. His evening adventures the reader is already acquainted
with, and so far knows more of Richie than did his master, who had not
heard of him for twenty-four hours.
Dame Nelly Christie, in the meantime, regarded her guest with some
anxiety, and a great desire to comfort him, if possible. She placed on
the breakfast-table a noble piece of cold powdered beef, with its
usual guards of turnip and carrot, recommended her mustard as coming
direct from her cousin at Tewkesbury, and spiced the toast with her
own hands--and with her own hands, also, drew a jug of stout and nappy
ale, all of which were elements of the substantial breakfast of the
period.
When she saw that her guest's anxiety prevented him from doing justice
to the good cheer which she set before him, she commenced her career
of verbal consolation with the usual volubility of those women in her
station, who, conscious of good looks, good intentions, and good
lungs, entertain no fear either of wearying themselves or of fatiguing
their auditors.
"Now, what the good year! are we to send you down to Scotland as thin
as you came up?--I am sure it would be contrary to the course of
nature. There was my goodman's father, old Sandie Christie, I have
heard he was an atomy when he came up from the North, and I am sure he
died, Saint Barnaby was ten years, at twenty stone weight. I was a
bare-headed girl at the time, and lived in the neighbourhood, though I
had little thought of marrying John then, who had a score of years the
better of me--but he is a thriving man and a kind husband--and his
father, as I was saying, died as fat as a church-warden. Well, sir,
but I hope I have not offended you for my little joke--and I hope the
ale is to your honour's liking,--and the beef--and the mustard?"
"All excellent--all too good," answered Olifaunt; "you have every
thing so clean and tidy, dame, that I shall not know how to live when
I go back to my own country--if ever I go back there."
This was added as it seemed involuntarily, and with a deep sigh.
"I warrant your honour go back again if you like it," said the dame:
"unless you think rather of taking a pretty well-dowered English lady,
as some of your countryfolk have done. I assure you, some of the best
of the city have married Scotsmen. There was Lady Trebleplumb, Sir
Thomas Trebleplumb the great Turkey merchant's widow, married Sir
Awley Macauley, whom your honour knows, doubtless; and pretty Mistress
Doublefee, old Sergeant Doublefee's daughter, jumped out of window,
and was married at May-fair to a Scotsman with a hard name; and old
Pitchpost the timber merchant's daughters did little better, for they
married two Irishmen; and when folks jeer me about having a Scotsman
for lodger, meaning your honour, I tell them they are afraid of their
daughters and their mistresses; and sure I have a right to stand up
for the Scots, since John Christie is half a Scotsman, and a thriving
man, and a good husband, though there is a score of years between us;
and so I would have your honour cast care away, and mend your
breakfast with a morsel and a draught."
"At a word, my kind hostess, I cannot," said Olifaunt; "I am anxious
about this knave of mine, who has been so long absent in this
dangerous town of yours."
It may be noticed in passing that Dame Nelly's ordinary mode of
consolation was to disprove the existence of any cause for distress;
and she is said to have carried this so far as to comfort a neighbour,
who had lost her husband, with the assurance that the dear defunct
would be better to-morrow, which perhaps might not have proved an
appropriate, even if it had been a possible, mode of relief.
On this occasion she denied stoutly that Richie had been absent
altogether twenty hours; and as for people being killed in the streets
of London, to be sure two men had been found in Tower-ditch last week,
but that was far to the east, and the other poor man that had his
throat cut in the fields, had met his mishap near by Islington; and he
that was stabbed by the young Templar in a drunken frolic, by Saint
Clement's in the Strand, was an Irishman. All which evidence she
produced to show that none of these casualties had occurred in a case
exactly parallel with that of Richie, a Scotsman, and on his return
from Westminster.
"My better comfort is, my good dame," answered Olifaunt, "that the lad
is no brawler or quarreller, unless strongly urged, and that he has
nothing valuable about him to any one but me."
"Your honour speaks very well," retorted the inexhaustible hostess,
who protracted her task of taking away, and putting to rights, in
order that she might prolong her gossip. "I'll uphold Master Moniplies
to be neither reveller nor brawler, for if he liked such things, he
might be visiting and junketing with the young folks about here in the
neighbourhood, and he never dreams of it; and when I asked the young
man to go as far as my gossip's, Dame Drinkwater, to taste a glass of
aniseed, and a bit of the groaning cheese,--for Dame Drinkwater has
had twins, as I told your honour, sir,--and I meant it quite civilly
to the young man, but he chose to sit and keep house with John
Christie; and I dare say there is a score of years between them, for
your honour's servant looks scarce much older than I am. I wonder what
they could have to say to each other. I asked John Christie, but he
bid me go to sleep."
"If he comes not soon," said his master, "I will thank you to tell me
what magistrate I can address myself to; for besides my anxiety for
the poor fellow's safety, he has papers of importance about him."
"O! your honour may be assured he will be back in a quarter of an
hour," said Dame Nelly; "he is not the lad to stay out twenty-four
hours at a stretch. And for the papers, I am sure your honour will
pardon him for just giving me a peep at the corner, as I was giving
him a small cup, not so large as my thimble, of distilled waters, to
fortify his stomach against the damps, and it was directed to the
King's Most Excellent Majesty; and so doubtless his Majesty has kept
Richie out of civility to consider of your honour's letter, and send
back a fitting reply."
Dame Nelly here hit by chance on a more available topic of consolation
than those she had hitherto touched upon; for the youthful lord had
himself some vague hopes that his messenger might have been delayed at
Court until a fitting and favourable answer should be dispatched back
to him. Inexperienced, however, in public affairs as he certainly was,
it required only a moment's consideration to convince him of the
improbability of an expectation so contrary to all he had heard of
etiquette, as well as the dilatory proceedings in a
court suit, and he answered the good-natured hostess with a sigh,
that he doubted whether the king would even look on the paper
addressed to him, far less take it into his immediate consideration.
"Now, out upon you for a faint-hearted gentleman!" said the good dame;
"and why should he not do as much for us as our gracious Queen
Elizabeth? Many people say this and that about a queen and a king, but
I think a king comes more natural to us English folks; and this good
gentleman goes as often down by water to Greenwich, and employs as
many of the barge-men and water-men of all kinds; and maintains, in
his royal grace, John Taylor, the water-poet, who keeps both a sculler
and a pair of oars. And he has made a comely Court at Whitehall, just
by the river; and since the king is so good a friend to the Thames, I
cannot see, if it please your honour, why all his subjects, and your
honour in specialty, should not have satisfaction by his hands."
"True, dame--true,--let us hope for the best; but I must take my cloak
and rapier, and pray your husband in courtesy to teach me the way to a
magistrate."
"Sure, sir," said the prompt dame, "I can do that as well as he, who
has been a slow man of his tongue all his life, though I will give him
his due for being a loving husband, and a man as well to pass in the
world as any betwixt us and the top of the lane. And so there is the
sitting alderman, that is always at the Guildhall, which is close by
Paul's, and so I warrant you he puts all to rights in the city that
wisdom can mend; and for the rest there is no help but patience. But I
wish I were as sure of forty pounds as I am that the young man will
come back safe and sound."
Olifaunt, in great and anxious doubt of what the good dame so strongly
averred, flung his cloak on one shoulder, and was about to belt on his
rapier, when first the voice of Richie Moniplies on the stair, and
then that faithful emissary's appearance in the chamber, put the
matter beyond question. Dame Nelly, after congratulating Moniplies on
his return, and paying several compliments to her own sagacity for
having foretold it, was at length pleased to leave the apartment. The
truth was, that, besides some instinctive feelings of good breeding
which combated her curiosity, she saw there was no chance of Richie's
proceeding in his narrative while she was in the room, and she
therefore retreated, trusting that her own address would get the
secret out of one or other of the young men, when she should have
either by himself.
"Now, in Heaven's name, what is the matter?" said Nigel Olifaunt.--
"Where have you been, or what have you been about? You look as pale as
death. There is blood on your hand, and your clothes are torn. What
barns-breaking have you been at? You have been drunk, Richard, and
fighting."
"Fighting I have been," said Richard, "in a small way; but for being
drunk, that's a job ill to manage in this town, without money to come
by liquor; and as for barns-breaking, the deil a thing's broken but my
head. It's not made of iron, I wot, nor my claithes of chenzie-mail;
so a club smashed the tane, and a claught damaged the tither. Some
misleard rascals abused my country, but I think I cleared the causey
of them. However, the haill hive was ower mony for me at last, and I
got this eclipse on the crown, and then I was carried, beyond my
kenning, to a sma' booth at the Temple Port, whare they sell the
whirligigs and mony-go-rounds that measure out time as a man wad
measure a tartan web; and then they bled me, wold I nold I, and were
reasonably civil, especially an auld country-man of ours, of whom more
hereafter."
"And at what o'clock might this be?" said Nigel.
"The twa iron carles yonder, at the kirk beside the Port, were just
banging out sax o' the clock."
"And why came you not home as soon as you recovered?" said Nigel.
"In troth, my lord, every _why_ has its _wherefore_, and this has a
gude ane," answered his follower. "To come hame, I behoved to ken
whare hame was; now, I had clean tint the name of the wynd, and the
mair I asked, the mair the folk leugh, and the farther they sent me
wrang; sae I gave it up till God should send daylight to help me; and
as I saw mysell near a kirk at the lang run, I e'en crap in to take up
my night's quarters in the kirkyard."
"In the churchyard?" said Nigel--"But I need not ask what drove you to
such a pinch."
"It wasna sae much the want o' siller, my Lord Nigel," said Richie,
with an air of mysterious importance, "for I was no sae absolute
without means, of whilk mair anon; but I thought I wad never ware a
saxpence sterling on ane of their saucy chamberlains at a hostelry,
sae lang as I could sleep fresh and fine in a fair, dry, spring night.
Mony a time, when I hae come hame ower late, and faund the West-Port
steekit, and the waiter ill-willy, I have garr'd the sexton of Saint
Cuthbert's calf-ward serve me for my quarters. But then there are
dainty green graffs in Saint Cuthbert's kirkyard, whare ane may sleep
as if they were in a down-bed, till they hear the lavrock singing up
in the air as high as the Castle; whereas, and behold, these London
kirkyards are causeyed with through-stanes, panged hard and fast
thegither; and my cloak being something threadbare, made but a thin
mattress, so I was fain to give up my bed before every limb about me
was crippled. Dead folks may sleep yonder sound enow, but deil haet
else."
"And what became of you next?" said his master.
"I just took to a canny bulkhead, as they ca' them here; that is, the
boards on the tap of their bits of outshots of stalls and booths, and
there I sleepit as sound as if I was in a castle. Not but I was
disturbed with some of the night-walking queans and swaggering
billies, but when they found there was nothing to be got by me but a
slash of my Andrew Ferrara, they bid me good-night for a beggarly
Scot; and I was e'en weel pleased to be sae cheap rid of them. And in
the morning, I cam daikering here, but sad wark I had to find the way,
for I had been east as far as the place they ca' Mile-End, though it
is mair like sax-mile-end."
"Well, Richie," answered Nigel, "I am glad all this has ended so well
--go get something to eat. I am sure you need it."
"In troth do I, sir," replied Moniplies; "but, with your lordship's
leave--"
"Forget the lordship for the present, Richie, as I have often told you
before."
"Faith," replied Richie, "I could weel forget that your honour was a
lord, but then I behoved to forget that I am a lord's man, and that's
not so easy. But, however," he added, assisting his description with
the thumb and the two forefingers of his right hand, thrust out after
the fashion of a bird's claw, while the little finger and ring-finger
were closed upon the palm, "to the Court I went, and my friend that
promised me a sight of his Majesty's most gracious presence, was as
gude as his word, and carried me into the back offices, where I got
the best breakfast I have had since we came here, and it did me gude
for the rest of the day; for as to what I have eaten in this accursed
town, it is aye sauced with the disquieting thought that it maun be
paid for. After a', there was but beef banes and fat brose; but king's
cauff, your honour kens, is better than ither folk's corn; at ony
rate, it was a' in free awmous.--But I see," he added, stopping short,
"that your honour waxes impatient."
"By no means, Richie," said the young nobleman, with an air of
resignation, for he well knew his domestic would not mend his pace for
goading; "you have suffered enough in the embassy to have a right to
tell the story in your own way. Only let me pray for the name of the
friend who was to introduce you into the king's presence. You were
very mysterious on the subject, when you undertook, through his means,
to have the Supplication put into his Majesty's own hands, since those
sent heretofore, I have every reason to think, went no farther than
his secretary's."
"Weel, my lord," said Richie, "I did not tell you his name and quality
at first, because I thought you would be affronted at the like of him
having to do in your lordship's affairs. But mony a man climbs up in
Court by waur help. It was just Laurie Linklater, one of the yeomen of
the kitchen, that was my father's apprentice lang syne."
"A yeoman in the kitchen--a scullion!" exclaimed Lord Nigel, pacing
the room in displeasure.
"But consider, sir," said Richie, composedly, "that a' your great
friends hung back, and shunned to own you, or to advocate your
petition; and then, though I am sure I wish Laurie a higher office,
for your lordship's sake and for mine, and specially for his ain sake,
being a friendly lad, yet your lordship must consider, that a
scullion, if a yeoman of the king's most royal kitchen may be called a
scullion, may weel rank with a master-cook elsewhere; being that
king's cauff, as I said before, is better than--"
"You are right, and I was wrong," said the young nobleman. "I have no
choice of means of making my case known, so that they be honest."
"Laurie is as honest a lad as ever lifted a ladle," said Richie; "not
but what I dare to say he can lick his fingers like other folk, and
reason good. But, in fine, for I see your honour is waxing impatient,
he brought me to the palace, where a' was astir for the king going out
to hunt or hawk on Blackheath, I think they ca'd it. And there was a
horse stood with all the quarries about it, a bonny grey as ever was
foaled; and the saddle and the stirrups, and the curb and bit, o'
burning gowd, or silver gilded at least; and down, sir, came the king,
with all his nobles, dressed out in his hunting-suit of green, doubly
laced, and laid down with gowd. I minded the very face o' him, though
it was lang since I saw him. But my certie, lad, thought I, times are
changed since ye came fleeing down the back stairs of auld Holyrood
House, in grit fear, having your breeks in your hand without time to
put them on, and Frank Stewart, the wild Earl of Bothwell, hard at
your haunches; and if auld Lord Glenvarloch hadna cast his mantle
about his arm, and taken bluidy wounds mair than ane in your behalf,
you wald not have craw'd sae crouse this day; and so saying, I could
not but think your lordship's Sifflication could not be less than most
acceptable; and so I banged in among the crowd of lords. Laurie
thought me mad, and held me by the cloak-lap till the cloth rave in
his hand; and so I banged in right before the king just as he mounted,
and crammed the Sifflication into his hand, and he opened it like in
amaze; and just as he saw the first line, I was minded to make a
reverence, and I had the ill luck to hit his jaud o' a beast on the
nose with my hat, and scaur the creature, and she swarved aside, and
the king, that sits na mickle better than a draff-pock on the saddle,
was like to have gotten a clean coup, and that might have cost my
craig a raxing-and he flung down the paper amang the beast's feet, and
cried, 'Away wi' the fause loon that brought it!' And they grippit me,
and cried treason; and I thought of the Ruthvens that were dirked in
their ain house, for, it may be, as small a forfeit. However, they
spak only of scourging me, and had me away to the porter's lodge to
try the tawse on my back, and I was crying mercy as loud as I could;
and the king, when he had righted himself on the saddle, and gathered
his breath, cried to do me nae harm; for, said he, he is ane of our
ain Norland stots, I ken by the rowt of him,--and they a' laughed and
rowted loud eneugh. And then he said, 'Gie him a copy of the
Proclamation, and let him go down to the North by the next light
collier, before waur come o't.' So they let me go, and rode out, a
sniggering, laughing, and rounding in ilk ither's lugs. A sair life I
had wi' Laurie Linklater; for he said it wad be the ruin of him. And
then, when I told him it was in your matter, he said if he had known
before he would have risked a scauding for you, because he minded the
brave old lord, your father. And then he showed how I suld have done,
--and that I suld have held up my hand to my brow, as if the grandeur
of the king and his horse-graith thegither had casten the glaiks in my
een, and mair jackanape tricks I suld hae played, instead of offering
the Sifflication, he said, as if I had been bringing guts to a bear.
[Footnote: I am certain this prudential advice is not original on Mr.
Linklater's part, but I am not at present able to produce my
authority. I think it amounted to this, that James flung down a
petition presented by some supplicant who paid no compliments to his
horse, and expressed no admiration at the splendour of his furniture,
saying, "Shall a king cumber himself about the petition of a beggar,
while the beggar disregards the king's splendour?" It is, I think, Sir
John Harrington who recommends, as a sure mode to the king's favour,
to praise the paces of the royal palfrey.]
'For,' said he, 'Richie, the king is a weel-natured and just man of
his ain kindly nature, but he has a wheen maggots that maun be cannily
guided; and then, Richie,' says he, in a very laigh tone, 'I would
tell it to nane but a wise man like yoursell, but the king has them
about him wad corrupt an angel from heaven; but I could have gi'en you
avisement how to have guided him, but now it's like after meat
mustard.'--'Aweel, aweel, Laurie,' said I, 'it may be as you say', but
since I am clear of the tawse and the porter's lodge, sifflicate wha
like, deil hae Richie Moniplies if he come sifflicating here again.'--
And so away I came, and I wasna far by the Temple Port, or Bar, or
whatever they ca' it, when I met with the misadventure that I tauld
you of before."
"Well, my honest Richie," said Lord Nigel, "your attempt was well
meant, and not so ill conducted, I think, as to have deserved so bad
an issue; but go to your beef and mustard, and we'll talk of the rest
afterwards."
"There is nae mair to be spoken, sir," said his follower, "except that
I met ane very honest, fair-spoken, weel-put-on gentleman, or rather
burgher, as I think, that was in the whigmaleery man's back-shop; and
when he learned wha I was, behold he was a kindly Scot himsell, and,
what is more, a town's-bairn o' the gude town, and he behoved to
compel me to take this Portugal piece, to drink, forsooth--my certie,
thought I, we ken better, for we will eat it--and he spoke of paying
your lordship a visit."
"You did not tell him where I lived, you knave?" said the Lord Nigel,
angrily. "'Sdeath! I shall have every clownish burgher from Edinburgh
come to gaze on my distress, and pay a shilling for having seen the
motion of the Poor Noble!"
"Tell him where you lived?" said Richie, evading the question; "How
could I tell him what I kendna mysell? If I had minded the name of the
wynd, I need not have slept in the kirkyard yestreen."
"See, then, that you give no one notice of our lodging," said the
young nobleman; "those with whom I have business I can meet at Paul's,
or in the Court of Requests."
"This is steeking the stable-door when the steed is stolen," thought
Richie to himself; "but I must put him on another pin."
So thinking, he asked the young lord what was in the Proclamation
which he still held folded in his hand; "for, having little time to
spell at it," said he, "your lordship well knows I ken nought about it
but the grand blazon at the tap--the lion has gotten a claught of our
auld Scottish shield now, but it was as weel upheld when it had a
unicorn on ilk side of it."
Lord Nigel read the Proclamation, and he coloured deep with shame and
indignation as he read; for the purport was, to his injured feelings,
like the pouring of ardent spirits upon a recent wound.
"What deil's in the paper, my lord?" said Richie, unable to suppress
his curiosity as he observed his master change colour; "I wadna ask
such a thing, only the Proclamation is not a private thing, but is
meant for a' men's hearing."
"It is indeed meant for all men's hearing," replied Lord Nigel, "and
it proclaims the shame of our country, and the ingratitude of our
Prince."
"Now the Lord preserve us! and to publish it in London, too!"
ejaculated Moniplies.
"Hark ye, Richard," said Nigel Olifaunt, "in this paper the Lords of
the Council set forth, that, 'in consideration of the resort of idle
persons of low condition forth from his Majesty's kingdom of Scotland
to his English Court--filling the same with their suits and
supplications, and dishonouring the royal presence with their base,
poor, and beggarly persons, to the disgrace of their country in the
estimation of the English; these are to prohibit the skippers, masters
of vessels and others, in every part of Scotland, from bringing such
miserable creatures up to Court under pain of fine and impisonment."'
"I marle the skipper took us on board," said Richie.
"Then you need not marvel how you are to get back again," said Lord
Nigel, "for here is a clause which says, that such idle suitors are to
be transported back to Scotland at his Majesty's expense, and punished
for their audacity with stripes, stocking, or incarceration, according
to their demerits--that is to say, I suppose, according to the degree
of their poverty, for I see no other demerit specified."
"This will scarcely," said Richie, "square with our old proverb--
A King's face
Should give grace--
But what says the paper farther, my lord?"
"O, only a small clause which especially concerns us, making some
still heavier denunciations against those suitors who shall be so bold
as to approach the Court, under pretext of seeking payment of old
debts due to them by the king, which, the paper states, is, of all
species of importunity, that which is most odious to his Majesty."
"The king has neighbours in that matter," said Richie; "but it is not
every one that can shift off that sort of cattle so easily as he
does."
Their conversation was here interrupted by a knocking at the door.
Olifaunt looked out at the window, and saw an elderly respectable
person whom he knew not. Richie also peeped, and recognised, but,
recognising, chose not to acknowledge, his friend of the preceding
evening. Afraid that his share in the visit might be detected, he made
his escape out of the apartment under pretext of going to his
breakfast; and left their landlady the task of ushering Master George
into Lord Nigel's apartment, which she performed with much courtesy.
CHAPTER IV
Ay, sir, the clouted shoe hath oft times craft in't,
As says the rustic proverb; and your citizen,
In's grogram suit, gold chain, and well-black'd shoes,
Bears under his flat cap ofttimes a brain
Wiser than burns beneath the cap and feather,
Or seethes within the statesman's velvet nightcap.
_Read me my Riddle._
The young Scottish nobleman received the citizen with distant
politeness, expressing that sort of reserve by which those of the
higher ranks are sometimes willing to make a plebeian sensible that he
is an intruder. But Master George seemed neither displeased nor
disconcerted. He assumed the chair, which, in deference to his
respectable appearance, Lord Nigel offered to him, and said, after a
moment's pause, during which he had looked attentively at the young
man, with respect not unmingled with emotion--"You will forgive me for
this rudeness, my lord; but I was endeavouring to trace in your
youthful countenance the features of my good old lord, your excellent
father."
There was a moment's pause ere young Glenvarloch replied, still with a
reserved manner,--"I have been reckoned like my father, sir; and am
happy to see any one that respects his memory. But the business which
calls me to this city is of a hasty as well as a private nature, and--"
"I understand the hint, my lord," said Master George, "and would not
be guilty of long detaining you from business, or more agreeable
conversation. My errand is almost done when I have said that my name
is George Heriot, warmly befriended, and introduced into the
employment of the Royal Family of Scotland, more than twenty years
since, by your excellent father; and that, learning from a follower of
yours that your lordship was in this city in prosecution of some
business of importance, it is my duty,--it is my pleasure,--to wait on
the son of my respected patron; and, as I am somewhat known both at
the Court, and in the city, to offer him such aid in the furthering of
his affairs as my credit and experience may be able to afford."
"I have no doubt of either, Master Heriot," said Lord Nigel, "and I
thank you heartily for the good-will with which you have placed them
at a stranger's disposal; but my business at Court is done and ended,
and I intend to leave London and, indeed, the island, for foreign
travel and military service. I may add, that the suddenness of my
departure occasions my having little time at my disposal."
Master Heriot did not take the hint, but sat fast, with an embarrassed
countenance however, like one who had something to say that he knew
not exactly how to make effectual. At length he said, with a dubious
smile, "You are fortunate, my lord, in having so soon dispatched your
business at Court. Your talking landlady informs me you have been but
a fortnight in this city. It is usually months and years ere the Court
and a suitor shake hands and part."
"My business," said Lord Nigel, with a brevity which was intended to
stop further discussion, "was summarily dispatched."
Still Master Heriot remained seated, and there was a cordial good-
humour added to the reverence of his appearance, which rendered it
impossible for Lord Nigel to be more explicit in requesting his
absence.
"Your lordship has not yet had time," said the citizen, still
attempting to sustain the conversation, "to visit the places of
amusement,--the playhouses, and other places to which youth resort.
But I see in your lordship's hand one of the new-invented plots of the
piece, [Footnote: Meaning, probably, playbills.] which they hand about
of late--May I ask what play?"
"Oh! a well-known piece," said Lord Nigel, impatiently throwing down
the Proclamation, which he had hitherto been twisting to and fro in
his hand,--"an excellent and well-approved piece--_A New Way to Pay
Old Debts._"
Master Heriot stooped down, saying, "Ah! my old acquaintance, Philip
Massinger;" but, having opened the paper and seen the purport, he
looked at Lord Nigel with surprise, saying, "I trust your lordship
does not think this prohibition can extend either to _your_ person or
your claims?" "I should scarce have thought so myself," said the young
nobleman; "but so it proves. His Majesty, to close this discourse at
once, has been pleased to send me this Proclamation, in answer to a
respectful Supplication for the repayment of large loans advanced by
my father for the service of the State, in the king's utmost
emergencies."
"It is impossible!" said the citizen--"it is absolutely impossible!--
If the king could forget what was due to your father's memory, still
he would not have wished--would not, I may say, have dared--to be so
flagrantly unjust to the memory of such a man as your father, who,
dead in the body, will long live in the memory of the Scottish
people." "I should have been of your opinion," answered Lord
Nigel, in the same tone as before; "but there is no fighting with
facts."
"What was the tenor of this Supplication?" said Heriot; "or by whom
was it presented? Something strange there must have been in the
contents, or else--"
"You may see my original draught," said the young lord, taking it out
of a small travelling strong-box; "the technical part is by my lawyer
in Scotland, a skilful and sensible man; the rest is my own, drawn, I
hope, with due deference and modesty."
Master Heriot hastly cast his eye over the draught. "Nothing," he
said, "can be more well-tempered and respectful. Is it possible the
king can have treated this petition with contempt?"
"He threw it down on the pavement," said the Lord of Glenvarloch, "and
sent me for answer that Proclamation, in which he classes me with the
paupers and mendicants from Scotland, who disgrace his Court in the
eyes of the proud English--that is all. Had not my father stood by him
with heart, sword, and fortune, he might never have seen the Court of
England himself."
"But by whom was this Supplication presented, my lord?" said Heriot;
"for the distaste taken at the messenger will sometimes extend itself
to the message."
"By my servant," said the Lord Nigel; "by the man you saw, and, I
think, were kind to."
"By your servant, my lord?" said the citizen; "he seems a shrewd
fellow, and doubtless a faithful; but surely--"
"You would say," said Lord Nigel, "he is no fit messenger to a king's
presence?--Surely he is not; but what could I do? Every attempt I had
made to lay my case before the king had miscarried, and my petitions
got no farther than the budgets of clerks and secretaries; this fellow
pretended he had a friend in the household that would bring him to the
king's presence,--and so--"
"I understand," said Heriot; "but, my lord, why should you not, in
right of your rank and birth, have appeared at Court, and required an
audience, which could not have been denied to you?"
The young lord blushed a little, and looked at his dress, which was
very plain; and, though in perfect good order, had the appearance of
having seen service.
"I know not why I should be ashamed of speaking the truth," he said,
after a momentary hesitation,--"I had no dress suitable for appearing
at Court. I am determined to incur no expenses which I cannot
discharge; and I think you, sir, would not advise me to stand at the
palace-door, in person, and deliver my petition, along with those who
are in very deed pleading their necessity, and begging an alms."
"That had been, indeed, unseemly," said the citizen; "but yet, my
lord, my mind runs strangely that there must be some mistake.--Can I
speak with your domestic?"
"I see little good it can do," answered the young lord, "but the
interest you take in my misfortunes seems sincere, and therefore----"
He stamped on the floor, and in a few seconds afterwards Moniplies
appeared, wiping from his beard and mustaches the crumbs of bread, and
the froth of the ale-pot, which plainly showed how he had been
employed.--"Will your lordship grant permission," said Heriot, "that I
ask your groom a few questions?" "His lordship's page, Master George,"
answered Moniplies, with a nod of acknowledgment, "if you are minded
to speak according to the letter."
"Hold your saucy tongue," said his master, "and reply distinctly to
the questions you are to be asked."
"And _truly,_ if it like your pageship," said the citizen, "for you
may remember I have a gift to discover falset."
"Weel, weel, weel," replied the domestic, somewhat embarrassed, in
spite of his effrontery--"though I think that the sort of truth that
serves my master, may weel serve ony ane else."
"Pages lie to their masters by right of custom," said the citizen;
"and you write yourself in that band, though I think you be among the
oldest of such springalds; but to me you must speak truth, if you
would not have it end in the whipping-post."
"And that's e'en a bad resting-place," said the well-grown page; "so
come away with your questions, Master George."
"Well, then," demanded the citizen, "I am given to understand that you
yesterday presented to his Majesty's hand a Supplication, or petition,
from this honourable lord, your master."
"Troth, there's nae gainsaying that, sir," replied Moniplies; "there
were enow to see it besides me."
"And you pretend that his Majesty flung it from him with contempt?"
said the citizen. "Take heed, for I have means of knowing the truth;
and you were better up to the neck in the Nor-Loch, which you like so
well, than tell a leasing where his Majesty's name is concerned."
"There is nae occasion for leasing-making about the matter," answered
Moniplies, firmly; "his Majesty e'en flung it frae him as if it had
dirtied his fingers."
"You hear, sir," said Olifaunt, addressing Heriot.
"Hush!" said the sagacious citizen; "this fellow is not ill named--he
has more plies than one in his cloak. Stay, fellow," for Moniplies,
muttering somewhat about finishing his breakfast, was beginning to
shamble towards the door, "answer me this farther question--When you
gave your master's petition to his Majesty, gave you nothing with it?"
"Ou, what should I give wi' it, ye ken, Master George?"
"That is what I desire and insist to know," replied his interrogator.
"Weel, then--I am not free to say, that maybe I might not just slip
into the king's hand a wee bit Sifflication of mine ain, along with my
lord's--just to save his Majesty trouble--and that he might consider
them baith at ance."
"A supplication of your own, you varlet!" said his master.
"Ou dear, ay, my lord," said Richie--"puir bodies hae their bits of
sifflications as weel as their betters."
"And pray, what might your worshipful petition import?" said Master
Heriot.--"Nay, for Heaven's sake, my lord, keep your patience, or we
shall never learn the truth of this strange matter.--Speak out,
sirrah, and I will stand your friend with my lord."
"It's a lang story to tell--but the upshot is, that it's a scrape of
an auld accompt due to my father's yestate by her Majesty the king's
maist gracious mother, when she lived in the Castle, and had sundry
providings and furnishings forth of our booth, whilk nae doubt was an
honour to my father to supply, and whilk, doubtless, it will be a
credit to his Majesty to satisfy, as it will be grit convenience to me
to receive the saam."
"What string of impertinence is this?" said his master.
"Every word as true as e'er John Knox spoke," said Richie; "here's the
bit double of the Sifflication."
Master George took a crumpled paper from the fellow's hand, and said,
muttering betwixt his teeth--"'Humbly showeth--um--um--his Majesty's
maist gracious mother--um--um--justly addebted and owing the sum of
fifteen merks--the compt whereof followeth--Twelve nowte's feet for
jellies--ane lamb, being Christmas--ane roasted capin in grease for
the privy chalmer, when my Lord of Bothwell suppit with her Grace.'--I
think, my lord, you can hardly be surprised that the king gave this
petition a brisk reception; and I conclude, Master Page, that you took
care to present your own Supplication before your master's?"
"Troth did I not," answered Moniplies. "I thought to have given my
lord's first, as was reason gude; and besides that, it wad have redd
the gate for my ain little bill. But what wi' the dirdum an'
confusion, an' the loupin here and there of the skeigh brute of a
horse, I believe I crammed them baith into his hand cheek-by-jowl, and
maybe my ain was bunemost; and say there was aught wrang, I am sure I
had a' the fright and a' the risk--"
"And shall have all the beating, you rascal knave," said Nigel; "am I
to be insulted and dishonoured by your pragmatical insolence, in
blending your base concerns with mine?"
"Nay, nay, nay, my lord," said the good-humoured citizen, interposing,
"I have been the means of bringing the fellow's blunder to light--
allow me interest enough with your lordship to be bail for his bones.
You have cause to be angry, but still I think the knave mistook more
out of conceit than of purpose; and I judge you will have the better
service of him another time, if you overlook this fault--Get you gone,
sirrah--I'll make your peace."
"Na, na," said Moniplies, keeping his ground firmly, "if he likes to
strike a lad that has followed him for pure love, for I think there
has been little servant's fee between us, a' the way frae Scotland,
just let my lord be doing, and see the credit he will get by it--and I
would rather (mony thanks to you though, Master George) stand by a
lick of his baton, than it suld e'er be said a stranger came between
us."
"Go, then," said his master, "and get out of my sight."
"Aweel I wot that is sune done," said Moniplies, retiring slowly; "I
did not come without I had been ca'd for--and I wad have been away
half an hour since with my gude will, only Maister George keepit me to
answer his interrogation, forsooth, and that has made a' this stir."
And so he made his grumbling exit, with the tone much rather of one
who has sustained an injury, than who has done wrong.
"There never was a man so plagued as I am with a malapert knave!--The
fellow is shrewd, and I have found him faithful--I believe he loves
me, too, and he has given proofs of it--but then he is so uplifted in
his own conceit, so self-willed, and so self-opinioned, that he seems
to become the master and I the man; and whatever blunder he commits,
he is sure to make as loud complaints, as if the whole error lay with
me, and in no degree with himself."
"Cherish him, and maintain him, nevertheless," said the citizen; "for
believe my grey hairs, that affection and fidelity are now rarer
qualities in a servitor, than when the world was younger. Yet, trust
him, my good lord, with no commission above his birth or breeding, for
you see yourself how it may chance to fall."
"It is but too evident, Master Heriot," said the young nobleman; "and
I am sorry I have done injustice to my sovereign, and your master. But
I am, like a true Scotsman, wise behind hand--the mistake has
happened--my Supplication has been refused, and my only resource is to
employ the rest of my means to carry Moniplies and myself to some
counter-scarp, and die in the battle-front like my ancestors."
"It were better to live and serve your country like your noble father,
my lord," replied Master George. "Nay, nay, never look down or shake
your head--the king has not refused your Supplication, for he has not
seen it--you ask but justice, and that his place obliges him to give
to his subjects--ay, my lord, and I will say that his natural temper
doth in this hold bias with his duty."
"I were well pleased to think so, and yet----" said Nigel Olifaunt,--
"I speak not of my own wrongs, but my country hath many that are
unredressed."
"My lord," said Master Heriot, "I speak of my royal master, not only
with the respect due from a subject--the gratitude to be paid by a
favoured servant, but also with the frankness of a free and loyal
Scotsman. The king is himself well disposed to hold the scales of
justice even; but there are those around him who can throw without
detection their own selfish wishes and base interests into the scale.
You are already a sufferer by this, and without your knowing it."
"I am surprised, Master Heriot," said the young lord, "to hear you,
upon so short an acquaintance, talk as if you were familiarly
acquainted with my affairs."
"My lord," replied the goldsmith, "the nature of my employment affords
me direct access to the interior of the palace; I am well known to be
no meddler in intrigues or party affairs, so that no favourite has as
yet endeavoured to shut against me the door of the royal closet; on
the contrary, I have stood well with each while he was in power, and I
have not shared the fall of any. But I cannot be thus connected with
the Court, without hearing, even against my will, what wheels are in
motion, and how they are checked or forwarded. Of course, when I
choose to seek such intelligence, I know the sources in which it is to
be traced. I have told you why I was interested in your lordship's
fortunes. It was last night only that I knew you were in this city,
yet I have been able, in coming hither this morning, to gain for you
some information respecting the impediments to your suit."
"Sir, I am obliged by your zeal, however little it may be merited,"
answered Nigel, still with some reserve; "yet I hardly know how I have
deserved this interest."
"First let me satisfy you that it is real," said the citizen; "I blame
you not for being unwilling to credit the fair professions of a
stranger in my inferior class of society, when you have met so little
friendship from relations, and those of your own rank, bound to have
assisted you by so many ties. But mark the cause. There is a mortgage
over your father's extensive estate, to the amount of 40,000 merks,
due ostensibly to Peregrine Peterson, the Conservator of Scottish
Privileges at Campvere."
"I know nothing of a mortgage," said the young lord; "but there is a
wadset for such a sum, which, if unredeemed, will occasion the
forfeiture of my whole paternal estate, for a sum not above a fourth
of its value--and it is for that very reason that I press the king's
government for a settlement of the debts due to my father, that I may
be able to redeem my land from this rapacious creditor."
"A wadset in Scotland," said Heriot, "is the same with a mortgage on
this side of the Tweed; but you are not acquainted with your real
creditor. The Conservator Peterson only lends his name to shroud no
less a man than the Lord Chancellor of Scotland, who hopes, under
cover of this debt, to gain possession of the estate himself, or
perhaps to gratify a yet more powerful third party. He will probably
suffer his creature Peterson to take possession, and when the odium of
the transaction shall be forgotten, the property and lordship of
Glenvarloch will be conveyed to the great man by his obsequious
instrument, under cover of a sale, or some similar device."
"Can this be possible?" said Lord Nigel; "the Chancellor wept when I
took leave of him--called me his cousin--even his son--furnished me
with letters, and, though I asked him for no pecuniary assistance,
excused himself unnecessarily for not pressing it on me, alleging the
expenses of his rank and his large family. No, I cannot believe a
nobleman would carry deceit so far."
"I am not, it is true, of noble blood," said the citizen; "but once
more I bid you look on my grey hairs, and think what can be my
interest in dishonouring them with falsehood in affairs in which I
have no interest, save as they regard the son of my benefactor.
Reflect also, have you had any advantage from the Lord Chancellor's
letters?"
"None," said Nigel Olifaunt, "except cold deeds and fair words. I have
thought for some time, their only object was to get rid of me--one
yesterday pressed money on me when I talked of going abroad, in order
that I might not want the means of exiling myself."
"Right," said Heriot; "rather than you fled not, they would themselves
furnish wings for you to fly withal."
"I will to him this instant," said the incensed youth, "and tell him
my mind of his baseness."
"Under your favour," said Heriot, detaining him, "you shall not do so.
By a quarrel you would become the ruin of me your informer; and though
I would venture half my shop to do your lordship a service, I think
you would hardly wish me to come by damage, when it can be of no
service to you."
The word _shop_ sounded harshly in the ear of the young nobleman, who
replied hastily--"Damage, sir?--so far am I from wishing you to incur
damage, that I would to Heaven you would cease your fruitless offers
of serving one whom there is no chance of ultimately assisting!"
"Leave me alone for that," said the citizen: "you have now erred as
far on the bow-hand. Permit me to take this Supplication--I will have
it suitably engrossed, and take my own time (and it shall be an early
one) for placing it, with more prudence, I trust, than that used by
your follower, in the king's hand--I will almost answer for his taking
up the matter as you would have him--but should he fail to do so, even
then I will not give up the good cause."
"Sir," said the young nobleman, "your speech is so friendly, and my
own state so helpless, that I know not how to refuse your kind
proffer, even while I blush to accept it at the hands of a stranger."
"We are, I trust, no longer such," said the goldsmith; "and for my
guerdon, when my mediation proves successful, and your fortunes are
re-established, you shall order your first cupboard of plate from
George Heriot."
"You would have a bad paymaster, Master Heriot," said Lord Nigel.
"I do not fear that," replied the goldsmith; "and I am glad to see you
smile, my lord--methinks it makes you look still more like the good
old lord your father; and it emboldens me, besides, to bring out a
small request--that you would take a homely dinner with me to-morrow.
I lodge hard by in Lombard Street. For the cheer, my lord, a mess of
white broth, a fat capon well larded, a dish of beef collops for auld
Scotland's sake, and it may be a cup of right old wine, that was
barrelled before Scotland and England were one nation--Then for
company, one or two of our own loving countrymen--and maybe my
housewife may find out a bonny Scots lass or so."
"I would accept your courtesy, Master Heriot," said Nigel, "but I hear
the city ladies of London like to see a man gallant--I would not like
to let down a Scottish nobleman in their ideas, as doubtless you have
said the best of our poor country, and I rather lack the means of
bravery for the present."
"My lord, your frankness leads me a step farther," said Master George.
"I--I owed your father some monies; and--nay, if your lordship looks
at me so fixedly, I shall never tell my story--and, to speak plainly,
for I never could carry a lie well through in my life--it is most
fitting, that, to solicit this matter properly, your lordship should
go to Court in a manner beseeming your quality. I am a goldsmith, and
live by lending money as well as by selling plate. I am ambitious to
put an hundred pounds to be at interest in your hands, till your
affairs are settled."
"And if they are never favourably settled?" said Nigel.
"Then, my lord," returned the citizen, "the miscarriage of such a sum
will be of little consequence to me, compared with other subjects of
regret."
"Master Heriot," said the Lord Nigel, "your favour is generously
offered, and shall be frankly accepted. I must presume that you see
your way through this business, though I hardly do; for I think you
would be grieved to add any fresh burden to me, by persuading me to
incur debts which I am not likely to discharge. I will therefore take
your money, under the hope and trust that you will enable me to repay
you punctually."
"I will convince you, my lord," said the goldsmith, "that I mean to
deal with you as a creditor from whom I expect payment; and therefore,
you shall, with your own good pleasure, sign an acknowledgment for
these monies, and an obligation to content and repay me."
He then took from his girdle his writing materials, and, writing a few
lines to the purport he expressed, pulled out a small bag of gold from
a side-pouch under his cloak, and, observing that it should contain an
hundred pounds, proceeded to tell out the contents very methodically
upon the table. Nigel Olifaunt could not help intimating that this was
an unnecessary ceremonial, and that he would take the bag of gold on
the word of his obliging creditor; but this was repugnant to the old
man's forms of transacting business.
"Bear with me," he said, "my good lord,--we citizens are a wary and
thrifty generation; and I should lose my good name for ever within the
toll of Paul's, were I to grant quittance, or take acknowledgment,
without bringing the money to actual tale. I think it be right now--
and, body of me," he said, looking out at the window, "yonder come my
boys with my mule; for I must Westward Hoe. Put your monies aside, my
lord; it is not well to be seen with such goldfinches chirping about
one in the lodgings of London. I think the lock of your casket be
indifferent good; if not, I can serve you at an easy rate with one
that has held thousands;--it was the good old Sir Faithful Frugal's;--
his spendthrift son sold the shell when he had eaten the kernel--and
there is the end of a city-fortune."
"I hope yours will make a better termination, Master Heriot," said the
Lord Nigel.
"I hope it will, my lord," said the old man, with a smile; "but," to
use honest John Bunyan's phrase--'therewithal the water stood in his
eyes,' "it has pleased God to try me with the loss of two children;
and for one adopted shild who ives--Ah! woe is me! and well-a-day!--
But I am patient and thankful; and for the wealth God has sent me,
it shall not want inheritors while there are orphan lads in Auld
Reekie.--I wish you good-morrow, my lord."
"One orphan has cause to thank you already," said Nigel, as he
attended him to the door of his chamber, where, resisting further
escort, the old citizen made his escape.
As, in going downstairs, he passed the shop where Dame Christie stood
becking, he made civil inquiries after her husband. The dame of course
regretted his absence; but he was down, she said, at Deptford, to
settle with a Dutch ship-master.
"Our way of business, sir," she said, "takes him much from home, and
my husband must be the slave of every tarry jacket that wants but a
pound of oakum."
"All business must be minded, dame," said the goldsmith. "Make my
remembrances--George Heriot, of Lombard Street's remembrances--to your
goodman. I have dealt with him--he is just and punctual--true to time
and engagements;--be kind to your noble guest, and see he wants
nothing. Though it be his pleasure at present to lie private and
retired, there be those that care for him, and I have a charge to see
him supplied; so that you may let me know by your husband, my good
dame, how my lord is, and whether he wants aught."
"And so he _is_ a real lord after all?" said the good dame. "I am sure
I always thought he looked like one. But why does he not go to
Parliament, then?"
"He will, dame," answered Heriot, "to the Parliament of Scotland,
which is his own country."
"Oh! he is but a Scots lord, then," said the good dame; "and that's
the thing makes him ashamed to take the title, as they say."
"Let him not hear _you_ say so, dame," replied the citizen.
"Who, I, sir?" answered she; "no such matter in my thought, sir. Scot
or English, he is at any rate a likely man, and a civil man; and
rather than he should want any thing, I would wait upon him myself,
and come as far as Lombard Street to wait upon your worship too."
"Let your husband come to me, good dame," said the goldsmith, who,
with all his experience and worth, was somewhat of a formalist and
disciplinarian. "The proverb says, 'House goes mad when women gad;'
and let his lordship's own man wait upon his master in his chamber--it
is more seemly. God give ye good-morrow."
"Good-morrow to your worship," said the dame, somewhat coldly; and,
so soon as the adviser was out of hearing, was ungracious enough to
mutter, in contempt of his council, "Marry quep of your advice, for
an old Scotch tinsmith, as you are! My husband is as wise, and very
near as old, as yourself; and if I please him, it is well enough; and
though he is not just so rich just now as some folks, yet I hope to see
him ride upon his moyle, with a foot-cloth, and have his two blue-coats
after him, as well as they do."
CHAPTER V
Wherefore come ye not to court?
Certain 'tis the rarest sport;
There are silks and jewels glistening,
Prattling fools and wise men listening,
Bullies among brave men justling,
Beggars amongst nobles bustling;
Low-breath'd talkers, minion lispers,
Cutting honest throats by whispers;
Wherefore come ye not to court?
Skelton swears 'tis glorious sport.
_Skelton Skeltonizeth._
It was not entirely out of parade that the benevolent citizen was
mounted and attended in that manner, which, as the reader has been
informed, excited a gentle degree of spleen on the part of Dame
Christie, which, to do her justice, vanished in the little soliloquy
which we have recorded. The good man, besides the natural desire to
maintain the exterior of a man of worship, was at present bound to
Whitehall in order to exhibit a piece of valuable workmanship to King
James, which he deemed his Majesty might be pleased to view, or even
to purchase. He himself was therefore mounted upon his caparisoned
mule, that he might the better make his way through the narrow, dirty,
and crowded streets; and while one of his attendants carried under his
arm the piece of plate, wrapped up in red baize, the other two gave an
eye to its safety; for such was then the state of the police of the
metropolis, that men were often assaulted in the public street for the
sake of revenge or of plunder; and those who apprehended being beset,
usually endeavoured, if their estate admitted such expense, to secure
themselves by the attendance of armed followers. And this custom,
which was at first limited to the nobility and gentry, extended by
degrees to those citizens of consideration, who, being understood to
travel with a charge, as it was called, might otherwise have been
selected as safe subjects of plunder by the street-robber.
As Master George Heriot paced forth westward with this gallant
attendance, he paused at the shop door of his countryman and friend,
the ancient horologer, and having caused Tunstall, who was in
attendance, to adjust his watch by the real time, he desired to speak
with his master; in consequence of which summons, the old Time-meter
came forth from his den, his face like a bronze bust, darkened with
dust, and glistening here and there with copper filings, and his
senses so bemused in the intensity of calculation, that he gazed on
his friend the goldsmith for a minute before he seemed perfectly to
comprehend who he was, and heard him express his invitation to David
Ramsay, and pretty Mistress Margaret, his daughter, to dine with him
next day at noon, to meet with a noble young countrymen, without
returning any answer.
"I'll make thee speak, with a murrain to thee," muttered Heriot to
himself; and suddenly changing his tone, he said aloud,--"I pray you,
neighbour David, when are you and I to have a settlement for the
bullion wherewith I supplied you to mount yonder hall-clock at
Theobald's, and that other whirligig that you made for the Duke of
Buckingham? I have had the Spanish house to satisfy for the ingots,
and I must needs put you in mind that you have been eight months
behind-hand."
There is something so sharp and _aigre_ in the demand of a peremptory
dun, that no human tympanum, however inaccessible to other tones, can
resist the application. David Ramsay started at once from his reverie,
and answered in a pettish tone, "Wow, George, man, what needs aw this
din about sax score o' pounds? Aw the world kens I can answer aw
claims on me, and you proffered yourself fair time, till his maist
gracious Majesty and the noble Duke suld make settled accompts wi' me;
and ye may ken, by your ain experience, that I canna gang rowting like
an unmannered Highland stot to their doors, as ye come to mine."
Heriot laughed, and replied, "Well, David, I see a demand of money is
like a bucket of water about your ears, and makes you a man of the
world at once. And now, friend, will you tell me, like a Christian
man, if you will dine with me to-morrow at noon, and bring pretty
Mistress Margaret, my god-daughter, with you, to meet with our noble
young countryman, the Lord
of Glenvarloch?"
"The young Lord of Glenvarloch!" said the old mechanist; "wi' aw my
heart, and blithe I will be to see him again. We have not met these
forty years--he was twa years before me at the humanity classes--he is
a sweet youth."
"That was his father--his father--his father!--you old dotard Dot-and-
carry-one that you are," answered the goldsmith. "A sweet youth he
would have been by this time, had he lived, worthy nobleman! This is
his son, the Lord Nigel."
"His son!" said Ramsay; "maybe he will want something of a
chronometer, or watch--few gallants care to be without them now-a-
days."
"He may buy half your stock-in-trade, if ever he comes to his own, for
what I know," said his friend; "but, David, remember your bond, and
use me not as you did when my housewife had the sheep's-head and the
cock-a-leeky boiling for you as late as two of the clock afternoon."
"She had the more credit by her cookery," answered David, now fully
awake; "a sheep's-head over-boiled, were poison, according to our
saying."
"Well," answered Master George, "but as there will be no sheep's-head
to-morrow, it may chance you to spoil a dinner which a proverb cannot
mend. It may be you may forgather with your friend, Sir Mungo
Malagrowther, for I purpose to ask his worship; so, be sure and bide
tryste, Davie."
"That will I--I will be true as a chronometer," said Ramsay.
"I will not trust you, though," replied Heriot.--"Hear you, Jenkin
boy, tell Scots Janet to tell pretty Mistress Margaret, my god-child,
she must put her father in remembrance to put on his best doublet to-
morrow, and to bring him to Lombard Street at noon. Tell her they are
to meet a brave young Scots lord."
Jenkin coughed that sort of dry short cough uttered by those who are
either charged with errands which they do not like, or hear opinions
to which they must not enter a dissent.
"Umph!" repeated Master George--who, as we have already noticed, was
something of a martinet in domestic discipline--"what does _umph_
mean? Will you do mine errand or not, sirrah?"
"Sure, Master George Heriot," said the apprentice, touching his cap,
"I only meant, that Mistress Margaret was not likely to forget such an
invitation."
"Why, no," said Master George; "she is a dutiful girl to her god-
father, though I sometimes call her a jill-flirt.--And, hark ye,
Jenkin, you and your comrade had best come with your clubs, to see
your master and her safely home; but first shut shop, and loose the
bull-dog, and let the porter stay in the fore-shop till your return. I
will send two of my knaves with you; for I hear these wild youngsters
of the Temple are broken out worse and lighter than ever."
"We can keep their steel in order with good handbats," said Jenkin;
"and never trouble your servants for the matter."
"Or, if need be," said Tunstall, "we have swords as well as the
Templars."
"Fie upon it--fie upon it, young man," said the citizen;--"An
apprentice with a sword!--Marry, heaven forefend! I would as soon see
him in a hat and feather."
"Well, sir," said Jenkin--"we will find arms fitting to our station,
and will defend our master and his daughter, if we should tear up the
very stones of the pavement."
"There spoke a London 'prentice bold," said the citizen; "and, for
your comfort, my lads, you shall crush a cup of wine to the health of
the Fathers of the City. I have my eye on both of you--you are
thriving lads, each in his own way.--God be wi' you, Davie. Forget not
to-morrow at noon." And, so saying, he again turned his mule's head
westward, and crossed Temple Bar, at that slow and decent amble, which
at once became his rank and civic importance, and put his pedestrian
followers to no inconvenience to keep up with him.
At the Temple gate he again paused, dismounted, and sought his way
into one of the small booths occupied by scriveners in the
neighbourhood. A young man, with lank smooth hair combed straight to
his ears, and then cropped short, rose, with a cringing reverence,
pulled off a slouched hat, which he would upon no signal replace on
his head, and answered with much demonstration of reverence, to the
goldsmith's question of, "How goes business, Andrew?"--"Aw the better
for your worship's kind countenance and maintenance."
"Get a large sheet of paper, man, and make a new pen, with a sharp
neb, and fine hair-stroke. Do not slit the quill up too high, it's a
wastrife course in your trade, Andrew--they that do not mind corn-
pickles, never come to forpits. I have known a learned man write a
thousand pages with one quill." [Footnote: A biblical commentary by
Gill, which (if the author's memory serves him) occupies between five
and six hundred printed quarto pages, and must therefore have filled
more pages of manuscript than the number mentioned in the text, has
this quatrain at the end of the volume--
"With one good pen I wrote this book,
Made of a grey goose quill;
A pen it was when it I took,
And a pen I leave it still."]
"Ah! sir," said the lad, who listened to the goldsmith, though
instructing him in his own trade, with an air of veneration and
acquiescence, "how sune ony puir creature like mysell may rise in the
world, wi' the instruction of such a man as your worship!"
"My instructions are few, Andrew, soon told, and not hard to practise.
Be honest--be industrious--be frugal--and you will soon win wealth and
worship.--Here, copy me this Supplication in your best and most formal
hand. I will wait by you till it is done."
The youth lifted not his eye from the paper, and laid not the pen from
his hand, until the task was finished to his employer's satisfaction.
The citizen then gave the young scrivener an angel; and bidding him,
on his life, be secret in all business intrusted to him, again mounted
his mule, and rode on westward along the Strand.
It may be worth while to remind our readers, that the Temple Bar which
Heriot passed, was not the arched screen, or gateway, of the present
day; but an open railing, or palisade, which, at night, and in times
of alarm, was closed with a barricade of posts and chains. The Strand
also, along which he rode, was not, as now, a continued street,
although it was beginning already to assume that character. It still
might be considered as an open road, along the south side of which
stood various houses and hotels belonging to the nobility, having
gardens behind them down to the water-side, with stairs to the river,
for the convenience of taking boat; which mansions have bequeathed the
names of their lordly owners to many of the streets leading from the
Strand to the Thames. The north side of the Strand was also a long
line of houses, behind which, as in Saint Martin's Lane, and other
points, buildings, were rapidly arising; but Covent Garden was still a
garden, in the literal sense of the word, or at least but beginning to
be studded with irregular buildings. All that was passing around,
however, marked the rapid increase of a capital which had long enjoyed
peace, wealth, and a regular government. Houses were rising in every
direction; and the shrewd eye of our citizen already saw the period
not distant, which should convert the nearly open highway on which he
travelled, into a connected and regular street, uniting the Court and
the town with the city of London.
He next passed Charing Cross, which was no longer the pleasant
solitary village at which the judges were wont to breakfast on their
way to Westminster Hall, but began to resemble the artery through
which, to use Johnson's expression "pours the full tide of London
population." The buildings were rapidly increasing, yet certainly gave
not even a faint idea of its present appearance.
At last Whitehall received our traveller, who passed under one of the
beautiful gates designed by Holbein, and composed of tesselated brick-
work, being the same to which Moniplies had profanely likened the
West-Port of Edinburgh, and entered the ample precincts of the palace
of Whitehall, now full of all the confusion attending improvement. It
was just at the time when James,--little suspecting that he was
employed in constructing a palace, from the window of which his only
son was to pass in order that he might die upon a scaffold before it,--
was busied in removing the ancient and ruinous buildings of De Burgh,
Henry VIII., and Queen Elizabeth, to make way for the superb
architecture on which Inigo Jones exerted all his genius. The king,
ignorant of futurity, was now engaged in pressing on his work; and,
for that purpose, still maintained his royal apartments at Whitehall,
amidst the rubbish of old buildings, and the various confusion
attending the erection of the new pile, which formed at present a
labyrinth not easily traversed.
The goldsmith to the Royal Household, and who, if fame spoke true,
oftentimes acted as their banker,--for these professions were not as
yet separated from each other,--was a person of too much importance to
receive the slightest interruption from sentinel or porter; and,
leaving his mule and two of his followers in the outer-court, he
gently knocked at a postern-gate of the building, and was presently
admitted, while the most trusty of his attendants followed him
closely, with the piece of plate under his arm. This man also he left
behind him in an ante-room,--where three or four pages in the royal
livery, but untrussed, unbuttoned, and dressed more carelessly than
the place, and nearness to a king's person, seemed to admit, were
playing at dice and draughts, or stretched upon benches, and
slumbering with half-shut eyes. A corresponding gallery, which opened
from the ante-room, was occupied by two gentlemen-ushers of the
chamber, who gave each a smile of recognition as the wealthy goldsmith
entered.
No word was spoken on either side; but one of the ushers looked first
to Heriot, and then to a little door half-covered by the tapestry,
which seemed to say, as plain as a look could, "Lies your business
that way?" The citizen nodded; and the court-attendant, moving on
tiptoe, and with as much caution as if the floor had been paved with
eggs, advanced to the door, opened it gently, and spoke a few words in
a low tone. The broad Scottish accent of King James was heard in
reply,--"Admit him instanter, Maxwell. Have you hairboured sae lang at
the Court, and not learned, that gold and silver are ever welcome?"
The usher signed to Heriot to advance, and the honest citizen was
presently introduced into the cabinet of the Sovereign.
The scene of confusion amid which he found the king seated, was no bad
picture of the state and quality of James's own mind. There was much
that was rich and costly in cabinet pictures and valuable ornaments;
but they were arranged in a slovenly manner, covered with dust, and
lost half their value, or at least their effect, from the manner in
which they were presented to the eye. The table was loaded with huge
folios, amongst which lay light books of jest and ribaldry; and,
amongst notes of unmercifully long orations, and essays on king-craft,
were mingled miserable roundels and ballads by the Royal 'Prentice, as
he styled himself, in the art of poetry, and schemes for the general
pacification of Europe, with a list of the names of the king's hounds,
and remedies against canine madness.
The king's dress was of green velvet, quilted so full as to be dagger-
proof--which gave him the appearance of clumsy and ungainly
protuberance; while its being buttoned awry, communicated to his
figure an air of distortion. Over his green doublet he wore a sad-
coloured nightgown, out of the pocket of which peeped his hunting-
horn. His high-crowned grey hat lay on the floor, covered with dust,
but encircled by a carcanet of large balas rubies; and he wore a blue
velvet nightcap, in the front of which was placed the plume of a
heron, which had been struck down by a favourite hawk in some critical
moment of the flight, in remembrance of which the king wore this
highly honoured feather.
But such inconsistencies in dress and appointments were mere outward
types of those which existed in the royal character, rendering it a
subject of doubt amongst his contemporaries, and bequeathing it as a
problem to future historians. He was deeply learned, without
possessing useful knowledge; sagacious in many individual cases,
without having real wisdom; fond of his power, and desirous to
maintain and augment it, yet willing to resign the direction of that,
and of himself, to the most unworthy favourites; a big and bold
asserter of his rights in words, yet one who tamely saw them trampled
on in deeds; a lover of negotiations, in which he was always
outwitted; and one who feared war, where conquest might have been
easy. He was fond of his dignity, while he was perpetually degrading
it by undue familiarity; capable of much public labour, yet often
neglecting it for the meanest amusement; a wit, though a pedant; and a
scholar, though fond of the conversation of the ignorant and
uneducated. Even his timidity of temper was not uniform; and there
were moments of his life, and those critical, in which he showed the
spirit of his ancestors. He was laborious in trifles, and a trifler
where serious labour was required; devout in his sentiments, and yet
too often profane in his language; just and beneficent by nature, he
yet gave way to the iniquities and oppression of others. He was
penurious respecting money which he had to give from his own hand, yet
inconsiderately and unboundedly profuse of that which he did not see.
In a word, those good qualities which displayed themselves in
particular cases and occasions, were not of a nature sufficiently firm
and comprehensive to regulate his general conduct; and, showing
themselves as they occasionally did, only entitled James to the
character bestowed on him by Sully--that he was the wisest fool in
Christendom.
That the fortunes of this monarch might be as little of apiece as his
character, he, certainly the least able of the Stewarts, succeeded
peaceably to that kingdom, against the power of which his predecessors
had, with so much difficulty, defended his native throne; and, lastly,
although his reign appeared calculated to ensure to Great Britain that
lasting tranquillity and internal peace which so much suited the
king's disposition, yet, during that very reign, were sown those seeds
of dissension, which, like the teeth of the fabulous dragon, had their
harvest in a bloody and universal civil war.
Such was the monarch, who, saluting Heriot by the name of Jingling
Geordie, (for it was his well-known custom to give nicknames to all
those with whom he was on terms of familiarity,) inquired what new
clatter-traps he had brought with him, to cheat his lawful and native
Prince out of his siller.
"God forbid, my liege," said the citizen, "that I should have any such
disloyal purpose. I did but bring a piece of plate to show to your
most gracious Majesty, which, both for the subject and for the
workmanship, I were loath to put into the hands of any subject until I
knew your Majesty's pleasure anent it."
"Body o' me, man, let's see it, Heriot; though, by my saul, Steenie's
service o' plate was sae dear a bargain, I had 'maist pawned my word
as a Royal King, to keep my ain gold and silver in future, and let
you, Geordie, keep yours."
"Respecting the Duke of Buckingham's plate," said the goldsmith, "your
Majesty was pleased to direct that no expense should be spared, and--"
"What signifies what I desired, man? when a wise man is with fules and
bairns, he maun e'en play at the chucks. But you should have had mair
sense and consideration than to gie Babie Charles and Steenie their
ain gate; they wad hae floored the very rooms wi' silver, and I wonder
they didna."
George Heriot bowed, and said no more. He knew his master too well to
vindicate himself otherwise than by a distant allusion to his order;
and James, with whom economy was only a transient and momentary twinge
of conscience, became immediately afterwards desirous to see the piece
of plate which the goldsmith proposed to exhibit, and dispatched
Maxwell to bring it to his presence. In the meantime he demanded of
the citizen whence he had procured it.
"From Italy, may it please your Majesty," replied Heriot.
"It has naething in it tending to papistrie?" said the king, looking
graver than his wont.
"Surely not, please your Majesty," said Heriot; "I were not wise to
bring any thing to your presence that had the mark of the beast."
"You would be the mair beast yourself to do so," said the king; "it is
weel kend that I wrestled wi' Dagon in my youth, and smote him on the
groundsill of his own temple; a gude evidence that I should be in time
called, however unworthy, the Defender of the Faith.--But here comes
Maxwell, bending under his burden, like the Golden Ass of Apuleius."
Heriot hastened to relieve the usher, and to place the embossed
salver, for such it was, and of extraordinary dimensions, in a light
favourable for his Majesty's viewing the sculpture.
"Saul of my body, man," said the king, "it is a curious piece, and, as
I think, fit for a king's chalmer; and the subject, as you say, Master
George, vera adequate and beseeming--being, as I see, the judgment of
Solomon--a prince in whose paths it weel becomes a' leeving monarchs
to walk with emulation."
"But whose footsteps," said Maxwell, "only one of them--if a subject
may say so much--hath ever overtaken."
"Haud your tongue for a fause fleeching loon!" said the king, but with
a smile on his face that showed the flattery had done its part. "Look
at the bonny piece of workmanship, and haud your clavering tongue.--
And whase handiwork may it be, Geordie?"
"It was wrought, sir," replied the goldsmith, "by the famous
Florentine, Benvenuto Cellini, and designed for Francis the First of
France; but I hope it will find a fitter master."
"Francis of France!" said the king; "send Solomon, King of the Jews,
to Francis of France!--Body of me, man, it would have kythed Cellini
mad, had he never done ony thing else out of the gate. Francis!--why,
he was a fighting fule, man,--a mere fighting fule,--got himsell ta'en
at Pavia, like our ain David at Durham lang syne;--if they could hae
sent him Solomon's wit, and love of peace, and godliness, they wad hae
dune him a better turn. But Solomon should sit in other gate company
than Francis of France."
"I trust that such will be his good fortune," said Heriot.
"It is a curious and very artificial sculpture," said the king, in
continuation; "but yet, methinks, the carnifex, or executioner there,
is brandishing his gully ower near the king's face, seeing he is
within reach of his weapon. I think less wisdom than Solomon's wad
have taught him that there was danger in edge-tools, and that he wad
have bidden the smaik either sheath his shabble, or stand farther
back."
George Heriot endeavoured to alleviate this objection, by assuring the
king that the vicinity betwixt Solomon and the executioner was nearer
in appearance than in reality, and that the perspective should be
allowed for.
"Gang to the deil wi' your prospective, man," said the king; "there
canna be a waur prospective for a lawful king, wha wishes to reign in
luve, and die in peace and honour, than to have naked swords flashing
in his een. I am accounted as brave as maist folks; and yet I profess
to ye I could never look on a bare blade without blinking and winking.
But a'thegither it is a brave piece;--and what is the price of it,
man?"
The goldsmith replied by observing, that it was not his own property,
but that of a distressed countryman.
"Whilk you mean to mak your excuse for asking the double of its worth,
I warrant?" answered the king. "I ken the tricks of you burrows-town
merchants, man."
"I have no hopes of baffling your Majesty's sagacity," said Heriot;
"the piece is really what I say, and the price a hundred and fifty
pounds sterling, if it pleases your Majesty to make present payment."
"A hundred and fifty punds, man! and as mony witches and warlocks to
raise them!" said the irritated Monarch. "My saul, Jingling Geordie,
ye are minded that your purse shall jingle to a bonny tune!--How am I
to tell you down a hundred and fifty punds for what will not weigh as
many merks? and ye ken that my very household servitors, and the
officers of my mouth, are sax months in arrear!"
The goldsmith stood his ground against all this objurgation, being
what he was well accustomed to, and only answered, that, if his
Majesty liked the piece, and desired to possess it, the price could be
easily settled. It was true that the party required the money, but he,
George Heriot, would advance it on his Majesty's account, if such were
his pleasure, and wait his royal conveniency for payment, for that and
other matters; the money, meanwhile, lying at the ordinary usage.
"By my honour," said James, "and that is speaking like an honest and
reasonable tradesman. We maun get another subsidy frae the Commons,
and that will make ae compting of it. Awa wi' it, Maxwell--awa wi' it,
and let it be set where Steenie and Babie Charles shall see it as they
return from Richmond.--And now that we are secret, my good auld friend
Geordie, I do truly opine, that speaking of Solomon and ourselves, the
haill wisdom in the country left Scotland, when we took our travels to
the Southland here."
George Heriot was courtier enough to say, that "the wise naturally
follow the wisest, as stags follow their leader." "Troth, I think
there is something in what thou sayest," said James; "for we
ourselves, and those of our Court and household, as thou thyself, for
example, are allowed by the English, for as self-opinioned as they
are, to pass for reasonable good wits; but the brains of those we have
left behind are all astir, and run clean hirdie-girdie, like sae mony
warlocks and witches on the Devil's Sabbath e'en."
"I am sorry to hear this, my liege," said Heriot. "May it please your
Grace to say what our countrymen have done to deserve such a
character?"
"They are become frantic, man--clean brain-crazed," answered the king.
"I cannot keep them out of the Court by all the proclamations that the
heralds roar themselves hoarse with. Yesterday, nae farther gane, just
as we were mounted, and about to ride forth, in rushed a thorough
Edinburgh gutterblood--a ragged rascal, every dud upon whose back was
bidding good-day to the other, with a coat and hat that would have
served a pease-bogle, and without havings or reverence, thrusts into
our hands, like a sturdy beggar, some Supplication about debts owing
by our gracious mother, and siclike trash; whereat the horse spangs on
end, and, but for our admirable sitting, wherein we have been thought
to excel maist sovereign princes, as well as subjects, in Europe, I
promise you we would have been laid endlang on the causeway."
"Your Majesty," said Heriot, "is their common father, and therefore
they are the bolder to press into your gracious presence."
"I ken I am _pater patriae_ well enough," said James; "but one would
think they had a mind to squeeze my puddings out, that they may divide
the inheritance, Ud's death, Geordie, there is not a loon among them
can deliver a Supplication, as it suld be done in the face of
majesty."
"I would I knew the most fitting and beseeming mode to do so," said
Heriot, "were it but to instruct our poor countrymen in better
fashions."
"By my halidome," said the king, "ye are a ceevileezed fellow,
Geordie, and I carena if I fling awa as much time as may teach ye.
And, first, see you, sir--ye shall approach the presence of majesty
thus,--shadowing your eyes with your hand, to testify that you are in
the presence of the Vice-gerent of Heaven.--Vera weel, George, that is
done in a comely manner.--Then, sir, ye sail kneel, and make as if ye
would kiss the hem of our garment, the latch of our shoe, or such
like.--Very weel enacted--whilk we, as being willing to be debonair
and pleasing towards our lieges, prevent thus,--and motion to you to
rise;--whilk, having a boon to ask, as yet you obey not, but, gliding
your hand into your pouch, bring forth your Supplication, and place it
reverentially in our open palm." The goldsmith, who had complied with
great accuracy with all the prescribed points of the ceremonial, here
completed it, to James's no small astonishment, by placing in his hand
the petition of the Lord of Glenvarloch. "What means this, ye fause
loon?" said he, reddening and sputtering; "hae I been teaching you the
manual exercise, that ye suld present your piece at our ain royal
body?--Now, by this light, I had as lief that ye had bended a real
pistolet against me, and yet this hae ye done in my very cabinet,
where nought suld enter but at my ain pleasure."
"I trust your Majesty," said Heriot, as he continued to kneel, "will
forgive my exercising the lesson you condescended to give me in the
behalf of a friend?"
"Of a friend!" said the king; "so much the waur--so much the waur, I
tell you. If it had been something to do _yoursell_ good there would
have been some sense in it, and some chance that you wad not have come
back on me in a hurry; but a man may have a hundred friends, and
petitions for every ane of them, ilk ane after other."
"Your Majesty, I trust," said Heriot, "will judge me by
former experience, and will not suspect me of such presumption."
"I kenna," said the placable monarch; "the world goes daft, I think--
_sed semel insanivimus omnes_--thou art my old and faithful servant,
that is the truth; and, were't any thing for thy own behoof, man, thou
shouldst not ask twice. But, troth, Steenie loves me so dearly, that
he cares not that any one should ask favours of me but himself.--
Maxwell," (for the usher had re-entered after having carried off the
plate,) "get into the ante-chamber wi' your lang lugs.--In conscience,
Geordie, I think as that thou hast been mine ain auld fiduciary, and
wert my goldsmith when I might say with the Ethnic poet--_Non mea
renidet in domo lacunar_--for, faith, they had pillaged my mither's
auld house sae, that beechen bickers, and treen trenchers, and latten
platters, were whiles the best at our board, and glad we were of
something to put on them, without quarrelling with the metal of the
dishes. D'ye mind, for thou wert in maist of our complots, how we were
fain to send sax of the Blue-banders to harry the Lady of Loganhouse's
dowcot and poultry-yard, and what an awfu' plaint the poor dame made
against Jock of Milch, and the thieves of Annandale, wha were as
sackless of the deed as I am of the sin of murder?"
"It was the better for Jock," said Heriot; "for, if I remember weel,
it saved him from a strapping up at Dumfries, which he had weel
deserved for other misdeeds."
"Ay, man, mind ye that?" said the king; "but he had other virtues, for
he was a tight huntsman, moreover, that Jock of Milch, and could
hollow to a hound till all the woods rang again. But he came to an
Annandale end at the last, for Lord Torthorwald run his lance out
through him.--Cocksnails, man, when I think of those wild passages, in
my conscience, I am not sure but we lived merrier in auld Holyrood in
those shifting days, than now when we are dwelling at heck and manger.
_Cantabit vacuus_--we had but little to care for."
"And if your Majesty please to remember," said the goldsmith, "the
awful task we had to gather silver-vessail and gold-work enough to
make some show before the Spanish Ambassador."
"Vera true," said the king, now in a full tide of gossip, "and I mind
not the name of the right leal lord that helped us with every unce he
had in his house, that his native Prince might have some credit in the
eyes of them that had the Indies at their beck."
"I think, if your Majesty," said the citizen, "will cast your eye on
the paper in your hand, you will recollect his name."
"Ay!" said the king, "say ye sae, man?--Lord Glenvarloch, that was his
name indeed--_Justus et tenax propositi_--A just man, but as obstinate
as a baited bull. He stood whiles against us, that Lord Randal
Olifaunt of Glenvarloch, but he was a loving and a leal subject in the
main. But this supplicator maun be his son--Randal has been long gone
where king and lord must go, Geordie, as weel as the like of you--and
what does his son want with us?"
"The settlement," answered the citizen, "of a large debt due by your
Majesty's treasury, for money advanced to your Majesty in great State
emergency, about the time of the Raid of Ruthven."
"I mind the thing weel," said King James--"Od's death, man, I was just
out of the clutches of the Master of Glamis and his complices, and
there was never siller mair welcome to a born prince,--the mair the
shame and pity that crowned king should need sic a petty sum. But what
need he dun us for it, man, like a baxter at the breaking? We aught
him the siller, and will pay him wi' our convenience, or make it
otherwise up to him, whilk is enow between prince and subject--We are
not _in meditatione fugae,_ man, to be arrested thus peremptorily."
"Alas! an it please your Majesty," said the goldsmith, shaking his
head, "it is the poor young nobleman's extreme necessity, and not his
will, that makes him importunate; for he must have money, and that
briefly, to discharge a debt due to Peregrine Peterson, Conservator of
the Privileges at Campvere, or his haill hereditary barony and estate
of Glenvarloch will be evicted in virtue of an unredeemed wadset."
"How say ye, man--how say ye?" exclaimed the king, impatiently; "the
carle of a Conservator, the son of a Low-Dutch skipper, evict the auld
estate and lordship of the house of Olifaunt?--God's bread, man, that
maun not be--we maun suspend the diligence by writ of favour, or
otherwise."
"I doubt that may hardly be," answered the citizen, "if it please your
Majesty; your learned counsel in the law of Scotland advise, that
there is no remeid but in paying the money."
"Ud's fish," said the king, "let him keep haud by the strong hand
against the carle, until we can take some order about his affairs."
"Alas!" insisted the goldsmith, "if it like your Majesty, your own
pacific government, and your doing of equal justice to all men, has
made main force a kittle line to walk by, unless just within the
bounds of the Highlands."
"Well--weel--weel, man," said the perplexed monarch, whose ideas of
justice, expedience, and convenience, became on such occasions
strangely embroiled; "just it is we should pay our debts, that the
young man may pay his; and he must be paid, and _in verbo regis_ he
shall be paid--but how to come by the siller, man, is a difficult
chapter--ye maun try the city, Geordie."
"To say the truth," answered Heriot, "please your gracious Majesty,
what betwixt loans and benevolences, and subsidies, the city is at
this present----"
"Donna tell me of what the city is," said King James; "our Exchequer
is as dry as Dean Giles's discourses on the penitentiary psalms--_Ex
nihilo nihil fit_--It's ill taking the breeks aff a wild Highlandman--
they that come to me for siller, should tell me how to come by it--the
city ye maun try, Heriot; and donna think to be called Jingling
Geordie for nothing--and _in verbo regis_ I will pay the lad if you
get me the loan--I wonnot haggle on the terms; and, between you and
me, Geordie, we will redeem the brave auld estate of Glenvarloch.--But
wherefore comes not the young lord to Court, Heriot--is he comely--is
he presentable in the presence?"
"No one can be more so," said George Heriot; "but----"
"Ay, I understand ye," said his Majesty--"I understand ye--_Res
angusta domi_--puir lad-puir lad!--and his father a right true leal
Scots heart, though stiff in some opinions. Hark ye, Heriot, let the
lad have twa hundred pounds to fit him out. And, here--here"--(taking
the carcanet of rubies from his old hat)--"ye have had these in pledge
before for a larger sum, ye auld Levite that ye are. Keep them in
gage, till I gie ye back the siller out of the next subsidy."
"If it please your Majesty to give me such directions in writing,"
said the cautious citizen.
"The deil is in your nicety, George," said the king; "ye are as
preceese as a Puritan in form, and a mere Nullifidian in the marrow of
the matter. May not a king's word serve ye for advancing your pitiful
twa hundred pounds?"
"But not for detaining the crown jewels," said George Heriot.
And the king, who from long experience was inured to dealing with
suspicious creditors, wrote an order upon George Heriot, his well-
beloved goldsmith and jeweller, for the sum of two hundred pounds, to
be paid presently to Nigel Olifaunt, Lord of Glenvarloch, to be
imputed as so much debts due to him by the crown; and authorizing the
retention of a carcanet of balas rubies, with a great diamond, as
described in a Catalogue of his Majesty's Jewels, to remain in
possession of the said George Heriot, advancer of the said sum, and so
forth, until he was lawfully contented and paid thereof. By another
rescript, his Majesty gave the said George Heriot directions to deal
with some of the monied men, upon equitable terms, for a sum of money
for his Majesty's present use, not to be under 50,000 merks, but as
much more as could conveniently be procured.
"And has he ony lair, this Lord Nigel of ours?" said the king.
George Heriot could not exactly answer this question; but believed
"the young lord had studied abroad."
"He shall have our own advice," said the king, "how to carry on his
studies to maist advantage; and it may be we will have him come to
Court, and study with Steenie and Babie Charles. And, now we think
on't, away--away, George--for the bairns will be coming hame
presently, and we would not as yet they kend of this matter we have
been treating anent. _Propera fedem,_ O Geordie. Clap your mule
between your boughs, and god-den with you."
Thus ended the conference betwixt the gentle King Jamie and his
benevolent jeweller and goldsmith.
CHAPTER VI
O I do know him--tis the mouldy lemon
Which our court wits will wet their lips withal,
When they would sauce their honied conversation
With somewhat sharper flavour--Marry sir,
That virtue's wellnigh left him--all the juice
That was so sharp and poignant, is squeezed out,
While the poor rind, although as sour as ever,
Must season soon the draff we give our grunters,
For two legg'd things are weary on't.
_The Chamberlain--A Comedy_
The good company invited by the hospitable citizen assembled at his
house in Lombard Street at the "hollow and hungry hour" of noon, to
partake of that meal which divides the day, being about the time when
modern persons of fashion, turning themselves upon their pillow, begin
to think, not without a great many doubts and much hesitation, that
they will by and by commence it. Thither came the young Nigel, arrayed
plainly, but in a dress, nevertheless, more suitable to his age and
quality than he had formerly worn, accompanied by his servant
Moniplies, whose outside also was considerably improved. His solemn
and stern features glared forth from under a blue velvet bonnet,
fantastically placed sideways on his head--he had a sound and tough
coat of English blue broad-cloth, which, unlike his former vestment,
would have stood the tug of all the apprentices in Fleet Street. The
buckler and broadsword he wore as the arms of his condition, and a
neat silver badge, bearing his lord's arms, announced that he was an
appendage of aristocracy. He sat down in the good citizen's buttery,
not a little pleased to find his attendance upon the table in the hall
was likely to be rewarded with his share of a meal such as he had
seldom partaken of.
Mr. David Ramsay, that profound and ingenious mechanic, was safely
conducted to Lombard Street, according to promise, well washed,
brushed, and cleaned, from the soot of the furnace and the forge. His
daughter, who came with him, was about twenty years old, very pretty,
very demure, yet with lively black eyes, that ever and anon
contradicted the expression of sobriety, to which silence, reserve, a
plain velvet hood, and a cambric ruff, had condemned Mistress Marget,
as the daughter of a quiet citizen.
There were also two citizens and merchants of London, men ample in
cloak, and many-linked golden chain, well to pass in the world, and
experienced in their craft of merchandise, but who require no
particular description. There was an elderly clergyman also, in his
gown and cassock, a decent venerable man, partaking in his manners of
the plainness of the citizens amongst whom he had his cure.
These may be dismissed with brief notice; but not so Sir Mungo
Malagrowther, of Girnigo Castle, who claims a little more attention,
as an original character of the time in which he flourished.
That good knight knocked at Master Heriot's door just as the clock
began to strike twelve, and was seated in his chair ere the last
stroke had chimed. This gave the knight an excellent opportunity of
making sarcastic observations on all who came later than himself, not
to mention a few rubs at the expense of those who had been so
superfluous as to appear earlier.
Having little or no property save his bare designation, Sir Mungo had
been early attached to Court in the capacity of whipping-boy, as the
office was then called, to King James the Sixth, and, with his
Majesty, trained to all polite learning by his celebrated preceptor,
George Buchanan. The office of whipping-boy doomed its unfortunate
occupant to undergo all the corporeal punishment which the Lord's
Anointed, whose proper person was of course sacred, might chance to
incur, in the course of travelling through his grammar and prosody.
Under the stern rule, indeed, of George Buchanan, who did not approve
of the vicarious mode of punishment, James bore the penance of his own
faults, and Mungo Malagrowther enjoyed a sinecure; but James's other
pedagogue, Master Patrick Young, went more ceremoniously to work, and
appalled the very soul of the youthful king by the floggings which he
bestowed on the whipping-boy, when the royal task was not suitably
performed. And be it told to Sir Mungo's praise, that there were
points about him in the highest respect suited to his official
situation. He had even in youth a naturally irregular and grotesque
set of features, which, when distorted by fear, pain, and anger,
looked like one of the whimsical faces which present themselves in a
Gothic cornice. His voice also was high-pitched and querulous, so
that, when smarting under Master Peter Young's unsparing inflictions,
the expression of his grotesque physiognomy, and the superhuman yells
which he uttered, were well suited to produce all the effects on the
Monarch who deserved the lash, that could possibly be produced by
seeing another and an innocent individual suffering for his delict.
Sir Mungo Malagrowther, for such he became, thus got an early footing
at Court, which another would have improved and maintained. But, when
he grew too big to be whipped, he had no other means of rendering
himself acceptable. A bitter, caustic, and backbiting humour, a
malicious wit, and an envy of others more prosperous than the
possessor of such amiable qualities, have not, indeed, always been
found obstacles to a courtier's rise; but then they must be
amalgamated with a degree of selfish cunning and prudence, of which
Sir Mungo had no share. His satire ran riot, his envy could not
conceal itself, and it was not long after his majority till he had as
many quarrels upon his hands as would have required a cat's nine lives
to answer. In one of these rencontres he received, perhaps we should
say fortunately, a wound, which served him as an excuse for answering
no invitations of the kind in future. Sir Rullion Rattray, of
Ranagullion, cut off, in mortal combat, three of the fingers of his
right hand, so that Sir Mungo never could hold sword again. At a later
period, having written some satirical verses upon the Lady Cockpen, he
received so severe a chastisement from some persons employed for the
purpose, that he was found half dead on the spot where they had thus
dealt with him, and one of his thighs having been broken, and ill set,
gave him a hitch in his gait, with which he hobbled to his grave. The
lameness of his leg and hand, besides that they added considerably to
the grotesque appearance of this original, procured him in future a
personal immunity from the more dangerous consequences of his own
humour; and he gradually grew old in the service of the Court, in
safety of life and limb, though without either making friends or
attaining preferment. Sometimes, indeed, the king was amused with his
caustic sallies, but he had never art enough to improve the favourable
opportunity; and his enemies (who were, for that matter, the whole
Court) always found means to throw him out of favour again. The
celebrated Archie Armstrong offered Sir Mungo, in his generosity, a
skirt of his own fool's coat, proposing thereby to communicate to him
the privileges and immunities of a professed jester--"For," said the
man of motley, "Sir Mungo, as he goes on just now, gets no more for a
good jest than just the king's pardon for having made it."
Even in London, the golden shower which fell around him did not
moisten the blighted fortunes of Sir Mungo Malagrowther. He grew old,
deaf, and peevish--lost even the spirit which had formerly animated
his strictures--and was barely endured by James, who, though himself
nearly as far stricken in years, retained, to an unusual and even an
absurd degree, the desire to be surrounded by young people.
Sir Mungo, thus fallen into the yellow leaf of years and fortune,
showed his emaciated form and faded embroidery at Court as seldom as
his duty permitted; and spent his time in indulging his food for
satire in the public walks, and in the aisles of Saint Paul's, which
were then the general resort of newsmongers and characters of all
descriptions, associating himself chiefly with such of his countrymen
as he accounted of inferior birth and rank to himself. In this manner,
hating and contemning commerce, and those who pursued it, he
nevertheless lived a good deal among the Scottish artists and
merchants, who had followed the Court to London. To these he could
show his cynicism without much offence; for some submitted to his
jeers and ill-humour in deference to his birth and knighthood, which
in those days conferred high privileges--and others, of more sense,
pitied and endured the old man, unhappy alike in his fortunes and his
temper.
Amongst the latter was George Heriot, who, though his habits and
education induced him to carry aristocratical feelings to a degree
which would now be thought extravagant, had too much spirit and good
sense to permit himself to be intruded upon to an unauthorized excess,
or used with the slightest improper freedom, by such a person as Sir
Mungo, to whom he was, nevertheless, not only respectfully civil, but
essentially kind, and even generous.
Accordingly, this appeared from the manner in which Sir Mungo
Malagrowther conducted himself upon entering the apartment. He paid
his respects to Master Heriot, and a decent, elderly, somewhat severe-
looking female, in a coif, who, by the name of Aunt Judith, did the
honours of his house and table, with little or no portion of the
supercilious acidity, which his singular physiognomy assumed when he
made his bow successively to David Ramsay and the two sober citizens.
He thrust himself into the conversation of the latter, to observe he
had heard in Paul's, that the bankrupt concern of Pindivide, a great
merchant,--who, as he expressed it, had given the crows a pudding, and
on whom he knew, from the same authority, each of the honest citizens
has some unsettled claim,--was like to prove a total loss--"stock and
block, ship and cargo, keel and rigging, all lost, now and for ever."
The two citizens grinned at each other; but, too prudent to make their
private affairs the subject of public discussion, drew their heads
together, and evaded farther conversation by speaking in a whisper.
The old Scots knight next attacked the watchmaker with the same
disrespectful familiarity.--"Davie," he said,--"Davie, ye donnard auld
idiot, have ye no gane mad yet, with applying your mathematical
science, as ye call it, to the book of Apocalypse? I expected to have
heard ye make out the sign of the beast, as clear as a tout on a
bawbee whistle."
"Why, Sir Mungo," said the mechanist, after making an effort to recall
to his recollection what had been said to him, and by whom, "it may
be, that ye are nearer the mark than ye are yoursell aware of; for,
taking the ten horns o' the beast, ye may easily estimate by your
digitals--"
"My digits! you d--d auld, rusty, good-for-nothing time-piece!"
exclaimed Sir Mungo, while, betwixt jest and earnest, he laid on his
hilt his hand, or rather his claw, (for Sir Rullion's broadsword has
abridged it into that form,)--"D'ye mean to upbraid me with my
mutilation?"
Master Heriot interfered. "I cannot persuade our friend David," he
said, "that scriptural prophecies are intended to remain in obscurity,
until their unexpected accomplishment shall make, as in former days,
that fulfilled which was written. But you must not exert your knightly
valour on him for all that."
"By my saul, and it would be throwing it away," said Sir Mungo,
laughing. "I would as soon set out, with hound and horn, to hunt a
sturdied sheep; for he is in a doze again, and up to the chin in
numerals, quotients, and dividends.--Mistress Margaret, my pretty
honey," for the beauty of the young citizen made even Sir Mungo
Malagrowther's grim features relax themselves a little, "is your
father always as entertaining as he seems just now?"
Mistress Margaret simpered, bridled, looked to either side, then
straight before her; and, having assumed all the airs of bashful
embarrassment and timidity which were necessary, as she thought, to
cover a certain shrewd readiness which really belonged to her
character, at length replied: "That indeed her father was very
thoughtful, but she had heard that he took the habit of mind from her
grandfather."
"Your grandfather!" said Sir Mungo,--after doubting if he had heard
her aright,--"Said she her grandfather! The lassie is distraught!--I
ken nae wench on this side of Temple Bar that is derived from so
distant a relation."
"She has got a godfather, however, Sir Mungo," said George Heriot,
again interfering; "and I hope you will allow him interest enough with
you, to request you will not put his pretty godchild to so deep a
blush."
"The better--the better," said Sir Mungo. "It is a credit to her,
that, bred and born within the sound of Bow-bell, she can blush for
any thing; and, by my saul, Master George," he continued, chucking the
irritated and reluctant damsel under the chin, "she is bonny enough to
make amends for her lack of ancestry--at least, in such a region as
Cheapside, where, d'ye mind me, the kettle cannot call the porridge-
pot--"
The damsel blushed, but not so angrily as before. Master George Heriot
hastened to interrupt the conclusion of Sir Mungo's homely proverb, by
introducing him personally to Lord Nigel.
Sir Mungo could not at first understand what his host said,--"Bread of
Heaven, wha say ye, man?"
Upon the name of Nigel Olifaunt, Lord Glenvarloch, being again
hollowed into his ear, he drew up, and, regarding his entertainer with
some austerity, rebuked him for not making persons of quality
acquainted with each other, that they might exchange courtesies before
they mingled with other folks. He then made as handsome and courtly a
congee to his new acquaintance as a man maimed in foot and hand could
do; and, observing he had known my lord, his father, bid him welcome
to London, and hoped he should see him at Court.
Nigel in an instant comprehended, as well from Sir Mungo's manner, as
from a strict compression of their entertainer's lips, which intimated
the suppression of a desire to laugh, that he was dealing with an
original of no ordinary description, and accordingly, returned his
courtesy with suitable punctiliousness. Sir Mungo, in the meanwhile,
gazed on him with much earnestness; and, as the contemplation of
natural advantages was as odious to him as that of wealth, or other
adventitious benefits, he had no sooner completely perused the
handsome form and good features of the young lord, than like one of
the comforters of the man of Uz, he drew close up to him, to enlarge
on the former grandeur of the Lords of Glenvarloch, and the regret
with which he had heard, that their representative was not likely to
possess the domains of his ancestry. Anon, he enlarged upon the
beauties of the principal mansion of Glenvarloch--the commanding site
of the old castle--the noble expanse of the lake, stocked with
wildfowl for hawking--the commanding screen of forest, terminating in
a mountain-ridge abounding with deer--and all the other advantages of
that fine and ancient barony, till Nigel, in spite of every effort to
the contrary, was unwillingly obliged to sigh.
Sir Mungo, skilful in discerning when the withers of those he
conversed with were wrung, observed that his new acquaintance winced,
and would willingly have pressed the discussion; but the cook's
impatient knock upon the dresser with the haft of his dudgeon-knife,
now gave a signal loud enough to be heard from the top of the house to
the bottom, summoning, at the same time, the serving-men to place the
dinner upon the table, and the guests to partake of it.
Sir Mungo, who was an admirer of good cheer,--a taste which, by the
way, might have some weight in reconciling his dignity to these city
visits,--was tolled off by the sound, and left Nigel and the other
guests in peace, until his anxiety to arrange himself in his due place
of pre-eminence at the genial board was duly gratified. Here, seated
on the left hand of Aunt Judith, he beheld Nigel occupy the station of
yet higher honour on the right, dividing that matron from pretty
Mistress Margaret; but he saw this with the more patience, that there
stood betwixt him and the young lord a superb larded capon.
The dinner proceeded according to the form of the times. All was
excellent of the kind; and, besides the Scottish cheer promised, the
board displayed beef and pudding, the statutory dainties of Old
England. A small cupboard of plate, very choicely and beautifully
wrought, did not escape the compliments of some of the company, and an
oblique sneer from Sir Mungo, as intimating the owner's excellence in
his own mechanical craft.
"I am not ashamed of the workmanship, Sir Mungo," said the honest
citizen. "They say, a good cook knows how to lick his own fingers;
and, methinks, it were unseemly that I, who have furnished half the
cupboards in broad Britain, should have my own covered with paltry
pewter."
The blessing of the clergyman now left the guests at liberty to attack
what was placed before them; and the meal went forward with great
decorum, until Aunt Judith, in farther recommendation of the capon,
assured her company that it was of a celebrated breed of poultry,
which she had herself brought from Scotland.
"Then, like some of his countrymen, madam," said the pitiless Sir
Mungo, not without a glance towards his landlord, "he has been well
larded in England."
"There are some others of his countrymen," answered Master Heriot, "to
whom all the lard in England has not been able to render that good
office."
Sir Mungo sneered and reddened, the rest of the company laughed; and
the satirist, who had his reasons for not coming to extremity with
Master George, was silent for the rest of the dinner.
The dishes were exchanged for confections, and wine of the highest
quality and flavour; and Nigel saw the entertainments of the
wealthiest burgomasters, which he had witnessed abroad, fairly
outshone by the hospitality of a London citizen. Yet there was nothing
ostentatious, or which seemed inconsistent with the degree of an
opulent burgher.
While the collation proceeded, Nigel, according to the good-breeding
of the time, addressed his discourse principally to Mrs. Judith, whom
he found to be a woman of a strong Scottish understanding, more
inclined towards the Puritans than was her brother George, (for in
that relation she stood to him, though he always called her aunt,)
attached to him in the strongest degree, and sedulously attentive to
all his comforts. As the conversation of this good dame was neither
lively nor fascinating, the young lord naturally addressed himself
next to the old horologer's very pretty daughter, who sat upon his
left hand. From her, however, there was no extracting any reply beyond
the measure of a monosyllable; and when the young gallant had said the
best and most complaisant things which his courtesy supplied, the
smile that mantled upon her pretty mouth was so slight and evanescent,
as scarce to be discernible.
Nigel was beginning to tire of his company, for the old citizens were
speaking with his host of commercial matters in language to him
totally unintelligible, when Sir Mungo Malagrowther suddenly summoned
their attention.
That amiable personage had for some time withdrawn from the company
into the recess of a projecting window, so formed and placed as to
command a view of the door of the house, and of the street. This
situation was probably preferred by Sir Mungo on account of the number
of objects which the streets of a metropolis usually offer, of a kind
congenial to the thoughts of a splenetic man. What he had hitherto
seen passing there, was probably of little consequence; but now a
trampling of horse was heard without, and the knight suddenly
exclaimed,--"By my faith, Master George, you had better go look to
shop; for here comes Knighton, the Duke of Buckingham's groom, and two
fellows after him, as if he were my Lord Duke himself."
"My cash-keeper is below," said Heriot, without disturbing himself,
"and he will let me know if his Grace's commands require my immediate
attention."
"Umph!--cash-keeper?" muttered Sir Mungo to himself; "he would have
had an easy office when I first kend ye.--But," said he, speaking
aloud, "will you not come to the window, at least? for Knighton has
trundled a piece of silver-plate into your house--ha! ha! ha!--
trundled it upon its edge, as a callan' would drive a hoop. I cannot
help laughing--ha! ha! ha!--at the fellow's impudence."
"I believe you could not help laughing," said George Heriot, rising up
and leaving the room, "if your best friend lay dying."
"Bitter that, my lord--ha?" said Sir Mungo, addressing Nigel. "Our
friend is not a goldsmith for nothing--he hath no leaden wit. But I
will go down, and see what comes on't."
Heriot, as he descended the stairs, met his cash-keeper coming up,
with some concern in his face.--"Why, how now, Roberts," said the
goldsmith, "what means all this, man?"
"It is Knighton, Master Heriot, from the Court--Knighton, the Duke's
man. He brought back the salver you carried to Whitehall, flung it
into the entrance as if it had been an old pewter platter, and bade me
tell you the king would have none of your trumpery."
"Ay, indeed," said George Heriot--"None of my trumpery!--Come hither
into the compting-room, Roberts.--Sir Mungo," he added, bowing to the
knight, who had joined, and was preparing to follow them, "I pray your
forgiveness for an instant."
In virtue of this prohibition, Sir Mungo, who, as well as the rest of
the company, had overheard what passed betwixt George Heriot and his
cash-keeper, saw himself condemned to wait in the outer business-room,
where he would have endeavoured to slake his eager curiosity by
questioning Knighton; but that emissary of greatness, after having
added to the uncivil message of his master some rudeness of his own,
had again scampered westward, with his satellites at his heels.
In the meanwhile, the name of the Duke of Buckingham, the omnipotent
favourite both of the king and the Prince of Wales, had struck some
anxiety into the party which remained in the great parlour. He was
more feared than beloved, and, if not absolutely of a tyrannical
disposition, was accounted haughty, violent, and vindictive. It
pressed on Nigel's heart, that he himself, though he could not
conceive how, nor why, might be the original cause of the resentment
of the Duke against his benefactor. The others made their comments in
whispers, until the sounds reached Ramsay, who had not heard a word of
what had previously passed, but, plunged in those studies with which
he connected every other incident and event, took up only the
catchword, and replied,--"The Duke--the Duke of Buckingham--George
Villiers--ay--I have spoke with Lambe about him."
"Our Lord and our Lady! Now, how can you say so, father?" said his
daughter, who had shrewdness enough to see that her father was
touching upon dangerous ground.
"Why, ay, child," answered Ramsay; "the stars do but incline, they
cannot compel. But well you wot, it is commonly said of his Grace, by
those who have the skill to cast nativities, that there was a notable
conjunction of Mars and Saturn--the apparent or true time of which,
reducing the calculations of Eichstadius made for the latitude of
Oranienburgh, to that of London, gives seven hours, fifty-five
minutes, and forty-one seconds----"
"Hold your peace, old soothsayer," said Heriot, who at that instant
entered the room with a calm and steady countenance; "your
calculations are true and undeniable when they regard brass and wire,
and mechanical force; but future events are at the pleasure of Him who
bears the hearts of kings in his hands."
"Ay, but, George," answered the watchmaker, "there was a concurrence
of signs at this gentleman's birth, which showed his course would be a
strange one. Long has it been said of him, he was born at the very
meeting of night and day, and under crossing and contending influences
that may affect both us and him.
'Full moon and high sea,
Great man shalt thou be;
Red dawning, stormy sky,
Bloody death shalt thou die.'"
"It is not good to speak of such things," said Heriot, "especially of
the great; stone walls have ears, and a bird of the air shall carry
the matter."
Several of the guests seemed to be of their host's opinion. The two
merchants took brief leave, as if under consciousness that something
was wrong. Mistress Margaret, her body-guard of 'prentices being in
readiness, plucked her father by the sleeve, and, rescuing him from a
brown study, (whether referring to the wheels of Time, or to that of
Fortune, is uncertain,) wished good-night to her friend Mrs. Judith,
and received her godfather's blessing, who, at the same time, put upon
her slender finger a ring of much taste and some value; for he seldom
suffered her to leave him without some token of his affection. Thus
honourably dismissed, and accompanied by her escort, she set forth on
her return to Fleet Street.
Sir Mungo had bid adieu to Master Heriot as he came out from the back
compting-room, but such was the interest which he took in the affairs
of his friend, that, when Master George went upstairs, he could not
help walking into that sanctum sanctorum, to see how Master Roberts
was employed. The knight found the cash-keeper busy in making extracts
from those huge brass-clasped leathern-bound manuscript folios, which
are the pride and trust of dealers, and the dread of customers whose
year of grace is out. The good knight leant his elbows on the desk,
and said to the functionary in a condoling tone of voice,--"What! you
have lost a good customer, I fear, Master Roberts, and are busied in
making out his bill of charges?"
Now, it chanced that Roberts, like Sir Mungo himself, was a little
deaf, and, like Sir Mungo, knew also how to make the most of it; so
that he answered at cross purposes,--"I humbly crave your pardon, Sir
Mungo, for not having sent in your bill of charge sooner, but my
master bade me not disturb you. I will bring the items together in a
moment." So saying, he began to turn over the leaves of his book of
fate, murmuring, "Repairing ane silver seal-new clasp to his chain of
office--ane over-gilt brooch to his hat, being a Saint Andrew's cross,
with thistles--a copper gilt pair of spurs,--this to Daniel Driver, we
not dealing in the article."
He would have proceeded; but Sir Mungo, not prepared to endure the
recital of the catalogue of his own petty debts, and still less
willing to satisfy them on the spot, wished the bookkeeper,
cavalierly, good-night, and left the house without farther ceremony.
The clerk looked after him with a civil city sneer, and immediately
resumed the more serious labours which Sir Mungo's intrusion had
interrupted.
CHAPTER VII
Things needful we have thought on; but the thing
Of all most needful--that which Scripture terms,
As if alone it merited regard,
The ONE thing needful--that's yet unconsider'd.
_The Chamberlain._
When the rest of the company had taken their departure from Master
Heriot's house, the young Lord of Glenvarloch also offered to take
leave; but his host detained him for a few minutes, until all were
gone excepting the clergyman.
"My lord," then said the worthy citizen, "we have had our permitted
hour of honest and hospitable pastime, and now I would fain delay you
for another and graver purpose, as it is our custom, when we have the
benefit of good Mr. Windsor's company, that he reads the prayers of
the church for the evening before we separate. Your excellent father,
my lord, would not have departed before family worship--I hope the
same from your lordship."
"With pleasure, sir," answered Nigel; "and you add in the invitation
an additional obligation to those with which you have loaded me. When
young men forget what is their duty, they owe deep thanks to the
friend who will remind them of it."
While they talked together in this manner, the serving-men had removed
the folding-tables, brought forward a portable reading-desk, and
placed chairs and hassocks for their master, their mistress, and the
noble stranger. Another low chair, or rather a sort of stool, was
placed close beside that of Master Heriot; and though the circumstance
was trivial, Nigel was induced to notice it, because, when about to
occupy that seat, he was prevented by a sign from the old gentleman,
and motioned to another of somewhat more elevation. The clergyman took
his station behind the reading-desk. The domestics, a numerous family
both of clerks and servants, including Moniplies, attended, with great
gravity, and were accommodated with benches.
The household were all seated, and, externally at least, composed to
devout attention, when a low knock was heard at the door of the
apartment; Mrs. Judith looked anxiously at her brother, as if desiring
to know his pleasure. He nodded his head gravely, and looked to the
door. Mrs. Judith immediately crossed the chamber, opened the door,
and led into the apartment a beautiful creature, whose sudden and
singular appearance might have made her almost pass for an apparition.
She was deadly pale-there was not the least shade of vital red to
enliven features, which were exquisitely formed, and might, but for
that circumstance, have been termed transcendently beautiful. Her long
black hair fell down over her shoulders and down her back, combed
smoothly and regularly, but without the least appearance of decoration
or ornament, which looked very singular at a period when head-gear, as
it was called, of one sort or other, was generally used by all ranks.
Her dress was of white, of the simplest fashion, and hiding all her
person excepting the throat, face, and hands. Her form was rather
beneath than above the middle size, but so justly proportioned and
elegantly made, that the spectator's attention was entirely withdrawn
from her size. In contradiction of the extreme plainness of all the
rest of her attire, she wore a necklace which a duchess might have
envied, so large and lustrous were the brilliants of which it was
composed; and around her waist a zone of rubies of scarce inferior
value.
When this singular figure entered the apartment, she cast her eyes on
Nigel, and paused, as if uncertain whether to advance or retreat. The
glance which she took of him seemed to be one rather of uncertainty
and hesitation, than of bashfulness or timidity. Aunt Judith took her
by the hand, and led her slowly forward--her dark eyes, however,
continued to be fixed on Nigel, with an expression of melancholy by
which he felt strangely affected. Even when she was seated on the
vacant stool, which was placed there probably for her accommodation,
she again looked on him more than once with the same pensive,
lingering, and anxious expression, but without either shyness or
embarrassment, not even so much as to call the slightest degree of
complexion into her cheek.
So soon as this singular female had taken up the prayer-book, which
was laid upon her cushion, she seemed immersed in devotional duty; and
although Nigel's attention to the service was so much disturbed by
this extraordinary apparition, that he looked towards her repeatedly
in the course of the service, he
could never observe that her eyes or her thoughts strayed so much as a
single moment from the task in which she was engaged. Nigel himself
was less attentive, for the appearance of this lady seemed so
extraordinary, that, strictly as he had been bred up by his father to
pay the most reverential attention during performance of divine
service, his thoughts in spite of himself were disturbed by her
presence, and he earnestly wished the prayers were ended, that his
curiosity might obtain some gratification. When the service was
concluded, and each had remained, according to the decent and edifying
practice of the church, concentrated in mental devotion for a short
space, the mysterious visitant arose ere any other person stirred; and
Nigel remarked that none of the domestics left their places, oreven
moved, until she had first kneeled on one knee to Heriot, who seemed
to bless her with his hand laid on her head, and a melancholy
solemnity of look and action. She then bended her body, but without
kneeling, to Mrs. Judith, and having performed these two acts of
reverence, she left the room; yet just in the act of her departure,
she once more turned her penetrating eyes on Nigel with a fixed look,
which compelled him to turn his own aside. When he looked towards her
again, he saw only the skirt of her white mantle as she left the
apartment.
The domestics then rose and dispersed themselves--wine, and fruit, and
spices, were offered to Lord Nigel and to the clergyman, and the
latter took his leave. The young lord would fain have accompanied him,
in hope to get some explanation of the apparition which he had beheld,
but he was stopped by his host, who requested to speak with him in his
compting-room.
"I hope, my lord," said the citizen, "that your preparations for
attending Court are in such forwardness that you can go thither the
day after to-morrow. It is, perhaps, the last day, for some time, that
his Majesty will hold open Court for all who have pretensions by
birth, rank, or office to attend upon him. On the subsequent day he
goes to Theobald's, where he is so much occupied with hunting and
other pleasures, that he cares not to be intruded on."
"I shall be in all outward readiness to pay my duty," said the young
nobleman, "yet I have little heart to do it. The friends from whom I
ought to have found encouragement and protection, have proved cold and
false--I certainly will not trouble _them_ for their countenance on
this occasion--and yet I must confess my childish unwillingness to
enter quite alone upon so new a scene."
"It is bold of a mechanic like me to make such an offer to a
nobleman," said Heriot; "but I must attend at Court to-morrow. I can
accompany you as far as the presence-chamber, from my privilege as
being of the household. I can facilitate your entrance, should you
find difficulty, and I can point out the proper manner and time of
approaching the king. But I do not know," he added, smiling, "whether
these little advantages will not be overbalanced by the incongruity of
a nobleman receiving them from the hands of an old smith."
"From the hands rather of the only friend I have found in London,"
said Nigel, offering his hand.
"Nay, if you think of the matter in that way," replied the honest
citizen, "there is no more to be said--I will come for you to-morrow,
with a barge proper to the occasion.--But remember, my good young
lord, that I do not, like some men of my degree, wish to take
opportunity to step beyond it, and associate with my superiors in
rank, and therefore do not fear to mortify my presumption, by
suffering me to keep my distance in the presence, and where it is
fitting for both of us to separate; and for what remains, most truly
happy shall I be in proving of service to the son of my ancient
patron."
The style of conversation led so far from the point which had
interested the young nobleman's curiosity, that there was no returning
to it that night. He therefore exchanged thanks and greetings with
George Heriot, and took his leave, promising to be equipped and in
readiness to embark with him on the second successive morning at ten
o'clock.
The generation of linkboys, celebrated by Count Anthony Hamilton, as
peculiar to London, had already, in the reign of James I., begun their
functions, and the service of one of them with his smoky torch, had
been secured to light the young Scottish lord and his follower to
their lodgings, which, though better acquainted than formerly with the
city, they might in the dark have run some danger of missing. This
gave the ingenious Mr. Moniplies an opportunity of gathering close up
to his master, after he had gone through the form of slipping his left
arm into the handles of his buckler, and loosening his broadsword in
the sheath, that he might be ready for whatever should befall.
"If it were not for the wine and the good cheer which we have had in
yonder old man's house, my lord," said this sapient follower, "and
that I ken him by report to be a just living man in many respects, and
a real Edinburgh gutterblood, I should have been well pleased to have
seen how his feet were shaped, and whether he had not a cloven cloot
under the braw roses and cordovan shoon of his."
"Why, you rascal," answered Nigel, "you have been too kindly treated,
and now that you have filled your ravenous stomach, you are railing on
the good gentleman that relieved you."
"Under favour, no, my lord," said Moniplies,--"I would only like to
see something mair about him. I have eaten his meat, it is true--more
shame that the like of him should have meat to give, when your
lordship and me could scarce have gotten, on our own account, brose
and a bear bannock--I have drunk his wine, too."
"I see you have," replied his master, "a great deal more than you
should have done."
"Under your patience, my lord," said Moniplies, "you are pleased to
say that, because I crushed a quart with that jolly boy Jenkin, as
they call the 'prentice boy, and that was out of mere acknowledgment
for his former kindness--I own that I, moreover, sung the good old
song of Elsie Marley, so as they never heard it chanted in their
lives----"
And withal (as John Bunyan says) as they went on their way, he sung--
"O, do ye ken Elsie Marley, honey--
The wife that sells the barley, honey?
For Elsie Marley's grown sae fine,
She winna get up to feed the swine.--
O, do ye ken----"
Here in mid career was the songster interrupted by the stern gripe of
his master, who threatened to baton him to death if he brought the
city-watch upon them by his ill-timed melody.
"I crave pardon, my lord--I humbly crave pardon--only when I think of
that Jen Win, as they call him, I can hardly help humming--'O, do ye
ken'--But I crave your honour's pardon, and will be totally dumb, if
you command me so."
"No, sirrah!" said Nigel, "talk on, for I well know you would say and
suffer more under pretence of holding your peace, than when you get an
unbridled license. How is it, then? What have you to say against
Master Heriot?"
It seems more than probable, that in permitting this license, the
young lord hoped his attendant would stumble upon the subject of the
young lady who had appeared at prayers in a manner so mysterious. But
whether this was the case, or whether he merely desired that Moniplies
should utter, in a subdued and under tone of voice, those spirits
which might otherwise have vented themselves in obstreperous song, it
is certain he permitted his attendant to proceed with his story in his
own way.
"And therefore," said the orator, availing himself of his immunity, "I
would like to ken what sort of carle this Maister Heriot is. He hath
supplied your lordship with wealth of gold, as I can understand; and
if he has, I make it for certain he hath had his ain end in it,
according to the fashion of the world. Now, had your lordship your own
good lands at your guiding, doubtless this person, with most of his
craft--goldsmiths they call themselves--I say usurers--wad be glad to
exchange so many pounds of African dust, by whilk I understand gold,
against so many fair acres, and hundreds of acres, of broad Scottish
land."
"But you know I have no land," said the young lord, "at least none
that can be affected by any debt which I can at present become obliged
for--I think you need not have reminded me of that."
"True, my lord, most true; and, as your lordship says, open to the
meanest capacity, without any unnecessary expositions. Now, therefore,
my lord, unless Maister George Heriot has something mair to allege as
a motive for his liberality, vera different from the possession of
your estate--and moreover, as he could gain little by the capture of
your body, wherefore should it not be your soul that he is in pursuit
of?"
"My soul, you rascal!" said the young lord; "what good should my soul
do him?"
"What do I ken about that?" said Moniplies; "they go about roaring and
seeking whom they may devour--doubtless, they like the food that they
rage so much about--and, my lord, they say," added Moniplies, drawing
up still closer to his master's side, "they say that Master Heriot has
one spirit in his house already."
"How, or what do you mean?" said Nigel; "I will break your head, you
drunken knave, if you palter with me any longer."
"Drunken?" answered his trusty adherent, "and is this the story?--why,
how could I but drink your lordship's health on my bare knees, when
Master Jenkin began it to me?--hang them that would not--I would have
cut the impudent knave's hams with my broadsword, that should make
scruple of it, and so have made him kneel when he should have found it
difficult to rise again. But touching the spirit," he proceeded,
finding that his master made no answer to his valorous tirade, "your
lordship has seen her with your own eyes."
"I saw no spirit," said Glenvarloch, but yet breathing thick as one
who expects some singular disclosure, "what mean you by a spirit?"
"You saw a young lady come in to prayers, that spoke not a word to any
one, only made becks and bows to the old gentleman and lady of the
house--ken ye wha she is?"
"No, indeed," answered Nigel; "some relation of the family, I
suppose."
"Deil a bit--deil a bit," answered Moniplies, hastily, "not a blood-
drop's kin to them, if she had a drop of blood in her body--I tell you
but what all human beings allege to be truth, that swell within hue
and cry of Lombard Street--that lady, or quean, or whatever you choose
to call her, has been dead in the body these many a year, though she
haunts them, as we have seen, even at their very devotions."
"You will allow her to be a good spirit at least," said Nigel
Olifaunt, "since she chooses such a time to visit her friends?"
"For that I kenna, my lord," answered the superstitious follower; "I
ken no spirit that would have faced the right down hammer-blow of Mess
John Knox, whom my father stood by in his very warst days, bating a
chance time when the Court, which my father supplied with butcher-
meat, was against him. But yon divine has another airt from powerful
Master Rollock, and Mess David Black, of North Leith, and sic like.--
Alack-a-day! wha can ken, if it please your lordship, whether sic
prayers as the Southron read out of their auld blethering black mess-
book there, may not be as powerful to invite fiends, as a right red-
het prayer warm fraw the heart, may be powerful to drive them away,
even as the Evil Spirit was driven by he smell of the fish's liver
from the bridal-chamber of Sara, the daughter of Raguel? As to whilk
story, nevertheless, I make scruple to say whether it be truth or not,
better men than I am having doubted on that matter."
"Well, well, well," said his master, impatiently, "we are now near
home, and I have permitted you to speak of this matter for once, that
we may have an end to your prying folly, and your idiotical
superstitions, for ever. For whom do you, or your absurd authors or
informers, take this lady?"
"I can sae naething preceesely as to that," answered Moniplies;
"certain it is her body died and was laid in the grave many a day
since, notwithstanding she still wanders on earth, and chiefly amongst
Maister Heriot's family, though she hath been seen in other places by
them that well knew her. But who she is, I will not warrant to say, or
how she becomes attached, like a Highland Brownie, to some peculiar
family. They say she has a row of apartments of her own, ante-room,
parlour, and bedroom; but deil a bed she sleeps in but her own coffin,
and the walls, doors, and windows are so chinked up, as to prevent the
least blink of daylight from entering; and then she dwells by
torchlight--"
"To what purpose, if she be a spirit?" said Nigel Olifaunt.
"How can I tell your lordship?" answered his attendant. "I thank God I
know nothing of her likings, or mislikings--only her coffin is there;
and I leave your lordship to guess what a live person has to do with a
coffin. As little as a ghost with a lantern, I trow."
"What reason," repeated Nigel, "can a creature, so young and so
beautiful, have already habitually to contemplate her bed of last-long
rest?"
"In troth, I kenna, my lord," answered Moniplies; "but there is the
coffin, as they told me who have seen it: it is made of heben-wood,
with silver nails, and lined all through with three-piled damask,
might serve a princess to rest in."
"Singular," said Nigel, whose brain, like that of most active young
spirits, was easily caught by the singular and the romantic; "does she
not eat with the family?"
"Who!--she!"--exclaimed Moniplies, as if surprised at the question;
"they would need a lang spoon would sup with her, I trow. Always there
is something put for her into the Tower, as they call it, whilk is a
whigmaleery of a whirling-box, that turns round half on the tae side
o' the wa', half on the tother."
"I have seen the contrivance in foreign nunneries," said the Lord of
Glenvarloch. "And is it thus she receives her food?"
"They tell me something is put in ilka day, for fashion's sake,"
replied the attendant; "but it's no to be supposed she would consume
it, ony mair than the images of Bel and the Dragon consumed the dainty
vivers that were placed before them. There are stout yeomen and
chamber-queans in the house, enow to play the part of Lick-it-up-a',
as well as the threescore and ten priests of Bel, besides their wives
and children."
"And she is never seen in the family but when the hour of prayer
arrives?" said the master.
"Never, that I hear of," replied the servant.
"It is singular," said Nigel Olifaunt, musing. "Were it not for the
ornaments which she wears, and still more for her attendance upon the
service of the Protestant Church, I should know what to think, and
should believe her either a Catholic votaress, who, for some cogent
reason, was allowed to make her cell here in London, or some unhappy
Popish devotee, who was in the course of undergoing a dreadful
penance. As it is, I know not what to deem of it."
His reverie was interrupted by the linkboy knocking at the door of
honest John Christie, whose wife came forth with "quips, and becks,
and wreathed smiles," to welcome her honoured guest on his return to
his apartment.
CHAPTER VIII
Ay! mark the matron well--and laugh not, Harry,
At her old steeple-hat and velvet guard--
I've call'd her like the ear of Dionysius;
I mean that ear-form'd vault, built o'er his dungeon,
To catch the groans and discontented murmurs
Of his poor bondsmen--Even so doth Martha
Drink up, for her own purpose, all that passes,
Or is supposed to pass, in this wide city--
She can retail it too, if that her profit
Shall call on her to do so; and retail it
For your advantage, so that you can make
Your profit jump with hers.
The Conspiracy.
We must now introduce to the reader's acquaintance another character,
busy and important far beyond her ostensible situation in society--in
a word, Dame Ursula Suddlechop, wife of Benjamin Suddlechop, the most
renowned barber in all Fleet Street. This dame had her own particular
merits, the principal part of which was (if her own report could be
trusted) an infinite desire to be of service to her fellow-creatures.
Leaving to her thin half-starved partner the boast of having the most
dexterous snap with his fingers of any shaver in London, and the care
of a shop where starved apprentices flayed the faces of those who were
boobies enough to trust them, the dame drove a separate and more
lucrative trade, which yet had so many odd turns and windings, that it
seemed in many respects to contradict itself.
Its highest and most important duties were of a very secret and
confidential nature, and Dame Ursula Suddlechop was never known to
betray any transaction intrusted to her, unless she had either been
indifferently paid for her service, or that some one found it
convenient to give her a double douceur to make her disgorge the
secret; and these contingencies happened in so few cases, that her
character for trustiness remained as unimpeached as that for honesty
and benevolence.
In fact, she was a most admirable matron, and could be useful to the
impassioned and the frail in the rise, progress, and consequences of
their passion. She could contrive an interview for lovers who could
show proper reasons for meeting privately; she could relieve the frail
fair one of the burden of a guilty passion, and perhaps establish the
hopeful offspring of unlicensed love as the heir of some family whose
love was lawful, but where an heir had not followed the union. More
than this she could do, and had been concerned in deeper and dearer
secrets. She had been a pupil of Mrs. Turner, and learned from her the
secret of making the yellow starch, and, it may be, two or three other
secrets of more consequence, though perhaps none that went to the
criminal extent of those whereof her mistress was accused. But all
that was deep and dark in her real character was covered by the show
of outward mirth and good-humour, the hearty laugh and buxom jest with
which the dame knew well how to conciliate the elder part of her
neighbours, and the many petty arts by which she could recommend
herself to the younger, those especially of her own sex.
Dame Ursula was, in appearance, scarce past forty, and her full, but
not overgrown form, and still comely features, although her person was
plumped out, and her face somewhat coloured by good cheer, had a
joyous expression of gaiety and good-humour, which set off the remains
of beauty in the wane. Marriages, births, and christenings were seldom
thought to be performed with sufficient ceremony, for a considerable
distance round her abode, unless Dame Ursley, as they called her, was
present. She could contrive all sorts of pastimes, games, and jests,
which might amuse the large companies which the hospitality of our
ancestors assembled together on such occasions, so that her presence
was literally considered as indispensable in the families of all
citizens of ordinary rank, at such joyous periods. So much also was
she supposed to know of life and its labyrinths, that she was the
willing confidant of half the loving couples in the vicinity, most of
whom used to communicate their secrets to, and receive their counsel
from, Dame Ursley. The rich rewarded her services with rings, owches,
or gold pieces, which she liked still better; and she very generously
gave her assistance to the poor, on the same mixed principles as young
practitioners in medicine assist them, partly from compassion, and
partly to keep her hand in use.
Dame Ursley's reputation in the city was the greater that her practice
had extended beyond Temple Bar, and that she had acquaintances, nay,
patrons and patronesses, among the quality, whose rank, as their
members were much fewer, and the prospect of approaching the courtly
sphere much more difficult, bore a degree of consequence unknown to
the present day, when the toe of the citizen presses so close on the
courtier's heel. Dame Ursley maintained her intercourse with this
superior rank of customers, partly by driving a small trade in
perfumes, essences, pomades, head-gears from France, dishes or
ornaments from China, then already beginning to be fashionable; not to
mention drugs of various descriptions, chiefly for the use of the
ladies, and partly by other services, more or less connected with the
esoteric branches of her profession heretofore alluded to.
Possessing such and so many various modes of thriving, Dame Ursley was
nevertheless so poor, that she might probably have mended her own
circumstances, as well as her husband's, if she had renounced them
all, and set herself quietly down to the care of her own household,
and to assist Benjamin in the concerns of his trade. But Ursula was
luxurious and genial in her habits, and could no more have endured the
stinted economy of Benjamin's board, than she could have reconciled
herself to the bald chat of his conversation.
It was on the evening of the day on which Lord Nigel Olifaunt dined
with the wealthy goldsmith, that we must introduce Ursula Suddlechop
upon the stage. She had that morning made a long tour to Westminster,
was fatigued, and had assumed a certain large elbow-chair, rendered
smooth by frequent use, placed on one side of her chimney, in which
there was lit a small but bright fire. Here she observed, betwixt
sleeping and waking, the simmering of a pot of well-spiced ale, on the
brown surface of which bobbed a small crab-apple, sufficiently
roasted, while a little mulatto girl watched, still more attentively,
the process of dressing a veal sweetbread, in a silver stewpan which
occupied the other side of the chimney. With these viands, doubtless,
Dame Ursula proposed concluding the well spent day, of which she
reckoned the labour over, and the rest at her own command. She was
deceived, however; for just as the ale, or, to speak technically, the
lamb's-wool, was fitted for drinking, and the little dingy maiden
intimated that the sweetbread was ready to be eaten, the thin cracked
voice of Benjamin was heard from the bottom of the stairs.
"Why, Dame Ursley--why, wife, I say--why, dame--why, love, you are
wanted more than a strop for a blunt razor--why, dame--"
"I would some one would draw a razor across thy windpipe, thou bawling
ass!" said the dame to herself, in the first moment of irritation
against her clamorous helpmate; and then called aloud,--"Why, what is
the matter, Master Suddlechop? I am just going to slip into bed; I
have been daggled to and fro the whole day."
"Nay, sweetheart, it is not me," said the patient Benjamin, "but the
Scots laundry-maid from neighbour Ramsay's, who must speak with you
incontinent."
At the word sweetheart, Dame Ursley cast a wistful look at the mess
which was stewed to a second in the stewpan, and then replied, with a
sigh,--"Bid Scots Jenny come up, Master Suddlechop. I shall be very
happy to hear what she has to say;" then added in a lower tone, "and I
hope she will go to the devil in the flame of a tar-barrel, like many
a Scots witch before her!"
The Scots laundress entered accordingly, and having heard nothing of
the last kind wish of Dame Suddlechop, made her reverence with
considerable respect, and said, her young mistress had returned home
unwell, and wished to see her neighbour, Dame Ursley, directly.
"And why will it not do to-morrow, Jenny, my good woman?" said Dame
Ursley; "for I have been as far as Whitehall to-day already, and I am
well-nigh worn off my feet, my good woman."
"Aweel!" answered Jenny, with great composure, "and if that sae be
sae, I maun take the langer tramp mysell, and maun gae down the
waterside for auld Mother Redcap, at the Hungerford Stairs, that deals
in comforting young creatures, e'en as you do yoursell, hinny; for ane
o' ye the bairn maun see before she sleeps, and that's a' that I ken
on't."
So saying, the old emissary, without farther entreaty, turned on her
heel, and was about to retreat, when Dame Ursley exclaimed,--"No, no--
if the sweet child, your mistress, has any necessary occasion for good
advice and kind tendance, you need not go to Mother Redcap, Janet. She
may do very well for skippers' wives, chandlers' daughters, and such
like; but nobody shall wait on pretty Mistress Margaret, the daughter
of his most Sacred Majesty's horologer, excepting and saving myself.
And so I will but take my chopins and my cloak, and put on my muffler,
and cross the street to neighbour Ramsay's in an instant. But tell me
yourself, good Jenny, are you not something tired of your young lady's
frolics and change of mind twenty times a-day?"
"In troth, not I," said the patient drudge, "unless it may be when she
is a wee fashious about washing her laces; but I have been her keeper
since she was a bairn, neighbour Suddlechop, and that makes a
difference."
"Ay," said Dame Ursley, still busied putting on additional defences
against the night air; "and you know for certain that she has two
hundred pounds a-year in good land, at her own free disposal?"
"Left by her grandmother, heaven rest her soul!" said the Scotswoman;
"and to a daintier lassie she could not have bequeathed it."
"Very true, very true, mistress; for, with all her little whims, I
have always said Mistress Margaret Ramsay was the prettiest girl in
the ward; and, Jenny, I warrant the poor child has had no supper?"
Jenny could not say but it was the case, for, her master being out,
the twa 'prentice lads had gone out after shutting shop, to fetch them
home, and she and the other maid had gone out to Sandy MacGivan's, to
see a friend frae Scotland.
"As was very natural, Mrs. Janet," said Dame Ursley, who found her
interest in assenting to all sorts of propositions from all sorts of
persons.
"And so the fire went out, too,"--said Jenny.
"Which was the most natural of the whole," said Dame Suddlechop; "and
so, to cut the matter short, Jenny, I'll carry over the little bit of
supper that I was going to eat. For dinner I have tasted none, and it
may be my young pretty Mistress Marget will eat a morsel with me; for
it is mere emptiness, Mistress Jenny, that often puts these fancies of
illness into young folk's heads." So saying, she put the silver
posset-cup with the ale into Jenny's hands and assuming her mantle
with the alacrity of one determined to sacrifice inclination to duty,
she hid the stewpan under its folds, and commanded Wilsa, the little
mulatto girl, to light them across the street.
"Whither away, so late?" said the barber, whom they passed seated with
his starveling boys round a mess of stockfish and parsnips, in the
shop below.
"If I were to tell you, Gaffer," said the dame, with most contemptuous
coolness, "I do not think you could do my errand, so I will e'en keep
it to myself." Benjamin was too much accustomed to his wife's
independent mode of conduct, to pursue his inquiry farther; nor did
the dame tarry for farther question, but marched out at the door,
telling the eldest of the boys "to sit up till her return, and look to
the house the whilst."
The night was dark and rainy, and although the distance betwixt the
two shops was short, it allowed Dame Ursley leisure enough, while she
strode along with high-tucked petticoats, to embitter it by the
following grumbling reflections--"I wonder what I have done, that I
must needs trudge at every old beldam's bidding, and every young
minx's maggot! I have been marched from Temple Bar to Whitechapel, on
the matter of a pinmaker's wife having pricked her fingers--marry, her
husband that made the weapon might have salved the wound.--And here is
this fantastic ape, pretty Mistress Marget, forsooth--such a beauty as
I could make of a Dutch doll, and as fantastic, and humorous, and
conceited, as if she were a duchess. I have seen her in the same day
as changeful as a marmozet and as stubborn as a mule. I should like to
know whether her little conceited noddle, or her father's old crazy
calculating jolter-pate, breeds most whimsies. But then there's that
two hundred pounds a-year in dirty land, and the father is held a
close chuff, though a fanciful--he is our landlord besides, and she
has begged a late day from him for our rent; so, God help me, I must
be comfortable--besides, the little capricious devil is my only key to
get at Master George Heriot's secret, and it concerns my character to
find that out; and so, ANDIAMOS, as the lingua franca hath it."
Thus pondering, she moved forward with hasty strides until she arrived
at the watchmaker's habitation. The attendant admitted them by means
of a pass-key. Onward glided Dame Ursula, now in glimmer and now in
gloom, not like the lovely Lady Cristabelle through Gothic sculpture
and ancient armour, but creeping and stumbling amongst relics of old
machines, and models of new inventions in various branches of
mechanics with which wrecks of useless ingenuity, either in a broken
or half-finished shape, the apartment of the fanciful though ingenious
mechanist was continually lumbered.
At length they attained, by a very narrow staircase, pretty Mistress
Margaret's apartment, where she, the cynosure of the eyes of every
bold young bachelor in Fleet Street, sat in a posture which hovered
between the discontented and the disconsolate. For her pretty back and
shoulders were rounded into a curve, her round and dimpled chin
reposed in the hollow of her little palm, while the fingers were
folded over her mouth; her elbow rested on a table, and her eyes
seemed fixed upon the dying charcoal, which was expiring in a small
grate. She scarce turned her head when Dame Ursula entered, and when
the presence of that estimable matron was more precisely announced in
words by the old Scotswoman, Mistress Margaret, without changing her
posture, muttered some sort of answer that was wholly unintelligible.
"Go your ways down to the kitchen with Wilsa, good Mistress Jenny,"
said Dame Ursula, who was used to all sorts of freaks, on the part of
her patients or clients, whichever they might be termed; "put the
stewpan and the porringer by the fireside, and go down below--I must
speak to my pretty love, Mistress Margaret, by myself--and there is
not a bachelor betwixt this and Bow but will envy me the privilege."
The attendants retired as directed, and Dame Ursula, having availed
herself of the embers of charcoal, to place her stewpan to the best
advantage, drew herself as close as she could to her patient, and
began in a low, soothing, and confidential tone of voice, to inquire
what ailed her pretty flower of neighbours.
"Nothing, dame," said Margaret somewhat pettishly, and changing her
posture so as rather to turn her back upon the kind inquirer.
"Nothing, lady-bird!" answered Dame Suddlechop; "and do you use to
send for your friends out of bed at this hour for nothing?"
"It was not I who sent for you, dame," replied the malecontent maiden.
"And who was it, then?" said Ursula; "for if I had not been sent for,
I had not been here at this time of night, I promise you!"
"It was the old Scotch fool Jenny, who did it out of her own head, I
suppose," said Margaret; "for she has been stunning me these two hours
about you and Mother Redcap."
"Me and Mother Redcap!" said Dame Ursula, "an old fool indeed, that
couples folk up so.--But come, come, my sweet little neighbour, Jenny
is no such fool after all; she knows young folks want more and better
advice than her own, and she knows, too, where to find it for them; so
you must take heart of grace, my pretty maiden, and tell me what you
are moping about, and then let Dame Ursula alone for finding out a
cure."
"Nay, an ye be so wise, Mother Ursula," replied the girl, "you may
guess what I ail without my telling you."
"Ay, ay, child," answered the complaisant matron, "no one can play
better than I at the good old game of What is my thought like? Now
I'll warrant that little head of yours is running on a new head-tire,
a foot higher than those our city dames wear--or you are all for a
trip to Islington or Ware, and your father is cross and will not
consent--or----"
"Or you are an old fool, Dame Suddlechop," said Margaret, peevishly,
"and must needs trouble yourself about matters you know nothing of."
"Fool as much as you will, mistress," said Dame Ursula, offended in
her turn, "but not so very many years older than yourself, mistress."
"Oh! we are angry, are we?" said the beauty; "and pray, Madam Ursula,
how come you, that are not so many years older than me, to talk about
such nonsense to me, who am so many years younger, and who yet have
too much sense to care about head-gears and Islington?"
"Well, well, young mistress," said the sage counsellor, rising, "I
perceive I can be of no use here; and methinks, since you know your
own matters so much better than other people do, you might dispense
with disturbing folks at midnight to ask their advice."
"Why, now you are angry, mother," said Margaret, detaining her; "this
comes of your coming out at eventide without eating your supper--I
never heard you utter a cross word after you had finished your little
morsel.--Here, Janet, a trencher and salt for Dame Ursula;--and what
have you in that porringer, dame?--Filthy clammy ale, as I would live
--Let Janet fling it out of the window, or keep it for my father's
morning draught; and she shall bring you the pottle of sack that was
set ready for him--good man, he will never find out the difference,
for ale will wash down his dusty calculations quite as well as wine."
"Truly, sweetheart, I am of your opinion," said Dame Ursula, whose
temporary displeasure vanished at once before these preparations for
good cheer; and so, settling herself on the great easy-chair, with a
three-legged table before her, she began to dispatch, with good
appetite, the little delicate dish which she had prepared for herself.
She did not, however, fail in the duties of civility, and earnestly,
but in vain, pressed Mistress Margaret to partake her dainties. The
damsel declined the invitation.
"At least pledge me in a glass of sack," said Dame Ursula; "I have
heard my grandame say, that before the gospellers came in, the old
Catholic father confessors and their penitents always had a cup of
sack together before confession; and you are my penitent."
"I shall drink no sack, I am sure," said Margaret; "and I told you
before, that if you cannot find out what ails me, I shall never have
the heart to tell it."
So saying, she turned away from Dame Ursula once more, and resumed her
musing posture, with her hand on her elbow, and her back, at least one
shoulder, turned towards her confidant.
"Nay, then," said Dame Ursula, "I must exert my skill in good
earnest.--You must give me this pretty hand, and I will tell you by
palmistry, as well as any gipsy of them all, what foot it is you halt
upon."
"As if I halted on any foot at all," said Margaret, something
scornfully, but yielding her left hand to Ursula, and continuing at
the same time her averted position.
"I see brave lines here," said Ursula, "and not ill to read neither--
pleasure and wealth, and merry nights and late mornings to my Beauty,
and such an equipage as shall shake Whitehall. O, have I touched you
there?--and smile you now, my pretty one?--for why should not he be
Lord Mayor, and go to Court in his gilded caroch, as others have done
before him?"
"Lord Mayor? pshaw!" replied Margaret.
"And why pshaw at my Lord Mayor, sweetheart? or perhaps you pshaw at
my prophecy; but there is a cross in every one's line of life as well
as in yours, darling. And what though I see a 'prentice's flat cap in
this pretty palm, yet there is a sparking black eye under it, hath not
its match in the Ward of Farringdon-Without."
"Whom do you mean, dame?" said Margaret coldly.
"Whom should I mean," said Dame Ursula, "but the prince of 'prentices,
and king of good company, Jenkin Vincent?"
"Out, woman--Jenkin Vincent?--a clown--a Cockney!" exclaimed the
indignant damsel.
"Ay, sets the wind in that quarter, Beauty!" quoth the dame; "why, it
has changed something since we spoke together last, for then I would
have sworn it blew fairer for poor Jin Vin; and the poor lad dotes on
you too, and would rather see your eyes than the first glimpse of the
sun on the great holiday on May-day."
"I would my eyes had the power of the sun to blind his, then," said
Margaret, "to teach the drudge his place."
"Nay," said Dame Ursula, "there be some who say that Frank Tunstall is
as proper a lad as Jin Vin, and of surety he is third cousin to a
knighthood, and come of a good house; and so mayhap you may be for
northward ho!"
"Maybe I may"--answered Margaret, "but not with my father's 'prentice
--I thank you, Dame Ursula."
"Nay, then, the devil may guess your thoughts for me," said Dame
Ursula; "this comes of trying to shoe a filly that is eternally
wincing and shifting ground!"
"Hear me, then," said Margaret, "and mind what I say.--This day I
dined abroad--"
"I can tell you where," answered her counsellor,--"with your godfather
the rich goldsmith--ay, you see I know something--nay, I could tell
you, as I would, with whom, too."
"Indeed!" said Margaret, turning suddenly round with an accent of
strong surprise, and colouring up to the eyes.
"With old Sir Mungo Malagrowther," said the oracular dame,--"he was
trimmed in my Benjamin's shop in his way to the city."
"Pshaw! the frightful old mouldy skeleton!" said the damsel.
"Indeed you say true, my dear," replied the confidant,--"it is a shame
to him to be out of Saint Pancras's charnel-house, for I know no other
place he is fit for, the foul-mouthed old railer. He said to my
husband--"
"Somewhat which signifies nothing to our purpose, I dare say,"
interrupted Margaret. "I must speak, then.--There dined with us a
nobleman--"
"A nobleman! the maiden's mad!" said Dame Ursula.
"There dined with us, I say," continued Margaret, without regarding
the interruption, "a nobleman--a Scottish nobleman."
"Now Our Lady keep her!" said the confidant, "she is quite frantic!--
heard ever any one of a watchmaker's daughter falling in love with a
nobleman--and a Scots nobleman, to make the matter complete, who are
all as proud as Lucifer, and as poor as Job?--A Scots nobleman,
quotha? I had lief you told me of a Jew pedlar. I would have you think
how all this is to end, pretty one, before you jump in the dark."
"That is nothing to you, Ursula--it is your assistance," said Mistress
Margaret, "and not your advice, that I am desirous to have, and you
know I can make it worth your while."
"O, it is not for the sake of lucre, Mistress Margaret," answered the
obliging dame; "but truly I would have you listen to some advice--
bethink you of your own condition."
"My father's calling is mechanical," said Margaret, "but our blood is
not so. I have heard my father say that we are descended, at a
distance indeed, from the great Earls of Dalwolsey." [Footnote: The
head of the ancient and distinguished house of Ramsay, and to whom, as
their chief, the individuals of that name look as their origin and
source of gentry. Allan Ramsay, the pastoral poet, in the same manner,
makes
"Dalhousie of an auld descent,
My chief, my stoup, my ornament."]
"Ay, ay," said Dame Ursula; "even so--I never knew a Scot of you but
was descended, as ye call it, from some great house or other; and a
piteous descent it often is--and as for the distance you speak of, it
is so great as to put you out of sight of each other. Yet do not toss
your pretty head so scornfully, but tell me the name of this lordly
northern gallant, and we will try what can be done in the matter."
"It is Lord Glenvarloch, whom they call Lord Nigel Olifaunt," said
Margaret in a low voice, and turning away to hide her blushes.
"Marry, Heaven forefend!" exclaimed Dame Suddlechop; "this is the very
devil, and something worse!"
"How mean you?" said the damsel, surprised at the vivacity of her
exclamation.
"Why, know ye not," said the dame, "what powerful enemies he has at
Court? know ye not--But blisters on my tongue, it runs too fast for my
wit--enough to say, that you had better make your bridal-bed under a
falling house, than think of young Glenvarloch."
"He IS unfortunate then?" said Margaret; "I knew it--I divined it--
there was sorrow in his voice when he said even what was gay--there
was a touch of misfortune in his melancholy smile--he had not thus
clung to my thoughts had I seen him in all the mid-day glare of
prosperity."
"Romances have cracked her brain!" said Dame Ursula; "she is a
castaway girl--utterly distraught--loves a Scots lord--and likes him
the better for being unfortunate! Well, mistress, I am sorry this is a
matter I cannot aid you in--it goes against my conscience, and it is
an affair above my condition, and beyond my management;--but I will
keep your counsel."
"You will not be so base as to desert me, after having drawn my secret
from me?" said Margaret, indignantly; "if you do, I know how to have
my revenge; and if you do not, I will reward you well. Remember the
house your husband dwells in is my father's property."
"I remember it but too well, Mistress Margaret," said Ursula, after a
moment's reflection, "and I would serve you in any thing in my
condition; but to meddle with such high matters--I shall never forget
poor Mistress Turner, my honoured patroness, peace be with her!--she
had the ill-luck to meddle in the matter of Somerset and Overbury, and
so the great earl and his lady slipt their necks out of the collar,
and left her and some half-dozen others to suffer in their stead. I
shall never forget the sight of her standing on the scaffold with
the ruff round her pretty neck, all done up with the yellow starch
which I had so often helped her to make, and that was so soon to give
place to a rough hempen cord. Such a sight, sweetheart, will make one
loath to meddle with matters that are too hot or heavy for their
handling."
"Out, you fool!" answered Mistress Margaret; "am I one to speak to you
about such criminal practices as that wretch died for? All I desire of
you is, to get me precise knowledge of what affair brings this young
nobleman to Court."
"And when you have his secret," said Ursula, "what will it avail you,
sweetheart?--and yet I would do your errand, if you could do as much
for me."
"And what is it you would have of me?" said Mistress Margaret.
"What you have been angry with me for asking before," answered Dame
Ursula. "I want to have some light about the story of your godfather's
ghost, that is only seen at prayers."
"Not for the world," said Mistress Margaret, "will I be a spy on my
kind godfather's secrets--No, Ursula--that I will never pry into,
which he desires to keep hidden. But thou knowest that I have a
fortune, of my own, which must at no distant day come under my own
management--think of some other recompense."
"Ay, that I well know," said the counsellor--"it is that two hundred
per year, with your father's indulgence, that makes you so wilful,
sweetheart."
"It may be so,"--said Margaret Ramsay; "meanwhile, do you serve me
truly, and here is a ring of value in pledge, that when my fortune is
in my own hand, I will redeem the token with fifty broad pieces of
gold."
"Fifty broad pieces of gold!" repeated the dame; "and this ring, which
is a right fair one, in token you fail not of your word!--Well,
sweetheart, if I must put my throat in peril, I am sure I cannot risk
it for a friend more generous than you; and I would not think of more
than the pleasure of serving you, only Benjamin gets more idle every
day, and our family----"
"Say no more of it," said Margaret; "we understand each other. And
now, tell me what you know of this young man's affairs, which made you
so unwilling to meddle with them?"
"Of that I can say no great matter as yet," answered Dame Ursula;
"only I know, the most powerful among his own countrymen are against
him, and also the most powerful at the Court here. But I will learn
more of it; for it will be a dim print that I will not read for your
sake, pretty Mistress Margaret. Know you where this gallant dwells?"
"I heard by accident," said Margaret, as if ashamed of the minute
particularity of her memory upon such an occasion,--"he lodges, I
think--at one Christie's--if I mistake not--at Paul's Wharf--a ship-
chandler's."
"A proper lodging for a young baron!--Well, but cheer you up, Mistress
Margaret--If he has come up a caterpillar, like some of his
countrymen, he may cast his slough like them, and come out a
butterfly.--So I drink good-night, and sweet dreams to you, in another
parting cup of sack; and you shall hear tidings of me within four-and-
twenty hours. And, once more, I commend you to your pillow, my pearl
of pearls, and Marguerite of Marguerites!"
So saying, she kissed the reluctant cheek of her young friend, or
patroness, and took her departure with the light and stealthy
pace of one accustomed to accommodate her footsteps to the purposes of
dispatch and secrecy.
Margaret Ramsay looked after her for some time, in anxious silence. "I
did ill," she at length murmured, "to let her wring this out of me;
but she is artful, bold and serviceable--and I think faithful--or, if
not, she will be true at least to her interest, and that I can
command. I would I had not spoken, however--I have begun a hopeless
work. For what has he said to me, to warrant my meddling in his
fortunes?--Nothing but words of the most ordinary import--mere table-
talk, and terms of course. Yet who knows"--she said, and then broke
off, looking at the glass the while, which, as it reflected back a
face of great beauty, probably suggested to her mind a more favourable
conclusion of the sentence than she cared to trust her tongue withal.
CHAPTER IX
So pitiful a thing is suitor's state!
Most miserable man, whom wicked fate
Hath brought to Court to sue, for _had I wist_,
That few have found, and many a one hath miss'd!
Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried,
What hell it is, in sueing long to bide:
To lose good days that might be better spent;
To waste long nights in pensive discontent;
To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow;
To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow;
To have thy Prince's grace, yet want her Peers';
To have thy asking, yet wait many years;
To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares--
To eat thy heart through comfortless despairs.
To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run,
To spend, to give, to want, to be undone.
_Mother Hubbard's Tale._
On the morning of the day on which George Heriot had prepared to
escort the young Lord of Glenvarloch to the Court at Whitehall, it may
be reasonably supposed, that the young man, whose fortunes were likely
to depend on this cast, felt himself more than usually anxious. He
rose early, made his toilette with uncommon care, and, being enabled,
by the generosity of his more plebeian countryman, to set out a very
handsome person to the best advantage, he obtained a momentary
approbation from himself as he glanced at the mirror, and a loud and
distinct plaudit from his landlady, who declared at once, that, in her
judgment, he would take the wind out of the sail of every gallant in
the presence--so much had she been able to enrich her discourse with
the metaphors of those with whom her husband dealt.
At the appointed hour, the barge of Master George Heriot arrived,
handsomely manned and appointed, having a tilt, with his own cipher,
and the arms of his company, painted thereupon.
The young Lord of Glenvarloch received the friend, who had evinced
such disinterested attachment, with the kind courtesy which well
became him.
Master Heriot then made him acquainted with the bounty of his
sovereign; which he paid over to his young friend, declining what he
had himself formerly advanced to him. Nigel felt all the gratitude
which the citizen's disinterested friendship had deserved, and was not
wanting in expressing it suitably.
Yet, as the young and high-born nobleman embarked to go to the
presence of his prince, under the patronage of one whose best, or most
distinguished qualification, was his being an eminent member of the
Goldsmiths' Incorporation, he felt a little surprised, if not abashed,
at his own situation; and Richie Moniplies, as he stepped over the
gangway to take his place forward in the boat, could not help
muttering,--"It was a changed day betwixt Master Heriot and his honest
father in the Kraemes;--but, doubtless, there was a difference between
clinking on gold and silver, and clattering upon pewter."
On they glided, by the assistance of the oars of four stout watermen,
along the Thames, which then served for the principal high-road
betwixt London and Westminster; for few ventured on horseback through
the narrow and crowded streets of the city, and coaches were then a
luxury reserved only for the higher nobility, and to which no citizen,
whatever was his wealth, presumed to aspire. The beauty of the banks,
especially on the northern side, where the gardens of the nobility
descended from their hotels, in many places, down to the water's edge,
was pointed out to Nigel by his kind conductor, and was pointed out in
vain. The mind of the young Lord of Glenvarloch was filled with
anticipations, not the most pleasant, concerning the manner in which
he was likely to be received by that monarch, in whose behalf his
family had been nearly reduced to ruin; and he was, with the usual
mental anxiety of those in such a situation, framing imaginary
questions from the king, and over-toiling his spirit in devising
answers to them.
His conductor saw the labour of Nigel's mind, and avoided increasing
it by farther conversation; so that, when he had explained to him
briefly the ceremonies observed at Court on such occasions of
presentation, the rest of their voyage was performed in silence.
They landed at Whitehall Stairs, and entered the Palace after
announcing their names,--the guards paying to Lord Glenvarloch the
respect and honours due to his rank.
The young man's heart beat high and thick within him as he came into
the royal apartments. His education abroad, conducted, as it had been,
on a narrow and limited scale, had given him but imperfect ideas of
the grandeur of a Court; and the philosophical reflections which
taught him to set ceremonial and exterior splendour at defiance,
proved, like other maxims of mere philosophy, ineffectual, at the
moment they were weighed against the impression naturally made on the
mind of an inexperienced youth, by the unusual magnificence of the
scene. The splendid apartments through which they passed,
the rich apparel of the grooms, guards, and domestics in waiting, and
the ceremonial attending their passage through the long suite of
apartments, had something in it, trifling and commonplace as it might
appear to practised courtiers, embarrassing, and even alarming, to
one, who went through these forms for the first time, and who was
doubtful what sort of reception was to accompany his first appearance
before his sovereign.
Heriot, in anxious attention to save his young friend from any
momentary awkwardness, had taken care to give the necessary password
to the warders, grooms of the chambers, ushers, or by whatever name
they were designated; so they passed on without interruption.
In this manner they passed several ante-rooms, filled chiefly with
guards, attendants of the Court, and their acquaintances, male and
female, who, dressed in their best apparel, and with eyes rounded by
eager curiosity to make the most of their opportunity, stood, with
beseeming modesty, ranked against the wall, in a manner which
indicated that they were spectators, not performers, in the courtly
exhibition.
Through these exterior apartments Lord Glenvarloch and his city friend
advanced into a large and splendid withdrawing-room, communicating
with the presence-chamber, into which ante-room were admitted those
only who, from birth, their posts in the state or household, or by the
particular grant of the kings, had right to attend the Court, as men
entitled to pay their respects to their sovereign.
Amid this favoured and selected company, Nigel observed Sir Mungo
Malagrowther, who, avoided and discountenanced by those who knew how
low he stood in Court interest and favour, was but too happy in the
opportunity of hooking himself upon a person of Lord Glenvarloch's
rank, who was, as yet, so inexperienced as to feel it difficult to
shake off an intruder.
The knight forthwith framed his grim features to a ghastly smile, and,
after a preliminary and patronising nod to George Heriot, accompanied
with an aristocratic wave of the hand, which intimated at once
superiority and protection, he laid aside altogether the honest
citizen, to whom he owed many a dinner, to attach himself exclusively
to the young lord, although he suspected he might be occasionally in
the predicament of needing one as much as himself. And even the notice
of this original, singular and unamiable as he was, was not entirely
indifferent to Lord Glenvarloch, since the absolute and somewhat
constrained silence of his good friend Heriot, which left him at
liberty to retire painfully to his own agitating reflections, was now
relieved; while, on the other hand, he could not help feeling interest
in the sharp and sarcastic information poured upon him by an
observant, though discontented courtier, to whom a patient auditor,
and he a man of title and rank, was as much a prize, as his acute and
communicative disposition rendered him an entertaining companion to
Nigel Olifaunt. Heriot, in the meantime, neglected by Sir Mungo, and
avoiding every attempt by which the grateful politeness of Lord
Glenvarloch strove to bring him into the conversation, stood by, with
a kind of half smile on his countenance; but whether excited by Sir
Mungo's wit, or arising at his expense, did not exactly appear.
In the meantime, the trio occupied a nook of the ante-room, next to
the door of the presence-chamber, which was not yet thrown open, when
Maxwell, with his rod of office, came bustling into the apartment,
where most men, excepting those of high rank, made way for him. He
stopped beside the party in which we are interested, looked for a
moment at the young Scots nobleman, then made a slight obeisance to
Heriot, and lastly, addressing Sir Mungo Malagrowther, began a hurried
complaint to him of the misbehaviour of the gentlemen-pensioners and
warders, who suffered all sort of citizens, suitors, and scriveners,
to sneak into the outer apartments, without either respect or
decency.--"The English," he said, "were scandalised, for such a thing
durst not be attempted in the queen's days. In her time, there was
then the court-yard for the mobility, and the apartments for the
nobility; and it reflects on your place, Sir Mungo," he added,
"belonging to the household as you do, that such things should not be
better ordered."
Here Sir Mungo, afflicted, as was frequently the case on such
occasions, with one of his usual fits of deafness, answered, "It was
no wonder the mobility used freedoms, when those whom they saw in
office were so little better in blood and havings than themselves."
"You are right, sir--quite right," said Maxwell, putting his hand on
the tarnished embroidery on the old knight's sleeve,--"when such
fellows see men in office dressed in cast-off suits, like paltry
stage-players, it is no wonder the Court is thronged with intruders."
"Were you lauding the taste of my embroidery, Maister Maxwell?"
answered the knight, who apparently interpreted the deputy-
chamberlain's meaning rather from his action than his words;--"it is
of an ancient and liberal pattern, having been made by your mother's
father, auld James Stitchell, a master-fashioner of honest repute, in
Merlin's Wynd, whom I made a point to employ, as I am now happy to
remember, seeing your father thought fit to intermarry with sic a
person's daughter."
Maxwell looked stern; but, conscious there was nothing to be got of
Sir Mungo in the way of amends, and that prosecuting the quarrel with
such an adversary would only render him ridiculous, and make public a
mis-alliance of which he had no reason to be proud, he covered his
resentment with a sneer; and, expressing his regret that Sir Mungo was
become too deaf to understand or attend to what was said to him,
walked on, and planted himself beside the folding-doors of the
presence-chamber, at which he was to perform the duty of deputy-
chamberlain, or usher, so soon as they should be opened.
"The door of the presence is about to open," said the goldsmith, in a
whisper, to his young friend; "my condition permits me to go no
farther with you. Fail not to present yourself boldly, according to
your birth, and offer your Supplication; which the king will not
refuse to accept, and, as I hope, to consider favourably."
As he spoke, the door of the presence-chamber opened accordingly, and,
as is usual on such occasions, the courtiers began to advance towards
it, and to enter in a slow, but continuous and uninterrupted stream.
As Nigel presented himself in his turn at the entrance, and mentioned
his name and title, Maxwell seemed to hesitate. "You are not known to
any one," he said. "It is my duty to suffer no one to pass to the
presence, my lord, whose face is unknown to me, unless upon the word
of a responsible person."
"I came with Master George Heriot," said Nigel, in some embarrassment
at this unexpected interruption.
"Master Heriot's name will pass current for much gold and silver, my
lord," replied Maxwell, with a civil sneer, "but not for birth and
rank. I am compelled by my office to be peremptory.--The entrance is
impeded--I am much concerned to say it--your lordship must stand
back."
"What is the matter?" said an old Scottish nobleman, who had been
speaking with George Heriot, after he had separated from Nigel, and
who now came forward, observing the altercation betwixt the latter and
Maxwell.
"It is only Master Deputy-Chamberlain Maxwell," said Sir Mungo
Malagrowther, "expressing his joy to see Lord Glenvarloch at Court,
whose father gave him his office--at least I think he is speaking to
that purport--for your lordship kens my imperfection." A subdued
laugh, such as the situation permitted, passed round amongst those who
heard this specimen of Sir Mungo's sarcastic temper. But the old
nobleman stepped still more forward, saying,--"What!--the son of my
gallant old opponent, Ochtred Olifaunt--I will introduce him to the
presence myself."
So saying, he took Nigel by the arm, without farther ceremony, and was
about to lead him forward, when Maxwell, still keeping his rod across
the door, said, but with hesitation and embarrassment--"My lord, this
gentleman is not known, and I have orders to be scrupulous."
"Tutti--taiti, man," said the old lord, "I will be answerable he is
his father's son, from the cut of his eyebrow--and thou, Maxwell,
knewest his father well enough to have spared thy scruples. Let us
pass, man." So saying, he put aside the deputy-chamberlain's rod, and
entered the presence-room, still holding the young nobleman by the
arm.
"Why, I must know you, man," he said; "I must know you. I knew your
father well, man, and I have broke a lance and crossed a blade with
him; and it is to my credit that I am living to brag of it. He was
king's-man and I was queen's-man during the Douglas wars--young
fellows both, that feared neither fire nor steel; and we had some old
feudal quarrels besides, that had come down from father to son, with
our seal-rings, two-harided broad-swords, and plate-coats, and the
crests on our burgonets."
"Too loud, my Lord of Huntinglen," whispered a gentleman of the
chamber,--"The King!--the King!"
The old earl (for such he proved) took the hint, and was silent; and
James, advancing from a side-door, received in succession the
compliments of strangers, while a little group of favourite courtiers,
or officers of the household, stood around him, to whom he addressed
himself from time to time. Some more pains had been bestowed on his
toilette than upon the occasion when we first presented the monarch to
our readers; but there was a natural awkwardness about his figure
which prevented his clothes from sitting handsomely, and the prudence
or timidity of his disposition had made him adopt the custom already
noticed, of wearing a dress so thickly quilted as might withstand the
stroke of a dagger, which added an ungainly stiffness to his whole
appearance, contrasting oddly with the frivolous, ungraceful, and
fidgeting motions with which he accompanied his conversation. And yet,
though the king's deportment was very undignified, he had a manner so
kind, familiar, and good-humoured, was so little apt to veil over or
conceal his own foibles, and had so much indulgence and sympathy for
those of others, that his address, joined to his learning, and a
certain proportion of shrewd mother-wit, failed not to make a
favourable impression on those who approached his person.
When the Earl of Huntinglen had presented Nigel to his sovereign, a
ceremony which the good peer took upon himself, the king received the
young lord very graciously, and observed to his introducer, that he
"was fain to see them twa stand side by side; for I trow, my Lord
Huntinglen," continued he, "your ancestors, ay, and e'en your
lordship's self and this lad's father, have stood front to front at
the sword's point, and that is a worse posture."
"Until your Majesty," said Lord Huntinglen, "made Lord Ochtred and me
cross palms, upon the memorable day when your Majesty feasted all the
nobles that were at feud together, and made them join hands in your
presence--"
"I mind it weel," said the king; "I mind it weel--it was a blessed
day, being the nineteen of September, of all days in the year--and it
was a blithe sport to see how some of the carles girned as they
clapped loofs together. By my saul, I thought some of them, mair
special the Hieland chiels, wad have broken out in our own presence;
but we caused them to march hand in hand to the Cross, ourselves
leading the way, and there drink a blithe cup of kindness with ilk
other, to the stanching of feud, and perpetuation of amity. Auld John
Anderson was Provost that year--the carle grat for joy, and the
bailies and councillors danced bare-headed in our presence like five-
year-auld colts, for very triumph."
"It was indeed a happy day," said Lord Huntinglen, "and will not be
forgotten in the history of your Majesty's reign."
"I would not that it were, my lord," replied the monarch--"I would not
that it were pretermitted in our annals. Ay, ay--BEATI PACIFICI. My
English lieges here may weel make much of me, for I would have them to
know, they have gotten the only peaceable man that ever came of my
family. If James with the Fiery Face had come amongst you," he said,
looking round him, "or my great grandsire, of Flodden memory!"
"We should have sent him back to the north again," whispered one
English nobleman.
"At least," said another, in the same inaudible tone, "we should have
had a MAN to our sovereign, though he were but a Scotsman."
"And now, my young springald," said the king to Lord Glenvarloch,
"where have you been spending your calf-time?"
"At Leyden, of late, may it please your Majesty," answered Lord Nigel.
"Aha! a scholar," said the king; "and, by my saul, a modest and
ingenuous youth, that hath not forgotten how to blush, like most of
our travelled Monsieurs. We will treat him conformably."
Then drawing himself up, coughing slightly, and looking around him
with the conscious importance of superior learning, while all the
courtiers who understood, or understood not, Latin, pressed eagerly
forward to listen, the sapient monarch prosecuted his inquiries as
follows:--
"Hem! hem! _salve bis, quaterque salve, glenvarlochides noster!
Nuperumne ab lugduno batavorum britanniam rediisti?_"
The young nobleman replied, bowing low--
"_Imo, rex augustissime--biennium fere apud lugdunenses Moratus sum._"
James proceeded--
"_Biennium dicis? Bene, bene, optume factum est--non uno Die, quod
dicunt,--intelligisti, domine glenvarlochiensis?_ Aha!"
Nigel replied by a reverent bow, and the king, turning to those behind
him, said--
"_Adolescens quidem ingenui vultus ingenuique pudoris._" Then resumed
his learned queries. "_et quid hodie lugdunenses loquuntur--vossius
vester nihilne novi scripsit?--nihil certe, quod doleo, typis recenter
editit_."
"_Valet quidem vossius, rex benevole._" replied Nigel, "_ast senex
veneratissimus annum agit, ni fallor, septuagesimum._"
"_Virum, mehercle, vix tam grandaevum crediderim_," replied the
monarch. "_et vorstius iste?--arminii improbi successor aeque ac
sectator--herosne adhuc, ut cum homero loquar_, ?" text in Greek
Nigel, by good fortune, remembered that Vorstius, the divine last
mentioned in his Majesty's queries about the state of Dutch
literature, had been engaged in a personal controversy with James, in
which the king had taken so deep an interest, as at length to hint in
his public correspondence with the United States, that they would do
well to apply the secular arm to stop the progress of heresy by
violent measures against the Professor's person--a demand which their
Mighty Mightinesses' principles of universal toleration induced them
to elude, though with some difficulty. Knowing all this, Lord
Glenvarloch, though a courtier of only five minutes' standing, had
address enough to reply--
"_Vivum quidem, haud diu est, hominem videbam--vigere autem quis dicat
qui sub fulminibus eloquentiae tuae, rex magne, jamdudum pronus jacet,
et prostratus?_"
[Footnote: Lest any lady or gentleman should suspect there is aught of
mystery concealed under the sentences printed in Italics, they will be
pleased to understand that they contain only a few commonplace Latin
phrases, relating to the state of letters in Holland, which neither
deserve, nor would endure, a literal translation.]
This last tribute to his polemical powers completed James's happiness,
which the triumph of exhibiting his erudition had already raised to a
considerable height.
He rubbed his hands, snapped his fingers, fidgeted, chuckled,
exclaimed--"_Euge! Belle! Optime!_" and turning to the Bishops of
Exeter and Oxford, who stood behind him, he said.--"Ye see, my lords,
no bad specimen of our Scottish Latinity, with which language we would
all our subjects of England were as well embued as this, and other
youths of honourable birth, in our auld kingdom; also, we keep the
genuine and Roman pronunciation, like other learned nations on the
continent, sae that we hold communing with any scholar in the
universe, who can but speak the Latin tongue; whereas ye, our learned
subjects of England, have introduced into your universities, otherwise
most learned, a fashion of pronouncing like unto the 'nippit foot and
clippit foot' of the bride in the fairy tale, whilk manner of speech,
(take it not amiss that I be round with you) can be understood by no
nation on earth saving yourselves; whereby Latin, _quoad anglos_,
ceaseth to be _communis lingua_, the general dragoman, or interpreter,
between all the wise men of the earth."
The Bishop of Exeter bowed, as in acquiescence to the royal censure;
but he of Oxford stood upright, as mindful over what subjects his see
extended, and as being equally willing to become food for fagots in
defence of the Latinity of the university, as for any article of his
religious creed.
The king, without awaiting an answer from either prelate, proceeded to
question Lord Nigel, but in the vernacular tongue,--"Weel, my likely
Alumnus of the Muses, and what make you so far from the north?"
"To pay my homage to your Majesty," said the young nobleman, kneeling
on one knee, "and to lay before you," he added, "this my humble and
dutiful Supplication."
The presenting of a pistol would certainly have startled King James
more, but could (setting apart the fright) hardly have been more
unpleasing to his indolent disposition.
"And is it even so, man?" said he; "and can no single man, were it but
for the rarity of the case, ever come up frae Scotland, excepting EX
PROPOSITO--on set purpose, to see what he can make out of his loving
sovereign? It is but three days syne that we had weel nigh lost our
life, and put three kingdoms into dule-weeds, from the over haste of a
clumsy-handed peasant, to thrust a packet into our hand, and now we
are beset by the like impediment in our very Court. To our Secretary
with that gear, my lord--to our Secretary with that gear."
"I have already offered my humble Supplication to your Majesty's
Secretary of State," said Lord Glenvarloch--"but it seems----"
"That he would not receive it, I warrant?" said the king, interrupting
him; "bu my saul, our Secretary kens that point of king-craft, called
refusing, better than we do, and will look at nothing but what he
likes himsell--I think I wad make a better Secretary to him than he to
me.--Weel, my lord, you are welcome to London; and, as ye seem an
acute and learned youth, I advise ye to turn your neb northward as
soon as ye like, and settle yoursell for a while at Saint Andrews, and
we will be right glad to hear that you prosper in your studies.--
_Incumbite Remis Fortiter._"
While the king spoke thus, he held the petition of the young lord
carelessly, like one who only delayed till the supplicant's back was
turned, to throw it away, or at least lay it aside to be no more
looked at. The petitioner, who read this in his cold and indifferent
looks, and in the manner in which he twisted and crumpled together the
paper, arose with a bitter sense of anger and disappointment, made a
profound obeisance, and was about to retire hastily. But Lord
Huntinglen, who stood by him, checked his intention by an almost
imperceptible touch upon the skirt of his cloak, and Nigel, taking the
hint, retreated only a few steps from the royal presence, and then
made a pause. In the meantime, Lord Huntinglen kneeled before James,
in his turn, and said--"May it please your Majesty to remember, that
upon one certain occasion you did promise to grant me a boon every
year of your sacred life?"
"I mind it weel, man," answered James, "I mind it weel, and good
reason why--it was when you unclasped the fause traitor Ruthven's
fangs from about our royal throat, and drove your dirk into him like a
true subject. We did then, as you remind us, (whilk was unnecessary,)
being partly beside ourselves with joy at our liberation, promise we
would grant you a free boon every year; whilk promise, on our coming
to menseful possession of our royal faculties, we did confirm,
_restrictive_ always and _conditionaliter_, that your lordship's
demand should be such as we, in our royal discretion, should think
reasonable."
"Even so, gracious sovereign," said the old earl, "and may I yet
farther crave to know if I have ever exceeded the bounds of your royal
benevolence?"
"By my word, man, no!'" said the king; "I cannot remember you have
asked much for yourself, if it be not a dog or a hawk, or a buck out
of our park at Theobald's, or such like. But to what serves this
preface?"
"To the boon to which I am now to ask of your Grace," said Lord
Huntinglen; "which is, that your Majesty would be pleased, on the
instant, to look at the placet of Lord Glenvarloch, and do upon it
what your own just and royal nature shall think meet and just, without
reference to your Secretary or any other of your Council."
"By my saul, my lord, this is strange," said the king; "ye are
pleading for the son of your enemy!"
"Of one who WAS my enemy till your Majesty made him my friend,"
answered Lord Huntinglen.
"Weel spoken, my lord!" said the king; "and with, a true Christian
spirit. And, respecting the Supplication of this young man, I partly
guess where the matter lies; and in plain troth I had promised to
George Heriot to be good to the lad--But then, here the shoe pinches.
Steenie and Babie Charles cannot abide him--neither can your own son,
my lord; and so, methinks, he had better go down to Scotland before he
comes toill luck by them."
"My son, an it please your Majesty, so far as he is concerned, shall
not direct my doings," said the earl, "nor any wild-headed young man
of them all."
"Why, neither shall they mine," replied the monarch; "by my father's
saul, none of them all shall play Rex with me--I will do what I will,
and what I ought, like a free king."
"Your Majesty will then grant me my boon?" said the Lord Huntinglen.
"Ay, marry will I--marry will I," said the king; "but follow me this
way, man, where we may be more private."
He led Lord Huntinglen with rather a hurried step through the
courtiers, all of whom gazed earnestly on this unwonted scene, as is
the fashion of all Courts on similar occasions. The king passed into a
little cabinet, and bade, in the first moment, Lord Huntinglen lock or
bar the door; but countermanded his direction in the next, saying,--
"No, no, no--bread o' life, man, I am a free king--will do what I will
and what I should--I am _justus et tenax propositi_, man--
nevertheless, keep by the door, Lord Huntinglen, in case Steenie
should come in with his mad humour."
"O my poor master!" groaned the Earl of Huntinglen. "When you were in
your own cold country, you had warmer blood in your veins."
The king hastily looked over the petition or memorial, every now and
then glancing his eye towards the door, and then sinking it hastily on
the paper, ashamed that Lord Huntinglen, whom he respected, should
suspect him of timidity.
"To grant the truth," he said, after he had finished his hasty
perusal, "this is a hard case; and harder than it was represented to
me, though I had some inkling of it before. And so the lad only wants
payment of the siller due from us, in order to reclaim his paternal
estate? But then, Huntinglen, the lad will have other debts--and why
burden himsell with sae mony acres of barren woodland? let the land
gang, man, let the land gang; Steenie has the promise of it from our
Scottish Chancellor--it is the best hunting-ground in Scotland--and
Babie Charles and Steenie want to kill a buck there this next year--
they maun hae the land--they maun hae the land; and our debt shall be
paid to the young man plack and bawbee, and he may have the spending
of it at our Court; or if he has such an eard hunger, wouns! man,
we'll stuff his stomach with English land, which is worth twice as
much, ay, ten times as much, as these accursed hills and heughs, and
mosses and muirs, that he is sae keen after."
All this while the poor king ambled up and down the apartment in a
piteous state of uncertainty, which was made more ridiculous by his
shambling circular mode of managing his legs, and his ungainly fashion
on such occasions of fiddling with the bunches of ribbons which
fastened the lower part of his dress.
Lord Huntinglen listened with great composure, and answered, "An it
please your Majesty, there was an answer yielded by Naboth when Ahab
coveted his vineyard--' The Lord forbid that I should give the
inheritance of my fathers unto thee.'"
"Ey, my lord--ey, my lord!" ejaculated James, while all the colour
mounted both to his cheek and nose; "I hope ye mean not to teach me
divinity? Ye need not fear, my lord, that I will shun to do justice to
every man; and, since your lordship will give me no help to take up
this in a more peaceful manner--whilk, methinks, would be better for
the young man, as I said before,--why--since it maun be so--'sdeath, I
am a free king, man, and he shall have his money and redeem his land,
and make a kirk and a miln of it, an he will." So saying, he hastily
wrote an order on the Scottish Exchequer for the sum in question, and
then added, "How they are to pay it, I see not; but I warrant he will
find money on the order among the goldsmiths, who can find it for
every one but me.--And now you see, my Lord of Huntinglen, that I am
neither an untrue man, to deny you the boon whilk I became bound for,
nor an Ahab, to covet Naboth's vineyard; nor a mere nose-of-wax, to be
twisted this way and that, by favourites and counsellors at their
pleasure. I think you will grant now that I am none of those?"
"You are my own native and noble prince," said Huntinglen, as he knelt
to kiss the royal hand--"just and generous, whenever you listen to the
workings of your own heart."
"Ay, ay," said the king, laughing good-naturedly, as he raised his
faithful servant from the ground, "that is what ye all say when I do
any thing to please ye. There--there, take the sign-manual, and away
with you and this young fellow. I wonder Steenie and Babie Charles
have not broken in on us before now."
Lord Huntinglen hastened from the cabinet, foreseeing a scene at which
he was unwilling to be present, but which sometimes occurred when
James roused himself so far as to exert his own free will, of which he
boasted so much, in spite of that of his imperious favourite Steenie,
as he called the Duke of Buckingham, from a supposed resemblance
betwixt his very handsome countenance, and that with which the Italian
artists represented the protomartyr Stephen. In fact, the haughty
favourite, who had the unusual good fortune to stand as high in the
opinion of the heir-apparent as of the existing monarch, had
considerably diminished in his respect towards the latter; and it was
apparent, to the more shrewd courtiers, that James endured his
domination rather from habit, timidity, and a dread of encountering
his stormy passions, than from any heartfelt continuation of regard
towards him, whose greatness had been the work of his own hands. To
save himself the pain of seeing what was likely to take place on the
duke's return, and to preserve the king from the additional
humiliation which the presence of such a witness must have occasioned,
the earl left the cabinet as speedily as possible, having first
carefully pocketed the important sign-manual.
No sooner had he entered the presence-room, than he hastily sought
Lord Glenvarloch, who had withdrawn into the embrasure of one of the
windows, from the general gaze of men who seemed disposed only to
afford him the notice which arises from surprise and curiosity, and,
taking him by the arm, without speaking, led him out of the presence-
chamber into the first ante-room. Here they found the worthy
goldsmith, who approached them with looks of curiosity, which were
checked by the old lord, who said hastily, "All is well.--Is your
barge in waiting?" Heriot answered in the affirmative. "Then," said
Lord Huntinglen, "you shall give me a cast in it, as the watermen say;
and I, in requital, will give you both your dinner; for we must have
some conversation together."
They both followed the earl without speaking, and were in the second
ante-room when the important annunciation of the ushers, and the hasty
murmur with which all made ample way as the company repeated to each
other,--"The Duke--the Duke!" made them aware of the approach of the
omnipotent favourite.
He entered, that unhappy minion of Court favour, sumptuously dressed
in the picturesque attire which will live for ever on the canvas of
Vandyke, and which marks so well the proud age, when aristocracy,
though undermined and nodding to its fall, still, by external show and
profuse expense, endeavoured to assert its paramount superiority over
the inferior orders. The handsome and commanding countenance, stately
form, and graceful action and manners of the Duke of Buckingham, made
him become that picturesque dress beyond any man of his time. At
present, however, his countenance seemed discomposed, his dress a
little more disordered than became the place, his step hasty, and his
voice imperative.
All marked the angry spot upon his brow, and bore back so suddenly to
make way for him, that the Earl of Huntinglen, who affected no
extraordinary haste on the occasion, with his companions, who could
not, if they would, have decently left him, remained as it were by
themselves in the middle of the room, and in the very path of the
angry favourite. He touched his cap sternly as he looked on
Huntinglen, but unbonneted to Heriot, and sunk his beaver, with its
shadowy plume, as low as the floor, with a profound air of mock
respect. In returning his greeting, which he did simply and
unaffectedly, the citizen only said,--"Too much courtesy, my lord
duke, is often the reverse of kindness."
"I grieve you should think so, Master Heriot," answered the duke; "I
only meant, by my homage, to claim your protection, sir--your
patronage. You are become, I understand, a solicitor of suits--a
promoter--an undertaker--a fautor of court suitors of merit and
quality, who chance to be pennyless. I trust your bags will bear you
out in your new boast."
"They will bear me the farther, my lord duke," answered the goldsmith,
"that my boast is but small."
"O, you do yourself less than justice, my good Master Heriot,"
continued the duke, in the same tone of irony; "you have a marvellous
court-faction, to be the son of an Edinburgh tinker. Have the goodness
to prefer me to the knowledge of the high-born nobleman who is
honoured and advantaged by your patronage."
"That shall be my task," said Lord Huntinglen, with emphasis. "My lord
duke, I desire you to know Nigel Olifaunt, Lord Glenvarloch,
representative of one of the most ancient and powerful baronial houses
in Scotland.--Lord Glenvarloch, I present you to his Grace the Duke of
Buckingham, representative of Sir George Villiers, Knight of
Brookesby, in the county of Leicester."
The duke coloured still more high as he bowed to Lord Glenvarloch
scornfully, a courtesy which the other returned haughtily, and with
restrained indignation. "We know each other, then," said the duke,
after a moment's pause; and as if he had seen something in the young
nobleman which merited more serious notice than the bitter raillery
with which he had commenced--"we know each other--and you know me, my
lord, for your enemy."
"I thank you for your plainness, my lord duke," replied Nigel; "an
open enemy is better than a hollow friend."
"For you, my Lord Huntinglen," said the duke, "methinks you have but
now overstepped the limits of the indulgence permitted to you, as the
father of the prince's friend, and my own."
"By my word, my lord duke," replied the earl, "it is easy for any one
to outstep boundaries, of the existence of which he was not aware. It
is neither to secure my protection nor approbation, that my son keeps
such exalted company."
"O, my lord, we know you, and indulge you," said the duke; "you are
one of those who presume for a life-long upon the merit of one good
action."
"In faith, my lord, and if it be so," said the old earl, "I have at
least the advantage of such as presume more than I do, without having
done any action of merit whatever. But I mean not to quarrel with you,
my lord--we can neither be friends nor enemies--you have your path,
and I have mine."
Buckingham only replied by throwing on his bonnet, and shaking its
lofty plume with a careless and scornful toss of the head. They parted
thus; the duke walking onwards through the apartments, and the others
leaving the Palace and repairing to Whitehall Stairs, where they
embarked on board the barge of the citizen.
CHAPTER X
Bid not thy fortune troll upon the wheels
Of yonder dancing cubes of mottled bone;
And drown it not, like Egypt's royal harlot,
Dissolving her rich pearl in the brimm'd wine-cup.
These are the arts, Lothario, which shrink acres
Into brief yards--bring sterling pounds to farthings,
Credit to infamy; and the poor gull,
Who might have lived an honour'd, easy life,
To ruin, and an unregarded grave.
_The Changes._
When they were fairly embarked on the Thames, the earl took from his
pocket the Supplication, and, pointing out to George Heriot the royal
warrant indorsed thereon, asked him, if it were in due and regular
form? The worthy citizen hastily read it over, thrust forth his hand
as if to congratulate the Lord Glenvarloch, then checked himself,
pulled out his barnacles, (a present from old David Ramsay,) and again
perused the warrant with the most business-like and critical
attention. "It is strictly correct and formal," he said, looking to
the Earl of Huntinglen; "and I sincerely rejoice at it."
"I doubt nothing of its formality," said the earl; "the king
understands business well, and, if he does not practise it often, it
is only because indolence obscures parts which are naturally well
qualified for the discharge of affairs. But what is next to be done
for our young friend, Master Heriot? You know how I am circumstanced.
Scottish lords living at the English Court have seldom command of
money; yet, unless a sum can be presently raised on this warrant,
matters standing as you hastily hinted to me, the mortgage, wadset, or
whatever it is called, will be foreclosed."
"It is true," said Heriot, in some embarrassment; "there is a large
sum wanted in redemption--yet, if it is not raised, there will be an
expiry of the legal, as our lawyers call it, and the estate will be
evicted."
"My noble--my worthy friends, who have taken up my cause so
undeservedly, so unexpectedly," said Nigel, "do not let me be a burden
on your kindness. You have already done too much where nothing was
merited."
"Peace, man, peace," said Lord Huntinglen, "and let old Heriot and I
puzzle this scent out. He is about to open--hark to him!"
"My lord," said the citizen, "the Duke of Buckingham sneers at our
city money-bags; yet they can sometimes open, to prop a falling and a
noble house."
"We know they can," said Lord Huntinglen--"mind not Buckingham, he is
a Peg-a-Ramsay--and now for the remedy."
"I partly hinted to Lord Glenvarloch already," said Heriot, "that the
redemption money might be advanced upon such a warrant as the present,
and I will engage my credit that it can. But then, in order to secure
the lender, he must come in the shoes of the creditor to whom he
advances payment."
"Come in his shoes!" replied the earl; "why, what have boots or shoes
to do with this matter, my good friend?"
"It is a law phrase, my lord. My experience has made me pick up a few
of them," said Heriot.
"Ay, and of better things along with them, Master George," replied
Lord Huntinglen; "but what means it?"
"Simply this," resumed the citizen; "that the lender of this money
will transact with the holder of the mortgage, or wadset, over the
estate of Glenvarloch, and obtain from him such a conveyance to his
right as shall leave the lands pledged for the debt, in case the
warrant upon the Scottish Exchequer should prove unproductive. I fear,
in this uncertainty of public credit, that without some such counter
security, it will be very difficult to find so large a sum."
"Ho la!" said the Earl of Huntinglen, "halt there! a thought strikes
me.--What if the new creditor should admire the estate as a hunting-
field, as much as my Lord Grace of Buckingham seems to do, and should
wish to kill a buck there in the summer season? It seems to me, that
on your plan, Master George, our new friend will be as well entitled
to block Lord Glenvarloch out of his inheritance as the present holder
of the mortgage."
The citizen laughed. "I will engage," he said, "that the keenest
sportsman to whom I may apply on this occasion, shall not have a
thought beyond the Lord Mayor's Easter-Hunt, in Epping Forest. But
your lordship's caution is reasonable. The creditor must be bound to
allow Lord Glenvarloch sufficient time to redeem his estate by means
of the royal warrant, and must wave in his favour the right of instant
foreclosure, which may be, I should think, the more easily managed, as
the right of redemption must be exercised in his own name."
"But where shall we find a person in London fit to draw the necessary
writings?" said the earl. "If my old friend Sir John Skene of Halyards
had lived, we should have had his advice; but time presses, and--"
"I know," said Heriot, "an orphan lad, a scrivener, that dwells by
Temple Bar; he can draw deeds both after the English and Scottish
fashion, and I have trusted him often in matters of weight and of
importance. I will send one of my serving-men for him, and the mutual
deeds may be executed in your lordship's presence; for, as things
stand, there should be no delay." His lordship readily assented; and,
as they now landed upon the private stairs leading down to the river
from the gardens of the handsome hotel which he inhabited, the
messenger was dispatched without loss of time.
Nigel, who had sat almost stupefied while these zealous friends
volunteered for him in arranging the measures by which his fortune was
to be disembarrassed, now made another eager attempt to force upon
them his broken expressions of thanks and gratitude. But he was again
silenced by Lord Huntinglen, who declared he would not hear a word on
that topic, and proposed instead, that they should take a turn in the
pleached alley, or sit upon the stone bench which overlooked the
Thames, until his son's arrival should give the signal for dinner.
"I desire to introduce Dalgarno and Lord Glenvarloch to each other,"
he said, "as two who will be near neighbours, and I trust will be more
kind ones than their fathers were formerly. There is but three Scots
miles betwixt the castles, and the turrets of the one are visible from
the battlements of the other."
The old earl was silent for a moment, and appeared to muse upon the
recollections which the vicinity of the castles had summoned up.
"Does Lord Dalgarno follow the Court to Newmarket next week?" said
Heriot, by way of removing the conversation.
"He proposes so, I think," answered Lord Huntinglen, relapsed into his
reverie for a minute or two, and then addressed Nigel somewhat
abruptly--
"My young friend, when you attain possession of your inheritance, as I
hope you soon will, I trust you will not add one to the idle followers
of the Court, but reside on your patrimonial estate, cherish your
ancient tenants, relieve and assist your poor kinsmen, protect the
poor against subaltern oppression, and do what our fathers used to do,
with fewer lights and with less means than we have."
"And yet the advice to keep the country," said Heriot, "comes from an
ancient and constant ornament of the Court."
"From an old courtier, indeed," said the earl, "and the first of my
family that could so write himself--my grey beard falls on a cambric
ruff and a silken doublet--my father's descended upon a buff coat and
a breast-plate. I would not that those days of battle returned; but I
should love well to make the oaks of my old forest of Dalgarno ring
once more with halloo, and horn, and hound, and to have the old stone-
arched hall return the hearty shout of my vassals and tenants, as the
bicker and the quaigh walked their rounds amongst them. I should like
to see the broad Tay once more before I die--not even the Thames can
match it, in my mind."
"Surely, my lord," said the citizen, "all this might be easily done--
it costs but a moment's resolution, and the journey of some brief
days, and you will be where you desire to be--what is there to prevent
you?"
"Habits, Master George, habits," replied the earl, "which to young men
are like threads of silk, so lightly are they worn, so soon broken;
but which hang on our old limbs as if time had stiffened them into
gyves of iron. To go to Scotland for a brief space were but labour in
vain; and when I think of abiding there, I cannot bring myself to
leave my old master, to whom I fancy myself sometimes useful, and
whose weal and woe I have shared for so many years. But Dalgarno shall
be a Scottish noble."
"Has he visited the North?" said Heriot.
"He was there last year and made such a report of the country, that
the prince has expressed a longing to see it." "Lord Dalgarno is in
high grace with his Highness and the Duke of Buckingham?" observed the
goldsmith.
"He is so," answered the earl,--"I pray it may be for the advantage of
them all. The prince is just and equitable in his sentiments, though
cold and stately in his manners, and very obstinate in his most
trifling purposes; and the duke, noble and gallant, and generous and
open, is fiery, ambitious, and impetuous. Dalgarno has none of these
faults, and such as he may have of his own, may perchance be corrected
by the society in which he moves.--See, here he comes."
Lord Dalgarno accordingly advanced from the farther end of the alley
to the bench on which his father and his guests were seated, so that
Nigel had full leisure to peruse his countenance and figure. He was
dressed point-device, and almost to extremity, in the splendid fashion
of the time, which suited well with his age, probably about five-and-
twenty, with a noble form and fine countenance, in which last could
easily be traced the manly features of his father, but softened by a
more habitual air of assiduous courtesy than the stubborn old earl had
ever condescended to assume towards the world in general. In other
respects, his address was gallant, free, and unencumbered either by
pride or ceremony--far remote certainly from the charge either of
haughty coldness or forward impetuosity; and so far his father had
justly freed him from the marked faults which he ascribed to the
manners of the prince and his favourite Buckingham.
While the old earl presented his young acquaintance Lord Glenvarloch
to his son, as one whom he would have him love and honour, Nigel
marked the countenance of Lord Dalgarno closely, to see if he could
detect aught of that secret dislike which the king had, in one of his
broken expostulations, seemed to intimate, as arising from a clashing
of interests betwixt his new friend and the great Buckingham. But
nothing of this was visible; on the contrary, Lord Dalgarno received
his new acquaintance with the open frankness and courtesy which makes
conquest at once, when addressed to the feelings of an ingenuous young
man.
It need hardly be told that his open and friendly address met equally
ready and cheerful acceptation from Nigel Olifaunt. For many months,
and while a youth not much above two-and-twenty, he had been
restrained by circumstances from the conversation of his equals. When,
on his father's sudden death, he left the Low Countries for Scotland,
he had found himself involved, to all appearance inextricably, with
the details of the law, all of which threatened to end in the
alienation of the patrimony which should support his hereditary rank.
His term of sincere mourning, joined to injured pride, and the
swelling of the heart under unexpected and undeserved misfortune,
together with the uncertainty attending the issue of his affairs, had
induced the young Lord of Glenvarloch to live, while in Scotland, in a
very private and reserved manner. How he had passed his time in
London, the reader is acquainted with. But this melancholy and
secluded course of life was neither agreeable to his age nor to his
temper, which was genial and sociable. He hailed, therefore, with
sincere pleasure, the approaches which a young man of his own age and
rank made towards him; and when he had exchanged with Lord Dalgarno
some of those words and signals by which, as surely as by those of
freemasonry, young people recognise a mutual wish to be agreeable to
each other, it seemed as if the two noblemen had been acquainted for
some time.
Just as this tacit intercourse had been established, one of Lord
Huntinglen's attendants came down the alley, marshalling onwards a man
dressed in black buckram, who followed him with tolerable speed,
considering that, according to his sense of reverence and propriety,
he kept his body bent and parallel to the horizon from the moment that
he came in sight of the company to which he was about to be presented.
"Who is this, you cuckoldy knave," said the old lord, who had retained
the keen appetite and impatience of a Scottish baron even during a
long alienation from his native country; "and why does John Cook, with
a murrain to him, keep back dinner?"
"I believe we are ourselves responsible for this person's intrusion,"
said George Heriot; "this is the scrivener whom we desired to see.--
Look up, man, and see us in the face as an honest man should, instead
of beating thy noddle charged against us thus, like a battering-ram."
The scrivener did look up accordingly, with the action of an automaton
which suddenly obeys the impulse of a pressed spring. But, strange to
tell, not even the haste he had made to attend his patron's mandate, a
business, as Master Heriot's message expressed, of weight and
importance--nay not even the state of depression in which, out of
sheer humility, doubtless, he had his head stooped to the earth, from
the moment he had trod the demesnes of the Earl of Huntinglen, had
called any colour into his countenance. The drops stood on his brow
from haste and toil, but his cheek was still pale and tallow-coloured
as before; nay, what seemed stranger, his very hair, when he raised
his head, hung down on either cheek as straight and sleek and
undisturbed as it was when we first introduced him to our readers,
seated at his quiet and humble desk.
Lord Dalgarno could not forbear a stifled laugh at the ridiculous and
puritanical figure which presented itself like a starved anatomy to
the company, and whispered at the same time into Lord Glenvarloch's
ear--
"The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon,
Where got'st thou that goose-look?"
Nigel was too little acquainted with the English stage to understand a
quotation which had already grown matter of common allusion in London.
Lord Dalgarno saw that he was not understood, and continued, "That
fellow, by his visage, should either be a saint, or a most
hypocritical rogue--and such is my excellent opinion of human nature,
that I always suspect the worst. But they seem deep in business. Will
you take a turn with me in the garden, my lord, or will you remain a
member of the serious conclave?"
"With you, my lord, most willingly," said Nigel; and they were turning
away accordingly, when George Heriot, with the formality belonging to
his station, observed, that, "as their business concerned Lord
Glenvarloch, he had better remain, to make himself master of it, and
witness to it."
"My presence is utterly needless, my good lord;-and, my best friend,
Master Heriot," said the young nobleman, "I shall understand nothing
the better for cumbering you with my ignorance in these matters; and
can only say at the end, as I now say at the beginning, that I dare
not take the helm out of the hand of the kind pilots who have already
guided my course within sight of a fair and unhoped-for haven.
Whatever you recommend to me as fitting, I shall sign and seal; and
the import of the deeds I shall better learn by a brief explanation
from Master Heriot, if he will bestow so much trouble in my behalf,
than by a thousand learned words and law terms from this person of
skill."
"He is right," said Lord Huntinglen; "our young friend is right, in
confiding these matters to you and me, Master George Heriot--he has
not misplaced his confidence."
Master George Heriot cast a long look after the two young noblemen,
who had now walked down the alley arm-in-arm, and at length said, "He
hath not, indeed, misplaced his confidence, as your lordship well and
truly says--but, nevertheless, he is not in the right path; for it
behoves every man to become acquainted with his own affairs, so soon
as he hath any that are worth attending to."
When he had made this observation, they applied themselves, with the
scrivener, to look into various papers, and to direct in what manner
writings should be drawn, which might at once afford sufficient
security to those who were to advance the money, and at the same time
preserve the right of the young nobleman to redeem the family estate,
provided he should obtain the means of doing so, by the expected
reimbursement from the Scottish Exchequer, or otherwise. It is
needless to enter into those details. But it is not unimportant to
mention, as an illustration of character, that Heriot went into the
most minute legal details with a precision which showed that
experience had made him master even of the intricacies of Scottish
conveyancing; and that the Earl of Huntinglen, though far less
acquainted with technical detail, suffered no step of the business to
pass over, until he had attained a general but distinct idea of its
import and its propriety.
They seemed to be admirably seconded in their benevolent intentions
towards the young Lord Glenvarloch, by the skill and eager zeal of the
scrivener, whom Heriot had introduced to this piece of business, the
most important which Andrew had ever transacted in his life, and the
particulars of which were moreover agitated in his presence between an
actual earl, and one whose wealth and character might entitle him to
be an alderman of his ward, if not to be lord mayor, in his turn.
While they were thus in eager conversation on business, the good earl
even forgetting the calls of his appetite, and the delay of dinner, in
his anxiety to see that the scrivener received proper instructions,
and that all was rightly weighed and considered, before dismissing him
to engross the necessary deeds, the two young men walked together on
the terrace which overhung the river, and talked on the topics which
Lord Dalgarno, the elder, and the more experienced, thought most
likely to interest his new friend.
These naturally regarded the pleasures attending a Court life; and
Lord Dalgarno expressed much surprise at understanding that Nigel
proposed an instant return to Scotland.
"You are jesting with me," he said. "All the Court rings--it is
needless to mince it--with the extraordinary success of your suit--
against the highest interest, it is said, now influencing the horizon
at Whitehall. Men think of you--talk of you--fix their eyes on you--
ask each other, who is this young Scottish lord, who has stepped so
far in a single day? They augur, in whispers to each other, how high
and how far you may push your fortune--and all that you design to make
of it, is, to return to Scotland, eat raw oatmeal cakes, baked upon a
peat-fire, have your hand shaken by every loon of a blue-bonnet who
chooses to dub you cousin, though your relationship comes by Noah;
drink Scots twopenny ale, eat half-starved red-deer venison, when you
can kill it, ride upon a galloway, and be called my right honourable
and maist worthy lord!"
"There is no great gaiety in the prospect before me, I confess," said
Lord Glenvarloch, "even if your father and good Master Heriot should
succeed in putting my affairs on some footing of plausible hope. And
yet I trust to do something for my vassals as my ancestors before me,
and to teach my children, as I have myself been taught, to make some
personal sacrifices, if they be necessary, in order to maintain with
dignity the situation in which they are placed by Providence."
Lord Dalgarno, after having once or twice stifled his laughter during
this speech, at length broke out into a fit of mirth, so hearty and so
resistless, that, angry as he was, the call of sympathy swept Nigel
along with him, and despite of himself, he could not forbear to join
in a burst of laughter, which he thought not only causeless, but
almost impertinent.
He soon recollected himself, however, and said, in a tone qualified to
allay Lord Dalgarno's extreme mirth: "This is all well, my lord; but
how am I to understand your merriment?" Lord Dalgarno only answered
him with redoubled peals of laughter, and at length held by Lord
Glenvarloch's cloak, as if to prevent his falling down on the ground,
in the extremity of his convulsion.
At length, while Nigel stood half abashed, half angry, at becoming
thus the subject of his new acquaintance's ridicule, and was only
restrained from expressing his resentment against the son, by a sense
of the obligations he owed the father, Lord Dalgarno recovered
himself, and spoke in a half-broken voice, his eyes still running with
tears: "I crave your pardon, my dear Lord Glenvarloch--ten thousand
times do I crave your pardon. But that last picture of rural dignity,
accompanied by your grave and angry surprise at my laughing at what
would have made any court-bred hound laugh, that had but so much as
bayed the moon once from the court-yard at Whitehall, totally overcame
me. Why, my liefest and dearest lord, you, a young and handsome
fellow, with high birth, a title, and the name of an estate, so well
received by the king at your first starting, as makes your further
progress scarce matter of doubt, if you know how to improve it--for
the king has already said you are a 'braw lad, and well studied in the
more humane letters'--you, too, whom all the women, and the very
marked beauties of the Court, desire to see, because you came from
Leyden, were born in Scotland, and have gained a hard-contested suit
in England--you, I say, with a person like a prince, an eye of fire,
and a wit as quick, to think of throwing your cards on the table when
the game is in your very hand, running back to the frozen north, and
marrying--let me see--a tall, stalking, blue-eyed, fair-skinned bony
wench, with eighteen quarters in her scutcheon, a sort of Lot's wife,
newly descended from her pedestal, and with her to shut yourself up in
your tapestried chamber! Uh, gad!--Swouns, I shall never survive the
idea!"
It is seldom that youth, however high-minded, is able, from mere
strength of character and principle, to support itself against the
force of ridicule. Half angry, half mortified, and, to say truth, half
ashamed of his more manly and better purpose, Nigel was unable, and
flattered himself it was unnecessary, to play the part of a rigid
moral patriot, in presence of a young man whose current fluency of
language, as well as his experience in the highest circles of society,
gave him, in spite of Nigel's better and firmer thoughts, a temporary
ascendency over him. He sought, therefore, to compromise the matter,
and avoid farther debate, by frankly owning, that, if to return to his
own country were not his choice, it was at least a matter of
necessity. "His affairs," he said, "were unsettled, his income
precarious."
"And where is he whose affairs are settled, or whose income is less
than precarious, that is to be found in attendance on the Court?" said
Lord Dalgarno; "all are either losing or winning. Those who have
wealth, come hither to get rid of it, while the happy gallants, who,
like you and I, dear Glenvarloch, have little or none, have every
chance to be sharers in their spoils."
"I have no ambition of that sort," said Nigel, "and if I had, I must
tell you plainly, Lord Dalgarno, I have not the means to do so. I can
scarce as yet call the suit I wear my own; I owe it, and I do riot
blush to say so, to the friendship of yonder good man."
"I will not laugh again, if I can help it," said Lord Dalgarno. "But,
Lord! that you should have gone to a wealthy goldsmith for your habit
--why, I could have brought you to an honest, confiding tailor, who
should have furnished you with half-a-dozen, merely for love of the
little word, 'lordship,' which you place before your name;--and then
your goldsmith, if he be really a friendly goldsmith, should have
equipped you with such a purse of fair rose-nobles as would have
bought you thrice as many suits, or done better things for you."
"I do not understand these fashions, my lord," said Nigel, his
displeasure mastering his shame; "were I to attend the Court of my
sovereign, it should be when I could maintain, without shifting or
borrowing, the dress and retinue which my rank requires."
"Which my rank requires!" said Lord Dalgarno, repeating his last
words; "that, now, is as good as if my father had spoke it. I fancy
you would love to move to Court with him, followed by a round score of
old blue-bottles, with white heads and red noses, with bucklers and
broadswords, which their hands, trembling betwixt age and strong
waters, can make no use of--as many huge silver badges on their arms,
to show whose fools they are, as would furnish forth a court cupboard
of plate--rogues fit for nothing but to fill our ante-chambers with
the flavour of onions and genievre--pah!"
"The poor knaves!" said Lord Glenvarloch; "they have served your
father, it may be, in the wars. What would become of them were he to
turn them off?"
"Why, let them go to the hospital," said Dalgarno, "or to the bridge-
end, to sell switches. The king is a better man than my father, and
you see those who have served in HIS wars do so every day; or, when
their blue coats were well worn out, they would make rare scarecrows.
Here is a fellow, now, comes down the walk; the stoutest raven dared
not come within a yard of that copper nose. I tell you, there is more
service, as you will soon see, in my valet of the chamber, and such a
lither lad as my page Lutin, than there is in a score of these old
memorials of the Douglas wars, [Footnote: The cruel civil wars waged
by the Scottish barons during the minority of James VI., had the name
from the figure made in them by the celebrated James Douglas, Earl of
Morton. Both sides executed their prisoners without mercy or favour.]
where they cut each other's throats for the chance of finding twelve
pennies Scots on the person of the slain. Marry, my lord, to make
amends, they will eat mouldy victuals, and drink stale ale, as if
their bellies were puncheons.--But the dinner-bell is going to sound--
hark, it is clearing its rusty throat, with a preliminary jowl. That
is another clamorous relic of antiquity, that, were I master, should
soon be at the bottom of the Thames. How the foul fiend can it
interest the peasants and mechanics in the Strand, to know that the
Earl of Huntinglen is sitting down to dinner? But my father looks our
way--we must not be late for the grace, or we shall be in DIS-grace,
if you will forgive a quibble which would have made his Majesty laugh.
You will find us all of a piece, and, having been accustomed to eat in
saucers abroad, I am ashamed you should witness our larded capons, our
mountains of beef, and oceans of brewis, as large as Highland hills
and lochs; but you shall see better cheer to-morrow. Where lodge you?
I will call for you. I must be your guide through the peopled desert,
to certain enchanted lands, which you will scarce discover without
chart and pilot. Where lodge you?"
"I will meet you in Paul's," said Nigel, a good deal embarrassed, "at
any hour you please to name."
"O, you would be private," said the young lord; "nay, fear not me--I
will be no intruder. But we have attained this huge larder of flesh,
fowl, and fish. I marvel the oaken boards groan not under it."
They had indeed arrived in the dining-parlour of the mansion, where
the table was superabundantly loaded, and where the number of
attendants, to a certain extent, vindicated the sarcasms of the young
nobleman. The chaplain, and Sir Mungo Malagrowther, were of the party.
The latter complimented Lord Glenvarloch upon the impression he had
made at Court. "One would have thought ye had brought the apple of
discord in your pouch, my lord, or that you were the very firebrand of
whilk Althea was delivered, and that she had lain-in in a barrel of
gunpowder, for the king, and the prince, and the duke, have been by
the lugs about ye, and so have many more, that kendna before this
blessed day that there was such a man living on the face of the
earth."
"Mind your victuals, Sir Mungo," said the earl; "they get cold while
you talk." "Troth, and that needsna, my lord," said the knight; "your
lordship's dinners seldom scald one's mouth--the serving-men are
turning auld, like oursells, my lord, and it is far between the
kitchen and the ha'."
With this little explosion of his spleen, Sir Mungo remained
satisfied, until the dishes were removed, when, fixing his eyes on the
brave new doublet of Lord Dalgarno, he complimented him on his
economy, pretending to recognise it as the same which his father had
worn in Edinburgh in the Spanish ambassador's time. Lord Dalgarno, too
much a man of the world to be moved by any thing from such a quarter,
proceeded to crack some nuts with great deliberation, as he replied,
that the doublet was in some sort his father's, as it was likely to
cost him fifty pounds some day soon. Sir Mungo forthwith proceeded in
his own way to convey this agreeable intelligence to the earl,
observing, that his son was a better maker of bargains than his
lordship, for he had bought a doublet as rich as that his lordship
wore when the Spanish ambassador was at Holyrood, and it had cost him
but fifty pounds Scots;--"that was no fool's bargain, my lord."
"Pounds sterling, if you please, Sir Mungo," answered the earl,
calmly; "and a fool's bargain it is, in all the tenses. Dalgarno WAS a
fool when he bought--I _will_ be a fool when I pay--and you, Sir
Mungo, craving your pardon, _are_ a fool _in praesenti_, for speaking
of what concerns you not."
So saying, the earl addressed himself to the serious business of the
table and sent the wine around with a profusion which increased the
hilarity, but rather threatened the temperance, of the company, until
their joviality was interrupted by the annunciation that the scrivener
had engrossed such deeds as required to be presently executed.
George Heriot rose from the table, observing, that wine-cups and legal
documents were unseemly neighbours. The earl asked the scrivener if
they had laid a trencher and set a cup for him in the buttery and
received the respectful answer, that heaven forbid he should be such
an ungracious beast as to eat or drink until his lordship's pleasure
was performed.
"Thou shalt eat before thou goest," said Lord Huntinglen; "and I will
have thee try, moreover, whether a cup of sack cannot bring some
colour into these cheeks of thine. It were a shame to my household,
thou shouldst glide out into the Strand after such a spectre-fashion
as thou now wearest--Look to it, Dalgarno, for the honour of our roof
is concerned."
Lord Dalgarno gave directions that the man should be attended to. Lord
Glenvarloch and the citizen, in the meanwhile, signed and
interchanged, and thus closed a transaction, of which the principal
party concerned understood little, save that it was under the
management of a zealous and faithful friend, who undertook that the
money should be forthcoming, and the estate released from forfeiture,
by payment of the stipulated sum for which it stood pledged, and that
at the term of Lambmas, and at the hour of noon, and beside the tomb
of the Regent Earl of Murray, in the High Kirk of Saint Giles, at
Edinburgh, being the day and place assigned for such redemption.
[Footnote: As each covenant in those days of accuracy had a special
place nominated for execution, the tomb of the Regent Earl of Murray
in Saint Giles's Church was frequently assigned for the purpose.]
When this business was transacted, the old earl would fain have
renewed his carouse; but the citizen, alleging the importance of the
deeds he had about him, and the business he had to transact betimes
the next morning, not only refused to return to table, but carried
with him to his barge Lord Glenvarloch, who might, perhaps, have been
otherwise found more tractable.
When they were seated in the boat, and fairly once more afloat on the
river, George Heriot looked back seriously on the mansion they had
left--"There live," he said, "the old fashion and the new. The father
is like a noble old broadsword, but harmed with rust, from neglect and
inactivity; the son is your modern rapier, well-mounted, fairly gilt,
and fashioned to the taste of the time--and it is time must evince if
the metal be as good as the show. God grant it prove so, says an old
friend to the family."
Nothing of consequence passed betwixt them, until Lord Glenvarloch,
landing at Paul's Wharf, took leave of his friend the citizen, and
retired to his own apartment, where his attendant, Richie, not a
little elevated with the events of the day, and with the hospitality
of Lord Huntinglen's house-keeping, gave a most splendid account of
them to the buxom Dame Nelly, who rejoiced to hear that the sun at
length was shining upon what Richie called "the right side of the
hedge."
CHAPTER XI
You are not for the manner nor the times,
They have their vices now most like to virtues;
You cannot know them apait by any difference,
They wear the same clothes, eat the same meat--
Sleep i' the self-same beds, ride in those coaches,
Or very like four horses in a coach,
As the best men and women.
_Ben Jonson_
On the following morning, while Nigel, his breakfast finished, was
thinking how he should employ the day, there was a little bustle upon
the stairs which attracted his attention, and presently entered Dame
Nelly, blushing like scarlet, and scarce able to bring out--"A young
nobleman, sir--no one less," she added, drawing her hand slightly over
her lips, "would be so saucy--a young nobleman, sir, to wait on you!"
And she was followed into the little cabin by Lord Dalgarno, gay,
easy, disembarrassed, and apparently as much pleased to rejoin his new
acquaintance as if he had found him in the apartments of a palace.
Nigel, on the contrary, (for youth is slave to such circumstances,)
was discountenanced and mortified at being surprised by so splendid a
gallant in a chamber which, at the moment the elegant and high-dressed
cavalier appeared in it, seemed to its inhabitant, yet lower,
narrower, darker, and meaner than it had ever shown before. He would
have made some apology for the situation, but Lord Dalgarno cut him
short--
"Not a word of it," he said, "not a single word--I know why you ride
at anchor here--but I can keep counsel--so pretty a hostess would
recommend worse quarters."
"On my word--on my honour," said Lord Glenvarloch--
"Nay, nay, make no words of the matter," said Lord Dalgarno; "I am no
tell-tale, nor shall I cross your walk; there is game enough in the
forest, thank Heaven, and I can strike a doe for myself."
All this he said in so significant a manner, and the explanation which
he had adopted seemed to put Lord Glenvarloch's gallantry on so
respectable a footing, that Nigel ceased to try to undeceive him; and
less ashamed, perhaps, (for such is human weakness,) of supposed vice
than of real poverty, changed the discourse to something else, and
left poor Dame Nelly's reputation and his own at the mercy of the
young courtier's misconstruction.
He offered refreshments with some hesitation. Lord Dalgarno had long
since breakfasted, but had just come from playing a set of tennis, he
said, and would willingly taste a cup of the pretty hostess's single
beer. This was easily procured, was drunk, was commended, and, as the
hostess failed not to bring the cup herself, Lord Dalgarno profited by
the opportunity to take a second and more attentive view of her, and
then gravely drank to her husband's health, with an almost
imperceptible nod to Lord Glenvarloch. Dame Nelly was much honoured,
smoothed her apron down with her hands, and said
"Her John was greatly and truly honoured by their lordships--he was a
kind painstaking man for his family, as was in the alley, or indeed,
as far north as Paul's Chain."
She would have proceeded probably to state the difference betwixt
their ages, as the only alloy to their nuptial happiness; but her
lodger, who had no mind to be farther exposed to his gay friend's
raillery, gave her, contrary to his wont, a signal to leave the room.
Lord Dalgarno looked after her, and then looked at Glenvarloch, shook
his head, and repeated the well-known lines--
"'My lord, beware of jealousy--
It is the green-eyed monster which doth make
The meat it feeds on.'
"But come," he said, changing his tone, "I know not why I should worry
you thus--I who have so many follies of my own, when I should rather
make excuse for being here at all, and tell you wherefore I came."
So saying, he reached a seat, and, placing another for Lord
Glenvarloch, in spite of his anxious haste to anticipate this act of
courtesy, he proceeded in the same tone of easy familiarity:--
"We are neighbours, my lord, and are just made known to each other.
Now, I know enough of the dear North, to be well aware that Scottish
neighbours must be either dear friends or deadly enemies--must either
walk hand-in-hand, or stand sword-point to sword-point; so I choose
the hand-in-hand, unless you should reject my proffer."
"How were it possible, my lord," said Lord Glenvarloch, "to refuse
what is offered so frankly, even if your father had not been a second
father to me?"--And, as he took Lord Dalgarno's hand, he added--"I
have, I think, lost no time, since, during one day's attendance at
Court, I have made a kind friend and a powerful enemy."
"The friend thanks you," replied Lord Dalgarno, "for your just
opinion; but, my dear Glenvarloch--or rather, for titles are too
formal between us of the better file--what is your Christian name?"
"Nigel," replied Lord Glenvarloch.
"Then we will be Nigel and Malcolm to each other," said his visitor,
"and my lord to the plebeian world around us. But I was about to ask
you whom you suppose your enemy?"
"No less than the all-powerful favourite, the great Duke of
Buckingham."
"You dream! What could possess you with such an opinion?" said
Dalgarno.
"He told me so himself," replied Glenvarloch; "and, in so doing, dealt
frankly and honourably with me."
"O, you know him not yet," said his companion; "the duke is moulded of
an hundred noble and fiery qualities, that prompt him, like a generous
horse, to spring aside in impatience at the least obstacle to his
forward course. But he means not what he says in such passing heats--I
can do more with him, I thank Heaven, than most who are around him;
you shall go visit him with me, and you will see how you shall be
received."
"I told you, my lord," said Glenvarloch firmly, and with some
haughtiness, "the Duke of Buckingham, without the least offence,
declared himself my enemy in the face of the Court; and he shall
retract that aggression as publicly as it was given, ere I will make
the slightest advance towards him."
"You would act becomingly in every other case," said Lord Dalgarno,
"but here you are wrong. In the Court horizon Buckingham is Lord of
the Ascendant, and as he is adverse or favouring, so sinks or rises
the fortune of a suitor. The king would bid you remember your
Phaedrus,
'Arripiens geminas, ripis cedentibus, ollas--'
and so forth. You are the vase of earth; beware of knocking yourself
against the vase of iron."
"The vase of earth," said Glenvarloch, "will avoid the encounter, by
getting ashore out of the current--I mean to go no more to Court."
"O, to Court you necessarily must go; you will find your Scottish suit
move ill without it, for there is both patronage and favour necessary
to enforce the sign-manual you have obtained. Of that we will speak
more hereafter; but tell me in the meanwhile, my dear Nigel, whether
you did not wonder to see me here so early?"
"I am surprised that you could find me out in this obscure corner,"
said Lord Glenvarloch.
"My page Lutin is a very devil for that sort of discovery," replied
Lord Dalgarno; "I have but to say, 'Goblin, I would know where he or
she dwells,' and he guides me thither as if by art magic."
"I hope he waits not now in the street, my lord," said Nigel; "I will
send my servant to seek him."
"Do not concern yourself--he is by this time," said Lord Dalgarno,
"playing at hustle-cap and chuck-farthing with the most blackguard
imps upon the wharf, unless he hath foregone his old customs."
"Are you not afraid," said Lord Glenvarloch, "that in such company his
morals may become depraved?"
"Let his company look to their own," answered Lord Dalgarno, cooly;
"for it will be a company of real fiends in which Lutin cannot teach
more mischief than he can learn: he is, I thank the gods, most
thoroughly versed in evil for his years. I am spared the trouble of
looking after his moralities, for nothing can make them either better
or worse."
"I wonder you can answer this to his parents, my lord," said Nigel.
"I wonder where I should find his parents," replied his companion, "to
render an account to them."
"He may be an orphan," said Lord Nigel; "but surely, being a page in
your lordship's family, his parents must be of rank."
"Of as high rank as the gallows could exalt them to," replied Lord
Dalgarno, with the same indifference; "they were both hanged, I
believe--at least the gipsies, from whom I bought him five years ago,
intimated as much to me.--You are surprised at this, now. But is it
not better that, instead of a lazy, conceited, whey-faced slip of
gentility, to whom, in your old-world idea of the matter, I was bound
to stand Sir Pedagogue, and see that he washed his hands and face,
said his prayers, learned his acddens, spoke no naughty words, brushed
his hat, and wore his best doublet only on Sunday,--that, instead of
such a Jacky Goodchild, I should have something like this?"
He whistled shrill and clear, and the page he spoke of darted into the
room, almost with the effect of an actual apparition. From his height
he seemed but fifteen, but, from his face, might be two or even three
years older, very neatly made, and richly dressed; with a thin bronzed
visage, which marked his gipsy descent, and a pair of sparkling black
eyes, which seemed almost to pierce through those whom he looked at.
"There he is," said Lord Dalgarno, "fit for every element--prompt to
execute every command, good, bad, or indifferent--unmatched in his
tribe, as rogue, thief, and liar."
"All which qualities," said the undaunted page, "have each in turn
stood your lordship in stead."
"Out, you imp of Satan!" said his master; "vanish-begone-or my
conjuring rod goes about your ears." The boy turned, and disappeared
as suddenly as he had entered. "You see," said Lord Dalgarno, "that,
in choosing my household, the best regard I can pay to gentle blood is
to exclude it from my service--that very gallows--bird were enough to
corrupt a whole antechamber of pages, though they were descended from
kings and kaisers."
"I can scarce think that a nobleman should need the offices of such an
attendant as your goblin," said Nigel; "you are but jesting with my
inexperience."
"Time will show whether I jest or not, my dear Nigel," replied
Dalgarno; "in the meantime, I have to propose to you to take the
advantage of the flood-tide, to run up the river for pastime; and at
noon I trust you will dine with me."
Nigel acquiesced in a plan which promised so much amusement; and his
new friend and he, attended by Lutin and Moniplies, who greatly
resembled, when thus associated, the conjunction of a bear and a
monkey, took possession of Lord Dalgarno's wherry, which, with its
badged watermen, bearing his lordship's crest on their arms, lay in
readiness to receive them. The air was delightful upon the river; and
the lively conversation of Lord Dalgarno added zest to the pleasures
of the little voyage. He could not only give an account of the various
public buildings and noblemen's houses which they passed in ascending
the Thames, but knew how to season his information with abundance of
anecdote, political innuendo, and personal scandal; if he had not very
much wit, he was at least completely master of the fashionable tone,
which in that time, as in ours, more than amply supplies any
deficiency of the kind.
It was a style of conversation entirely new to his companion, as was
the world which Lord Dalgarno opened to his observation; and it is no
wonder that Nigel, notwithstanding his natural good sense and high
spirit, admitted, more readily than seemed consistent with either, the
tone of authoritative instruction which his new friend assumed towards
him. There would, indeed, have been some difficulty in making a stand.
To attempt a high and stubborn tone of morality, in answer to the
light strain of Lord Dalgarno's conversation, which kept on the
frontiers between jest and earnest, would have seemed pedantic and
ridiculous; and every attempt which Nigel made to combat his
companion's propositions, by reasoning as jocose as his own, only
showed his inferiority in that gay species of controversy. And it must
be owned, besides, though internally disapproving much of what he
heard, Lord Glenvarloch, young as he was in society, became less
alarmed by the language and manners of his new associate, than in
prudence he ought to have been.
Lord Dalgarno was unwilling to startle his proselyte, by insisting
upon any topic which appeared particularly to jar with his habits or
principles; and he blended his mirth and his earnest so dexterously,
that it was impossible for Nigel to discover how far he was serious in
his propositions, or how far they flowed from a wild and extravagant
spirit of raillery. And, ever and anon, those flashes of spirit and
honour crossed his conversation, which seemed to intimate, that, when
stirred to action by some adequate motive, Lord Dalgarno would prove
something very different from the court-haunting and ease-loving
voluptuary, which he was pleased to represent as his chosen character.
As they returned down the river, Lord Glenvarloch remarked, that the
boat passed the mansion of Lord Huntinglen, and noticed the
circumstance to Lord Dalgarno, observing, that he thought they were to
have dined there. "Surely no," said the young nobleman, "I have more
mercy on you than to gorge you a second time with raw beef and canary
wine. I propose something better for you, I promise you, than such a
second Scythian festivity. And as for my father, he proposes to dine
to-day with my grave, ancient Earl of Northampton, whilome that
celebrated putter-down of pretended prophecies, Lord Henry Howard."
"And do you not go with him?" said his companion.
"To what purpose?" said Lord Dalgarno. "To hear his wise lordship
speak musty politics in false Latin, which the old fox always uses,
that he may give the learned Majesty of England an opportunity of
correcting his slips in grammar? That were a rare employment!"
"Nay," said Lord Nigel, "but out of respect, to wait on my lord your
father."
"My lord my father," replied Lord Dalgarno, "has blue-bottles enough
to wait on him, and can well dispense with such a butterfly as myself.
He can lift the cup of sack to his head without my assistance; and,
should the said paternal head turn something giddy, there be men
enough to guide his right honourable lordship to his lordship's right
honourable couch.--Now, do not stare at me, Nigel, as if my words were
to sink the boat with us. I love my father--I love him dearly--and I
respect him, too, though I respect not many things; a trustier old
Trojan never belted a broadsword by a loop of leather. But what then?
He belongs to the old world, I to the new. He has his follies, I have
mine; and the less either of us sees of the other's peccadilloes, the
greater will be the honour and respect--that, I think, is the proper
phrase--I say the _respect_ in which we shall hold each other. Being
apart, each of us is himself, such as nature and circumstances have
made him; but, couple us up too closely together, you will be sure to
have in your leash either an old hypocrite or a young one, or perhaps
both the one and t'other."
As he spoke thus, the boat put into the landing-place at Blackfriars.
Lord Dalgarno sprung ashore, and, flinging his cloak and rapier to his
page, recommended to his companion to do the like. "We are coming
among a press of gallants," he said; "and, if we walked thus muffled,
we shall look like your tawny-visaged Don, who wraps him close in his
cloak, to conceal the defects of his doublet."
"I have known many an honest man do that, if it please your lordship,"
said Richie Moniplies, who had been watching for an opportunity to
intrude himself on the conversation, and probably remembered what had
been his own condition, in respect to cloak and doublet, at a very
recent period.
Lord Dalgarno stared at him, as if surprised at his assurance; but
immediately answered, "You may have known many things, friend; but, in
the meanwhile, you do not know what principally concerns your master,
namely, how to carry his cloak, so as to show to advantage the gold-
laced seams, and the lining of sables. See how Lutin holds the sword,
with his cloak cast partly over it, yet so as to set off the embossed
hilt, and the silver work of the mounting.--Give your familiar your
sword, Nigel," he continued, addressing Lord Glenvarloch, "that he may
practise a lesson in an art so necessary."
"Is it altogether prudent," said Nigel, unclasping his weapon, and
giving it to Richie, "to walk entirely unarmed?"
"And wherefore not?" said his companion. "You are thinking now of Auld
Reekie, as my father fondly calls your good Scottish capital, where
there is such bandying of private feuds and public factions, that a
man of any note shall not cross your High Street twice, without
endangering his life thrice. Here, sir, no brawling in the street is
permitted. Your bull-headed citizen takes up the case so soon as the
sword is drawn, and clubs is the word."
"And a hard word it is," said Richie, "as my brain-pan kens at this
blessed moment."
"Were I your master, sirrah," said Lord Dalgarno, "I would make your
brain-pan, as you call it, boil over, were you to speak a word in my
presence before you were spoken to."
Richie murmured some indistinct answer, but took the hint, and ranked
himself behind his master along with Lutin, who failed not to expose
his new companion to the ridicule of the passers-by, by mimicking, as
often as he could do so unobserved by Richie, his stiff and upright
stalking gait and discontented physiognomy.
"And tell me now, my dear Malcolm," said Nigel, "where we are bending
our course, and whether we shall dine at an apartment of yours?"
"An apartment of mine--yes, surely," answered Lord Dalgarno, "you
shall dine at an apartment of mine, and an apartment of yours, and of
twenty gallants besides; and where the board shall present better
cheer, better wine, and better attendance, than if our whole united
exhibitions went to maintain it. We are going to the most noted
ordinary of London."
"That is, in common language, an inn, or a tavern," said Nigel.
"An inn, or a tavern, my most green and simple friend!" exclaimed Lord
Dalgarno. "No, no--these are places where greasy citizens take pipe
and pot, where the knavish pettifoggers of the law spunge on their
most unhappy victims--where Templars crack jests as empty as their
nuts, and where small gentry imbibe such thin potations, that they get
dropsies instead of getting drunk. An ordinary is a late-invented
institution, sacred to Bacchus and Comus, where the choicest noble
gallants of the time meet with the first and most ethereal wits of the
age,--where the wine is the very soul of the choicest grape, refined
as the genius of the poet, and ancient and generous as the blood of
the nobles. And then the fare is something beyond your ordinary gross
terrestrial food! Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the
invention of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack to make
their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance, the exquisite
quality of the materials."
"By all which rhapsody," said Lord Glenvarloch, "I can only
understand, as I did before, that we are going to a choice tavern,
where we shall be handsomely entertained, on paying probably as
handsome a reckoning."
"Reckoning!" exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same tone as before,
"perish the peasantly phrase! What profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier
de Beaujeu, pink of Paris and flower of Gascony--he who can tell the
age of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an
alembic by the aid of Lully's philosophy--who carves with such
exquisite precision, that he gives to noble, knight and squire, the
portion of the pheasant which exactly accords with his rank--nay, he
who shall divide a becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous
exactness, that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of
the other in a hair's breadth, or the twentieth part of a drachm, yet
you talk of him and of a reckoning in the same breath! Why, man, he is
the well-known and general referee in all matters affecting the
mysteries of Passage, Hazard, In and In, Penneeck, and Verquire, and
what not--why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and Duke of the Dice-
box--HE call a reckoning like a green-aproned, red-nosed son of the
vulgar spigot! O, my dearest Nigel, what a word you have spoken, and
of what a person! That you know him not, is your only apology for such
blasphemy; and yet I scarce hold it adequate, for to have been a day
in London and not to know Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you
_shall_ know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold yourself
in horror for the enormities you have uttered."
"Well, but mark you," said Nigel, "this worthy chevalier keeps not all
this good cheer at his own cost, does he?"
"No, no," answered Lord Dalgarno; "there is a sort of ceremony which
my chevalier's friends and intimates understand, but with which you
have no business at present. There is, as majesty might say, a
_symbolum_ to be disbursed--in other words, a mutual exchange of
courtesies take place betwixt Beaujeu and his guests. He makes them a
free present of the dinner and wine, as often as they choose to
consult their own felicity by frequenting his house at the hour of
noon, and they, in gratitude, make the chevalier a present of a
Jacobus. Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus, that
princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is frequently
worshipped at Beaujeu's, and he, as officiating high-priest, hath, as
in reason he should, a considerable advantage from a share of the
sacrifice."
"In other words," said Lord Glenvarloch, "this man keeps a gaming-
house."
"A house in which you may certainly game," said Lord Dalgarno, "as you
may in your own chamber if you have a mind; nay, I remember old Tom
Tally played a hand at put for a wager with Quinze le Va, the
Frenchman, during morning prayers in St. Paul's; the morning was
misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audience consisted of
themselves and a blind woman, and so they escaped detection."
"For all this, Malcolm," said the young lord, gravely, "I cannot dine
with you to-day, at this same ordinary."
"And wherefore, in the name of heaven, should you draw back from your
word?" said Lord Dalgarno.
"I do not retract my word, Malcolm; but I am bound, by an early
promise to my father, never to enter the doors of a gaming-house."
"I tell you this is none," said Lord Dalgarno; "it is but, in plain
terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller terms, and frequented by
better company, than others in this town; and if some of them do amuse
themselves with cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play
as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose. It was
not, and could not be, such houses that your father desired you to
avoid. Besides, he might as well have made you swear you would never
take accommodation of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public
reception of any kind; for there is no such place of public resort but
where your eyes may be contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces
of painted pasteboard, and your ears profaned by the rattle of those
little spotted cubes of ivory. The difference is, that where we go, we
may happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with a game;
and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies and sharpers, who
will strive either to cheat or to swagger you out of your money."
"I am sure you would not willingly lead me to do what is wrong," said
Nigel; "but my father had a horror for games of chance, religious I
believe, as well as prudential. He judged from I know not what
circumstance, a fallacious one I should hope, that I should have a
propensity to such courses, and I have told you the promise which he
exacted from me."
"Now, by my honour," said Dalgarno, "what you have said affords the
strongest reason for my insisting that you go with me. A man who would
shun any danger, should first become acquainted with its real bearing
and extent, and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard.
Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father's oaks grow too far
from London, and stand too fast rooted in the rocks of Perthshire, for
me to troll them down with a die, though I have seen whole forests go
down like nine-pins. No, no--these are sports for the wealthy
Southron, not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-
house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it to game in,
it is their fault, but neither that of the house nor ours."
Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon the promise
he had given to his father, until his companion appeared rather
displeased, and disposed to impute to him injurious and unhandsome
suspicions. Lord Glenvarloch could not stand this change of tone. He
recollected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on account of
his father's ready and efficient friendship, and something also on
account of the frank manner in which the young man himself had offered
him his intimacy. He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the
house where they were about to dine did not fall under the description
of places which his father's prohibition referred; and finally, he was
strong in his own resolution to resist every temptation to join in
games of chance. He therefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating
his willingness to go along with him; and, the good-humour of the
young courtier instantaneously returning, he again ran on in a
grotesque and rodomontade account of the host, Monsieur de Beaujeu,
which he did not conclude until they had reached the temple of
hospitality over which that eminent professor presided.
CHAPTER XII
----This is the very barn-yard,
Where muster daily the prime cocks o' the game,
Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse,
And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens,
The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly,
Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the spur,
And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer.
_The Bear-Garden._
The Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was in the days of James, a new
institution, as fashionable among the youth of that age as the first-
rate modern club-houses are amongst those of the present day. It
differed chiefly, in being open to all whom good clothes and good
assurance combined to introduce there. The company usually dined
together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the establishment
presided as master of the ceremonies.
Monsieur le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint Priest de
Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty years old, banished
from his own country, as he said, on account of an affair of honour,
in which he had the misfortune to kill his antagonist, though the best
swordsman in the south of France. His pretensions to quality were
supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of embroidered
taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the extreme fashion of the
Parisian court, and fluttering like a Maypole with many knots of
ribbon, of which it was computed he bore at least five hundred yards
about his person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decoration,
there were many who thought Monsieur le Chevalier so admirably
calculated for his present situation, that nature could never have
meant to place him an inch above it. It was, however, part of the
amusement of the place, for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of
quality to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock
ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more ordinary and simple
gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imitation, much real deference. The
Gascon's natural forwardness being much enhanced by these
circumstances, he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of
his situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification to be
disagreeably driven back into them.
When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent person, which had been
but of late the residence of a great Baron of Queen Elizabeth's court,
who had retired to his manors in the country on the death of that
princess, he was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which it
afforded, and the number of guests who were already assembled.
Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and embroidery glanced everywhere;
and at first sight, at least, it certainly made good Lord Dalgarno's
encomium, who represented the company as composed almost entirely of
youth of the first quality. A more close review was not quite so
favourable. Several individuals might be discovered who were not
exactly at their ease in the splendid dresses which they wore, and
who, therefore, might be supposed not habitually familiar with such
finery. Again, there were others, whose dress, though on a general
view it did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company,
displayed, on being observed more closely, some of these petty
expedients, by which vanity endeavours to disguise poverty.
Nigel had very little time to make such observations, for the entrance
of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate bustle and sensation among the
company, as his name passed from one mouth to another. Some stood
forward to gaze, others stood back to make way--those of his own rank
hastened to welcome him--those of inferior degree endeavoured to catch
some point of his gesture, or of his dress, to be worn and practised
upon a future occasion, as the newest and most authentic fashion.
The _genius loci_, the Chevalier himself, was not the last to welcome
this prime stay and ornament of his establishment. He came shuffling
forward with a hundred apish _conges_ and _chers milors_, to express
his happiness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again.--"I hope you do bring
back the sun with you, _Milor_--You did carry away the sun and moon
from your pauvre Chevalier when you leave him for so long. Pardieu, I
believe you take them away in your pockets."
"That must have been because you left me nothing else in them,
Chevalier," answered Lord Dalgarno; but Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray
you to know my countryman and friend, Lord Glenvarloch!"
"Ah, ha! tres honore--Je m'en souviens,--oui. J'ai connu autrefois un
Milor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes, I have memory of him--le pere de
milor apparemment-we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Root with
Monsieur de la Motte--I did often play at tennis vit Milor Kenfarloque
at L'Abbaie d'Oly Root--il etoit meme plus fort que moi--Ah le
beaucoup de revers qu'il avoit!--I have memory, too that he was among
the pretty girls--ah, un vrai diable dechaine--Aha! I have memory--"
"Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glenvarloch," said Lord
Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier without ceremony; who perceived
that the encomium which he was about to pass on the deceased was
likely to be as disagreeable to the son as it was totally undeserved
by the father, who, far from being either a gamester or libertine, as
the Chevalier's reminiscences falsely represented him, was, on the
contrary, strict and severe in his course of life, almost to the
extent of rigour.
"You have the reason, milor," answered the Chevalier, "you have the
right--Qu'est ce que nous avons a faire avec le temps passe?--the time
passed did belong to our fathers--our ancetres--very well--the time
present is to us--they have their pretty tombs with their memories and
armorials, all in brass and marbre--we have the petits plats exquis,
and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I will cause to mount up
immediately."
So saying, he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his attendants in
motion to place dinner on the table. Dalgarno laughed, and, observing
his young friend looked grave, said to him, in a tone of reproach-Why,
what!-you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass as that?"
"I keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes," said Lord
Glenvarloch; "but I confess I was moved to hear such a fellow mention
my father's name--and you, too, who told me this was no gaming-house,
talked to him of having left it with emptied pockets."
"Pshaw, man!" said Lord Dalgarno, "I spoke but according to the trick
of the time; besides, a man must set a piece or two sometimes, or he
would be held a cullionly niggard. But here comes dinner, and we will
see whether you like the Chevalier's good cheer better than his
conversation."
Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends, being seated in
the most honourable station at the board, were ceremoniously attended
to by the Chevalier, who did the honours of his table to them and to
the other guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable
conversation. The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant style
of cookery which the French had already introduced, and which the
home-bred young men of England, when they aspired to the rank of
connoisseurs and persons of taste, were under the necessity of
admiring. The wine was also of the first quality, and circulated in
great variety, and no less abundance. The conversation among so many
young men was, of course, light, lively, and amusing; and Nigel, whose
mind had been long depressed by anxiety and misfortune, naturally
found himself at ease, and his spirits raised and animated.
Some of the company had real wit, and could use it both politely and
to advantage; others were coxcombs, and were laughed at without
discovering it; and, again, others were originals, who seemed to have
no objection that the company should be amused with their folly
instead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played any prominent
part in the conversation had either the real tone of good society
which belonged to the period, or the jargon which often passes current
for it.
In short, the company and conversation was so agreeable, that Nigel's
rigour was softened by it, even towards the master of ceremonies, and
he listened with patience to various details which the Chevalier de
Beaujeu, seeing, as he said, that Milor's taste lay for the "curieux
and Futile," chose to address to him in particular, on the subject of
cookery. To gratify, at the same time, the taste for antiquity, which
he somehow supposed that his new guest possessed, he launched out in
commendation of the great artists of former days, particularly one
whom he had known in his youth, "Maitre de Cuisine to the Marechal
Strozzi--tres bon gentilhomme pourtant;" who had maintained his
master's table with twelve covers every day during the long and severe
blockade of le petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on
it than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the grass and
weeds that grew on the ramparts. "Despardieux c'dtoit un homme
superbe! With one tistle-head, and a nettle or two, he could make a
soupe for twenty guests--an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti
des plus excellens; but his coupe de maitre was when the rendition--
what you call the surrender, took place and appened; and then, dieu me
damme, he made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse, forty-five
couverts; that the English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had
the honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition, could not tell
what the devil any of them were made upon at all.
The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round, and had such
genial effect on the guests, that those of the lower end of the table,
who had hitherto been listeners, began, not greatly to their own
credit, or that of the ordinary, to make innovations.
"You speak of the siege of Leith," said a tall, raw-boned man, with
thick mustaches turned up with a military twist, a broad buff belt, a
long rapier, and other outward symbols of the honoured profession,
which lives by killing other people--"you talk of the siege of Leith,
and I have seen the place--a pretty kind of a hamlet it is, with a
plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so of a tower at every
angle. Uds daggers and scabbards, if a leaguer of our days had been
twenty-four hours, not to say so many months, before it, without
carrying the place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure
storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the Provost-
Marshal gives when his noose is reeved."
"Saar," said the Chevalier, "Monsieur le Capitaine, I vas not at the
siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not what you say about the
cockloft; but I will say for Monseigneur de Strozzi, that he
understood the grande guerre, and was grand capitaine--plus grand--
that is more great, it may be, than some of the capitaines of
Angleterre, who do speak very loud--tenez, Monsieur, car c'est a
vous!"
"O Monsieur." answered the swordsman, "we know the Frenchman will
fight well behind his barrier of stone, or when he is armed with back,
breast, and pot."
"Pot!" exclaimed the Chevalier, "what do you mean by pot--do you mean
to insult me among my noble guests? Saar, I have done my duty as a
pauvre gentilhomme under the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtrai and
Yvry, and, ventre saint gris! we had neither pot nor marmite, but did
always charge in our shirt."
"Which refutes another base scandal," said Lord Dalgarno, laughing,
"alleging that linen was scarce among the French gentlemen-at-arms."
"Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean, my lord," said the
captain, from the bottom of the table." Craving your lordship's
pardon, I do know something of these same gens-d'armes."
"We will spare your knowledge at present, captain, and save your
modesty at the same time the trouble of telling us how that knowledge
was acquired," answered Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuously.
"I need not speak of it, my lord," said the man of war; "the world
knows it--all perhaps, but the men of mohair--the poor sneaking
citizens of London, who would see a man of valour eat his very hilts
for hunger, ere they would draw a farthing from their long purses to
relieve them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen were once
to come near that cuckoo's nest of theirs!"
"A cuckoo's nest!-and that said of the city of London!" said a gallant
who sat on the opposite side of the table, and who, wearing a splendid
and fashionable dress, seemed yet scarce at home in it--"I will not
brook to hear that repeated."
"What!" said the soldier, bending a most terrific frown from a pair of
broad black eyebrows, handling the hilt of his weapon with one hand,
and twirling with the other his huge mustaches; "will you quarrel for
your city?"
"Ay, marry will I," replied the other. "I am a citizen, I care not who
knows it; and he who shall speak a word in dispraise of the city, is
an ass and a peremptory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him
sense and manners."
The company, who probably had their reasons for not valuing the
captain's courage at the high rate which he himself put upon it, were
much entertained at the manner in which the quarrel was taken up by
the indignant citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, "Well run,
Bow-bell!"--"Well crowed, the cock of Saint Paul's!"--"Sound a charge
there, or the soldier will mistake his signals, and retreat when he
should advance."
"You mistake me, gentlemen," said the captain, looking round with an
air of dignity. "I will but inquire whether this cavaliero citizen is
of rank and degree fitted to measure swords with a man of action;
(for, conceive me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can
match myself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he shall
soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel."
"You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of cudgel," said the
citizen, starting up, and taking his sword, which he had laid in a
corner. "Follow me."
"It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the rules of the
sword," said the captain; "and I do nominate the Maze, in Tothill-
Fields, for place--two gentlemen, who shall be indifferent judges, for
witnesses;--and for time--let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak."
"And I," said the citizen, "do nominate the bowling-alley behind the
house for place, the present good company for witnesses, and for time
the present moment."
So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier across the
shoulders with his sheathed sword, and ran down stairs. The captain
showed no instant alacrity to follow him; yet, at last, roused by the
laugh and sneer around him, he assured the company, that what he did
he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he put on with
the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the stairs to the place of
combat, where his more prompt adversary was already stationed, with
his sword unsheathed. Of the company, all of whom seemed highly
delighted with the approaching fray, some ran to the windows which
overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed the combatants down
stairs. Nigel could not help asking Dalgarno whether he would not
interfere to prevent mischief.
"It would be a crime against the public interest," answered his
friend; "there can no mischief happen between two such originals,
which will not be a positive benefit to society, and particularly to
the Chevalier's establishment, as he calls it. I have been as sick of
that captain's buff belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as
e'er I was of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will cudgel
the ass out of that filthy lion's hide. See, Nigel, see the gallant
citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst
of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances
with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were
about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the
reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist,
twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but,
like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in
case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his
head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse
has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven,
he will run a tilt at him, like a ram."
It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who
seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man
of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good
fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on,
thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his
antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground.
A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in
astonishment at his own feat, "Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by
the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the
Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables." And the
conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground, fled
accordingly, with all speed.
"By Heaven," said Lord Dalgarno, "I could never have believed that the
fellow would have stood to receive a thrust--he has certainly been
arrested by positive terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they
are raising him."
Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as one or two of
the guests raised him from the ground; but, when they began to open
his waistcoat to search for the wound which nowhere existed, the man
of war collected, his scattered spirits; and, conscious that the
ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his valour, took to
his heels as fast as he could run, pursued by the laughter and shouts
of the company.
"By my honour," said Lord Dalgarno, "he takes the same course with his
conqueror. I trust in heaven he will overtake him, and then the
valiant citizen will suppose himself haunted by the ghost of him he
has slain."
"Despardieux, milor," said the Chevalier, "if he had stayed one
moment, he should have had a _torchon_--what you call a dishclout,
pinned to him for a piece of shroud, to show he be de ghost of one
grand fanfaron."
"In the meanwhile," said Lord Dalgarno, "you will oblige us, Monsieur
le Chevalier, as well as maintain your own honoured reputation, by
letting your drawers receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he
should venture to come way again."
"Ventre saint gris, milor," said the Chevalier, "leave that to me.--
Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud upon the grand poltron!"
When they had laughed sufficiently at this ludicrous occurrence, the
party began to divide themselves into little knots--some took
possession of the alley, late the scene of combat, and put the field
to its proper use of a bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all
the terms of the game, as "run, run-rub, rub--hold bias, you infernal
trundling timber!" thus making good the saying, that three things are
thrown away in a bowling-green, namely, time, money, and oaths. In the
house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves to cards or dice, and
parties were formed at Ombre, at Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and
other games then in fashion; while the dice were used at various
games, both with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in,
Passage, and so forth. The play, however, did not appear to be
extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted with great decorum and
fairness; nor did there appear any thing to lead the young Scotsman in
the least to doubt his companion's assurance, that the place was
frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the recreations they
adopted were conducted upon honourable principles.
Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend, nor joined in
the amusement himself, but sauntered from one table to another,
remarking the luck of the different players, as well as their capacity
to avail themselves of it, and exchanging conversation with the
highest and most respectable of the guests. At length, as if tired of
what in modern phrase would have been termed lounging, he suddenly
remembered that Burbage was to act Shakespeare's King Richard, at the
Fortune, that afternoon, and that he could not give a stranger in
London, like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than to carry
him to that exhibition; "unless, indeed," he added, in a whisper,
"there is paternal interdiction of the theatre as well as of the
ordinary."
"I never heard my father speak of stage-plays," said Lord Glenvarloch,
"for they are shows of a modern date, and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if
what I have heard to their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he
would have approved of them."
"Approved of them!" exclaimed Lord Dalgarno--"why, George Buchanan
wrote tragedies, and his pupil, learned and wise as himself, goes to
see them, so it is next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest
men in England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in London
resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of nags at the door which
will carry us along the streets like wild-fire, and the ride will
digest our venison and ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine,
and so let's to horse--Godd'en to you, gentlemen--Godd'en, Chevalier
de la Fortune."
Lord Dalgarno's grooms were in attendance with two horses, and the
young men mounted, the proprietor upon a favourite barb, and Nigel
upon a high-dressed jennet, scarce less beautiful. As they rode
towards the theatre, Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his
friend's opinion of the company to which he had introduced him, and to
combat the exceptions which he might suppose him to have taken. "And
wherefore lookest thou sad," he said, "my pensive neophyte? Sage son
of the Alma Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the leaf
of the living world which we have turned over in company, less fairly
written than thou hadst been taught to expect? Be comforted, and pass
over one little blot or two; thou wilt be doomed to read through many
a page, as black as Infamy, with her sooty pinion, can make them.
Remember, most immaculate Nigel, that we are in London, not Leyden--
that we are studying life, not lore. Stand buff against the reproach
of thine over-tender conscience, man, and when thou summest up, like a
good arithmetician, the actions of the day, before you balance the
account on your pillow, tell the accusing spirit, to his brimstone
beard, that if thine ears have heard the clatter of the devil's bones,
thy hand hath not trowled them--that if thine eye hath seen the
brawling of two angry boys, thy blade hath not been bared in their
fray."
"Now, all this may be wise and witty," replied Nigel; "yet I own I
cannot think but that your lordship, and other men of good quality
with whom we dined, might have chosen a place of meeting free from the
intrusion of bullies, and a better master of your ceremonial than
yonder foreign adventurer."
"All shall be amended, Sancte Nigelle, when thou shalt come forth a
new Peter the Hermit, to preach a crusade against dicing, drabbing,
and company-keeping. We will meet for dinner in Saint Sepulchre's
Church; we will dine in the chancel, drink our flask in the vestry,
the parson shall draw every cork, and the clerk say amen to every
health. Come man, cheer up, and get rid of this sour and unsocial
humour. Credit me, that the Puritans who object to us the follies and
the frailties incident to human nature, have themselves the vices of
absolute devils, privy malice and backbiting hypocrisy, and spiritual
pride in all its presumption. There is much, too' in life which we
must see, were it only to learn to shun it. Will Shakespeare, who
lives after death, and who is presently to afford thee such pleasure
as none but himself can confer, has described the gallant Falconbridge
as calling that man
----' a bastard to the time,
That doth not smack of observation;
Which, though I will not practise to deceive,
Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn."
But here we are at the door of the Fortune, where we shall have
matchless Will speaking for himself.--Goblin, and you other lout,
leave the horses to the grooms, and make way for us through the
press."
They dismounted, and the assiduous efforts of Lutin, elbowing,
bullying, and proclaiming his master's name and title, made way
through a crowd of murmuring citizens, and clamorous apprentices, to
the door, where Lord Dalgarno speedily procured a brace of stools upon
the stage for his companion and himself, where, seated among other
gallants of the same class, they had an opportunity of displaying
their fair dresses and fashionable manners, while they criticised the
piece during its progress; thus forming, at the same time, a
conspicuous part of the spectacle, and an important proportion of the
audience.
Nigel Olifaunt was too eagerly and deeply absorbed in the interest of
the scene, to be capable of playing his part as became the place where
he was seated. He felt all the magic of that sorcerer, who had
displayed, within the paltry circle of a wooden booth, the long wars
of York and Lancaster, compelling the heroes of either line to stalk
across the scene in language and fashion as they lived, as if the
grave had given up the dead for the amusement and instruction of the
living. Burbage, esteemed the best Richard until Garrick arose, played
the tyrant and usurper with such truth and liveliness, that when the
Battle of Bosworth seemed concluded by his death, the ideas of reality
and deception were strongly contending in Lord Glenvarloch's
imagination, and it required him to rouse himself from his reverie, so
strange did the proposal at first sound when his companion declared
King Richard should sup with them at the Mermaid.
They were joined, at the same time, by a small party of the gentlemen
with whom they had dined, which they recruited by inviting two or
three of the most accomplished wits and poets, who seldom failed to
attend the Fortune Theatre, and were even but too ready to conclude a
day of amusement with a night of pleasure. Thither the whole party
adjourned, and betwixt fertile cups of sack, excited spirits, and the
emulous wit of their lively companions, seemed to realise the joyous
boast of one of Ben Jonson's contemporaries, when reminding the bard
of
"Those lyric feasts,
Where men such clusters had,
As made them nobly wild, not mad;
While yet each verse of thine
Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine."
CHAPTER XIII
Let the proud salmon gorge the feather'd hook,
Then strike, and then you have him--He will wince;
Spin out your line that it shall whistle from you
Some twenty yards or so, yet you shall have him--
Marry! you must have patience--the stout rock
Which is his trust, hath edges something sharp;
And the deep pool hath ooze and sludge enough
To mar your fishing--'less you are more careful.
_Albion, or the Double Kings._
It is seldom that a day of pleasure, upon review, seems altogether so
exquisite as the partaker of the festivity may have felt it while
passing over him. Nigel Olifaunt, at least, did not feel it so, and it
required a visit from his new acquaintance, Lord Dalgarno, to
reconcile him entirely to himself. But this visit took place early
after breakfast, and his friend's discourse was prefaced with a
question, How he liked the company of the preceding evening?
"Why, excellently well," said Lord Glenvarloch; "only I should have
liked the wit better had it appeared to flow more freely. Every man's
invention seemed on the stretch, and each extravagant simile seemed to
set one half of your men of wit into a brown study to produce
something which should out-herod it."
"And wherefore not?" said Lord Dalgarno, "or what are these fellows
fit for, but to play the intellectual gladiators before us? He of them
who declares himself recreant, should, d--n him, be restricted to
muddy ale, and the patronage of the Waterman's Company. I promise you,
that many a pretty fellow has been mortally wounded with a quibble or
a carwitchet at the Mermaid, and sent from thence, in a pitiable
estate, to Wit's hospital in the Vintry, where they languish to this
day amongst fools and aldermen."
"It may be so," said Lord Nigel; "yet I could swear by my honour, that
last night I seemed to be in company with more than one man whose
genius and learning ought either to have placed him higher in our
company, or to have withdrawn him altogether from a scene, where,
sooth to speak, his part seemed unworthily subordinate."
"Now, out upon your tender conscience," said Lord Dalgarno; "and the
fico for such outcasts of Parnassus! Why, these are the very leavings
of that noble banquet of pickled herrings and Rhenish, which lost
London so many of her principal witmongers and bards of misrule. What
would you have said had you seen Nash or Green, when you interest
yourself about the poor mimes you supped with last night? Suffice it,
they had their drench and their doze, and they drank and slept as much
as may save them from any necessity of eating till evening, when, if
they are industrious, they will find patrons or players to feed them.
[Footnote: The condition of men of wit and talents was never more
melancholy than about this period. Their lives were so irregular, and
their means of living so precarious, that they were alternately
rioting in debauchery, or encountering and struggling with the meanest
necessities. Two or three lost their lives by a surfeit brought on by
that fatal banquet of Rhenish wine and pickled herrings, which is
familiar to those who study the lighter literature of that age. The
whole history is a most melancholy picture of genius, degraded at once
by its own debaucheries, and the patronage of heartless rakes and
profligates.] For the rest of their wants, they can be at no loss for
cold water while the New River head holds good; and your doublets of
Parnassus are eternal in duration."
"Virgil and Horace had more efficient patronage," said Nigel.
"Ay," replied his countryman, "but these fellows are neither Virgil
nor Horace; besides, we have other spirits of another sort, to whom I
will introduce you on some early occasion. Our Swan of Avon hath sung
his last; but we have stout old Ben, with as much learning and genius
as ever prompted the treader of sock and buskin. It is not, however,
of him I mean now to speak; but I come to pray you, of dear love, to
row up with me as far as Richmond, where two or three of the gallants
whom you saw yesterday, mean to give music and syllabubs to a set of
beauties, with some curious bright eyes among them--such, I promise
you, as might win an astrologer from his worship of the galaxy. My
sister leads the bevy, to whom I desire to present you. She hath her
admirers at Court; and is regarded, though I might dispense with
sounding her praise, as one of the beauties of the time."
There was no refusing an engagement, where the presence of the party
invited, late so low in his own regard, was demanded by a lady of
quality, one of the choice beauties of the time. Lord Glenvarloch
accepted, as was inevitable, and spent a lively day among the gay and
the fair. He was the gallant in attendance, for the day, upon his
friend's sister, the beautiful Countess of Blackchester, who aimed at
once at superiority in the realms of fashion, of power, and of wit.
She was, indeed, considerably older than her brother, and had probably
completed her six lustres; but the deficiency in extreme youth was
more than atoned for, in the most precise and curious accuracy in
attire, an early acquaintance with every foreign mode, and a peculiar
gift in adapting the knowledge which she acquired, to her own
particular features and complexion. At Court, she knew as well as any
lady in the circle, the precise tone, moral, political, learned, or
jocose, in which it was proper to answer the monarch, according to his
prevailing humour; and was supposed to have been very active, by her
personal interest, in procuring her husband a high situation, which
the gouty old viscount could never have deserved by any merit of his
own commonplace conduct and understanding.
It was far more easy for this lady than for her brother, to reconcile
so young a courtier as Lord Glenvarloch to the customs and habits of a
sphere so new to him. In all civilised society, the females of
distinguished rank and beauty give the tone to manners, and, through
these, even to morals. Lady Blackchester had, besides, interest either
in the Court, or over the Court, (for its source could not be well
traced,) which created friends, and overawed those who might have been
disposed to play the part of enemies.
At one time, she was understood to be closely leagued with the
Buckingham family, with whom her brother still maintained a great
intimacy; and, although some coldness had taken place betwixt the
Countess and the Duchess of Buckingham, so that they were little seen
together, and the former seemed considerably to have withdrawn herself
into privacy, it was whispered that Lady Blackchester's interest with
the great favourite was not diminished in consequence of her breach
with his lady.
Our accounts of the private Court intrigues of that period, and of the
persons to whom they were intrusted, are not full enough to enable us
to pronounce upon the various reports which arose out of the
circumstances we have detailed. It is enough to say, that Lady
Blackchester possessed great influence on the circle around her, both
from her beauty, her abilities, and her reputed talents for Court
intrigue; and that Nigel Olifaunt was not long of experiencing its
power, as he became a slave in some degree to that species of habit,
which carries so many men into a certain society at a certain hour,
without expecting or receiving any particular degree of gratification,
or even amusement.
His life for several weeks may be thus described. The ordinary was no
bad introduction to the business of the day; and the young lord
quickly found, that if the society there was not always
irreproachable, still it formed the most convenient and agreeable
place of meeting with the fashionable parties, with whom he visited
Hyde Park, the theatres, and other places of public resort, or joined
the gay and glittering circle which Lady Blackchester had assembled
around her. Neither did he entertain the same scrupulous horror which
led him originally even to hesitate entering into a place where gaming
was permitted; but, on the contrary, began to admit the idea, that as
there could be no harm done in beholding such recreation when only
indulged in to a moderate degree, so, from a parity of reasoning,
there could be no objection to joining in it, always under the same
restrictions. But the young lord was a Scotsman, habituated to early
reflection, and totally unaccustomed to any habit which inferred a
careless risk or profuse waste of money. Profusion was not his natural
vice, or one likely to be acquired in the course of his education;
and, in all probability, while his father anticipated with noble
horror the idea of his son approaching the gaming-table, he was more
startled at the idea of his becoming a gaining than a losing
adventurer. The second, according to his principles, had a
termination, a sad one indeed, in the loss of temporal fortune--the
first quality went on increasing the evil which he dreaded, and
perilled at once both body and soul.
However the old lord might ground his apprehension, it was so far
verified by his son's conduct, that, from an observer of the various
games of chance which he witnessed, he came, by degrees, by moderate
hazards, and small bets or wagers, to take a certain interest in them.
Nor could it be denied, that his rank and expectations entitled him to
hazard a few pieces (for his game went no deeper) against persons,
who, from the readiness with which they staked their money, might be
supposed well able to afford to lose it.
It chanced, or, perhaps, according to the common belief, his evil
genius had so decreed, that Nigel's adventures were remarkably
successful. He was temperate, cautious, cool-headed, had a strong
memory, and a ready power of calculation; was besides, of a daring and
intrepid character, one upon whom no one that had looked even
slightly, or spoken to though but hastily, would readily have ventured
to practise any thing approaching to trick, or which required to be
supported by intimidation. While Lord Glenvarloch chose to play, men
played with him regularly, or, according to the phrase, upon the
square; and, as he found his luck change, or wished to hazard his good
fortune no farther, the more professed votaries of fortune, who
frequented the house of Monsieur le Chevalier de Saint Priest Beaujeu,
did not venture openly to express their displeasure at his rising a
winner. But when this happened repeatedly, the gamesters murmured
amongst themselves equally at the caution and the success of the young
Scotsman; and he became far from being a popular character among their
society.
It was no slight inducement to the continuance of this most evil
habit, when it was once in some degree acquired, that it seemed to
place Lord Glenvarloch, haughty as he naturally was, beyond the
necessity of subjecting himself to farther pecuniary obligations,
which his prolonged residence in London must otherwise have rendered
necessary. He had to solicit from the ministers certain forms of
office, which were to render his sign-manual effectually useful; and
these, though they could not be denied, were delayed in such a manner,
as to lead Nigel to believe there was some secret opposition, which
occasioned the demur in his business. His own impulse was, to have
appeared at Court a second time, with the king's sign-manual in his
pocket, and to have appealed to his Majesty himself, whether the delay
of the public officers ought to render his royal generosity
unavailing. But the Lord Huntinglen, that good old peer, who had so
frankly interfered in his behalf on a former occasion, and whom he
occasionally visited, greatly dissuaded him from a similar adventure,
and exhorted him quietly to await the deliverance of the ministers,
which should set him free from dancing attendance in London.
Lord Dalgarno joined his father in deterring his young friend
from a second attendance at Court, at least till he was reconciled
with the Duke of Buckingham--"a matter in which," he said, addressing
his father, "I have offered my poor assistance, without being able to
prevail on Lord Nigel to make any--not even the least--submission to
the Duke of Buckingham."
"By my faith, and I hold the laddie to be in the right on't, Malcom!"
answered the stout old Scots lord.--"What right hath Buckingham, or,
to speak plainly, the son of Sir George Villiers, to expect homage and
fealty from one more noble than himself by eight quarters? I heard him
myself, on no reason that I could perceive, term Lord Nigel his enemy;
and it will never be by my counsel that the lad speaks soft word to
him, till he recalls the hard one."
"That is precisely my advice to Lord Glenvarloch," answered Lord
Dalgarno; "but then you will admit, my dear father, that it would be
the risk of extremity for our friend to return into the presence, the
duke being his enemy--better to leave it with me to take off the heat
of the distemperature, with which some pickthanks have persuaded the
duke to regard our friend."
"If thou canst persuade Buckingham of his error, Malcolm," said his
father, "for once I will say there hath been kindness and honesty in
Court service. I have oft told your sister and yourself, that in the
general I esteem it as lightly as may be."
"You need not doubt my doing my best in Nigel's case," answered Lord
Dalgarno; "but you must think, my dear father, I must needs use slower
and gentler means than those by which you became a favourite twenty
years ago."
"By my faith, I am afraid thou wilt," answered his father.--"I tell
thee, Malcolm, I would sooner wish myself in the grave, than doubt
thine honesty or honour; yet somehow it hath chanced, that honest,
ready service, hath not the same acceptance at Court which it has in
my younger time--and yet you rise there."
"O, the time permits not your old-world service," said Lord Dalgarno;
"we have now no daily insurrections, no nightly attempts at
assassination, as were the fashion in the Scottish Court. Your prompt
and uncourteous sword-in-hand attendance on the sovereign is no longer
necessary, and would be as unbeseeming as your old-fashioned serving-
men, with their badges, broadswords, and bucklers, would be at a
court-mask. Besides, father, loyal haste hath its inconveniences. I
have heard, and from royal lips too, that when you stuck your dagger
into the traitor Ruthven, it was with such little consideration, that
the point ran a quarter of an inch into the royal buttock. The king
never talks of it but he rubs the injured part, and quotes his
_'infandum-------renovare dolorem.'_ But this comes of old fashions,
and of wearing a long Liddesdale whinger instead of a poniard of
Parma. Yet this, my dear father, you call prompt and valiant service.
The king, I am told, could not sit upright for a fortnight, though all
the cushions in Falkland were placed in his chair of state, and the
Provost of Dunfermline's borrowed to the boot of all."
"It is a lie," said the old earl, "a false lie, forge it who list!--It
is true I wore a dagger of service by my side, and not a bodkin like
yours, to pick one's teeth withal--and for prompt service--Odds nouns!
it should be prompt to be useful when kings are crying treason and
murder with the screech of a half-throttled hen. But you young
courtiers know nought of these matters, and are little better than the
green geese they bring over from the Indies, whose only merit to their
masters is to repeat their own words after them--a pack of mouthers,
and flatterers, and ear-wigs.--Well, I am old and unable to mend, else
I would break all off, and hear the Tay once more flinging himself
over the Campsie Linn."
"But there is your dinner-bell, father," said Lord Dalgarno, "which,
if the venison I sent you prove seasonable, is at least as sweet a
sound."
"Follow me, then, youngsters, if you list," said the old earl; and
strode on from the alcove in which this conversation was held, towards
the house, followed by the two young men.
In their private discourse, Lord Dalgarno had little trouble in
dissuading Nigel from going immediately to Court; while, on the other
hand, the offers he made him of a previous introduction to the Duke of
Buckingham, were received by Lord Glenvarloch with a positive and
contemptuous refusal. His friend shrugged his shoulders, as one who
claims the merit of having given to an obstinate friend the best
counsel, and desires to be held free of the consequences of his
pertinacity.
As for the father, his table indeed, and his best liquor, of which he
was more profuse than necessary, were at the command of his young
friend, as well as his best advice and assistance in the prosecution
of his affairs. But Lord Huntinglen's interest was more apparent than
real; and the credit he had acquired by his gallant defence of the
king's person, was so carelessly managed by himself, and so easily
eluded by the favourites and ministers of the sovereign, that, except
upon one or two occasions, when the king was in some measure taken by
surprise, as in the case of Lord Glenvarloch, the royal bounty was
never efficiently extended either to himself or to his friends.
"There never was a man," said Lord Dalgarno, whose shrewder knowledge
of the English Court saw where his father's deficiency lay, "that had
it so perfectly in his power to have made his way to the pinnacle of
fortune as my poor father. He had acquired a right to build up a
staircase, step by step, slowly and surely, letting every boon, which
he begged year after year, become in its turn the resting-place for
the next annual grant. But your fortunes shall not shipwreck upon the
same coast, Nigel," he would conclude. "If I have fewer means of
influence than my father has, or rather had, till he threw them away
for butts of sack, hawks, hounds, and such carrion, I can, far better
than he, improve that which I possess; and that, my dear Nigel, is all
engaged in your behalf. Do not be surprised or offended that you now
see me less than formerly. The stag-hunting is commenced, and the
prince looks that I should attend him more frequently. I must also
maintain my attendance on the duke, that I may have an opportunity of
pleading your cause when occasion shall permit."
"I have no cause to plead before the duke," said Nigel, gravely; "I
have said so repeatedly."
"Why, I meant the phrase no otherwise, thou churlish and suspicious
disputant," answered Dalgarno, "than as I am now pleading the duke's
cause with thee. Surely I only mean to claim a share in our royal
master's favourite benediction, _Beati Pacifici_."
Upon several occasions, Lord Glenvarloch's conversations, both with
the old earl and his son, took a similar turn and had a like
conclusion. He sometimes felt as if, betwixt the one and the other,
not to mention the more unseen and unboasted, but scarce less certain
influence of Lady Blackchester, his affair, simple as it had become,
might have been somehow accelerated. But it was equally impossible to
doubt the rough honesty of the father, and the eager and officious
friendship of Lord Dalgarno; nor was it easy to suppose that the
countenance of the lady, by whom he was received with such
distinction, would be wanting, could it be effectual in his service.
Nigel was further sensible of the truth of what Lord Dalgarno often
pointed out, that the favourite being supposed to be his enemy, every
petty officer, through whose hands his affair must necessarily pass,
would desire to make a merit of throwing obstacles in his way, which
he could only surmount by steadiness and patience, unless he preferred
closing the breach, or, as Lord Dalgarno called it, making his peace
with the Duke of Buckingham.
Nigel might, and doubtless would, have had recourse to the advice of
his friend George Heriot upon this occasion, having found it so
advantageous formerly; but the only time he saw him after their visit
to Court, he found the worthy citizen engaged in hasty preparations
for a journey to Paris, upon business of great importance in the way
of his profession, and by an especial commission from the Court and
the Duke of Buckingham, which was likely to be attended with
considerable profit. The good man smiled as he named the Duke of
Buckingham. He had been, he said, pretty sure that his disgrace in
that quarter would not be of long duration. Lord Glenvarloch expressed
himself rejoiced at that reconciliation, observing, that it had been a
most painful reflection to him, that Master Heriot should, in his
behalf, have incurred the dislike, and perhaps exposed himself to the
ill offices, of so powerful a favourite.
"My lord," said Heriot, "for your father's son I would do much; and
yet truly, if I know myself, I would do as much and risk as much, for
the sake of justice, in the case of a much more insignificant person,
as I have ventured for yours. But as we shall not meet for some time,
I must commit to your own wisdom the farther prosecution of this
matter."
And thus they took a kind and affectionate leave of each other.
There were other changes in Lord Glenvarloch's situation, which
require to be noticed. His present occupations, and the habits of
amusement which he had acquired, rendered his living so far in the
city a considerable inconvenience. He may also have become a little
ashamed of his cabin on Paul's Wharf, and desirous of being lodged
somewhat more according to his quality. For this purpose, he had hired
a small apartment near the Temple. He was, nevertheless, almost sorry
for what he had done, when he observed that his removal appeared to
give some pain to John Christie, and a great deal to his cordial and
officious landlady. The former, who was grave and saturnine in every
thing he did, only hoped that all had been to Lord Glenvarloch's mind,
and that he had not left them on account of any unbeseeming negligence
on their part. But the tear twinkled in Dame Nelly's eye, while she
recounted the various improvements she had made in the apartment, of
express purpose to render it more convenient to his lordship.
"There was a great sea-chest," she said, "had been taken upstairs to
the shopman's garret, though it left the poor lad scarce eighteen
inches of opening to creep betwixt it and his bed; and Heaven knew--
she did not--whether it could ever be brought down that narrow stair
again. Then the turning the closet into an alcove had cost a matter of
twenty round shillings; and to be sure, to any other lodger but his
lordship, the closet was more convenient. There was all the linen,
too, which she had bought on purpose--But Heaven's will be done--she
was resigned."
Everybody likes marks of personal attachment; and Nigel, whose heart
really smote him,, as if in his rising fortunes he were disdaining the
lowly accommodations and the civilities of the humble friends which
had been but lately actual favours, failed not by every assurance in
his power, and by as liberal payment as they could be prevailed upon
to accept, to alleviate the soreness of their feelings at his
departure; and a parting kiss from the fair lips of his hostess sealed
his forgiveness.
Richie Moniplies lingered behind his master, to ask whether, in case
of need, John Christie could help a canny Scotsman to a passage back
to his own country; and receiving assurance of John's interest to that
effect, he said at parting, he would remind him of his promise soon.--
"For," said he, "if my lord is not weary of this London life, I ken
one that is, videlicet, mysell; and I am weel determined to see
Arthur's Seat again ere I am many weeks older."
CHAPTER XIV
Bingo, why, Bingo! hey, boy--here, sir, here!--
He's gone and off, but he'll be home before us;--
'Tis the most wayward cur e'er mumbled bone,
Or dogg'd a master's footstep.--Bingo loves me
Better than ever beggar loved his alms;
Yet, when he takes such humour, you may coax
Sweet Mistress Fantasy, your worship's mistress,
Out of her sullen moods, as soon as Bingo.
_The Dominie And His Dog_.
Richie Moniplies was as good as his word. Two or three mornings after
the young lord had possessed himself of his new lodgings, he appeared
before Nigel, as he was preparing to dress, having left his pillow at
an hour much later than had formerly been his custom.
As Nigel looked upon his attendant, he observed there was a gathering
gloom upon his solemn features, which expressed either additional
importance, or superadded discontent, or a portion of both.
"How now," he said, "what is the matter this morning, Richie, that you
have made your face so like the grotesque mask on one of the spouts
yonder?" pointing to the Temple Church, of which Gothic building they
had a view from the window.
Richie swivelled his head a little to the right with as little
alacrity as if he had the crick in his neck, and instantly resuming
his posture, replied,--"Mask here, mask there--it were nae such
matters that I have to speak anent."
"And what matters have you to speak anent, then?" said his master,
whom circumstances had inured to tolerate a good deal of freedom from
his attendant.
"My lord,"--said Richie, and then stopped to cough and hem, as if what
he had to say stuck somewhat in his throat.
"I guess the mystery," said Nigel, "you want a little money, Richie;
will five pieces serve the present turn?"
"My lord," said Richie, "I may, it is like, want a trifle of money;
and I am glad at the same time, and sorry, that it is mair plenty with
your lordship than formerly."
"Glad and sorry, man!" said Lord Nigel, "why, you are reading riddles
to me, Richie."
"My riddle will be briefly read," said Richie; "I come to crave of
your lordship your commands for Scotland."
"For Scotland!--why, art thou mad, man?" said Nigel; "canst thou not
tarry to go down with me?"
"I could be of little service," said Richie, "since you purpose to
hire another page and groom."
"Why, thou jealous ass," said the young lord, "will not thy load of
duty lie the lighter?--Go, take thy breakfast, and drink thy ale
double strong, to put such absurdities out of thy head--I could be
angry with thee for thy folly, man--but I remember how thou hast stuck
to me in adversity."
"Adversity, my lord, should never have parted us," said Richie;
"methinks, had the warst come to warst, I could have starved as
gallantly as your lordship, or more so, being in some sort used to it;
for, though I was bred at a flasher's stall, I have not through my
life had a constant intimacy with collops."
"Now, what is the meaning of all this trash?" said Nigel; "or has it
no other end than to provoke my patience? You know well enough, that,
had I twenty serving-men, I would hold the faithful follower that
stood by me in my distress the most valued of them all. But it is
totally out of reason to plague me with your solemn capriccios."
"My lord," said Richie, "in declaring your trust in me, you have done
what is honourable to yourself, if I may with humility say so much,
and in no way undeserved on my side. Nevertheless, we must part."
"Body of me, man, why?" said Lord Nigel; "what reason can there be for
it, if we are mutually satisfied?"
"My lord," said Richie Moniplies, "your lordship's occupations are
such as I cannot own or countenance by my presence."
"How now, sirrah!" said his master, angrily.
"Under favour, my lord," replied his domestic, "it is unequal dealing
to be equally offended by my speech and by my silence. If you can hear
with patience the grounds of my departure, it may be, for aught I
know, the better for you here and hereafter--if not, let me have my
license of departure in silence, and so no more about it."
"Go to, sir!" said Nigel; "speak out your mind--only remember to whom
you speak it."
"Weel, weel, my lord--I speak it with humility;" (never did Richie
look with more starched dignity than when he uttered the word;) "but
do you think this dicing and card-shuffling, and haunting of taverns
and playhouses, suits your lordship--for I am sure it does not suit
me?"
"Why, you are not turned precisian or puritan, fool?" said Lord
Glenvarloch, laughing, though, betwixt resentment and shame, it cost
him some trouble to do so.
"My lord," replied the follower, "I ken the purport of your query. I
am, it may be, a little of a precisian, and I wish to Heaven I was
mair worthy of the name; but let that be a pass-over.--I have
stretched the duties of a serving-man as far as my northern conscience
will permit. I can give my gude word to my master, or to my native
country, when I am in a foreign land, even though I should leave
downright truth a wee bit behind me. Ay, and I will take or give a
slash with ony man that speaks to the derogation of either. But this
chambering, dicing, and play-haunting, is not my element--I cannot
draw breath in it--and when I hear of your lordship winning the siller
that some poor creature may full sairly miss--by my saul, if it wad
serve your necessity, rather than you gained it from him, I wad take a
jump over the hedge with your lordship, and cry 'Stand!' to the first
grazier we met that was coming from Smithfield with the price of his
Essex calves in his leathern pouch!"
"You are a simpleton," said Nigel, who felt, however, much conscience-
struck; "I never play but for small sums."
"Ay, my lord," replied the unyielding domestic, "and--still with
reverence--it is even sae much the waur. If you played with your
equals, there might be like sin, but there wad be mair warldly honour
in it. Your lordship kens, or may ken, by experience of your ain,
whilk is not as yet mony weeks auld, that small sums can ill be missed
by those that have nane larger; and I maun e'en be plain with you,
that men notice it of your lordship, that ye play wi' nane but the
misguided creatures that can but afford to lose bare stakes."
"No man dare say so!" replied Nigel, very angrily. "I play with whom I
please, but I will only play for what stake I please."
"That is just what they say, my lord," said the unmerciful Richie,
whose natural love of lecturing, as well as his bluntness of feeling,
prevented him from having any idea of the pain which he was inflicting
on his master; "these are even their own very words. It was but
yesterday your lordship was pleased, at that same ordinary, to win
from yonder young hafflins gentleman, with the crimson velvet doublet,
and the cock's feather in his beaver--him, I mean, who fought with the
ranting captain--a matter of five pounds, or thereby. I saw him come
through the hall; and, if he was not cleaned out of cross and pile, I
never saw a ruined man in my life."
"Impossible!" said Lord Glenvarloch--"Why, who is he? he looked like a
man of substance."
"All is not gold that glistens, my lord," replied Richie; "'broidery
and bullion buttons make bare pouches. And if you ask who he is--maybe
I have a guess, and care not to tell."
"At least, if I have done any such fellow an injury," said the Lord
Nigel, "let me know how I can repair it."
"Never fash your beard about that, my lord,--with reverence always,"
said Richie,--"he shall be suitably cared after. Think on him but as
ane wha was running post to the devil, and got a shouldering from your
lordship to help him on his journey. But I will stop him, if reason
can; and so your lordship needs asks nae mair about it, for there is
no use in your knowing it, but much the contrair."
"Hark you, sirrah," said his master, "I have borne with you thus far,
for certain reasons; but abuse my good-nature no farther--and since
you must needs go, why, go a God's name, and here is to pay your
journey." So saying, he put gold into his hand, which Richie told over
piece by piece, with the utmost accuracy.
"Is it all right--or are they wanting in weight--or what the devil
keeps you, when your hurry was so great five minutes since?" said the
young lord, now thoroughly nettled at the presumptuous precision with
which Richie dealt forth his canons of morality.
"The tale of coin is complete," said Richie, with the most
imperturbable gravity; "and, for the weight, though they are sae
scrupulous in this town, as make mouths at a piece that is a wee bit
light, or that has been cracked within the ring, my sooth, they will
jump at them in Edinburgh like a cock at a grosart. Gold pieces are
not so plenty there, the mair the pity!"
"The more is your folly, then," said Nigel, whose anger was only
momentary, "that leave the land where there is enough of them."
"My lord," said Richie, "to be round with you, the grace of God is
better than gold pieces. When Goblin, as you call yonder Monsieur
Lutin,--and you might as well call him Gibbet, since that is what he
is like to end in,--shall recommend a page to you, ye will hear little
such doctrine as ye have heard from me.--And if they were my last
words," he said, raising his voice, "I would say you are misled, and
are forsaking the paths which your honourable father trode in; and,
what is more, you are going--still under correction--to the devil with
a dishclout, for ye are laughed at by them that lead you into these
disordered bypaths."
"Laughed at!" said Nigel, who, like others of his age, was more
sensible to ridicule than to reason--"Who dares laugh at me?"
"My lord, as sure as I live by bread--nay, more, as I am a true man--
and, I think, your lordship never found Richie's tongue bearing aught
but the truth--unless that your lordship's credit, my country's
profit, or, it may be, some sma' occasion of my ain, made it
unnecessary to promulgate the haill veritie,--I say then, as I am a
true man, when I saw that puir creature come through the ha', at that
ordinary, whilk is accurst (Heaven forgive me for swearing!) of God
and man, with his teeth set, and his hands clenched, and his bonnet
drawn over his brows like a desperate man, Goblin said to me, 'There
goes a dunghill chicken, that your master has plucked clean enough; it
will be long ere his lordship ruffle a feather with a cock of the
game.' And so, my lord, to speak it out, the lackeys, and the
gallants, and more especially your sworn brother, Lord Dalgarno, call
you the sparrow-hawk.--I had some thought to have cracked Lutin's pate
for the speech, but, after a', the controversy was not worth it."
"Do they use such terms of me?" said Lord Nigel. "Death and the
devil!"
"And the devil's dam, my lord," answered Richie; "they are all three
busy in London.--And, besides, Lutin and his master laughed at you, my
lord, for letting it be thought that--I shame to speak it--that ye
were over well with the wife of the decent honest man whose house you
but now left, as not sufficient for your new bravery, whereas they
said, the licentious scoffers, that you pretended to such favour when
you had not courage enough for so fair a quarrel, and that the
sparrow-hawk was too craven-crested to fly at the wife of a
cheesemonger."--He stopped a moment, and looked fixedly in his
master's face, which was inflamed with shame and anger, and then
proceeded. "My lord, I did you justice in my thought, and myself too;
for, thought I, he would have been as deep in that sort of profligacy
as in others, if it hadna been Richie's four quarters."
"What new nonsense have you got to plague me with?" said Lord Nigel.
"But go on, since it is the last time I am to be tormented with your
impertinence,--go on, and make the most of your time."
"In troth," said Richie, "and so will I even do. And as Heaven has
bestowed on me a tongue to speak and to advise----"
"Which talent you can by no means be accused of suffering to remain
idle," said Lord Glenvarloch, interrupting him.
"True, my lord," said Richie, again waving his hand, as if to bespeak
his master's silence and attention; "so, I trust, you will think some
time hereafter. And, as I am about to leave your service, it is proper
that ye suld know the truth, that ye may consider the snares to which
your youth and innocence may be exposed, when aulder and doucer heads
are withdrawn from beside you.--There has been a lusty, good-looking
kimmer, of some forty, or bygane, making mony speerings about you, my
lord."
"Well, sir, what did she want with me?" said Lord Nigel.
"At first, my lord," replied his sapient follower, "as she seemed to
be a well-fashioned woman, and to take pleasure in sensible company, I
was no way reluctant to admit her to my conversation."
"I dare say not," said Lord Nigel; "nor unwilling to tell her about my
private affairs."
"Not I, truly, my lord," said the attendant;--"for, though she asked
me mony questions about your fame, your fortune, your business here,
and such like, I did not think it proper to tell her altogether the
truth thereanent."
"I see no call on you whatever," said Lord Nigel, "to tell the woman
either truth or lies upon what she had nothing to do with."
"I thought so, too, my lord," replied Richie, "and so I told her
neither."
"And what _did_ you tell her, then, you eternal babbler?" said his
master, impatient of his prate, yet curious to know what it was all to
end in.
"I told her," said Richie, "about your warldly fortune, and sae forth,
something whilk is not truth just at this time; but which hath been
truth formerly, suld be truth now, and will be truth again,--and that
was, that you were in possession of your fair lands, whilk ye are but
in right of as yet. Pleasant communing we had on that and other
topics, until she showed the cloven foot, beginning to confer with me
about some wench that she said had a good-will to your lordship, and
fain she would have spoken with you in particular anent it; but when I
heard of such inklings, I began to suspect she was little better than
--whew! "--Here he concluded his narrative with a low, but very
expressive whistle.
"And what did your wisdom do in these circumstances?" said Lord Nigel,
who, notwithstanding his former resentment, could now scarcely forbear
laughing.
"I put on a look, my lord," replied Richie, bending his solemn brows,
"that suld give her a heartscald of walking on such errands. I laid
her enormities clearly before her, and I threatened her, in sae mony
words, that I would have her to the ducking-stool; and she, on the
contrair part, miscawed me for a forward northern tyke--and so we
parted never to meet again, as I hope and trust. And so I stood
between your lordship and that temptation, which might have been worse
than the ordinary, or the playhouse either; since you wot well what
Solomon, King of the Jews, sayeth of the strange woman--for, said I to
mysell, we have taken to dicing already, and if we take to drabbing
next, the Lord kens what we may land in!"
"Your impertinence deserves correction, but it is the last which, for
a time at least, I shall have to forgive--and I forgive it," said Lord
Glenvarloch; "and, since we are to part, Richie, I will say no more
respecting your precautions on my account, than that I think you might
have left me to act according to my own judgment."
"Mickle better not," answered Richie--"mickle better not; we are a'
frail creatures, and can judge better for ilk ither than in our ain
cases. And for me, even myself, saving that case of the Sifflication,
which might have happened to ony one, I have always observed myself to
be much more prudential in what I have done in your lordship's behalf,
than even in what I have been able to transact for my own interest--
whilk last, I have, indeed, always postponed, as in duty I ought."
"I do believe thou hast," said Lord Nigel, "having ever found thee
true and faithful. And since London pleases you so little, I will bid
you a short farewell; and you may go down to Edinburgh until I come
thither myself, when I trust you will re-enter into my service."
"Now, Heaven bless you, my lord," said Richie Moniplies, with uplifted
eyes; "for that word sounds more like grace than ony has come out of
your mouth this fortnight.--I give you godd'en, my lord."
So saying, he thrust forth his immense bony hand, seized on that of
Lord Glenvarloch, raised it to his lips, then turned short on his
heel, and left the room hastily, as if afraid of showing more emotion
than was consistent with his ideas of decorum. Lord Nigel, rather
surprised at his sudden exit, called after him to know whether he was
sufficiently provided with money; but Richie, shaking his head,
without making any other answer, ran hastily down stairs, shut the
street-door heavily behind him, and was presently seen striding along
the Strand.
His master almost involuntarily watched and distinguished the tall
raw-boned figure of his late follower, from the window, for some time,
until he was lost among the crowd of passengers. Nigel's reflections
were not altogether those of self-approval. It was no good sign of his
course of life, (he could not help acknowledging this much to
himself,) that so faithful an adherent no longer seemed to feel the
same pride in his service, or attachment to his person, which he had
formerly manifested. Neither could he avoid experiencing some twinges
of conscience, while he felt in some degree the charges which Richie
had preferred against him, and experienced a sense of shame and
mortification, arising from the colour given by others to that, which
he himself would have called his caution and moderation in play. He
had only the apology, that it had never occurred to himself in this
light.
Then his pride and self-love suggested, that, on the other hand,
Richie, with all his good intentions, was little better than a
conceited, pragmatical domestic, who seemed disposed rather to play
the tutor than the lackey, and who, out of sheer love, as he alleged,
to his master's person, assumed the privilege of interfering with, and
controlling, his actions, besides rendering him ridiculous in the gay
world, from the antiquated formality, and intrusive presumption, of
his manners.
Nigel's eyes were scarce turned from the window, when his new landlord
entering, presented to him a slip of paper, carefully bound round with
a string of flox-silk and sealed---it had been given in, he said, by a
woman, who did not stop an instant. The contents harped upon the same
string which Richie Moniplies had already jarred. The epistle was in
the following words:
For the Right Honourable hands of Lord Glenvarloch,
"These, from a friend unknown:--
"MY LORD,
"You are trusting to an unhonest friend, and diminishing an honest
reputation. An unknown but real friend of your lordship will speak in
one word what you would not learn from flatterers in so many days, as
should suffice for your utter ruin. He whom you think most true--I say
your friend Lord Dalgarno--is utterly false to you, and doth but seek,
under pretence of friendship, to mar your fortune, and diminish the
good name by which you might mend it. The kind countenance which he
shows to you, is more dangerous than the Prince's frown; even as to
gain at Beaujeu's ordinary is more discreditable than to lose. Beware
of both.--And this is all from your true but nameless friend,
IGNOTO."
Lord Glenvarloch paused for an instant, and crushed the paper
together--then again unfolded and read it with attention--bent his
brows--mused for a moment, and then tearing it to fragments,
exclaimed--"Begone for a vile calumny! But I will watch--I will
observe--"
Thought after thought rushed on him; but, upon the whole, Lord
Glenvarloch was so little satisfied with the result of his own
reflections, that he resolved to dissipate them by a walk in the Park,
and, taking his cloak and beaver, went thither accordingly.
CHAPTER XV
Twas when fleet Snowball's head was woxen grey,
A luckless lev'ret met him on his way.--
Who knows not Snowball--he, whose race renown'd
Is still victorious on each coursing ground?
Swaffhanm Newmarket, and the Roman Camp,
Have seen them victors o'er each meaner stamp--
In vain the youngling sought, with doubling wile,
The hedge, the hill, the thicket, or the stile.
Experience sage the lack of speed supplied,
And in the gap he sought, the victim died.
So was I once, in thy fair street, Saint James,
Through walking cavaliers, and car-borne dames,
Descried, pursued, turn'd o'er again, and o'er,
Coursed, coted, mouth'd by an unfeeling bore.
&c. &c. &c,
The Park of Saint James's, though enlarged, planted with verdant
alleys, and otherwise decorated by Charles II., existed in the days of
his grandfather, as a public and pleasant promenade; and, for the sake
of exercise or pastime, was much frequented by the better classes.
Lord Glenvarloch repaired thither to dispel the unpleasant reflections
which had been suggested by his parting with his trusty squire, Richie
Moniplies, in a manner which was agreeable neither to his pride nor
his feelings; and by the corroboration which the hints of his late
attendant had received from the anonymous letter mentioned in the end
of the last chapter.
There was a considerable number of company in the Park when he entered
it, but, his present state of mind inducing him to avoid society, he
kept aloof from the more frequented walks towards Westminster and
Whitehall, and drew to the north, or, as we should now say, the
Piccadilly verge of the enclosure, believing he might there enjoy, or
rather combat, his own thoughts unmolested.
In this, however, Lord Glenvarloch was mistaken; for, as he strolled
slowly along with his arms folded in his cloak, and his hat drawn over
his eyes, he was suddenly pounced upon by Sir Mungo Malagrowther, who,
either shunning or shunned, had retreated, or had been obliged to
retreat, to the same less frequented corner of the Park.
Nigel started when he heard the high, sharp, and querulous tones of
the knight's cracked voice, and was no less alarmed when he beheld his
tall thin figure hobbling towards him, wrapped in a thread-bare cloak,
on whose surface ten thousand varied stains eclipsed the original
scarlet, and having his head surmounted with a well-worn beaver,
bearing a black velvet band for a chain, and a capon's feather for an
ostrich plume.
Lord Glenvarloch would fain have made his escape, but, as our motto
intimates, a leveret had as little chance to free herself of an
experienced greyhound. Sir Mungo, to continue the simile, had long ago
learned to run cunning, and make sure of mouthing his game. So Nigel
found himself compelled to stand and answer the hackneyed question--
"What news to-day?"
"Nothing extraordinary, I believe," answered the young nobleman,
attempting to pass on.
"O, ye are ganging to the French ordinary belive," replied the knight;
"but it is early day yet--we will take a turn in the Park in the
meanwhile--it will sharpen your appetite."
So saying, he quietly slipped his arm under Lord Glenvarloch's, in
spite of all the decent reluctance which his victim could exhibit, by
keeping his elbow close to his side; and having fairly grappled the
prize, he proceeded to take it in tow.
Nigel was sullen and silent, in hopes to shake off his unpleasant
companion; but Sir Mungo was determined, that if he did not speak, he
should at least hear.
"Ye are bound for the ordinary, my lord?" said the cynic;--"weel, ye
canna do better--there is choice company there, and peculiarly
selected, as I am tauld, being, dootless, sic as it is desirable that
young noblemen should herd withal--and your noble father wad have been
blithe to see you keeping such worshipful society."
"I believe," said Lord Glenvarloch, thinking himself obliged to say
something, "that the society is as good as generally can be found in
such places, where the door can scarcely be shut against those who
come to spend their money."
"Right, my lord--vera right," said his tormentor, bursting out into a
chuckling, but most discordant laugh. "These citizen chuffs and clowns
will press in amongst us, when there is but an inch of a door open.
And what remedy?--Just e'en this, that as their cash gies them
confidence, we should strip them of it. Flay them, my lord--singe them
as the kitchen wench does the rats, and then they winna long to come
back again.--Ay, ay--pluck them, plume them--and then the larded
capons will not be for flying so high a wing, my lord, among the goss-
hawks and sparrow-hawks, and the like."
And, therewithal, Sir Mungo fixed on Nigel his quick, sharp, grey eye,
watching the effect of his sarcasm as keenly as the surgeon, in a
delicate operation, remarks the progress of his anatomical scalpel.
Nigel, however willing to conceal his sensations, could not avoid
gratifying his tormentor by wincing under the operation. He coloured
with vexation and anger; but a quarrel with Sir Mungo Malagrowther
would, he felt, be unutterably ridiculous; and he only muttered to
himself the words, "Impertinent coxcomb!" which, on this occasion, Sir
Mungo's imperfection of organ did not prevent him from hearing and
replying to.
"Ay, ay--vera true," exclaimed the caustic old courtier--"Impertinent
coxcombs they are, that thus intrude themselves on the society of
their betters; but your lordship kens how to gar them as gude--ye have
the trick on't.--They had a braw sport in the presence last Friday,
how ye suld have routed a young shopkeeper, horse and foot, ta'en his
_spolia ofima_, and a' the specie he had about him, down to the very
silver buttons of his cloak, and sent him to graze with
Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon. Muckle honour redounded to your
lordship thereby.--We were tauld the loon threw himsell into the
Thames in a fit of desperation. There's enow of them behind--there was
mair tint on Flodden-edge."
"You have been told a budget of lies, so far as I am concerned, Sir
Mungo," said Nigel, speaking loud and sternly.
"Vera likely--vera likely," said the unabashed and undismayed Sir
Mungo; "naething but lies are current in the circle.--So the chield is
not drowned, then?--the mair's the pity.--But I never believed that
part of the story--a London dealer has mair wit in his anger. I dare
swear the lad has a bonny broom-shank in his hand by this time, and is
scrubbing the kennels in quest after rusty nails, to help him to begin
his pack again.--He has three bairns, they say; they will help him
bravely to grope in the gutters. Your good lordship may have the
ruining of him again, my lord, if they have any luck in strand-
scouring."
"This is more than intolerable," said Nigel, uncertain whether to make
an angry vindication of his character, or to fling the old tormentor
from his arm. But an instant's recollection convinced him, that, to do
either, would only give an air of truth and consistency to the
scandals which he began to see were affecting his character, both in
the higher and lower circles. Hastily, therefore, he formed the wiser
resolution, to endure Sir Mungo's studied impertinence, under the hope
of ascertaining, if possible, from what source those reports arose
which were so prejudicial to his reputation.
Sir Mungo, in the meanwhile, caught up, as usual, Nigel's last words,
or rather the sound of them, and amplified and interpreted them in his
own way. "Tolerable luck!" he repeated; "yes, truly, my lord, I am
told that you have tolerable luck, and that ye ken weel how to use
that jilting quean, Dame Fortune, like a canny douce lad, willing to
warm yourself in her smiles, without exposing yourself to her frowns.
And that is what I ca' having luck in a bag."
"Sir Mungo Malagrowther," said Lord Glenvarloch, turning towards him
seriously, "have the goodness to hear me for a moment."
"As weel as I can, my lord--as weel as I can," said Sir Mungo, shaking
his head, and pointing the finger of his left hand to his ear.
"I will try to speak very distinctly," said Nigel, arming himself with
patience. "You take me for a noted gamester; I give you my word that
you have not been rightly informed--I am none such. You owe me some
explanation, at least, respecting the source from which you have
derived such false information."
"I never heard ye were a _great_ gamester, and never thought or said
ye were such, my lord," said Sir Mungo, who found it impossible to
avoid hearing what Nigel said with peculiarly deliberate and distinct
pronunciation." I repeat it--I never heard, said, or thought that you
were a ruffling gamester,--such as they call those of the first head.
--Look you, my lord, I call _him_ a gamester, that plays with equal
stakes and equal skill, and stands by the fortune of the game, good or
bad; and I call _him_ a ruffling gamester, or ane of the first head,
who ventures frankly and deeply upon such a wager. But he, my lord,
who has the patience and prudence never to venture beyond small game,
such as, at most, might crack the Christmas-box of a grocer's
'prentice, who vies with those that have little to hazard, and who
therefore, having the larger stock, can always rook them by waiting
for his good fortune, and by rising from the game when luck leaves
him--such a one as he, my lord, I do not call a _great_ gamester, to
whatever other name he may be entitled."
"And such a mean-spirited, sordid wretch, you would infer that I am,"
replied Lord Glenvarloch; "one who fears the skilful, and preys upon
the ignorant--who avoids playing with his equals, that he may make
sure of pillaging his inferiors?--Is this what I am to understand has
been reported of me?"
"Nay, my lord, you will gain nought by speaking big with me," said Sir
Mungo, who, besides that his sarcastic humour was really supported by
a good fund of animal courage, had also full reliance on the
immunities which he had derived from the broadsword of Sir Rullion
Rattray, and the baton of the satellites employed by the Lady Cockpen.
"And for the truth of the matter," he continued, "your lordship best
knows whether you ever lost more than five pieces at a time since you
frequented Beaujeu's--whether you have not most commonly risen a
winner--and whether the brave young gallants who frequent the
ordinary--I mean those of noble rank, and means conforming--are in use
to play upon those terms?"
"My father was right," said Lord Glenvarloch, in the bitterness of his
spirit; "and his curse justly followed me when I first entered that
place. There is contamination in the air, and he whose fortune avoids
ruin, shall be blighted in his honour and reputation."
Sir Mungo, who watched his victim with the delighted yet wary eye of
an experienced angler, became now aware, that if he strained the line
on him too tightly, there was every risk of his breaking hold. In
order to give him room, therefore, to play, he protested that Lord
Glenvarloch "should not take his free speech _in malam partem_. If you
were a trifle ower sicker in your amusement, my lord, it canna be
denied that it is the safest course to prevent farther endangerment of
your somewhat dilapidated fortunes; and if ye play with your
inferiors, ye are relieved of the pain of pouching the siller of your
friends and equals; forby, that the plebeian knaves have had the
advantage, _tecum certasse_, as Ajax Telamon sayeth, _apud
Metamorphoseos_; and for the like of them to have played with ane
Scottish nobleman is an honest and honourable consideration to
compensate the loss of their stake, whilk, I dare say, moreover, maist
of the churls can weel afford."
"Be that as it may, Sir Mungo," said Nigel, "I would fain know--"
"Ay, ay," interrupted Sir Mungo; "and, as you say, who cares whether
the fat bulls of Bashan can spare it or no? gentlemen are not to limit
their sport for the like of them."
"I wish to know, Sir Mungo," said Lord Glenvarloch, "in what company
you have learned these offensive particulars respecting me?"
"Dootless--dootless, my lord," said Sir Mungo; "I have ever heard, and
have ever reported, that your lordship kept the best of company in a
private way.--There is the fine Countess of Blackchester, but I think
she stirs not much abroad since her affair with his Grace of
Buckingham; and there is the gude auld-fashioned Scottish nobleman,
Lord Huntinglen, an undeniable man of quality--it is pity but he could
keep caup and can frae his head, whilk now and then doth'minish his
reputation. And there is the gay young Lord Dalgarno, that carries the
craft of gray hairs under his curled love-locks--a fair race they are,
father, daughter, and son, all of the same honourable family. I think
we needna speak of George Heriot, honest man, when we have nobility in
question. So that is the company I have heard of your keeping, my
lord, out-taken those of the ordinary."
"My company has not, indeed, been much more extended than amongst
those you mention," said Lord Glenvarloch; "but in short--"
"To Court?" said Sir Mungo, "that was just what I was going to say--
Lord Dalgarno says he cannot prevail on ye to come to Court, and that
does ye prejudice, my lord--the king hears of you by others, when he
should see you in person--I speak in serious friendship, my lord. His
Majesty, when you were named in the circle short while since, was
heard to say, _'Jacta est alea!_--Glenvarlochides is turned dicer and
drinker.'--My Lord Dalgarno took your part, and he was e'en borne down
by the popular voice of the courtiers, who spoke of you as one who had
betaken yourself to living a town life, and risking your baron's
coronet amongst the flatcaps of the city."
"And this was publicly spoken of me," said Nigel, "and in the king's
presence?"
"Spoken openly?" repeated Sir Mungo Malagrowther; "ay, by my troth was
it--that is to say, it was whispered privately--whilk is as open
promulgation as the thing permitted; for ye may think the Court is not
like a place where men are as sib as Simmie and his brother, and roar
out their minds as if they were at an ordinary."
"A curse on the Court and the ordinary both!" cried Nigel,
impatiently.
"With all my heart," said the knight; "I have got little by a knight's
service in the Court; and the last time I was at the ordinary, I lost
four angels."
"May I pray of you, Sir Mungo, to let me know," said Nigel, "the names
of those who thus make free with the character of one who can be but
little known to them, and who never injured any of them?"
"Have I not told you already," answered Sir Mungo, "that the king said
something to that effect--so did the Prince too;--and such being the
case, ye may take it on your corporal oath, that every man in the
circle who was not silent, sung the same song as they did."
"You said but now," replied Glenvarloch, "that Lord Dalgarno
interfered in my behalf."
"In good troth did he," answered Sir Mungo, with a sneer; "but the
young nobleman was soon borne down--by token, he had something of a
catarrh, and spoke as hoarse as a roopit raven. Poor gentleman, if he
had had his full extent of voice, he would have been as well listened
to, dootless, as in a cause of his ain, whilk no man kens better how
to plead to purpose.--And let me ask you, by the way," continued Sir
Mungo, "whether Lord Dalgarno has ever introduced your lordship to the
Prince, or the Duke of Buckingham, either of whom might soon carry
through your suit?"
"I have no claim on the favour of either the Prince or the Duke of
Buckingham," said Lord Glenvarloch.--"As you seem to have made my
affairs your study, Sir Mungo, although perhaps something
unnecessarily, you may have heard that I have petitioned my Sovereign
for payment of a debt due to my family. I cannot doubt the king's
desire to do justice, nor can I in decency employ the solicitation of
his Highness the Prince, or his Grace the Duke of Buckingham, to
obtain from his Majesty what either should be granted me as a right,
or refused altogether."
Sir Mungo twisted his whimsical features into one of his most
grotesque sneers, as he replied--
"It is a vera clear and parspicuous position of the case, my lord; and
in relying thereupon, you show an absolute and unimprovable
acquaintance with the King, Court, and mankind in general.-But whom
have we got here?--Stand up, my lord, and make way--by my word of
honour, they are the very men we spoke of--talk of the devil, and--
humph!"
It must be here premised, that, during the conversation, Lord
Glenvarloch, perhaps in the hope of shaking himself free of Sir Mungo,
had directed their walk towards the more frequented part of the Park;
while the good knight had stuck to him, being totally indifferent
which way they went, provided he could keep his talons clutched upon
his companion. They were still, however, at some distance from the
livelier part of the scene, when Sir Mungo's experienced eye noticed
the appearances which occasioned the latter part of his speech to Lord
Glenvarloch. A low respectful murmur arose among the numerous groups
of persons which occupied the lower part of the Park. They first
clustered together, with their faces turned towards Whitehall, then
fell back on either hand to give place to a splendid party of
gallants, who, advancing from the Palace, came onward through the
Park; all the other company drawing off the pathway, and standing
uncovered as they passed.
Most of these courtly gallants were dressed in the garb which the
pencil of Vandyke has made familiar even at the distance of nearly two
centuries; and which was just at this period beginning to supersede
the more fluttering and frivolous dress which had been adopted from
the French Court of Henri Quatre.
The whole train were uncovered excepting the Prince of Wales,
afterwards the most unfortunate of British monarchs, who came onward,
having his long curled auburn tresses, and his countenance, which,
even in early youth, bore a shade of anticipated melancholy, shaded by
the Spanish hat and the single ostrich feather which drooped from it.
On his right hand was Buckingham, whose commanding, and at the same
time graceful, deportment, threw almost into shade the personal
demeanour and majesty of the Prince on whom he attended. The eye,
movements, and gestures of the great courtier were so composed, so
regularly observant of all etiquette belonging to his situation, as to
form a marked and strong contrast with the forward gaiety and
frivolity by which he recommended himself to the favour of his "dear
dad and gossip," King James. A singular fate attended this
accomplished courtier, in being at once the reigning favourite of a
father and son so very opposite in manners, that, to ingratiate
himself with the youthful Prince, he was obliged to compress within
the strictest limits of respectful observance the frolicsome and free
humour which captivated his aged father.
It is true, Buckingham well knew the different dispositions both of
James and Charles, and had no difficulty in so conducting himself as
to maintain the highest post in the favour of both. It has indeed been
supposed, as we before hinted, that the duke, when he had completely
possessed himself of the affections of Charles, retained his hold in
those of the father only by the tyranny of custom; and that James,
could he have brought himself to form a vigorous resolution, was, in
the latter years of his life especially, not unlikely to have
discarded Buckingham from his counsels and favour. But if ever the
king indeed meditated such a change, he was too timid, and too much
accustomed to the influence which the duke had long exercised over
him, to summon up resolution enough for effecting such a purpose; and
at all events it is certain, that Buckingham, though surviving the
master by whom he was raised, had the rare chance to experience no
wane of the most splendid court-favour during two reigns, until it was
at once eclipsed in his blood by the dagger of his assassin Felton.
To return from this digression: The Prince, with his train, advanced,
and were near the place where Lord Glenvarloch and Sir Mungo had stood
aside, according to form, in order to give the Prince passage, and to
pay the usual marks of respect. Nigel could now remark that Lord
Dalgarno walked close behind the Duke of Buckingham, and, as he
thought, whispered something in his ear as they came onward. At any
rate, both the Prince's and Duke of Buckingham's attention seemed to
be directed by such circumstance towards Nigel, for they turned their
heads in that direction and looked at him attentively--the Prince with
a countenance, the grave, melancholy expression of which was blended
with severity; while Buckingham's looks evinced some degree of
scornful triumph. Lord Dalgarno did not seem to observe his friend,
perhaps because the sunbeams fell from the side of the walk on which
Nigel stood, obliging Malcolm to hold up his hat to screen his eyes.
As the Prince passed, Lord Glenvarloch and Sir Mungo bowed, as respect
required; and the Prince, returning their obeisance with that grave
ceremony which paid to every rank its due, but not a tittle beyond it,
signed to Sir Mungo to come forward. Commencing an apology for his
lameness as he started, which he had just completed as his hobbling
gait brought him up to the Prince, Sir Mungo lent an attentive, and,
as it seemed, an intelligent ear, to questions, asked in a tone so
low, that the knight would certainly have been deaf to them had they
been put to him by any one under the rank of Prince of Wales. After
about a minute's conversation, the Prince bestowed on Nigel the
embarrassing notice of another fixed look, touched his hat slightly to
Sir Mungo, and walked on.
"It is even as I suspected, my lord," said Sir Mungo, with an air
which he designed to be melancholy and sympathetic, but which, in
fact, resembled the grin of an ape when he has mouthed a scalding
chestnut--"Ye have back-friends, my lord, that is, unfriends--or, to
be plain, enemies--about the person of the Prince."
"I am sorry to hear it," said Nigel; "but I would I knew what they
accuse me of."
"Ye shall hear, my lord," said Sir Mungo, "the Prince's vera words--
'Sir Mungo,' said he, 'I rejoice to see you, and am glad your
rheumatic troubles permit you to come hither for exercise.'--I bowed,
as in duty bound--ye might remark, my lord, that I did so, whilk
formed the first branch of our conversation.--His Highness then
demanded of me, 'if he with whom I stood, was the young Lord
Glenvarloch.' I answered, 'that you were such, for his Highness's
service;' whilk was the second branch.--Thirdly, his Highness,
resuming the argument, said, that 'truly he had been told so,'
(meaning that he had been told you were that personage,) 'but that he
could not believe, that the heir of that noble and decayed house could
be leading an idle, scandalous, and precarious life, in the eating-
houses and taverns of London, while the king's drums were beating, and
colours flying in Germany in the cause of the Palatine, his son-in-
law.'--I could, your lordship is aware, do nothing but make an
obeisance; and a gracious 'Give ye good-day, Sir Mungo Malagrowther,'
licensed me to fall back to your lordship. And now, my lord, if your
business or pleasure calls you to the ordinary, or anywhere in the
direction of the city--why, have with you; for, dootless, ye will
think ye have tarried lang enough in the Park, as they will likely
turn at the head of the walk, and return this way--and you have a
broad hint, I think, not to cross the Prince's presence in a hurry."
"_You_ may stay or go as you please, Sir Mungo," said Nigel, with an
expression of calm, but deep resentment; "but, for my own part, my
resolution is taken. I will quit this public walk for pleasure of no
man--still less will I quit it like one unworthy to be seen in places
of public resort. I trust that the Prince and his retinue will return
this way as you expect; for I will abide, Sir Mungo, and beard them."
"Beard them!" exclaimed Sir Mungo, in the extremity of surprise,--
"Beard the Prince of Wales--the heir-apparent of the kingdoms!--By my
saul, you shall beard him yourself then."
Accordingly, he was about to leave Nigel very hastily, when some
unwonted touch of good-natured interest in his youth and experience,
seemed suddenly to soften his habitual cynicism.
"The devil is in me for an auld fule!" said Sir Mungo; "but I must
needs concern mysell--I that owe so little either to fortune or my
fellow-creatures, must, I say, needs concern mysell--with this
springald, whom I will warrant to be as obstinate as a pig possessed
with a devil, for it's the cast of his family; and yet I maun e'en
fling away some sound advice on him.--My dainty young Lord
Glenvarloch, understand me distinctly, for this is no bairn's-play.
When the Prince said sae much to me as I have repeated to you, it was
equivalent to a command not to appear in his presence; wherefore take
an auld man's advice that wishes you weel, and maybe a wee thing
better than he has reason to wish ony body. Jouk, and let the jaw gae
by, like a canny bairn--gang hame to your lodgings, keep your foot
frae taverns, and your fingers frae the dice-box; compound your
affairs quietly wi' some ane that has better favour than yours about
Court, and you will get a round spell of money to carry you to
Germany, or elsewhere, to push your fortune. It was a fortunate
soldier that made your family four or five hundred years syne, and, if
you are brave and fortunate, you may find the way to repair it. But,
take my word for it, that in this Court you will never thrive."
When Sir Mungo had completed his exhortation, in which there was more
of sincere sympathy with another's situation, than he had been
heretofore known to express in behalf of any one, Lord Glenvarloch
replied, "I am obliged to you, Sir Mungo--you have spoken, I think,
with sincerity, and I thank you. But in return for your good advice, I
heartily entreat you to leave me; I observe the Prince and his train
are returning down the walk, and you may prejudice yourself, but
cannot help me, by remaining with me."
"And that is true,"--said Sir Mungo; "yet, were I ten years younger, I
would be tempted to stand by you, and gie them the meeting. But at
threescore and upward, men's courage turns cauldrife; and they that
canna win a living, must not endanger the small sustenance of their
age. I wish you weel through, my lord, but it is an unequal fight." So
saying, he turned and limped away; often looking back, however, as if
his natural spirit, even in its present subdued state, aided by his
love of contradiction and of debate, rendered him unwilling to adopt
the course necessary for his own security.
Thus abandoned by his companion, whose departure he graced with better
thoughts of him than those which he bestowed on his appearance, Nigel
remained with his arms folded, and reclining against a solitary tree
which overhung the path, making up his mind to encounter a moment
which he expected to be critical of his fate. But he was mistaken in
supposing that the Prince of Wales would either address him, or admit
him to expostulation, in such a public place as the Park. He did not
remain unnoticed, however, for, when he made a respectful but haughty
obeisance, intimating in look and manner that he was possessed of, and
undaunted by, the unfavourable opinion which the Prince had so lately
expressed, Charles returned his reverence with such a frown, as is
only given by those whose frown is authority and decision. The train
passed on, the Duke of Buckingham not even appearing to see Lord
Glenvarloch; while Lord Dalgarno, though no longer incommoded by the
sunbeams, kept his eyes, which had perhaps been dazzled by their
former splendour, bent upon the ground.
Lord Glenvarloch had difficulty to restrain an indignation, to which,
in the circumstances, it would have been madness to have given vent.
He started from his reclining posture, and followed the Prince's train
so as to keep them distinctly in sight; which was very easy, as they
walked slowly. Nigel observed them keep their road towards the Palace,
where the Prince turned at the gate and bowed to the noblemen in
attendance, in token of dismissing them, and entered the Palace,
accompanied only by the Duke of Buckingham, and one or two of his
equerries. The rest of the train, having returned in
all dutiful humility the farewell of the Prince, began to disperse
themselves through the Park.
All this was carefully noticed by Lord Glenvarloch, who, as he
adjusted his cloak, and drew his sword-belt round so as to bring the
hilt closer to his hand, muttered--"Dalgarno shall explain all this to
me, for it is evident that he is in the secret!"
CHAPTER XVI
Give way--give way--I must and will have justice.
And tell me not of privilege and place;
Where I am injured, there I'll sue redress.
Look to it, every one who bars my access;
I have a heart to feel the injury,
A hand to night myself, and, by my honour,
That hand shall grasp what grey-beard Law denies me.
_The Chamberlain._
It was not long ere Nigel discovered Lord Dalgarno advancing towards
him in the company of another young man of quality of the Prince's
train; and as they directed their course towards the south-eastern
corner of the Park, he concluded they were about to go to Lord
Huntinglen's. They stopped, however, and turned up another path
leading to the north; and Lord Glenvarloch conceived that this change
of direction was owing to their having seen him, and their desire to
avoid him.
Nigel followed them without hesitation by a path which, winding around
a thicket of shrubs and trees, once more conducted him to the less
frequented part of the Park. He observed which side of the thicket was
taken by Lord Dalgarno and his companion, and he himself, walking
hastily round the other verge, was thus enabled to meet them face to
face.
"Good-morrow, my Lord Dalgarno," said Lord Glenvarloch, sternly.
"Ha! my friend Nigel," answered Lord Dalgarno, in his usual careless
and indifferent tone, "my friend Nigel, with business on his brow?--
but you must wait till we meet at Beaujeu's at noon--Sir Ewes
Haldimund and I are at present engaged in the Prince's service."
"If you were engaged in the king's, my lord," said Lord Glenvarloch,
"you must stand and answer me."
"Hey-day!" said Lord Dalgarno, with an air of great astonishment,
"what passion is this? Why, Nigel, this is King Cambyses' vein!--You
have frequented the theatres too much lately--Away with this folly,
man; go, dine upon soup and salad, drink succory-water to cool your
blood, go to bed at sun-down, and defy those foul fiends, Wrath and
Misconstruction."
"I have had misconstruction enough among you," said Glenvarloch, in
the same tone of determined displeasure, "and from you, my Lord
Dalgarno, in particular, and all under the mask of friendship."
"Here is a proper business!"--said Dalgarno, turning as if to appeal
to Sir Ewes Haldimund; "do you see this angry ruffler, Sir Ewes? A
month since, he dared not have looked one of yonder sheep in the face,
and now he is a prince of roisterers, a plucker of pigeons, a
controller of players and poets--and in gratitude for my having shown
him the way to the eminent character which he holds upon town, he
comes hither to quarrel with his best friend, if not his only one of
decent station."
"I renounce such hollow friendship, my lord," said Lord Glenvarloch;
"I disclaim the character which, even to my very face, you labour to
fix upon me, and ere we part I will call you to a reckoning for it."
"My lords both," interrupted Sir Ewes Haldimund, "let me remind you
that the Royal Park is no place to quarrel in."
"I will make my quarrel good," said Nigel, who did not know, or in his
passion might not have recollected, the privileges
of the place, "wherever I find my enemy."
"You shall find quarelling enough," replied Lord Dalgarno, calmly, "so
soon as you assign a sufficient cause for it. Sir Ewes Haldimund, who
knows the Court, will warrant you that I am not backward on such
occasions.--But of what is it that you now complain, after having
experienced nothing save kindness from me and my family?"
"Of your family I complain not," replied Lord Glenvarloch; "they have
done for me all they could, more, far more, than I could have
expected; but you, my lord, have suffered me, while you called me your
friend, to be traduced, where a word of your mouth would have placed
my character in its true colours--and hence the injurious message
which I just now received from the Prince of Wales. To permit the
misrepresentation of a friend, my lord, is to share in the slander."
"You have been misinformed, my Lord Glenvarloch," said Sir Ewes
Haldimund; "I have myself often heard Lord Dalgarno defend your
character, and regret that your exclusive attachment to the pleasures
of a London life prevented your paying your duty regularly to the King
and Prince."
"While he himself," said Lord Glenvarloch, "dissuaded me from
presenting myself at Court."
"I will cut this matter short," said Lord Dalgarno, with haughty
coldness. "You seem to have conceived, my lord, that you and I were
Pylades and Orestes--a second edition of Damon and Pythias--Theseus
and Pirithoiis at the least. You are mistaken, and have given the name
of friendship to what, on my part, was mere good-nature and compassion
for a raw and ignorant countryman, joined to the cumbersome charge
which my father gave me respecting you. Your character, my lord, is of
no one's drawing, but of your own making. I introduced you where, as
in all such places, there was good and indifferent company to be met
with--your habits, or taste, made you prefer the worse. Your holy
horror at the sight of dice and cards degenerated into the cautious
resolution to play only at those times, and with such persons, as
might ensure your rising a winner--no man can long do so, and continue
to be held a gentleman. Such is the reputation you have made for
yourself, and you have no right to be angry that I do not contradict
in society what yourself know to be true. Let us pass on, my lord; and
if you want further explanation, seek some other time and fitter
place."
"No time can be better than the present," said Lord Glenvarloch, whose
resentment was now excited to the uttermost by the cold-blooded and
insulting manner, in which Dalgarno vindicated himself,--"no place
fitter than the place where we now stand. Those of my house have ever
avenged insult, at the moment, and on the spot, where it was offered,
were it at the foot of the throne.--Lord Dalgarno, you are a villain!
draw and defend yourself." At the same moment he unsheathed his
rapier.
"Are you mad?" said Lord Dalgarno, stepping back; "we are in the
precincts of the Court."
"The better," answered Lord Glenvarloch; "I will cleanse them from a
calumniator and a coward." He then pressed on Lord Dalgarno, and
struck him with the flat of the sword.
The fray had now attracted attention, and the cry went round, "Keep
the peace--keep the peace--swords drawn in the Park!--What, ho!
guards!--keepers--yeomen--rangers!" and a number of people came
rushing to the spot from all sides.
Lord Dalgarno, who had half drawn his sword on receiving the blow,
returned it to his scabbard when he observed the crowd thicken, and,
taking Sir Ewes Haldimund by the arm, walked hastily away, only saying
to Lord Glenvarloch as they left him, "You shall dearly abye this
insult--we will meet again."
A decent-looking elderly man, who observed that Lord Glenvarloch
remained on the spot, taking compassion on his youthful appearance,
said to him, "Are you aware that this is a Star-Chamber business,
young gentleman, and that it may cost you your right hand?--Shift for
yourself before the keepers or constables come up--Get into
Whitefriars or somewhere, for sanctuary and concealment, till you can
make friends or quit the city."
The advice was not to be neglected. Lord Glenvarloch made hastily
towards the issue from the Park by Saint James's Palace, then Saint
James's Hospital. The hubbub increased behind him; and several peace-
officers of the Royal Household came up to apprehend the delinquent.
Fortunately for Nigel, a popular edition of the cause of the affray
had gone abroad. It was said that one of the Duke of Buckingham's
companions had insulted a stranger gentleman from the country, and
that the stranger had cudgelled him soundly. A favourite, or the
companion of a favourite, is always odious to John Bull, who has,
besides, a partiality to those disputants who proceed, as lawyers term
it, _par wye du fait_, and both prejudices were in Nigel's favour. The
officers, therefore, who came to apprehend him, could learn from the
spectators no particulars of his appearance, or information concerning
the road he had taken; so that, for the moment, he escaped being
arrested.
What Lord Glenvarloch heard among the crowd as he passed along, was
sufficient to satisfy him, that in his impatient passion he had placed
himself in a predicament of considerable danger.
He was no stranger to the severe and arbitrary proceedings of the
Court of Star-Chamber, especially in cases of breach of privilege,
which made it the terror of all men; and it was no farther back than
the Queen's time that the punishment of mutilation had been actually
awarded and executed, for some offence of the same kind which he had
just committed. He had also the comfortable reflection, that, by his
violent quarrel with Lord Dalgarno, he must now forfeit the friendship
and good offices of that nobleman's father and sister, almost the only
persons of consideration in whom he could claim any interest; while
all the evil reports which had been put in circulation concerning his
character, were certain to weigh heavily against him, in a case where
much must necessarily depend on the reputation of the accused. To a
youthful imagination, the idea of such a punishment as mutilation
seems more ghastly than death itself; and every word which he
overheard among the groups which he met, mingled with, or overtook and
passed, announced this as the penalty of his offence. He dreaded to
increase his pace for fear of attracting suspicion, and more than once
saw the ranger's officers so near him, that his wrist tingled as if
already under the blade of the dismembering knife. At length he got
out of the Park, and had a little more leisure to consider what he was
next to do.
Whitefriars, adjacent to the Temple, then well known by the cant name
of Alsatia, had at this time, and for nearly a century afterwards, the
privilege of a sanctuary, unless against the writ of the Lord Chief
Justice, or of the Lords of the Privy-Council. Indeed, as the place
abounded with desperadoes of every description,--bankrupt citizens,
ruined gamesters, irreclaimable prodigals, desperate duellists,
bravoes, homicides, and debauched profligates of every description,
all leagued together to maintain the immunities of their asylum,--it
was both difficult and unsafe for the officers of the law to execute
warrants emanating even from the highest authority, amongst men whose
safety was inconsistent with warrants or authority of any kind. This
Lord Glenvarloch well knew; and odious as the place of refuge was, it
seemed the only one where, for a space at least, he might be concealed
and secure from the immediate grasp of the law, until he should have
leisure to provide better for his safety, or to get this unpleasant
matter in some shape accommodated.
Meanwhile, as Nigel walked hastily forward towards the place of
sanctuary, he bitterly blamed himself for suffering Lord Dalgarno to
lead him into the haunts of dissipation; and no less accused his
intemperate heat of passion, which now had driven him for refuge into
the purlieus of profane and avowed vice and debauchery.
"Dalgarno spoke but too truly in that," were his bitter reflections;
"I have made myself an evil reputation by acting on his insidious
counsels, and neglecting the wholesome admonitions which ought to have
claimed implicit obedience from me, and which recommended abstinence
even from the slightest approach of evil. But if I escape from the
perilous labyrinth in which folly and inexperience, as well as violent
passions, have involved me, I will find some noble way of redeeming
the lustre of a name which was never sullied until I bore it."
As Lord Glenvarloch formed these prudent resolutions, he entered the
Temple Walks, whence a gate at that time opened into Whitefriars, by
which, as by the more private passage, he proposed to betake himself
to the sanctuary. As he approached the entrance to that den of infamy,
from which his mind recoiled even while in the act of taking shelter
there, his pace slackened, while the steep and broken stairs reminded
him of the _facilis_ descensus Averni, and rendered him doubtful
whether it were not better to brave the worst which could befall him
in the public haunts of honourable men, than to evade punishment by
secluding himself in those of avowed vice and profligacy.
As Nigel hesitated, a young gentleman of the Temple advanced towards
him, whom he had often seen, and sometimes conversed with, at the
ordinary, where he was a frequent and welcome guest, being a wild
young gallant, indifferently well provided with money, who spent at
the theatres and other gay places of public resort, the time which his
father supposed he was employing in the study of the law. But Reginald
Lowestoffe, such was the young Templar's name, was of opinion that
little law was necessary to enable him to spend the revenues of the
paternal acres which were to devolve upon him at his father's demose,
and therefore gave himself no trouble to acquire more of that science
than might be imbibed along with the learned air of the region in
which he had his chambers. In other respects, he was one of the wits
of the place, read Ovid and Martial, aimed at quick repartee and pun,
(often very far fetched,) danced, fenced, played at tennis, and
performed sundry tunes on the fiddle and French horn, to the great
annoyance of old Counsellor Barratter, who lived in the chambers
immediately below him. Such was Reginald Lowes-toffe, shrewd, alert,
and well-acquainted with the town through all its recesses, but in a
sort of disrespectable way. This gallant, now approaching the Lord
Glenvarloch, saluted him by name and title, and asked if his lordship
designed for the Chevalier's this day, observing it was near noon, and
the woodcock would be on the board before they could reach the
ordinary.
"I do not go there to-day," answered Lord Glenvarloch. "Which way,
then, my lord?" said the young Templar, who was perhaps not undesirous
to parade a part at least of the street in company with a lord, though
but a Scottish one.
"I--I--" said Nigel, desiring to avail himself of this young man's
local knowledge, yet unwilling and ashamed to acknowledge his
intention to take refuge in so disreputable a quarter, or to describe
the situation in which he stood--"I have some curiosity to see
Whitefriars."
"What! your lordship is for a frolic into Alsatia?" said Lowestoffe-"-
Have with you, my lord--you cannot have a better guide to the infernal
regions than myself. I promise you there are bona-robas to be found
there--good wine too, ay, and good fellows to drink it with, though
somewhat suffering under the frowns of Fortune. But your lordship will
pardon me--you are the last of our acquaintance to whom I would have
proposed such a voyage of discovery."
"I am obliged to you, Master Lowestoffe, for the good opinion you have
expressed in the observation," said Lord Glenvarloch; "but my present
circumstances may render even a residence of a day or two in the
sanctuary a matter of necessity."
"Indeed!" said Lowestoffe, in a tone of great surprise; "I thought
your lordship had always taken care not to risk any considerable
stake--I beg pardon, but if the bones have proved perfidious, I know
just so much law as that a peer's person is sacred from arrest; and
for mere impecuniosity, my lord, better shift can be made elsewhere
than in Whitefriars, where all are devouring each other for very
poverty."
"My misfortune has no connexion with want of money," said Nigel.
"Why, then, I suppose," said Lowestoffe, "you have been tilting, my
lord, and have pinked your man; in which case, and with a purse
reasonably furnished, you may lie perdu in Whitefriars for a
twelvemonth--Marry, but you must be entered and received as a member
of their worshipful society, my lord, and a frank burgher of Alsatia--
so far you must condescend; there will be neither peace nor safety for
you else."
"My fault is not in a degree so deadly, Master Lowestoffe," answered
Lord Glenvarloch, "as you seem to conjecture--I have stricken a
gentleman in the Park, that is all."
"By my hand, my lord, and you had better have struck your sword
through him at Barns Elms," said the Templar. "Strike within the verge
of the Court! You will find that a weighty dependence upon your hands,
especially if your party be of rank and have favour."
"I will be plain with you, Master Lowestoffe," said Nigel, "since I
have gone thus far. The person I struck was Lord Dalgarno, whom you
have seen at Beaujeu's."
"A follower and favourite of the Duke of Buckingham!--It is a most
unhappy chance, my lord; but my heart was formed in England, and
cannot bear to see a young nobleman borne down, as you are like to be.
We converse here greatly too open for your circumstances. The Templars
would suffer no bailiff to execute a writ, and no gentleman to be
arrested for a duel, within their precincts; but in such a matter
between Lord Dalgarno and your lordship, there might be a party on
either side. You must away with me instantly to my poor chambers here,
hard by, and undergo some little change of dress, ere you take
sanctuary; for else you will have the whole rascal rout of the Friars
about you, like crows upon a falcon that strays into their rookery. We
must have you arrayed something more like the natives of Alsatia, or
there will be no life there for you."
While Lowestoffe spoke, he pulled Lord Glenvarloch along with him into
his chambers, where he had a handsome library, filled with all the
poems and play-books which were then in fashion. The Templar then
dispatched a boy, who waited upon him, to procure a dish or two from
the next cook's shop; "and this," he said, "must be your lordship's
dinner, with a glass of old sack, of which my grandmother (the heavens
requite her!) sent me a dozen bottles, with charge to use the liquor
only with clarified whey, when I felt my breast ache with over study.
Marry, we will drink the good lady's health in it, if it is your
lordship's pleasure, and you shall see how we poor students eke out
our mutton-commons in the hall."
The outward door of the chambers was barred so soon as the boy had re-
entered with the food; the boy was ordered to keep close watch, and
admit no one; and Lowestoffe, by example and precept, pressed his
noble guest to partake of his hospitality. His frank and forward
manners, though much differing from the courtly ease of Lord Dalgarno,
were calculated to make a favourable impression; and Lord Glenvarloch,
though his experience of Dalgarno's perfidy had taught him to be
cautious of reposing faith in friendly professions, could not avoid
testifying his gratitude to the young Templar, who seemed so anxious
for his safety and accommodation.
"You may spare your gratitude any great sense of obligation, my lord,"
said the Templar. "No doubt I am willing to be of use to any gentleman
that has cause to sing _Fortune my foe_, and particularly proud to
serve your lordship's turn; but I have also an old grudge, to speak
Heaven's truth, at your opposite, Lord Dalgarno."
"May I ask on what account, Master Lowestoffe?" said Lord Glenvarloch.
"O, my lord," replied the Templar, "it was for a hap that chanced
after you left the ordinary, one evening about three weeks since--at
least I think you were not by, as your lordship always left us before
deep play began--I mean no offence, but such was your lordship's
custom--when there were words between Lord Dalgarno and me concerning
a certain game at gleek, and a certain mournival of aces held by his
lordship, which went for eight--tib, which went for fifteen--twenty-
three in all. Now I held king and queen, being three--a natural
towser, making fifteen--and tiddy, nineteen. We vied the ruff, and
revied, as your lordship may suppose, till the stake was equal to half
my yearly exhibition, fifty as fair yellow canary birds as e'er
chirped in the bottom of a green silk purse. Well, my lord, I gained
the cards, and lo you! it pleases his lordship to say that we played
without tiddy; and as the rest stood by and backed him, and especially
the sharking Frenchman, why, I was obliged to lose more than I shall
gain all the season.--So judge if I have not a crow to pluck with his
lordship. Was it ever heard there was a game at gleek at the ordinary
before, without counting tiddy?--marry quep upon his lordship!--Every
man who comes there with his purse in his hand, is as free to make new
laws as he, I hope, since touch pot touch penny makes every man
equal."
As Master Lowestoffe ran over this jargon of the gaming-table, Lord
Glenvarloch was both ashamed and mortified, and felt a severe pang of
aristocratic pride, when he concluded in the sweeping clause that the
dice, like the grave, levelled those distinguishing points of society,
to which Nigel's early prejudices clung perhaps but too fondly. It was
impossible, however, to object any thing to the learned reasoning of
the young Templar, and therefore Nigel was contented to turn the
conversation, by making some inquiries respecting the present state of
White-friars. There also his host was at home.
"You know, my lord," said Master Lowestoffe, "that we Templars are a
power and a dominion within ourselves, and I am proud to say that I
hold some rank in our republic--was treasurer to the Lord of Misrule
last year, and am at this present moment in nomination for that
dignity myself. In such circumstances, we are under the necessity of
maintaining an amicable intercourse with our neighbours of Alsatia,
even as the Christian States find themselves often, in mere policy,
obliged to make alliance with the Grand Turk, or the Barbary States."
"I should have imagined you gentlemen of the Temple more independent
of your neighbours," said Lord Glenvarloch.
"You do us something too much honour, my lord," said the Templar; "the
Alsatians and we have some common enemies, and we have, under the
rose, some common friends. We are in the use of blocking all bailiffs
out of our bounds, and we are powerfully aided by our neighbours, who
tolerate not a rag belonging to them within theirs. Moreover the
Alsatians have--I beg you to understand me--the power of protecting or
distressing our friends, male or female, who may be obliged to seek
sanctuary within their bounds. In short, the two communities serve
each other, though the league is between states of unequal quality,
and I may myself say, that I have treated of sundry weighty affairs,
and have been a negotiator well approved on both sides.--But hark--
hark--what is that?"
The sound by which Master Lowestoffe was interrupted, was that of a
distant horn, winded loud and keenly, and followed by a faint and
remote huzza.
"There is something doing," said Lowestoffe, "in the Whitefriars at
this moment. That is the signal when their privileges are invaded by
tipstaff or bailiff; and at the blast of the horn they all swarm out
to the rescue, as bees when their hive is disturbed.--Jump, Jim," he
said, calling out to the attendant, "and see what they are doing in
Alsatia.--That bastard of a boy," he continued, as the lad, accustomed
to the precipitate haste of his master, tumbled rather than ran out of
the apartment, and so down stairs, "is worth gold in this quarter--he
serves six masters--four of them in distinct Numbers, and you would
think him present like a fairy at the mere wish of him that for the
time most needs his attendance. No scout in Oxford, no gip in
Cambridge, ever matched him in speed and intelligence. He knows the
step of a dun from that of a client, when it reaches the very bottom
of the staircase; can tell the trip of a pretty wench from the step of
a bencher, when at the upper end of the court; and is, take him all in
all--But I see your lordship is anxious--May I press another cup of my
kind grandmother's cordial, or will you allow me to show you my
wardrobe, and act as your valet or groom of the chamber?"
Lord Glenvarloch hesitated not to acknowledge that he was painfully
sensible of his present situation, and anxious to do what must needs
be done for his extrication.
The good-natured and thoughtless young Templar readily acquiesced, and
led the way into his little bedroom, where, from bandboxes,
portmanteaus, mail-trunks, not forgetting an old walnut-tree wardrobe,
he began to select the articles which he thought best suited
effectually to disguise his guest in venturing into the lawless and
turbulent society of Alsatia.
CHAPTER XVII
Come hither, young one,--Mark me! Thou art now
'Mongst men o' the sword, that live by reputation
More than by constant income--Single-suited
They are, I grant you; yet each single suit
Maintains, on the rough guess, a thousand followers--
And they be men, who, hazarding their all,
Needful apparel, necessary income,
And human body, and immortal soul,
Do in the very deed but hazard nothing--
So strictly is that ALL bound in reversion;
Clothes to the broker, income to the usurer,
And body to disease, and soul to the foul fiend;
Who laughs to see Soldadoes and Fooladoes,
Play better than himself his game on earth.
_The Mohocks._
"Your lordship," said Reginald Lowestoffe, "must be content to
exchange your decent and court-beseeming rapier, which I will retain
in safe keeping, for this broadsword, with an hundredweight of rusty
iron about the hilt, and to wear these huge-paned slops, instead of
your civil and moderate hose. We allow no cloak, for your ruffian
always walks in _cuerpo_; and the tarnished doublet of bald velvet,
with its discoloured embroidery, and--I grieve to speak it--a few
stains from the blood of the grape, will best suit the garb of a
roaring boy. I will leave you to change your suit for an instant, till
I can help to truss you."
Lowestoffe retired, while slowly, and with hesitation, Nigel obeyed
his instructions. He felt displeasure and disgust at the scoundrelly
disguise which he was under the necessity of assuming; but when he
considered the bloody consequences which law attached to his rash act
of violence, the easy and indifferent temper of James, the prejudices
of his son, the overbearing influence of the Duke of Buckingham, which
was sure to be thrown into the scale against him; and, above all, when
he reflected that he must now look upon the active, assiduous, and
insinuating Lord Dalgarno, as a bitter enemy, reason told him he was
in a situation of peril which authorised all honest means, even the
most unseemly in outward appearance, to extricate himself from so
dangerous a predicament.
While he was changing his dress, and musing on these particulars, his
friendly host re-entered the sleeping apartment--"Zounds!" he said,
"my lord, it was well you went not straight into that same Alsatia of
ours at the time you proposed, for the hawks have stooped upon it.
Here is Jem come back with tidings, that he saw a pursuivant there
with a privy-council warrant, and half a score of yeomen assistants,
armed to the teeth, and the horn which we heard was sounded to call
out the posse of the Friars. Indeed, when old Duke Hildebrod saw that
the quest was after some one of whom he knew nothing, he permitted,
out of courtesy, the man-catcher to search through his dominions,
quite certain that they would take little by their motions; for Duke
Hildebrod is a most judicious potentate.--Go back, you bastard, and
bring us word when all is quiet."
"And who may Duke Hildebrod be?" said Lord Glenvarloch.
"Nouns! my lord," said the Templar, "have you lived so long on the
town, and never heard of the valiant, and as wise and politic as
valiant, Duke Hildebrod, grand protector of the liberties of Alsatia?
I thought the man had never whirled a die but was familiar with his
fame."
"Yet I have never heard of him, Master Lowestoffe," said Lord
Glenvarloch; "or, what is the same thing, I have paid no attention to
aught that may have passed in conversation respecting him."
"Why, then," said Lowestoffe--"but, first, let me have the honour of
trussing you. Now, observe, I have left several of the points untied,
of set purpose; and if it please you to let a small portion of your
shirt be seen betwixt your doublet and the band of your upper stock,
it will have so much the more rakish effect, and will attract you
respect in Alsatia, where linen is something scarce. Now, I tie some
of the points carefully asquint, for your ruffianly gallant never
appears too accurately trussed--so."
"Arrange it as you will, sir," said Nigel; "but let me hear at least
something of the conditions of the unhappy district into which, with
other wretches, I am compelled to retreat."
"Why, my lord," replied the Templar, "our neighbouring state of
Alsatia, which the law calls the Sanctuary of White-friars, has had
its mutations and revolutions like greater kingdoms; and, being in
some sort a lawless, arbitrary government, it follows, of course, that
these have been more frequent than our own better regulated
commonwealth of the Templars, that of Gray's Inn, and other similar
associations, have had the fortune to witness. Our traditions and
records speak of twenty revolutions within the last twelve years, in
which the aforesaid state has repeatedly changed from absolute
despotism to republicanism, not forgetting the intermediate stages of
oligarchy, limited monarchy, and even gynocracy; for I myself remember
Alsatia governed for nearly nine months by an old fish-woman. 'I hen
it fell under the dominion of a broken attorney, who was dethroned by
a reformado captain, who, proving tyrannical, was deposed by a
hedgeparson, who was succeeded, upon resignation of his power, by Duke
Jacob Hildebrod, of that name the first, whom Heaven long preserve."
"And is this potentate's government," said Lord Glenvarloch, forcing
himself to take some interest in the conversation, "of a despotic
character?"
"Pardon me, my lord," said the Templar; "this said sovereign is too
wise to incur, like many of his predecessors, the odium of wielding so
important an authority by his own sole will. He has established a
council of state, who regularly meet for their morning's draught at
seven o'clock; convene a second time at eleven for their _ante-
meridiem_, or whet; and, assembling in solemn conclave at the hour of
two afternoon, for the purpose of consulting for the good of the
commonwealth, are so prodigal of their labour in the service of the
state, that they seldom separate before midnight. Into this worthy
senate, composed partly of Duke Hildebrod's predecessors in his high
office, whom he has associated with him to prevent the envy attending
sovereign and sole authority, I must presently introduce your
lordship, that they may admit you to the immunities of the Friars, and
assign you a place of residence."
"Does their authority extend to such regulation?" said Lord
Glenvarloch.
"The council account it a main point of their privileges, my lord,"
answered Lowestoffe; "and, in fact, it is one of the most powerful
means by which they support their authority. For when Duke Ilildebrod
and his senate find a topping householder in the Friars becomes
discontented and factious, it is but assigning him, for a lodger, some
fat bankrupt, or new lesidenter, whose circumstances require refuge,
and whose purse can pay for it, and the malecontent becomes as
tractable as a lamb. As for the poorer refugees, they let them shift
as they can; but the registration of their names in the Duke's entry-
book, and the payment of garnish conforming to their circumstances, is
never dispensed with; and the Friars would be a very unsafe residence
for the stranger who should dispute these points of jurisdiction."
"Well, Master Lowestoffe," said Lord Glenvarloch, "I must be
controlled by the circumstances which dictate to me this state of
concealment--of course, I am desirous not to betray my name and rank."
"It will be highly advisable, my lord," said Lowestoffe; "and is a
case thus provided for in the statutes of the republic, or monarchy,
or whatsoever you call it.--He who desires that no questions shall be
asked him concerning his name, cause of refuge, and the like, may
escape the usual interrogations upon payment of double the garnish
otherwise belonging to his condition. Complying with this essential
stipulation, your lordship may register yourself as King of Bantam if
you will, for not a question will be asked of you.--But here comes our
scout, with news of peace and tranquillity. Now, I will go with your
lordship myself, and present you to the council of Alsatia, with all
the influence which I have over them as an office-bearer in the
Temple, which is not slight; for they have come halting off upon all
occasions when we have taken part against them, and that they well
know. The time is propitious, for as the council is now met in
Alsatia, so the Temple walks are quiet. Now, my lord, throw your cloak
about you, to hide your present exterior. You shall give it to the boy
at the foot of the stairs that go down to the Sanctuary; and as the
ballad says that Queen Eleanor sunk at Charing Cross and rose at
Queenhithe, so you shall sink a nobleman in the Temple Gardens, and
rise an Alsatian at Whitefriars."
They went out accordingly, attended by the little scout, traversed the
gardens, descended the stairs, and at the bottom the young Templar
exclaimed,--"And now let us sing, with Ovid,
'In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas--'
Off, off, ye lendings!" he continued, in the same vein. "Via, the
curtain that shadowed Borgia!--But how now, my lord?" he continued,
when he observed Lord Glenvarloch was really distressed at the
degrading change in his situation, "I trust you are not offended at my
rattling folly? I would but reconcile you to your present
circumstances, and give you the tone of this strange place. Come,
cheer up; I trust it will only be your residence for a very few days."
Nigel was only able to press his hand, and reply in a whisper, "I am
sensible of your kindness. I know I must drink the cup which my own
folly has filled for me. Pardon me, that, at the first taste, I feel
its bitterness."
Reginald Lowestoffe was bustlingly officious and good-natured; but,
used to live a scrambling, rakish course of life himself, he had not
the least idea of the extent of Lord Glenvarloch's mental sufferings,
and thought of his temporary concealment as if it were merely the
trick of a wanton boy, who plays at hide-and-seek with his tutor. With
the appearance of the place, too, he was familiar--but on his
companion it produced a deep sensation.
The ancient Sanctuary at Whitefriars lay considerably lower than the
elevated terraces and gardens of the Temple, and was therefore
generally involved in the damps and fogs arising from the Thames. The
brick buildings by which it was occupied, crowded closely on each
other, for, in a place so rarely privileged, every foot of ground was
valuable; but, erected in many cases by persons whose funds were
inadequate to their speculations, the houses were generally
insufficient, and exhibited the lamentable signs of having become
ruinous while they were yet new. The wailing of children, the scolding
of their mothers, the miserable exhibition of ragged linens hung from
the windows to dry, spoke the wants and distresses of the wretched
inhabitants; while the sounds of complaint were mocked and overwhelmed
in the riotous shouts, oaths, profane songs, and boisterous laughter,
that issued from the alehouses and taverns, which, as the signs
indicated, were equal in number to all the other houses; and, that the
full character of the place might be evident, several faded, tinselled
and painted females, looked boldly at the strangers from their open
lattices, or more modestly seemed busied with the cracked flower-pots,
filled with mignonette and rosemary, which were disposed in front of
the windows, to the great risk of the passengers.
"_Semi-reducta Venus_," said the Templar, pointing to one of these
nymphs, who seemed afraid of observation, and partly concealed herself
behind the casement, as she chirped to a miserable blackbird, the
tenant of a wicker prison, which hung outside on the black brick
wall.--"I know the face of yonder waistcoateer," continued the guide;
"and I could wager a rose-noble, from the posture she stands in, that
she has clean head-gear and a soiled night-rail.--But here come two of
the male inhabitants, smoking like moving volcanoes! These are roaring
blades, whom Nicotia and Trinidado serve, I dare swear, in lieu of
beef and pudding; for be it known to you, my lord, that the king's
counter-blast against the Indian weed will no more pass current in
Alsatia than will his writ of _capias_."
As he spoke, the two smokers approached; shaggy, uncombed ruffians,
whose enormous mustaches were turned back over their ears, and mingled
with the wild elf-locks of their hair, much of which was seen under
the old beavers which they wore aside upon their heads, while some
straggling portion escaped through the rents of the hats aforesaid.
Their tarnished plush jerkins, large slops, or trunk-breeches, their
broad greasy shoulder-belts, and discoloured scarfs, and, above all,
the ostentatious manner in which the one wore a broad-sword and the
other an extravagantly long rapier and poniard, marked the true
Alsatian bully, then, and for a hundred years afterwards, a well-known
character.
"Tour out," said the one ruffian to the other; "tour the bien mort
twiring at the gentry cove!" [Footnote: Look sharp. See how the girl
is coquetting with the strange gallants!]
"I smell a spy," replied the other, looking at Nigel. "Chalk him
across the peepers with your cheery." [Footnote: Slash him over the
eyes with your dagger.]
"Bing avast, bing avast!" replied his companion; "yon other is
rattling Reginald Lowestoffe of the Temple--I know him; he is a good
boy, and free of the province."
So saying, and enveloping themselves in another thick cloud of smoke,
they went on without farther greeting.
"_Grasso in aere_!" said the Templar. "You hear what a character the
impudent knave gives me; but, so it serves your lordship's turn, I
care not.--And, now, let me ask your lordship what name you will
assume, for we are near the ducal palace of Duke Hildebrod."
"I will be called Grahame," said Nigel; "it was my mother's name."
"Grime," repeated the Templar, "will suit Alsatia well enough--both a
grim and grimy place of refuge."
"I said Grahame, sir, not Grime," said Nigel, something shortly, and
laying an emphasis on the vowel--for few Scotsmen understand raillery
upon the subject of their names.
"I beg pardon, my lord," answered the undisconcerted punster; "but
_Graam_ will suit the circumstance, too--it signifies tribulation in
the High Dutch, and your lordship must be considered as a man under
trouble."
Nigel laughed at the pertinacity of the Templar; who, proceeding to
point out a sign representing, or believed to represent, a dog
attacking a bull, and running at his head, in the true scientific
style of onset,--"There," said he, "doth faithful Duke Hildebrod deal
forth laws, as well as ale and strong waters, to his faithful
Alsatians. Being a determined champion of Paris Garden, he has chosen
a sign corresponding to his habits; and he deals in giving drink to
the thirsty, that he himself may drink without paying, and receive pay
for what is drunken by others.--Let us enter the ever-open gate of
this second Axylus."
As they spoke, they entered the dilapidated tavern, which was,
nevertheless, more ample in dimensions, and less ruinous, than many
houses in the same evil neighbourhood. Two or three haggard, ragged
drawers, ran to and fro, whose looks, like those of owls, seemed only
adapted for midnight, when other creatures sleep, and who by day
seemed bleared, stupid, and only half awake. Guided by one of these
blinking Ganymedes, they entered a room, where the feeble rays of the
sun were almost wholly eclipsed by volumes of tobacco-smoke, rolled
from the tubes of the company, while out of the cloudy sanctuary arose
the old chant of--
"Old Sir Simon the King,
And old Sir Simon the King,
With his malmsey nose,
And his ale-dropped hose,
And sing hey ding-a-ding-ding."
Duke Hildebrod, who himself condescended to chant this ditty to his
loving subjects, was a monstrously fat old man, with only one eye; and
a nose which bore evidence to the frequency, strength, and depth of
his potations. He wore a murrey-coloured plush jerkin, stained with
the overflowings of the tankard, and much the worse for wear, and
unbuttoned at bottom for the ease of his enormous paunch. Behind him
lay a favourite bull-dog, whose round head and single black glancing
eye, as well as the creature's great corpulence, gave it a burlesque
resemblance to its master.
The well-beloved counsellors who surrounded the ducal throne, incensed
it with tobacco, pledged its occupier in thick clammy ale, and echoed
back his choral songs, were Satraps worthy of such a Soldan. The buff
jerkin, broad belt, and long sword of one, showed him to be a Low
Country soldier, whose look of scowling importance, and drunken
impudence, were designed to sustain his title to call himself a Roving
Blade. It seemed to Nigel that he had seen this fellow somewhere or
other. A hedge-parson, or buckle-beggar, as that order of priesthood
has been irreverently termed, sat on the Duke's left, and was easily
distinguished by his torn band, flapped hat, and the remnants of a
rusty cassock. Beside the parson sat a most wretched and meagre-
looking old man, with a threadbare hood of coarse kersey upon his
head, and buttoned about his neck, while his pinched features, like
those of old Daniel, were illuminated by
--"an eye,
Through the last look of dotage still cunning and sly."
On his left was placed a broken attorney, who, for some malpractices,
had been struck from the roll of practitioners, and who had nothing
left of his profession, except its roguery. One or two persons of less
figure, amongst whom there was one face, which, like that of the
soldier, seemed not unknown to Nigel, though he could not recollect
where he had seen it, completed the council-board of Jacob Duke
Hildebrod.
The strangers had full time to observe all this; for his grace the
Duke, whether irresistibly carried on by the full tide of harmony, or
whether to impress the strangers with a proper idea of his
consequence, chose to sing his ditty to an end before addressing them,
though, during the whole time, he closely scrutinized them with his
single optic.
When Duke Hildebrod had ended his song, he informed his Peers that a
worthy officer of the Temple attended them, and commanded the captain
and parson to abandon their easy chairs in behalf of the two
strangers, whom he placed on his right and left hand. The worthy
representative of the army and the church of Alsatia went to place
themselves on a crazy form at the bottom of the table, which, ill
calculated to sustain men of such weight, gave way under them, and the
man of the sword and man of the gown were rolled over each other on
the floor, amidst the exulting shouts of the company. They arose in
wrath, contending which should vent his displeasure in the loudest and
deepest oaths, a strife in which the parson's superior acquaintance
with theology enabled him greatly to excel the captain, and were at
length with difficulty tranquillised by the arrival of the alarmed
waiters with more stable chairs, and by a long draught of the cooling
tankard. When this commotion was appeased, and the strangers
courteously accommodated with flagons, after the fashion of the others
present, the Duke drank prosperity to the Temple in the most gracious
manner, together with a cup of welcome to Master Reginald Lowestoffe;
and, this courtesy having been thankfully accepted, the party honoured
prayed permission to call for a gallon of Rhenish, over which he
proposed to open his business.
The mention of a liquor so superior to their usual potations had an
instant and most favourable effect upon the little senate; and its
immediate appearance might be said to secure a favourable reception of
Master Lowestoffe's proposition, which, after a round or two had
circulated, he explained to be the admission of his friend Master
Nigel Grahame to the benefit of the sanctuary and other immunities of
Alsatia, in the character of a grand compounder; for so were those
termed who paid a double fee at their matriculation, in order to avoid
laying before the senate the peculiar circumstances which compelled
them to take refuge there.
The worthy Duke heard the proposition with glee, which glittered in
his single eye; and no wonder, as it was a rare occurrence, and of
peculiar advantage to his private revenue. Accordingly, he commanded
his ducal register to be brought him, a huge book, secured with brass
clasps like a merchant's ledger, and whose leaves, stained with wine,
and slabbered with tobacco juice, bore the names probably of as many
rogues as are to be found in the Calendar of Newgate.
Nigel was then directed to lay down two nobles as his ransom, and to
claim privilege by reciting the following doggerel verses, which were
dictated to him by the Duke:--
"Your suppliant, by name
Nigel Grahame,
In fear of mishap
From a shoulder-tap;
And dreading a claw
From the talons of law,
That are sharper than briers:
His freedom to sue,
And rescue by you--
Thorugh weapon and wit,
From warrant and writ,
From bailiff's hand,
From tipstaff's wand,
Is come hither to Whitefriars."
As Duke Hildebrod with a tremulous hand began to make the entry, and
had already, with superfluous generosity, spelled Nigel with two g's
instead of one, he was interrupted by the parson. [Footnote: This
curious register is still in existence, being in possession of that
eminent antiquary, Dr. Dryasdust, who liberally offered the author
permission to have the autograph of Duke Hildebrod engraved as an
illustration of this passage. Unhappily, being rigorous as Ritson
himself in adhering to the very letter of his copy, the worthy Doctor
clogged his munificence with the condition that we should adopt the
Duke's orthography, and entitle the work "The Fortunes of Niggle,"
with which stipulation we did not think it necessary to comply.] This
reverend gentleman had been whispering for a minute or two, not with
the captain, but with that other individual, who dwelt imperfectly, as
we have already mentioned, in Nigel's memory, and being, perhaps,
still something malecontent on account of the late accident, he now
requested to be heard before the registration took place.
"The person," he said, "who hath now had the assurance to propose
himself as a candidate for the privileges and immunities of this
honourable society, is, in plain terms, a beggarly Scot, and we have
enough of these locusts in London already--if we admit such palmer-
worms and caterpillars to the Sanctuary, we shall soon have the whole
nation."
"We are not entitled to inquire," said Duke Hildebrod, "whether he be
Scot, or French, or English; seeing he has honourably laid down his
garnish, he is entitled to our protection."
"Word of denial, most Sovereign Duke," replied the parson, "I ask him
no questions--his speech betrayeth him--he is a Galilean--and his
garnish is forfeited for his assurance in coming within this our
realm; and I call on you, Sir Duke, to put the laws in force against
him!"
The Templar here rose, and was about to interrupt the deliberations of
the court, when the Duke gravely assured him that he should be heard
in behalf of his friend, so soon as the council had finished their
deliberations.
The attorney next rose, and, intimating that he was to speak to the
point of law, said--"It was easy to be seen that this gentleman did
not come here in any civil case, and that he believed it to be the
story they had already heard of concerning a blow given within the
verge of the Park--that the Sanctuary would not bear out the offender
in such case--and that the queer old Chief would send down a broom
which would sweep the streets of Alsatia from the Strand to the
Stairs; and it was even policy to think what evil might come to their
republic, by sheltering an alien in such circumstances."
The captain, who had sat impatiently while these opinions were
expressed, now sprung on his feet with the vehemence of a cork
bouncing from a bottle of brisk beer, and, turning up his mustaches
with a martial air, cast a glance of contempt on the lawyer and
churchman, while he thus expressed his opinion.
"Most noble Duke Hildebrod! When I hear such base, skeldering,
coistril propositions come from the counsellors of your grace, and
when I remember the Huffs, the Muns, and the Tityretu's by whom your
grace's ancestors and predecessors were advised on such occasions, I
begin to think the spirit of action is as dead in Alsatia as in my old
grannam; and yet who thinks so thinks a lie, since I will find as many
roaring boys in the Friars as shall keep the liberties against all the
scavengers of Westminster. And, if we should be overborne for a turn,
death and darkness! have we not time to send the gentleman off by
water, either to Paris Garden or to the bankside? and, if he is a
gallant of true breed, will he not make us full amends for all the
trouble we have? Let other societies exist by the law, I say that we
brisk boys of the Fleet live in spite of it; and thrive best when we
are in right opposition to sign and seal, writ and warrant, sergeant
and tipstaff, catchpoll, and bum-bailey."
This speech was followed by a murmur of approbation, and Lowestoffe,
striking in before the favourable sound had subsided, reminded the
Duke and his council how much the security of their state depended
upon the amity of the Templars, who, by closing their gates, could at
pleasure shut against the Alsatians the communication betwixt the
Friars and the Temple, and that as they conducted themselves on this
occasion, so would they secure or lose the benefit of his interest
with his own body, which they knew not to be inconsiderable. "And, in
respect of my friend being a Scotsman and alien, as has been observed
by the reverend divine and learned lawyer, you are to consider," said
Lowestoffe, "for what he is pursued hither--why, for giving the
bastinado, not to an Englishman, but to one of his own countrymen. And
for my own simple part," he continued, touching Lord Glenvarloch at
the same time, to make him understand he spoke but in jest, "if all
the Scots in London were to fight a Welsh main, and kill each other to
a man, the survivor would, in my humble opinion, be entitled to our
gratitude, as having done a most acceptable service to poor Old
England."
A shout of laughter and applause followed this ingenious apology for
the client's state of alienage; and the Templar followed up his plea
with the following pithy proposition:--"I know well," said he, "it is
the custom of the fathers of this old and honourable republic, ripely
and well to consider all their proceedings over a proper allowance of
liquor; and far be it from me to propose the breach of so laudable a
custom, or to pretend that such an affair as the present can be well
and constitutionally considered during the discussion of a pitiful
gallon of Rhenish. But, as it is the same thing to this honourable
conclave whether they drink first and determine afterwards, or whether
they determine first and drink afterwards, I propose your grace, with
the advice of your wise and potent senators, shall pass your edict,
granting to mine honourable friend the immunities of the place, and
assigning him a lodging, according to your wise forms, to which he
will presently retire, being somewhat spent with this day's action;
whereupon I will presently order you a rundlet of Rhenish, with a
corresponding quantity of neats' tongues and pickled herrings, to make
you all as glorious as George-a-Green."
This overture was received with a general shout of applause, which
altogether drowned the voice of the dissidents, if any there were
amongst the Alsatian senate who could have resisted a proposal so
popular. The words of, kind heart! noble gentleman! generous gallant!
flew from mouth to mouth; the inscription of the petitioner's name in
the great book was hastily completed, and the oath administered to him
by the worthy Doge. Like the Laws of the Twelve Tables, of the ancient
Cambro-Britons, and other primitive nations, it was couched in poetry,
and ran as follows:-
"By spigot and barrel,
By bilboe and buff;
Thou art sworn to the quarrel
Of the blades of the huff.
For Whitefriars and its claims
To be champion or martyr,
And to fight for its dames
Like a Knight of the Garter."
Nigel felt, and indeed exhibited, some disgust at this mummery; but,
the Templar reminding him that he was too far advanced to draw back,
he repeated the words, or rather assented as they were repeated by
Duke Hildebrod, who concluded the ceremony by allowing him the
privilege of sanctuary, in the following form of prescriptive
doggerel:--
"From the touch of the tip,
From the blight of the warrant,
From the watchmen who skip
On the Harman Beck's errand;
From the bailiffs cramp speech,
That makes man a thrall,
I charm thee from each,
And I charm thee from all.
Thy freedom's complete
As a Blade of the Huff,
To be cheated and cheat,
To be cuff'd and to cuff;
To stride, swear, and swagger,
To drink till you stagger,
To stare and to stab,
And to brandish your dagger
In the cause of your drab;
To walk wool-ward in winter,
Drink brandy, and smoke,
And go _fresco_ in summer
For want of a cloak;
To eke out your living
By the wag of your elbow,
By fulham and gourd,
And by baring of bilboe;
To live by your shifts,
And to swear by your honour,
Are the freedom and gifts
Of which I am the donor."[Footnote: Of the cant words used in this
inauguratory oration, some are obvious in their meaning, others, as
Harman Beck (constable), and the like, derive their source from that
ancient piece of lexicography, the Slang Dictionary]
This homily being performed, a dispute arose concerning the special
residence to be assigned the new brother of the Sanctuary; for, as the
Alsatians held it a maxim in their commonwealth, that ass's milk
fattens, there was usually a competition among the inhabitants which
should have the managing, as it was termed, of a new member of the
society.
The Hector who had spoken so warmly and critically in Nigel's behalf,
stood out now chivalrously in behalf of a certain Blowselinda, or
Bonstrops, who had, it seems, a room to hire, once the occasional
residence of Slicing Dick of Paddington, who lately suffered at
Tyburn, and whose untimely exit had been hitherto mourned by the
damsel in solitary widowhood, after the fashion of the turtle-dove.
The captain's interest was, however, overruled, in behalf of the old
gentleman in the kersey hood, who was believed, even at his extreme
age, to understand the plucking of a pigeon, as well, or better, than
any man in Alsatia.
This venerable personage was an usurer of notoriety, called Trapbois,
and had very lately done the state considerable service in advancing a
subsidy necessary to secure a fresh importation of liquors to the
Duke's cellars, the wine-merchant at the Vintry being scrupulous to
deal with so great a man for any thing but ready money.
When, therefore, the old gentleman arose, and with much coughing,
reminded the Duke that he had a poor apartment to let, the claims of
all others were set aside, and Nigel was assigned to Trapbois as his
guest.
No sooner was this arrangement made, than Lord Glenvarloch expressed
to Lowestoffe his impatience to leave this discreditable assembly, and
took his leave with a careless haste, which, but for the rundlet of
Rhenish wine that entered just as he left the apartment, might have
been taken in bad part. The young Templar accompanied his friend to
the house of the old usurer, with the road to which he and some other
youngsters about the Temple were even but too well acquainted. On the
way, he assured Lord Glenvarloch that he was going to the only clean
house in Whitefriars; a property which it owed solely to the exertions
of the old man's only daughter, an elderly damsel, ugly enough to
frighten sin, yet likely to be wealthy enough to tempt a puritan, so
soon as the devil had got her old dad for his due. As Lowestoffe spoke
thus, they knocked at the door of the house, and the sour stern
countenance of the female by whom it was opened, fully confirmed all
that the Templar had said of the hostess. She heard with an ungracious
and discontented air the young Templar's information, that the
gentleman, his companion, was to be her father's lodger, muttered
something about the trouble it was likely to occasion, but ended by
showing the stranger's apartment, which was better than could have
been augured from the general appearance of the place, and much larger
in extent than that which he occupied at Paul's Wharf, though inferior
to it in neatness.
Lowestoffe, having thus seen his friend fairly installed in his new
apartment, and having obtained for him a note of the rate at which he
could be accommodated with victuals from a neighbouring cook's shop,
now took his leave, offering, at the same time, to send the whole, or
any part of Lord Glenvarloch's baggage, from his former place of
residence to his new lodging. Nigel mentioned so few articles, that
the Templar could not help observing, that his lordship, it would
seem, did not intend to enjoy his new privileges long.
"They are too little suited to my habits and taste, that I should do
so," replied Lord Glenvarloch.
"You may change your opinion to-morrow," said Lowestoffe; "and so I
wish you a good even. To-morrow I will visit you betimes."
The morning came, but instead of the Templar, it brought only a letter
from him. The epistle stated, that Lowestoffe's visit to Alsatia had
drawn down the animadversions of some crabbed old pantaloons among the
benchers, and that he judged it wise not to come hither at present,
for fear of attracting too much attention to Lord Glenvarloch's place
of residence. He stated, that he had taken measures for the safety of
his baggage, and would send him, by a safe hand, his money-casket, and
what articles he wanted. Then followed some sage advices, dictated by
Lowestoffe's acquaintance with Alsatia and its manners. He advised him
to keep the usurer in the most absolute uncertainty concerning the
state of his funds-never to throw a main with the captain, who was in
the habit of playing dry-fisted, and paying his losses with three
vowels; and, finally, to beware of Duke Hildebrod, who was as sharp,
he said, as a needle, though he had no more eyes than are possessed by
that necessary implement of female industry.
CHAPTER XVIII
_Mother._ What I dazzled by a flash from Cupid's mirror,
With which the boy, as mortal urchins wont,
Flings back the sunbeam in the eye of passengers--
Then laughs to see them stumble!
_Daughter._ Mother! no--
It was a lightning-flash which dazzled me,
And never shall these eyes see true again.
_Beef and Pudding.-An Old English Comedy._
It is necessary that we should leave our hero Nigel for a time,
although in a situation neither safe, comfortable, nor creditable, in
order to detail some particulars which have immediate connexion with
his fortunes.
It was but the third day after he had been forced to take refuge in
the house of old Trapbois, the noted usurer of Whitefriars, commonly
called Golden Trapbois, when the pretty daughter of old Ramsay, the
watchmaker, after having piously seen her father finish his breakfast,
(from the fear that he might, in an abstruse fit of thought, swallow
the salt-cellar instead of a crust of the brown loaf,) set forth from
the house as soon as he was again plunged into the depth of
calculation, and, accompanied only by that faithful old drudge, Janet,
the Scots laundress, to whom her whims were laws, made her way to
Lombard Street, and disturbed, at the unusual hour of eight in the
morning, Aunt Judith, the sister of her worthy godfather.
The venerable maiden received her young visitor with no great
complacency; for, naturally enough, she had neither the same
admiration of her very pretty countenance, nor allowance for her
foolish and girlish impatience of temper, which Master George Heriot
entertained. Still Mistress Margaret was a favourite of her brother's,
whose will was to Aunt Judith a supreme law; and she contented herself
with asking her untimely visitor, "what she made so early with her
pale, chitty face, in the streets of London?"
"I would speak with the Lady Hermione," answered the almost breathless
girl, while the blood ran so fast to her face as totally to remove the
objection of paleness which Aunt Judith had made to her complexion.
"With the Lady Hermione?" said Aunt Judith--"with the Lady Hermione?
and at this time in the morning, when she will scarce see any of the
family, even at seasonable hours? You are crazy, you silly wench, or
you abuse the indulgence which my brother and the lady have shown to
you."
"Indeed, indeed I have not," repeated Margaret, struggling to retain
the unbidden tear which seemed ready to burst out on the slightest
occasion. "Do but say to the lady that your brother's god-daughter
desires earnestly to speak to her, and I know she will not refuse to
see me."
Aunt Judith bent an earnest, suspicious, and inquisitive glance on her
young visitor, "You might make me your secretary, my lassie," she
said, "as well as the Lady Hermione. I am older, and better skilled to
advise. I live more in the world than one who shuts herself up within
four rooms, and I have the better means to assist you."
"O! no--no--no," said Margaret, eagerly, and with more earnest
sincerity than complaisance; "there are some things to which you
cannot advise me, Aunt Judith. It is a case--pardon me, my dear aunt--
a case beyond your counsel."
"I am glad on't, maiden," said Aunt Judith, somewhat angrily; "for I
think the follies of the young people of this generation would drive
mad an old brain like mine. Here you come on the viretot, through the
whole streets of London, to talk some nonsense to a lady, who scarce
sees God's sun, but when he shines on a brick wall. But I will tell
her you are here."
She went away, and shortly returned with a dry--"Miss Marget, the lady
will be glad to see you; and that's more, my young madam, than you had
a right to count upon."
Mistress Margaret hung her head in silence, too much perplexed by the
train of her own embarrassed thoughts, for attempting either to
conciliate Aunt Judith's kindness, or, which on other occasions would
have been as congenial to her own humour, to retaliate on her cross-
tempered remarks and manner. She followed Aunt Judith, therefore, in
silence and dejection, to the strong oaken door which divided the Lady
Hermione's apartments from the rest of George Heriot's spacious house.
At the door of this sanctuary it is necessary to pause, in order to
correct the reports with which Richie Moniplies had filled his
master's ear, respecting the singular appearance of that lady's
attendance at prayers, whom we now own to be by name the Lady
Hermione. Some part of these exaggerations had been communicated to
the worthy Scotsman by Jenkin Vincent, who was well experienced in the
species of wit which has been long a favourite in the city, under the
names of cross-biting, giving the dor, bamboozling, cramming, hoaxing,
humbugging, and quizzing; for which sport Richie Moniplies, with his
solemn gravity, totally unapprehensive of a joke, and his natural
propensity to the marvellous, formed an admirable subject. Farther
ornaments the tale had received from Richie himself, whose tongue,
especially when oiled with good liquor, had a considerable tendency to
amplification, and who failed not, while he retailed to his master all
the wonderful circumstances narrated by Vincent, to add to them many
conjectures of his own, which his imagination had over-hastily
converted into facts.
Yet the life which the Lady Hermione had led for two years, during
which she had been the inmate of George Heriot's house, was so
singular, as almost to sanction many of the wild reports which went
abroad. The house which the worthy goldsmith inhabited, had in former
times belonged to a powerful and wealthy baronial family, which,
during the reign of Henry VIII., terminated in a dowager lady, very
wealthy, very devout, and most unalienably attached to the Catholic
faith. The chosen friend of the Honourable Lady Foljambe was the
Abbess of Saint Roque's Nunnery, like herself a conscientious, rigid,
and devoted Papist. When the house of Saint Roque was despotically
dissolved by the fiat of the impetuous monarch, the Lady Foljambe
received her friend into her spacious mansion, together with two
vestal sisters, who, like their Abbess, were determined to follow the
tenor of their vows, instead of embracing the profane liberty which
the Monarch's will had thrown in their choice. For their residence,
the Lady Foljambe contrived, with all secrecy--for Henry might not
have relished her interference--to set apart a suite of four rooms,
with a little closet fitted up as an oratory, or chapel; the whole
apartments fenced by a stout oaken door to exclude strangers, and
accommodated with a turning wheel to receive necessaries, according to
the practice of all nunneries. In this retreat, the Abbess of Saint
Roque and her attendants passed many years, communicating only with
the Lady Foljambe, who, in virtue of their prayers, and of the support
she afforded them, accounted herself little less than a saint on
earth. The Abbess, fortunately for herself, died before her munificent
patroness, who lived deep in Queen Elizabeth's time, ere she was
summoned by fate.
The Lady Foljambe was succeeded in this mansion by a sour fanatic
knight, a distant and collateral relation, who claimed the same merit
for expelling the priestess of Baal, which his predecessor had founded
on maintaining the votaresses of Heaven. Of the two unhappy nuns,
driven from their ancient refuge, one went beyond sea; the other,
unable from old age to undertake such a journey, died under the roof
of a faithful Catholic widow of low degree. Sir Paul Crambagge, having
got rid of the nuns, spoiled the chapel of its ornaments, and had
thoughts of altogether destroying the apartments, until checked by the
reflection that the operation would be an unnecessary expense, since
he only inhabited three rooms of the large mansion, and had not
therefore the slightest occasion for any addition to its
accommodations. His son proved a waster and a prodigal, and from him
the house was bought by our friend George Heriot, who, finding, like
Sir Paul, the house more than sufficiently ample for his
accommodation, left the Foljambe apartments, or Saint Roque's rooms,
as they were called, in the state in which he found them.
About two years and a half before our history opened, when Heriot was
absent upon an expedition to the Continent, he sent special orders to
his sister and his cash-keeper, directing that the Foljambe apartments
should be fitted up handsomely, though plainly, for the reception of a
lady, who would make them her residence for some time; and who would
live more or less with his own family according to her pleasure. He
also directed, that the necessary repairs should be made with secrecy,
and that as little should be said as possible upon the subject of his
letter.
When the time of his return came nigh, Aunt Judith and the household
were on the tenter-hooks of impatience. Master George came, as he had
intimated, accompanied by a lady, so eminently beautiful, that, had it
not been for her extreme and uniform paleness, she might have been
reckoned one of the loveliest creatures on earth. She had with her an
attendant, or humble companion, whose business seemed only to wait
upon her. This person, a reserved woman, and by her dialect a
foreigner, aged about fifty, was called by the lady Monna Paula, and
by Master Heriot, and others, Mademoiselle Pauline. She slept in the
same room with her patroness at night, ate in her apartment, and was
scarcely ever separated from her during the day.
These females took possession of the nunnery of the devout Abbess,
and, without observing the same rigorous seclusion, according to the
letter, seemed wellnigh to restore the apartments to the use to which
they had been originally designed. The new inmates lived and took
their meals apart from the rest of the family. With the domestics Lady
Hermione, for so she was termed, held no communication, and
Mademoiselle Pauline only such as was indispensable, which she
dispatched as briefly as possible. Frequent and liberal largesses
reconciled the servants to this conduct; and they were in the habit of
observing to each other, that to do a service for Mademoiselle
Pauline, was like finding a fairy treasure.
To Aunt Judith the Lady Hermione was kind and civil, but their
intercourse was rare; on which account the elder lady felt some pangs
both of curiosity and injured dignity. But she knew her brother so
well, and loved him so dearly, that his will, once expressed, might be
truly said to become her own. The worthy citizen was not without a
spice of the dogmatism which grows on the best disposition, when a
word is a law to all around. Master George did not endure to be
questioned by his family, and, when he had generally expressed his
will, that the Lady Hermione should live in the way most agreeable to
her, and that no inquiries should be made concerning their history, or
her motives for observing such strict seclusion, his sister well knew
that he would have been seriously displeased with any attempt to pry
into the secret.
But, though Heriot's servants were bribed, and his sister awed into
silent acquiescence in these arrangements, they were not of a nature
to escape the critical observation of the neighbourhood. Some opined
that the wealthy goldsmith was about to turn papist, and re-establish
Lady Foljambe's nunnery--others that he was going mad--others that he
was either going to marry, or to do worse. Master George's constant
appearance at church, and the knowledge that the supposed votaress
always attended when the prayers of the English ritual were read in
the family, liberated him from the first of these suspicions; those
who had to transact business with him upon 'Change, could not doubt
the soundness of Master Heriot's mind; and, to confute the other
rumours, it was credibly reported by such as made the matter their
particular interest, that Master George Heriot never visited his guest
but in presence of Mademoiselle Pauline, who sat with her work in a
remote part of the same room in which they conversed. It was also
ascertained that these visits scarcely ever exceeded an hour in
length, and were usually only repeated once a week, an intercourse too
brief and too long interrupted, to render it probable that love was
the bond of their union.
The inquirers were, therefore, at fault, and compelled to relinquish
the pursuit of Master Heriot's secret, while a thousand ridiculous
tales were circulated amongst the ignorant and superstitious, with
some specimens of which our friend Richie Moniplies had been
_crammed_, as we have seen, by the malicious apprentice of worthy
David Ramsay.
There was one person in the world who, it was thought, could (if she
would) have said more of the Lady Hermione than any one in London,
except George Heriot himself; and that was the said David Ramsay's
only child, Margaret.
This girl was not much past the age of fifteen when the Lady Hermione
first came to England, and was a very frequent visitor at her
godfather's, who was much amused by her childish sallies, and by the
wild and natural beauty with which she sung the airs of her native
country. Spoilt she was on all hands; by the indulgence of her
godfather, the absent habits and indifference of her father, and the
deference of all around to her caprices, as a beauty and as an
heiress. But though, from these circumstances, the city-beauty had
become as wilful, as capricious, and as affected, as unlimited
indulgence seldom fails to render those to whom it is extended; and
although she exhibited upon many occasions that affectation of extreme
shyness, silence, and reserve, which misses in their teens are apt to
take for an amiable modesty; and, upon others, a considerable portion
of that flippancy, which youth sometimes confounds with wit, Mistress
Margaret had much real shrewdness and judgment, which wanted only
opportunities of observation to refine it--a lively, good-humoured,
playful disposition, and an excellent heart. Her acquired follies were
much increased by reading plays and romances, to which she devoted a
great deal of her time, and from which she adopted ideas as different
as possible from those which she might have obtained from the
invaluable and affectionate instructions of an excellent mother; and
the freaks of which she was sometimes guilty, rendered her not
unjustly liable to the charge of affectation and coquetry. But the
little lass had sense and shrewdness enough to keep her failings out
of sight of her godfather, to whom she was sincerely attached; and so
high she stood in his favour, that, at his recommendation, she
obtained permission to visit the recluse Lady Hermione.
The singular mode of life which that lady observed; her great beauty,
rendered even more interesting by her extreme paleness; the conscious
pride of being admitted farther than the rest of the world into the
society of a person who was wrapped in so much mystery, made a deep
impression on the mind of Margaret Ramsay; and though their
conversations were at no time either long or confidential, yet, proud
of the trust reposed in her, Margaret was as secret respecting their
tenor as if every word repeated had been to cost her life. No inquiry,
however artfully backed by flattery and insinuation, whether on the
part of Dame Ursula, or any other person equally inquisitive, could
wring from the little maiden one word of what she heard or saw, after
she entered these mysterious and secluded apartments. The slightest
question concerning Master Heriot's ghost, was sufficient, at her
gayest moment, to check the current of her communicative prattle, and
render her silent.
We mention this, chiefly to illustrate the early strength of
Margaret's character--a strength concealed under a hundred freakish
whims and humours, as an ancient and massive buttress is disguised by
its fantastic covering of ivy and wildflowers. In truth, if the damsel
had told all she heard or saw within the Foljambe apartments, she
would have said but little to gratify the curiosity of inquirers.
At the earlier period of their acquaintance, the Lady Hermione was
wont to reward the attentions of her little friend with small but
elegant presents, and entertain her by a display of foreign rarities
and curiosities, many of them of considerable value. Sometimes the
time was passed in a way much less agreeable to Margaret, by her
receiving lessons from Pauline in the use of the needle. But, although
her preceptress practised these arts with a dexterity then only known
in foreign convents, the pupil proved so incorrigibly idle and
awkward, that the task of needlework was at length given up, and
lessons of music substituted in their stead. Here also Pauline was
excellently qualified as an instructress, and Margaret, more
successful in a science for which Nature had gifted her, made
proficiency both in vocal and instrumental music. These lessons passed
in presence of the Lady Hermione, to whom they seemed to give
pleasure. She sometimes added her own voice to the performance, in a
pure, clear stream of liquid melody; but this was only when the music
was of a devotional cast. As Margaret became older, her communications
with the recluse assumed a different character. She was allowed, if
not encouraged, to tell whatever she had remarked out of doors, and
the Lady Hermione, while she remarked the quick, sharp, and retentive
powers of observation possessed by her young friend, often found
sufficient reason to caution her against rashness in forming opinions,
and giddy petulance in expressing them.
The habitual awe with which she regarded this singular personage,
induced Mistress Margaret, though by no means delighting in
contradiction or reproof, to listen with patience to her admonitions,
and to make full allowance for the good intentions of the patroness by
whom they were bestowed; although in her heart she could hardly
conceive how Madame Hermione, who never stirred from the Foljambe
apartments, should think of teaching knowledge of the world to one who
walked twice a-week between Temple Bar and Lombard Street, besides
parading in the Park every Sunday that proved to be fair weather.
Indeed, pretty Mistress Margaret was so little inclined to endure such
remonstrances, that her intercourse with the inhabitants of the
Foljambe apartments would have probably slackened as her circle of
acquaintance increased in the external world, had she not, on the one
hand, entertained an habitual reverence for her monitress, of which
she could not divest herself, and been flattered, on the other, by
being to a certain degree the depository of a confidence for which
others thirsted in vain. Besides, although the conversation of
Hermione was uniformly serious, it was not in general either formal or
severe; nor was the lady offended by flights of levity which Mistress
Margaret sometimes ventured on in her presence, even when they were
such as made Monna Paula cast her eyes upwards, and sigh with that
compassion which a devotee extends towards the votaries of a trivial
and profane world. Thus, upon the whole, the little maiden was
disposed to submit, though not without some wincing, to the grave
admonitions of the Lady Hermione; and the rather that the mystery
annexed to the person of her monitress was in her mind early
associated with a vague idea of wealth and importance, which had been
rather confirmed than lessened by many accidental circumstances which
she had noticed since she was more capable of observation.
It frequently happens, that the counsel which we reckon intrusive when
offered to us unasked, becomes precious in our eyes when the pressure
of difficulties renders us more diffident of our own judgment than we
are apt to find ourselves in the hours of ease and indifference; and
this is more especially the case if we suppose that our adviser may
also possess power and inclination to back his counsel with effectual
assistance. Mistress Margaret was now in that situation. She was, or
believed herself to be, in a condition where both advice and
assistance might be necessary; and it was therefore, after an anxious
and sleepless night, that she resolved to have recourse to the Lady
Hermione, who she knew would readily afford her the one, and, as she
hoped, might also possess means of giving her the other. The
conversation between them will best explain the purport of the visit.
CHAPTER XIX
By this good light, a wench of matchless mettle!
This were a leaguer-lass to love a soldier,
To bind his wounds, and kiss his bloody brow,
And sing a roundel as she help'd to arm him,
Though the rough foeman's drums were beat so nigh,
They seem'd to bear the burden.
_Old Play._
When Mistress Margaret entered the Foljambe apartment, she found the
inmates employed in their usual manner; the lady in reading, and her
attendant in embroidering a large piece of tapestry, which had
occupied her ever since Margaret had been first admitted within these
secluded chambers.
Hermione nodded kindly to her visitor, but did not speak; and
Margaret, accustomed to this reception, and in the present case not
sorry for it, as it gave her an interval to collect her thoughts,
stooped over Monna Paula's frame and observed, in a half whisper, "You
were just so far as that rose, Monna, when I first saw you--see, there
is the mark where I had the bad luck to spoil the flower in trying to
catch the stitch--I was little above fifteen then. These flowers make
me an old woman, Monna Paula."
"I wish they could make you a wise one, my child," answered Monna
Paula, in whose esteem pretty Mistress Margaret did not stand quite so
high as in that of her patroness; partly owing to her natural
austerity, which was something intolerant of youth and gaiety, and
partly to the jealousy with which a favourite domestic regards any one
whom she considers as a sort of rival in the affections of her
mistress.
"What is it you say to Monna, little one?" asked the lady.
"Nothing, madam," replied Mistress Margaret, "but that I have seen the
real flowers blossom three times over since I first saw Monna Paula
working in her canvass garden, and her violets have not budded yet."
"True, lady-bird," replied Hermione; "but the buds that are longest in
blossoming will last the longest in flower. You have seen them in the
garden bloom thrice, but you have seen them fade thrice also; now,
Monna Paula's will remain in blow for ever--they will fear neither
frost nor tempest."
"True, madam," answered Mistress Margaret; "but neither have they life
or odour."
"That, little one," replied the recluse, "is to compare a life
agitated by hope and fear, and chequered with success and
disappointment, and fevered by the effects of love and hatred, a life
of passion and of feeling, saddened and shortened by its exhausting
alternations, to a calm and tranquil existence, animated but by a
sense of duties, and only employed, during its smooth and quiet
course, in the unwearied discharge of them. Is that the moral of your
answer?"
"I do not know, madam," answered Mistress Margaret; "but, of all birds
in the air, I would rather be the lark, that sings while he is
drifting down the summer breeze, than the weathercock that sticks fast
yonder upon his iron perch, and just moves so much as to discharge his
duty, and tell us which way the wind blows."
"Metaphors are no arguments, my pretty maiden," said the Lady
Hermione, smiling.
"I am sorry for that, madam," answered Margaret; "for they are such a
pretty indirect way of telling one's mind when it differs from one's
betters--besides, on this subject there is no end of them, and they
are so civil and becoming withal."
"Indeed?" replied the lady; "let me hear some of them, I pray you."
"It would be, for example, very bold in me," said Margaret, "to say to
your ladyship, that, rather than live a quiet life, I would like a
little variety of hope and fear, and liking and disliking--and--and--
and the other sort of feelings which your ladyship is pleased to speak
of; but I may say freely, and without blame, that I like a butterfly
better than a bettle, or a trembling aspen better than a grim Scots
fir, that never wags a leaf--or that of all the wood, brass, and wire
that ever my father's fingers put together, I do hate and detest a
certain huge old clock of the German fashion, that rings hours and
half hours, and quarters and half quarters, as if it were of such
consequence that the world should know it was wound up and going. Now,
dearest lady, I wish you would only compare that clumsy, clanging,
Dutch-looking piece of lumber, with the beautiful timepiece that
Master Heriot caused my father to make for your ladyship, which uses
to play a hundred merry tunes, and turns out, when it strikes the
hour, a whole band of morrice dancers, to trip the hays to the
measure."
"And which of these timepieces goes the truest, Margaret?" said the
lady.
"I must confess the old Dutchman has the advantage in that"--said
Margaret. "I fancy you are right, madam, and that comparisons are no
arguments; at least mine has not brought me through."
"Upon my word, maiden Margaret," said the lady, smiling, "you have
been of late thinking very much of these matters."
"Perhaps too much, madam," said Margaret, so low as only to be heard
by the lady, behind the back of whose chair she had now placed
herself. The words were spoken very gravely, and accompanied by a half
sigh, which did not escape the attention of her to whom they were
addressed. The Lady Hermione turned immediately round, and looked
earnestly at Margaret, then paused for a moment, and, finally,
commanded Monna Paula to carry her frame and embroidery into the
antechamber. When they were left alone, she desired her young friend
to come from behind the chair on the back of which she still rested,
and sit down beside her upon a stool.
"I will remain thus, madam, under your favour," answered Margaret,
without changing her posture; "I would rather you heard me without
seeing me."
"In God's name, maiden," returned her patroness, "what is it you can
have to say, that may not be uttered face to face, to so true a friend
as I am?"
Without making any direct answer, Margaret only replied, "You were
right, dearest lady, when you said, I had suffered my feelings too
much to engross me of late. I have done very wrong, and you will be
angry with me--so will my godfather, but I cannot help it--he must be
rescued."
"_He?_" repeated the lady, with emphasis; "that brief little word
does, indeed, so far explain your mystery;--but come from behind the
chair, you silly popinjay! I will wager you have suffered yonder gay
young apprentice to sit too near your heart. I have not heard you
mention young Vincent for many a day--perhaps he has not been out of
mouth and out of mind both. Have you been so foolish as to let him
speak to you seriously?--I am told he is a bold youth."
"Not bold enough to say any thing that could displease me, madam,"
said Margaret.
"Perhaps, then, you were _not_ displeased," said the lady; "or perhaps
he has not _spoken_, which would be wiser and better. Be open-hearted,
my love--your godfather will soon return, and we will take him into
our consultations. If the young man is industrious, and come of honest
parentage, his poverty may be no such insurmountable obstacle. But you
are both of you very young, Margaret--I know your godfather will
expect, that the youth shall first serve out his apprenticeship."
Margaret had hitherto suffered the lady to proceed, under the mistaken
impression which she had adopted, simply because she could not tell
how to interrupt her; but pure despite at hearing her last words gave
her boldness at length to say "I crave your pardon, madam; but neither
the youth you mention, nor any apprentice or master within the city of
London--"
"Margaret," said the lady, in reply, "the contemptuous tone with which
you mention those of your own class, (many hundreds if not thousands
of whom are in all respects better than yourself, and would greatly
honour you by thinking of you,) is methinks, no warrant for the wisdom
of your choice--for a choice, it seems, there is. Who is it, maiden,
to whom you have thus rashly attached yourself?--rashly, I fear it
must be."
"It is the young Scottish Lord Glenvarloch, madam," answered Margaret,
in a low and modest tone, but sufficiently firm, considering the
subject.
"The young Lord of Glenvarloch!" repeated the lady, in great surprise-
-"Maiden, you are distracted in your wits."
"I knew you would say so, madam," answered Margaret. "It is what
another person has already told me--it is, perhaps, what all the world
would tell me--it is what I am sometimes disposed to tell myself. But
look at me, madam, for I will now come before you, and tell me if
there is madness or distraction in my look and word, when I repeat to
you again, that I have fixed my affections on this young nobleman."
"If there is not madness in your look or word, maiden, there is
infinite folly in what you say," answered the Lady Hermione, sharply.
"When did you ever hear that misplaced love brought any thing but
wretchedness? Seek a match among your equals, Margaret, and escape the
countless kinds of risk and misery that must attend an affection
beyond your degree.--Why do you smile, maiden? Is there aught to cause
scorn in what I say?"
"Surely no, madam," answered Margaret. "I only smiled to think how it
should happen, that, while rank made such a wide difference between
creatures formed from the same clay, the wit of the vulgar should,
nevertheless, jump so exactly the same length with that of the
accomplished and the exalted. It is but the variation of the phrase
which divides them. Dame Ursley told me the very same thing which your
ladyship has but now uttered; only you, madam, talk of countless
misery, and Dame Ursley spoke of the gallows, and Mistress Turner, who
was hanged upon it."
"Indeed?" answered the Lady Hermione; "and who may Dame Ursley be,
that your wise choice has associated with me in the difficult task of
advising a fool?"
"The barber's wife at next door, madam," answered Margaret, with
feigned simplicity, but far from being sorry at heart, that she had
found an indirect mode of mortifying her monitress. "She is the wisest
woman that I know, next to your ladyship."
"A proper confidant," said the lady, "and chosen with the same
delicate sense of what is due to yourself and others!--But what ails
you, maiden--where are you going?"
"Only to ask Dame Ursley's advice," said Margaret, as if about to
depart; "for I see your ladyship is too angry to give me any, and the
emergency is pressing."
"What emergency, thou simple one?" said the lady, in a kinder tone.--
"Sit down, maiden, and tell me your tale. It is true you are a fool,
and a pettish fool to boot; but then you are a child--an amiable
child, with all your self-willed folly, and we must help you, if we
can.--Sit down, I say, as you are desired, and you will find me a
safer and wiser counseller than the barber-woman. And tell me how you
come to suppose, that you have fixed your heart unalterably upon a man
whom you have seen, as I think, but once."
"I have seen him oftener," said the damsel, looking down; "but I have
only spoken to him once. I should have been able to get that once out
of my head, though the impression was so deep, that I could even now
repeat every trifling word he said; but other things have since
riveted it in my bosom for ever."
"Maiden," replied the lady, "_for ever_ is the word which comes most
lightly on the lips in such circumstances, but
which, not the less, is almost the last that we should use. The
fashion of this world, its passions, its joys, and its sorrows, pass
away like the winged breeze--there is nought for ever but that which
belongs to the world beyond the grave."
"You have corrected me justly, madam," said Margaret calmly; "I ought
only to have spoken of my present state of mind, as what will last me
for my lifetime, which unquestionably may be but short."
"And what is there in this Scottish lord that can rivet what concerns
him so closely in your fancy?" said the lady. "I admit him a
personable man, for I have seen him; and I will suppose him courteous
and agreeable. But what are his accomplishments besides, for these
surely are not uncommon attributes."
"He is unfortunate, madam--most unfortunate--and surrounded by snares
of different kinds, ingeniously contrived to ruin his character,
destroy his estate, and, perhaps, to reach even his life. These
schemes have been devised by avarice originally, but they are now
followed close by vindictive ambition, animated, I think, by the
absolute and concentrated spirit of malice; for the Lord Dalgarno--"
"Here, Monna Paula--Monna Paula!" exclaimed the Lady Hermione,
interrupting her young friend's narrative. "She hears me not," she
answered, rising and going out, "I must seek her--I will return
instantly." She returned accordingly very soon after. "You mentioned a
name which I thought was familiar to me," she said; "but Monna Paula
has put me right. I know nothing of your lord--how was it you named
him?"
"Lord Dalgarno," said Margaret;--"the wickedest man who lives. Under
pretence of friendship, he introduced the Lord Glenvarloch to a
gambling-house with the purpose of engaging him in deep play; but he
with whom the perfidious traitor had to deal, was too virtuous,
moderate, and cautious, to be caught in a snare so open. What did they
next, but turn his own moderation against him, and persuade others
that--because he would not become the prey of wolves, he herded with
them for a share of their booty! And, while this base Lord Dalgarno
was thus undermining his unsuspecting countryman, he took every
measure to keep him surrounded by creatures of his own, to prevent him
from attending Court, and mixing with those of his proper rank. Since
the Gunpowder Treason, there never was a conspiracy more deeply laid,
more basely and more deliberately pursued."
The lady smiled sadly at Margaret's vehemence, but sighed the next
moment, while she told her young friend how little she knew the world
she was about to live in, since she testified so much surprise at
finding it full of villainy.
"But by what means," she added, "could you, maiden, become possessed
of the secret views of a man so cautious as Lord Dalgarno--as villains
in general are?"
"Permit me to be silent on that subject," said the maiden; "I could
not tell you without betraying others--let it suffice that my tidings
are as certain as the means by which I acquired them are secret and
sure. But I must not tell them even to you."
"You are too bold, Margaret," said the lady, "to traffic in such
matters at your early age. It is not only dangerous, but even
unbecoming and unmaidenly."
"I knew you would say that also," said Margaret, with more meekness
and patience than she usually showed on receiving reproof; "but, God
knows, my heart acquits me of every other feeling save that of the
wish to assist this most innocent and betrayed man.--I contrived to
send him warning of his friend's falsehood;--alas! my care has only
hastened his utter ruin, unless speedy aid be found. He charged his
false friend with treachery, and drew on him in the Park, and is now
liable to the fatal penalty due for breach of privilege of the king's
palace."
"This is indeed an extraordinary tale," said Hermione; "is Lord
Glenvarloch then in prison?"
"No, madam, thank God, but in the Sanctuary at Whitefriars--it is
matter of doubt whether it will protect him in such a case--they speak
of a warrant from the Lord Chief Justice--A gentleman of the temple
has been arrested, and is in trouble for having assisted him in his
flight.--Even his taking temporary refuge in that base place, though
from extreme necessity, will be used to the further defaming him. All
this I know, and yet I cannot rescue him--cannot rescue him save by
your means."
"By my means, maiden?" said the lady--"you are beside yourself!--What
means can I possess in this secluded situation, of assisting this
unfortunate nobleman?"
"You have means," said Margaret, eagerly; "you have those means,
unless I mistake greatly, which can do anything--can do everything, in
this city, in this world--you have wealth, and the command of a small
portion of it will enable me to extricate him from his present danger.
He will be enabled and directed how to make his escape--and I--" she
paused.
"Will accompany him, doubtless, and reap the fruits of your sage
exertions in his behalf?" said the Lady Hermione, ironically.
"May heaven forgive you the unjust thought, lady," answered Margaret.
"I will never see him more--but I shall have saved him, and the
thought will make me happy."
"A cold conclusion to so bold and warm a flame," said the lady, with a
smile which seemed to intimate incredulity.
"It is, however, the only one which I expect, madam--I could almost
say the only one which I wish--I am sure I will use no efforts to
bring about any other; if I am bold in his cause, I am timorous enough
in my own. During our only interview I was unable to speak a word to
him. He knows not the sound of my voice--and all that I have risked,
and must yet risk, I am doing for one, who, were he asked the
question, would say he has long since forgotten that he ever saw,
spoke to, or sat beside, a creature of so little signification as I
am."
"This is a strange and unreasonable indulgence of a passion equally
fanciful and dangerous," said Lady Hermione. "You will _not_ assist
me, then?" said Margaret; "have good-day, then, madam--my secret, I
trust, is safe in such honourable keeping."
"Tarry yet a little," said the lady, "and tell me what resource you
have to assist this youth, if you were supplied with money to put it
in motion."
"It is superfluous to ask me the question, madam," answered Margaret,
"unless you purpose to assist me; and, if you do so purpose, it is
still superfluous. You could not understand the means I must use, and
time is too brief to explain."
"But have you in reality such means?" said the lady.
"I have, with the command of a moderate sum," answered Margaret
Ramsay, "the power of baffling all his enemies--of eluding the passion
of the irritated king--the colder but more determined displeasure of
the prince--the vindictive spirit of Buckingham, so hastily directed
against whomsoever crosses the path of his ambition--the cold
concentrated malice of Lord Dalgarno--all, I can baffle them all!"
"But is this to be done without your own personal risk, Margaret?"
replied the lady; "for, be your purpose what it will, you are not to
peril your own reputation or person, in the romantic attempt of
serving another; and I, maiden, am answerable to your godfather,--to
your benefactor, and my own,--not to aid you in any dangerous or
unworthy enterprise."
"Depend upon my word,--my oath,--dearest lady," replied the
supplicant, "that I will act by the agency of others, and do not
myself design to mingle in any enterprise in which my appearance might
be either perilous or unwomanly."
"I know not what to do," said the Lady Hermione; "it is perhaps
incautious and inconsiderate in me to aid so wild a project; yet the
end seems honourable, if the means be sure--what is the penalty if he
fall into their power?"
"Alas, alas! the loss of his right hand!" replied Margaret, her voice
almost stifled with sobs.
"Are the laws of England so cruel? Then there is mercy in heaven
alone," said the lady, "since, even in this free land, men are wolves
to each other.--Compose yourself, Margaret, and tell me what money is
necessary to secure Lord Glenvarloch's escape."
"Two hundred pieces," replied Margaret; "I would speak to you of
restoring them--and I must one day have the power--only that I know--
that is, I think--your ladyship is indifferent on that score."
"Not a word more of it," said the lady; "call Monna Paula hither."
CHAPTER XX
Credit me, friend, it hath been ever thus,
Since the ark rested on Mount Ararat.
False man hath sworn, and woman hath believed--
Repented and reproach'd, and then believed once more.
_The New World._
By the time that Margaret returned with Monna Paula, the Lady Hermione
was rising from the table at which she had been engaged in writing
something on a small slip of paper, which she gave to her attendant.
"Monna Paula," she said, "carry this paper to Roberts the cash-keeper;
let them give you the money mentioned in the note, and bring it hither
presently."
Monna Paula left the room, and her mistress proceeded.
"I do not know," she said, "Margaret, if I have done, and am doing,
well in this affair. My life has been one of strange seclusion, and I
am totally unacquainted with the practical ways of this world--an
ignorance which I know cannot be remedied by mere reading.--I fear I
am doing wrong to you, and perhaps to the laws of the country which
affords me refuge, by thus indulging you; and yet there is something
in my heart which cannot resist your entreaties."
"O, listen to it--listen to it, dear, generous lady!" said Margaret,
throwing herself on her knees and grasping those of her benefactress
and looking in that attitude like a beautiful mortal in the act of
supplicating her tutelary angel; "the laws of men are but the
injunctions of mortality, but what the heart prompts is the echo of
the voice from heaven within us."
"Rise, rise, maiden," said Hermione; "you affect me more than I
thought I could have been moved by aught that should approach me. Rise
and tell me whence it comes, that, in so short a time, your thoughts,
your looks, your speech, and even your slightest actions, are changed
from those of a capricious and fanciful girl, to all this energy and
impassioned eloquence of word and action?"
"I am sure I know not, dearest lady," said Margaret, looking down;
"but I suppose that, when I was a trifler, I was only thinking of
trifles. What I now reflect is deep and serious, and I am thankful if
my speech and manner bear reasonable proportion to my thoughts."
"It must be so," said the lady; "yet the change seems a rapid and
strange one. It seems to be as if a childish girl had at once shot up
into deep-thinking and impassioned woman, ready to make exertions
alike, and sacrifices, with all that vain devotion to a favourite
object of affection, which is often so basely rewarded."
The Lady Hermione sighed bitterly, and Monna Paula entered ere the
conversation proceeded farther. She spoke to her mistress in the
foreign language in which they frequently conversed, but which was
unknown to Margaret.
"We must have patience for a time," said the lady to her visitor; "the
cash-keeper is abroad on some business, but he is expected home in the
course of half an hour."
Margaret wrung her hands in vexation and impatience.
"Minutes are precious," continued the lady; "that I am well aware of;
and we will at least suffer none of them to escape us. Monna Paula
shall remain below and transact our business, the very instant that
Roberts returns home."
She spoke to her attendant accordingly, who again left the room.
"You are very kind, madam--very good," said the poor little Margaret,
while the anxious trembling of her lip and of her hand showed all that
sickening agitation of the heart which arises from hope deferred.
"Be patient, Margaret, and collect yourself," said the lady; "you may,
you must, have much to do to carry through this your bold purpose--
reserve your spirits, which you may need so much--be patient--it is
the only remedy against the evils of life."
"Yes, madam," said Margaret, wiping her eyes, and endeavouring in vain
to suppress the natural impatience of her temper,--"I have heard so--
very often indeed; and I dare say I have myself, heaven forgive me,
said so to people in perplexity and affliction; but it was before I
had suffered perplexity and vexation myself, and I am sure I will
never preach patience to any human being again, now that I know how
much the medicine goes against the stomach."
"You will think better of it, maiden," said the Lady Hermione; "I
also, when I first felt distress, thought they did me wrong who spoke
to me of patience; but my sorrows have been repeated and continued
till I have been taught to cling to it as the best, and--religious
duties excepted, of which, indeed, patience forms a part--the only
alleviation which life can afford them."
Margaret, who neither wanted sense nor feeling, wiped her tears
hastily, and asked her patroness's forgiveness for her petulance.
"I might have thought"--she said, "I ought to have reflected, that
even from the manner of your life, madam, it is plain you must have
suffered sorrow; and yet, God knows, the patience which I have ever
seen you display, well entitles you to recommend your own example to
others."
The lady was silent for a moment, and then replied--
"Margaret, I am about to repose a high confidence in you. You are no
longer a child, but a thinking and a feeling woman. You have told me
as much of your secret as you dared--I will let you know as much of
mine as I may venture to tell. You will ask me, perhaps, why, at a
moment when your own mind is agitated, I should force upon you the
consideration of my sorrows? and I answer, that I cannot withstand the
impulse which now induces me to do so. Perhaps from having witnessed,
for the first time these three years, the natural effects of human
passion, my own sorrows have been awakened, and are for the moment too
big for my own bosom--perhaps I may hope that you, who seem driving
full sail on the very rock on which I was wrecked for ever, will take
warning by the tale I have to tell. Enough, if you are willing to
listen, I am willing to tell you who the melancholy inhabitant of the
Foljambe apartments really is, and why she resides here. It will
serve, at least, to while away the time until Monna Paula shall bring
us the reply from Roberts."
At any other moment of her life, Margaret Ramsay would have heard with
undivided interest a communication so flattering in itself, and
referring to a subject upon which the general curiosity had been so
strongly excited. And even at this agitating moment, although she
ceased not to listen with an anxious ear and throbbing heart for the
sound of Monna Paula's returning footsteps, she nevertheless, as
gratitude and policy, as well as a portion of curiosity dictated,
composed herself, in appearance at least, to the strictest attention
to the Lady Hermione, and thanked her with humility for the high
confidence she was pleased to repose in her. The Lady Hermione, with
the same calmness which always attended her speech and actions, thus
recounted her story to her young friend:
"My father," she said, "was a merchant, but he was of a city whose
merchants are princes. I am the daughter of a noble house in Genoa,
whose name stood as high in honour and in antiquity, as any inscribed
in the Golden Register of that famous aristocracy.
"My mother was a noble Scottish woman. She was descended--do not
start--and not remotely descended, of the house of Glenvarloch--no
wonder that I was easily led to take concern in the misfortunes of
this young lord. He is my near relation, and my mother, who was more
than sufficiently proud of her descent, early taught me to take an
interest in the name. My maternal grandfather, a cadet of that house
of Glenvarloch, had followed the fortunes of an unhappy fugitive,
Francis Earl of Bothwell, who, after showing his miseries in many a
foreign court, at length settled in Spain upon a miserable pension,
which he earned by conforming to the Catholic faith. Ralph Olifaunt,
my grandfather, separated from him in disgust, and settled at
Barcelona, where, by the friendship of the governor, his heresy, as it
was termed, was connived at. My father, in the course of his commerce,
resided more at Barcelona than in his native country, though at times
he visited Genoa.
"It was at Barcelona that he became acquainted with my mother, loved
her, and married her; they differed in faith, but they agreed in
affection. I was their only child. In public I conformed to the
docterins and ceremonial of the Church of Rome; but my mother, by whom
these were regarded with horror, privately trained me up in those of
the reformed religion; and my father, either indifferent in the
matter, or unwilling to distress the woman whom he loved, overlooked
or connived at my secretly joining in her devotions.
"But when, unhappily, my father was attacked, while yet in the prime
of life, by a slow wasting disease, which he felt to be incurable, he
foresaw the hazard to which his widow and orphan might be exposed,
after he was no more, in a country so bigoted to Catholicism as Spain.
He made it his business, during the two last years of his life, to
realize and remit to England a large part of his fortune, which, by
the faith and honour of his correspondent, the excellent man under
whose roof I now reside, was employed to great advantage. Had my
father lived to complete his purpose, by withdrawing his whole fortune
from commerce, he himself would have accompanied us to England, and
would have beheld us settled in peace and honour before his death. But
heaven had ordained it otherwise. He died, leaving several sums
engaged in the hands of his Spanish debtors; and, in particular, he
had made a large and extensive consignment to a certain wealthy
society of merchants at Madrid, who showed no willingness after his
death to account for the proceeds. Would to God we had left these
covetous and wicked men in possession of their booty, for such they
seemed to hold the property of their deceased correspondent and
friend! We had enough for comfort, and even splendour, already secured
in England; but friends exclaimed upon the folly of permitting these
unprincipled men to plunder us of our rightful property. The sum
itself was large, and the claim having been made, my mother thought
that my father's memory was interested in its being enforced,
especially as the defences set up for the mercantile society went, in
some degree, to impeach the fairness of his transactions.
"We went therefore to Madrid. I was then, my Margaret, about your age,
young and thoughtless, as you have hitherto been--We went, I say, to
Madrid, to solicit the protection of the Court and of the king,
without which we were told it would be in vain to expect justice
against an opulent and powerful association.
"Our residence at the Spanish metropolis drew on from weeks to months.
For my part, my natural sorrow for a kind, though not a fond father,
having abated, I cared not if the lawsuit had detained us at Madrid
for ever. My mother permitted herself and me rather more liberty than
we had been accustomed to. She found relations among the Scottish and
Irish officers, many of whom held a high rank in the Spanish armies;
their wives and daughters became our friends and companions, and I had
perpetual occasion to exercise my mother's native language, which I
had learned from my infancy. By degrees, as my mother's spirits were
low, and her health indifferent, she was induced, by her partial
fondness for me, to suffer me to mingle occasionally in society which
she herself did not frequent, under the guardianship of such ladies as
she imagined she could trust, and particularly under the care of the
lady of a general officer, whose weakness or falsehood was the
original cause of my misfortunes. I was as gay, Margaret, and
thoughtless--I again repeat it--as you were but lately, and my
attention, like yours, became suddenly riveted to one object, and to
one set of feelings.
"The person by whom they were excited was young, noble, handsome,
accomplished, a soldier, and a Briton. So far our cases are nearly
parallel; but, may heaven forbid that the parallel should become
complete! This man, so noble, so fairly formed, so gifted, and so
brave--this villain, for that, Margaret, was his fittest name, spoke
of love to me, and I listened---Could I suspect his sincerity? If he
was wealthy, noble, and long-descended, I also was a noble and an
opulent heiress. It is true, that he neither knew the extent of my
father's wealth, nor did I communicate to him (I do not even remember
if I myself knew it at the time) the important circumstance, that the
greater part of that wealth was beyond the grasp of arbitrary power,
and not subject to the precarious award of arbitrary judges. My lover
might think, perhaps, as my mother was desirous the world at large
should believe, that almost our whole fortune depended on the
precarious suit which we had come to Madrid to prosecute--a belief
which she had countenanced out of policy, being well aware that a
knowledge of my father's having remitted such a large part of his
fortune to England, would in no shape aid the recovery of further sums
in the Spanish courts. Yet, with no more extensive views of my fortune
than were possessed by the public, I believe that he, of whom I am
speaking, was at first sincere in his pretensions. He had himself
interest sufficient to have obtained a decision in our favour in the
courts, and my fortune, reckoning only what was in Spain, would then
have been no inconsiderable sum. To be brief, whatever might be his
motives or temptation for so far committing himself, he applied to my
mother for my hand, with my consent and approval. My mother's judgment
had become weaker, but her passions had become more irritable, during
her increasing illness.
"You have heard of the bitterness of the ancient Scottish feuds, of
which it may be said, in the language of Scripture, that the fathers
eat sour grapes, and the teeth of the children are set on edge.
Unhappily--I should say _happily_, considering what this man has now
shown himself to be--some such strain of bitterness had divided his
house from my mother's, and she had succeeded to the inheritance of
hatred. When he asked her for my hand, she was no longer able to
command her passions--she raked up every injury which the rival
families had inflicted upon each other during a bloody feud of two
centuries--heaped him with epithets of scorn, and rejected his
proposal of alliance, as if it had come from the basest of mankind.
"My lover retired in passion; and I remained to weep and murmur
against fortune, and--I will confess my fault--against my affectionate
parent. I had been educated with different feelings, and the
traditions of the feuds and quarrels of my mother's family in
Scotland, which we're to her monuments and chronicles, seemed to me as
insignificant and unmeaning as the actions and fantasies of Don
Quixote; and I blamed my mother bitterly for sacrificing my happiness
to an empty dream of family dignity.
"While I was in this humour, my lover sought a renewal of our
intercourse. We met repeatedly in the house of the lady whom I have
mentioned, and who, in levity, or in the spirit of intrigue,
countenanced our secret correspondence. At length we were secretly
married--so far did my blinded passion hurry me. My lover had secured
the assistance of a clergyman of the English church. Monna Paula, who
had been my attendant from infancy, was one witness of our union. Let
me do the faithful creature justice--She conjured me to suspend my
purpose till my mother's death should permit us to celebrate our
marriage openly; but the entreaties of my lover, and my own wayward
passion, prevailed over her remonstrances. The lady I have spoken of
was another witness, but whether she was in full possession of my
bridegroom's secret, I had never the means to learn. But the shelter
of her name and roof afforded us the means of frequently meeting, and
the love of my husband seemed as sincere and as unbounded as my own.
"He was eager, he said, to gratify his pride, by introducing me to one
or two of his noble English friends. This could not be done at Lady D-
--'s; but by his command, which I was now entitled to consider as my
law, I contrived twice to visit him at his own hotel, accompanied only
by Monna Paula. There was a very small party, of two ladies and two
gentlemen. There was music, mirth, and dancing. I had heard of the
frankness of the English nation, but I could not help thinking it
bordered on license during these entertainments, and in the course of
the collation which followed; but I imputed my scruples to my
inexperience, and would not doubt the propriety of what was approved
by my husband.
"I was soon summoned to other scenes: My poor mother's disease drew to
a conclusion--Happy I am that it took place before she discovered what
would have cut her to the soul.
"In Spain you may have heard how the Catholic priests, and
particularly the monks, besiege the beds of the dying, to obtain
bequests for the good of the church. I have said that my mother's
temper was irritated by disease, and her judgment impaired in
proportion. She gathered spirits and force from the resentment which
the priests around her bed excited by their importunity, and the
boldness of the stern sect of reformers, to which she had secretly
adhered, seemed to animate her dying tongue. She avowed the religion
she had so long concealed; renounced all hope and aid which did not
come by and through its dictates; rejected with contempt the
ceremonial of the Romish church; loaded the astonished priests with
reproaches for their greediness and hypocrisy, and commanded them to
leave her house. They went in bitterness and rage, but it was to
return with the inquisitorial power, its warrants, and its officers;
and they found only the cold corpse left of her, on whom they had
hoped to work their vengeance. As I was soon discovered to have shared
my mother's heresy, I was dragged from her dead body, imprisoned in a
solitary cloister, and treated with severity, which the Abbess assured
me was due to the looseness of my life, as well as my spiritual
errors. I avowed my marriage, to justify the situation in which I
found myself--I implored the assistance of the Superior to communicate
my situation to my husband. She smiled coldly at the proposal, and
told me the church had provided a better spouse for me; advised me to
secure myself of divine grace hereafter, and deserve milder treatment
here, by presently taking the veil. In order to convince me that I had
no other resource, she showed me a royal decree, by which all my
estate was hypothecated to the convent of Saint Magdalen, and became
their complete property upon my death, or my taking the vows. As I
was, both from religious principle, and affectionate attachment to my
husband, absolutely immovable in my rejection of the veil, I believe--
may heaven forgive me if I wrong her--that the Abbess was desirous to
make sure of my spoils, by hastening the former event.
"It was a small and a poor convent, and situated among the mountains
of Guadarrama. Some of the sisters were the daughters of neighbouring
Hidalgoes, as poor as they were proud and ignorant; others were women
immured there on account of their vicious conduct. The Superior
herself was of a high family, to which she owed her situation; but she
was said to have disgraced her connexions by her conduct during youth,
and now, in advanced age, covetousness and the love of power, a spirit
too of severity and cruelty, had succeeded to the thirst after
licentious pleasure. I suffered much under this woman--and still her
dark, glassy eye, her tall, shrouded form, and her rigid features,
haunt my slumbers.
"I was not destined to be a mother. I was very ill, and my recovery
was long doubtful. The most violent remedies were applied, if remedies
they indeed were. My health was restored at length, against my own
expectation and that of all around me. But, when I first again beheld
the reflection of my own face, I thought it was the visage of a ghost.
I was wont to be flattered by all, but particularly by my husband, for
the fineness of my complexion--it was now totally gone, and, what is
more extraordinary, it has never returned. I have observed that the
few who now see me, look upon me as a bloodless phantom--Such has been
the abiding effect of the treatment to which I was subjected. May God
forgive those who were the agents of it!--I thank Heaven I can say so
with as sincere a wish, as that with which I pray for forgiveness of
my own sins. They now relented somewhat towards me--moved perhaps to
compassion by my singular appearance, which bore witness to my
sufferings; or afraid that the matter might attract attention during a
visitation of the bishop, which was approaching. One day, as I was
walking in the convent-garden, to which I had been lately admitted, a
miserable old Moorish slave, who was kept to cultivate the little
spot, muttered as I passed him, but still keeping his wrinkled face
and decrepit form in the same angle with the earth--'There is Heart's
Ease near the postern.'
"I knew something of the symbolical language of flowers, once carried
to such perfection among the Moriscoes of Spain; but if I had been
ignorant of it, the captive would soon have caught at any hint which
seemed to promise liberty. With all the haste consistent with the
utmost circumspection--for I might be observed by the Abbess or some
of the sisters from the window--I hastened to the postern. It was
closely barred as usual, but when I coughed slightly, I was answered
from the other side--and, O heaven! it was my husband's voice which
said, 'Lose not a minute here at present, but be on this spot when the
vesper bell has tolled.'
"I retired in an ecstasy of joy. I was not entitled or permitted to
assist at vespers, but was accustomed to be confined to my cell while
the nuns were in the choir. Since my recovery, they had discontinued
locking the door; though the utmost severity was denounced against me
if I left these precincts. But, let the penalty be what it would, I
hastened to dare it.--No sooner had the last toll of the vesper bell
ceased to sound, than I stole from my chamber, reached the garden
unobserved, hurried to the postern, beheld it open with rapture, and
in the next moment was in my husband's arms. He had with him another
cavalier of noble mien--both were masked and armed. Their horses, with
one saddled for my use, stood in a thicket hard by, with two other
masked horsemen, who seemed to be servants. In less than two minutes
we were mounted, and rode off as fast as we could through rough and
devious roads, in which one of the domestics appeared to act as guide.
"The hurried pace at which we rode, and the anxiety of the moment,
kept me silent, and prevented my expressing my surprise or my joy save
in a few broken words. It also served as an apology for my husband's
silence. At length we stopped at a solitary hut--the cavaliers
dismounted, and I was assisted from my saddle, not by M----M----my
husband, I would say, who seemed busied about his horse, but by the
stranger.
"'Go into the hut,' said my husband, 'change your dress with the speed
of lightning--you will find one to _assist_ you--we must forward
instantly when you have shifted your apparel.'
"I entered the hut, and was received in the arms of the faithful Monna
Paula, who had waited my arrival for many hours, half distracted with
fear and anxiety. With her assistance I speedily tore off the detested
garments of the convent, and exchanged them for a travelling suit,
made after the English fashion. I observed that Monna Paula was in a
similar dress. I had but just huddled on my change of attire, when we
were hastily summoned to mount. A horse, I found, was provided for
Monna Paula, and we resumed our route. On the way, my convent-garb,
which had been wrapped hastily together around a stone, was thrown
into a lake, along the verge of which we were then passing. The two
cavaliers rode together in front, my attendant and I followed, and the
servants brought up the rear. Monna Paula, as we rode on, repeatedly
entreated me to be silent upon the road, as our lives depended on it.
I was easily reconciled to be passive, for, the first fever of spirits
which attended the sense of liberation and of gratified affection
having passed away, I felt as it were dizzy with the rapid motion; and
my utmost exertion was necessary to keep my place on the saddle, until
we suddenly (it was now very dark) saw a strong light before us.
"My husband reined up his horse, and gave a signal by a low whistle
twice repeated, which was answered from a distance. The whole party
then halted under the boughs of a large cork-tree, and my husband,
drawing himself close to my side, said, in a voice which I then
thought was only embarrassed by fear for my safety,--'We must now
part. Those to whom I commit you are contrabandists, who only know you
as English-women, but who, for a high bribe, have undertaken to escort
you through the passes of the Pyrenees as far as Saint Jean de Luz.'
"'And do you not go with us?' I exclaimed with emphasis, though in a
whisper.
"'It is impossible,' he said, 'and would ruin all--See that you speak
in English in these people's hearing, and give not the least sign of
understanding what they say in Spanish--your life depends on it; for,
though they live in opposition to, and evasion of, the laws of Spain,
they would tremble at the idea of violating those of the church--I see
them coming--farewell--farewell.'
"The last words were hastily uttered-I endeavoured to detain him yet a
moment by my feeble grasp on his cloak.
"'You will meet me, then, I trust, at Saint Jean de Luz?'
"'Yes, yes,' he answered hastily, 'at Saint Jean de Luz you will meet
your protector.'
"He then extricated his cloak from my grasp, and was lost in the
darkness. His companion approached--kissed my hand, which in the agony
of the moment I was scarce sensible of, and followed my husband,
attended by one of the domestics."
The tears of Hermione here flowed so fast as to threaten the
interruption of her narrative. When she resumed it, it was with a kind
of apology to Margaret.
"Every circumstance," she said, "occurring in those moments, when I
still enjoyed a delusive idea of happiness, is deeply imprinted in my
remembrance, which, respecting all that has since happened, is waste
and unvaried as an Arabian desert. But I have no right to inflict on
you, Margaret, agitated as you are with your own anxieties, the
unavailing details of my useless recollections."
Margaret's eyes were full of tears--it was impossible it could be
otherwise, considering that the tale was told by her suffering
benefactress, and resembled, in some respects, her own situation; and
yet she must not be severely blamed, if, while eagerly pressing her
patroness to continue her narrative, her eye involuntarily sought the
door, as if to chide the delay of Monna Paula.
The Lady Hermione saw and forgave these conflicting emotions; and she,
too, must be pardoned, if, in her turn, the minute detail of her
narrative showed, that, in the discharge of feelings so long locked in
her own bosom, she rather forgot those which were personal to her
auditor, and by which it must be supposed Margaret's mind was
principally occupied, if not entirely engrossed.
"I told you, I think, that one domestic followed the gentlemen," thus
the lady continued her story, "the other remained with us for the
purpose, as it seemed, of introducing us to two persons whom M--, I
say, whom my husband's signal had brought to the spot. A word or two
of explanation passed between them and the servant, in a sort of
_patois_, which I did not understand; and one of the strangers taking
hold of my bridle, the other of Monna Paula's, they led us towards the
light, which I have already said was the signal of our halting. I
touched Monna Paula, and was sensible that she trembled very much,
which surprised me, because I knew her character to be so strong and
bold as to border upon the masculine.
"When we reached the fire, the gipsy figures of those who surrounded
it, with their swarthy features, large Sombrero hats, girdles stuck
full of pistols and poniards, and all the other apparatus of a roving
and perilous life, would have terrified me at another moment. But then
I only felt the agony of having parted from my husband almost in the
very moment of my rescue. The females of the gang--for there were four
or five women amongst these contraband traders--received us with a
sort of rude courtesy. They were, in dress and manners, not extremely
different from the men with whom they associated--were almost as hardy
and adventurous, carried arms like them, and were, as we learned from
passing circumstances, scarce less experienced in the use of them.
"It was impossible not to fear these wild people; yet they gave us no
reason to complain of them, but used us on all occasions with a kind
of clumsy courtesy, accommodating themselves to our wants and our
weakness during the journey, even while we heard them grumbling to
each other against our effeminacy,--like some rude carrier, who, in
charge of a package of valuable and fragile ware, takes every
precaution for its preservation, while he curses the unwonted trouble
which it occasions him. Once or twice, when they were disappointed in
their contraband traffic, lost some goods in a rencontre with the
Spanish officers of the revenue, and were finally pursued by a
military force, their murmurs assumed a more alarming tone, in the
terrified ears of my attendant and myself, when, without daring to
seem to understand them, we heard them curse the insular heretics, on
whose account God, Saint James, and Our Lady of the Pillar, had
blighted their hopes of profit. These are dreadful recollections,
Margaret."
"Why, then, dearest lady," answered Margaret, "will you thus dwell on
them?"
"It is only," said the Lady Hermione, "because I linger like a
criminal on the scaffold, and would fain protract the time that must
inevitably bring on the final catastrophe. Yes, dearest Margaret, I
rest and dwell on the events of that journey, marked as it was by
fatigue and danger, though the road lay through the wildest and most
desolate deserts and mountains, and though our companions, both men
and women, were fierce and lawless themselves, and exposed to the most
merciless retaliation from those with whom they were constantly
engaged--yet would I rather dwell on these hazardous events than tell
that which awaited me at Saint Jean de Luz."
"But you arrived there in safety?" said Margaret.
"Yes, maiden," replied the Lady Hermione; "and were guided by the
chief of our outlawed band to the house which had been assigned for
reception, with the same punctilious accuracy with which he would have
delivered a bale of uncustomed goods to a correspondent. I was told a
gentleman had expected me for two days--I rushed into the apartment,
and, when I expected to embrace my husband--I found myself in the arms
of his friend!"
"The villain!" exclaimed Margaret, whose anxiety had, in spite of
herself, been a moment suspended by the narrative of the lady.
"Yes," replied Hermione, calmly, though her voice somewhat faltered,
"it is the name that best--that well befits him. He, Margaret, for
whom I had sacrificed all--whose love and whose memory were dearer to
me than my freedom, when I was in the convent--than my life, when I
was on my perilous journey--had taken his measures to shake me off,
and transfer me, as a privileged wanton, to the protection of his
libertine friend. At first the stranger laughed at my tears and my
agony, as the hysterical passion of a deluded and overreached wanton,
or the wily affection of a courtezan. My claim of marriage he laughed
at, assuring me he knew it was a mere farce required by me, and
submitted to by his friend, to save some reserve of delicacy; and
expressed his surprise that I should consider in any other light a
ceremony which could be valid neither in Spain nor England, and
insultingly offered to remove my scruples, by renewing such a union
with me himself. My exclamations brought Monna Paula to my aid--she
was not, indeed, far distant, for she had expected some such scene."
"Good heaven!" said Margaret, "was she a confidant of your base
husband?"
"No," answered Hermione, "do her not that injustice. It was her
persevering inquiries that discovered the place of my confinement--it
was she who gave the information to my husband, and who remarked even
then that the news was so much more interesting to his friend than to
him, that she suspected, from an early period, it was the purpose of
the villain to shake me off. On the journey, her suspicions were
confirmed. She had heard him remark to his companion, with a cold
sarcastic sneer, the total change which my prison and my illness had
made on my complexion; and she had heard the other reply, that the
defect might be cured by a touch of Spanish red. This, and other
circumstances, having prepared her for such treachery, Monna Paula now
entered, completely possessed of herself, and prepared to support me.
Her calm representations went farther with the stranger than the
expressions of my despair. If he did not entirely believe our tale, he
at least acted the part of a man of honour, who would not intrude
himself on defenceless females, whatever was their character; desisted
from persecuting us with his presence; and not only directed Monna
Paula how we should journey to Paris, but furnished her with money for
the purpose of our journey. From the capital I wrote to Master Heriot,
my father's most trusted correspondent; he came instantly to Paris on
receiving the letter; and--But here comes Monna Paula, with more than
the sum you desired. Take it, my dearest maiden--serve this youth if
you will. But, O Margaret, look for no gratitude in return!"
The Lady Hermione took the bag of gold from her attendant, and gave it
to her young friend, who threw herself into her arms, kissed her on
both the pale cheeks, over which the sorrows so newly awakened by her
narrative had drawn many tears, then sprung up, wiped her own
overflowing eyes, and left the Foljambe apartments with a hasty and
resolved step.
CHAPTER XXI
Rove not from pole to pole-the man lives here
Whose razor's only equall'd by his beer;
And where, in either sense, the cockney-put
May, if he pleases, get confounded cut.
_On the sign of an Alehouse kept by a Barber._
We are under the necessity of transporting our readers to the
habitation of Benjamin Suddlechop, the husband of the active and
efficient Dame Ursula, and who also, in his own person, discharged
more offices than one. For, besides trimming locks and beards, and
turning whiskers upward into the martial and swaggering curl, or
downward into the drooping form which became mustaches of civil
policy; besides also occasionally letting blood, either by cupping or
by the lancet, extracting a stump, and performing other actions of
petty pharmacy, very nearly as well as his neighbour Raredrench, the
apothecary: he could, on occasion, draw a cup of beer as well as a
tooth, tap a hogshead as well as a vein, and wash, with a draught of
good ale, the mustaches which his art had just trimmed. But he carried
on these trades apart from each other.
His barber's shop projected its long and mysterious pole into Fleet
Street, painted party-coloured-wise, to represent the ribbons with
which, in elder times, that ensign was garnished. In the window were
seen rows of teeth displayed upon strings like rosaries--cups with a
red rag at the bottom, to resemble blood, an intimation that patients
might be bled, cupped, or blistered, with the assistance of
"sufficient advice;" while the more profitable, but less honourable
operations upon the hair of the head and beard, were briefly and
gravely announced. Within was the well-worn leather chair for
customers, the guitar, then called a ghittern or cittern, with which a
customer might amuse himself till his predecessor was dismissed from
under Benjamin's hands, and which, therefore, often flayed the ears of
the patient metaphorically, while his chin sustained from the razor
literal scarification. All, therefore, in this department, spoke the
chirurgeon-barber, or the barber-chirurgeon.
But there was a little back-room, used as a private tap-room, which
had a separate entrance by a dark and crooked alley, which
communicated with Fleet Street, after a circuitous passage through
several by-lanes and courts. This retired temple of Bacchus had also a
connexion with Benjamin's more public shop by a long and narrow
entrance, conducting to the secret premises in which a few old topers
used to take their morning draught, and a few gill-sippers their
modicum of strong waters, in a bashful way, after having entered the
barber's shop under pretence of being shaved. Besides, this obscure
tap-room gave a separate admission to the apartments of Dame Ursley,
which she was believed to make use of in the course of her
multifarious practice, both to let herself secretly out, and to admit
clients and employers who cared not to be seen to visit her in public.
Accordingly, after the hour of noon, by which time the modest and
timid whetters, who were Benjamin's best customers, had each had his
draught, or his thimbleful, the business of the tap was in a manner
ended, and the charge of attending the back-door passed from one of
the barber's apprentices to the little mulatto girl, the dingy Iris of
Dame Suddlechop. Then came mystery thick upon mystery; muffled
gallants, and masked females, in disguises of different fashions, were
seen to glide through the intricate mazes of the alley; and even the
low tap on the door, which frequently demanded the attention of the
little Creole, had in it something that expressed secrecy and fear of
discovery.
It was the evening of the same day when Margaret had held the long
conference with the Lady Hermione, that Dame Suddlechop had directed
her little portress to "keep the door fast as a miser's purse-strings;
and, as she valued her saffron skin, to let in none but---" the name
she added in a whisper, and accompanied it with a nod. The little
domestic blinked intelligence, went to her post, and in brief time
thereafter admitted and ushered into the presence of the dame, that
very city-gallant whose clothes sat awkwardly upon him, and who had
behaved so doughtily in the fray which befell at Nigel's first visit
to Beaujeu's ordinary. The mulatto introduced him--"Missis, fine young
gentleman, all over gold and velvet "--then muttered to herself as she
shut the door, "fine young gentleman, he!--apprentice to him who makes
the tick-tick."
It was indeed--we are sorry to say it, and trust our readers will
sympathize with the interest we take in the matter--it was indeed
honest Jin Vin, who had been so far left to his own devices, and
abandoned by his better angel, as occasionally to travesty himself in
this fashion, and to visit, in the dress of a gallant of the day,
those places of pleasure and dissipation, in which it would have been
everlasting discredit to him to have been seen in his real character
and condition; that is, had it been possible for him in his proper
shape to have gained admission. There was now a deep gloom on his
brow, his rich habit was hastily put on, and buttoned awry; his belt
buckled in a most disorderly fashion, so that his sword stuck outwards
from his side, instead of hanging by it with graceful negligence;
while his poniard, though fairly hatched and gilded, stuck in his
girdle like a butcher's steel in the fold of his blue apron. Persons
of fashion had, by the way, the advantage formerly of being better
distinguished from the vulgar than at present; for, what the ancient
farthingale and more modern hoop were to court ladies, the sword was
to the gentleman; an article of dress, which only rendered those
ridiculous who assumed it for the nonce, without being in the habit of
wearing it. Vincent's rapier got between his legs, and, as he stumbled
over it, he exclaimed--"Zounds! 'tis the second time it has served me
thus--I believe the damned trinket knows I am no true gentleman, and
does it of set purpose."
"Come, come, mine honest Jin Vin--come, my good boy," said the dame,
in a soothing tone, "never mind these trankums--a frank and hearty
London 'prentice is worth all the gallants of the inns of court."
"I was a frank and hearty London 'prentice before I knew you, Dame
Suddlechop," said Vincent; "what your advice has made me, you may find
a name for; since, fore George! I am ashamed to think about it
myself."
"A-well-a-day," quoth the dame, "and is it even so with thee?--nay,
then, I know but one cure;" and with that, going to a little corner
cupboard of carved wainscoat, she opened it by the assistance of a
key, which, with half-a-dozen besides, hung in a silver chain at her
girdle, and produced a long flask of thin glass cased with wicker,
bringing forth at the same time two Flemish rummer glasses, with long
stalks and capacious wombs. She filled the one brimful for her guest,
and the other more modestly to about two-thirds of its capacity, for
her own use, repeating, as the rich cordial trickled forth in a smooth
oily stream--"Right Rosa Solis, as ever washed mulligrubs out of a
moody brain!"
But, though Jin Vin tossed off his glass without scruple, while the
lady sippped hers more moderately, it did not appear to produce the
expected amendment upon his humour. On the contrary, as he threw
himself into the great leathern chair, in which Dame Ursley was wont
to solace herself of an evening, he declared himself "the most
miserable dog within the sound of Bow-bell."
"And why should you be so idle as to think yourself so, silly boy?"
said Dame Suddlechop; "but 'tis always thus--fools and children never
know when they are well. Why, there is not one that walks in St.
Paul's, whether in flat cap, or hat and feather, that has so many kind
glances from the wenches as you, when ye swagger along Fleet Street
with your bat under your arm, and your cap set aside upon your head.
Thou knowest well, that, from Mrs. Deputy's self down to the waist-
coateers in the alley, all of them are twiring and peeping betwixt
their fingers when you pass; and yet you call yourself a miserable
dog! and I must tell you all this over and over again, as if I were
whistling the chimes of London to a pettish child, in order to bring
the pretty baby into good-humour!"
The flattery of Dame Ursula seemed to have the fate of her cordial--it
was swallowed, indeed, by the party to whom she presented it, and that
with some degree of relish, but it did not operate as a sedative on
the disturbed state of the youth's mind. He laughed for an instant,
half in scorn, and half in gratified vanity, but cast a sullen look on
Dame Ursley as he replied to her last words,
"You do treat me like a child indeed, when you sing over and over to
me a cuckoo song that I care not a copper-filing for."
"Aha!" said Dame Ursley; "that is to say, you care not if you please
all, unless you please one--You are a true lover, I warrant, and care
not for all the city, from here to Whitechapel, so you could write
yourself first in your pretty Peg-a-Ramsay's good-will. Well, well,
take patience, man, and be guided by me, for I will be the hoop will
bind you together at last."
"It is time you were so," said Jenkin, "for hitherto you have rather
been the wedge to separate us."
Dame Suddlechop had by this time finished her cordial--it was not the
first she had taken that day; and, though a woman of strong brain, and
cautious at least, if not abstemious, in her potations, it may
nevertheless be supposed that her patience was not improved by the
regimen which she observed.
"Why, thou ungracious and ingrate knave," said Dame Ursley, "have not
I done every thing to put thee in thy mistress's good graces? She
loves gentry, the proud Scottish minx, as a Welshman loves cheese, and
has her father's descent from that Duke of Daldevil, or whatsoever she
calls him, as close in her heart as gold in a miser's chest, though
she as seldom shows it--and none she will think of, or have, but a
gentleman--and a gentleman I have made of thee, Jin Vin, the devil
cannot deny that."
"You have made a fool of me," said poor Jenkin, looking at the sleeve
of his jacket.
"Never the worse gentleman for that," said Dame Ursley, laughing.
"And what is worse," said he, turning his back to her suddenly, and
writhing in his chair, "you have made a rogue of me."
"Never the worse gentleman for that neither," said Dame Ursley, in the
same tone; "let a man bear his folly gaily and his knavery stoutly,
and let me see if gravity or honesty will look him in the face now-a-
days. Tut, man, it was only in the time of King Arthur or King Lud,
that a gentleman was held to blemish his scutcheon by a leap over the
line of reason or honesty--It is the bold look, the ready hand, the
fine clothes, the brisk oath, and the wild brain, that makes the
gallant now-a-days."
"I know what you have made me," said Jin Vin; "since I have given up
skittles and trap-ball for tennis and bowls, good English ale for thin
Bordeaux and sour Rhenish, roast-beef and pudding for woodcocks and
kickshaws--my bat for a sword, my cap for a beaver, my forsooth for a
modish oath, my Christmas-box for a dice-box, my religion for the
devil's matins, and mine honest name for--Woman, I could brain thee,
when I think whose advice has guided me in all this!"
"Whose advice, then? whose advice, then? Speak out, thou poor, petty
cloak-brusher, and say who advised thee!" retorted Dame Ursley,
flushed and indignant--"Marry come up, my paltry companion--say by
whose advice you have made a gamester of yourself, and a thief
besides, as your words would bear--The Lord deliver us from evil!" And
here Dame Ursley devoutly crossed herself.
"Hark ye, Dame Ursley Suddlechop," said Jenkin, starting up, his dark
eyes flashing with anger; "remember I am none of your husband--and, if
I were, you would do well not to forget whose threshold was swept when
they last rode the Skimmington [Footnote: A species of triumphal
procession in honour of female supremacy, when it rose to such a
height as to attract the attention of the neighbourhood. It is
described at full length in Hudibras. (Part II. Canto II.) As the
procession passed on, those who attended it in an official capacity
were wont to sweep the threshold of the houses in which Fame affirmed
the mistresses to exercise paramount authority, which was given and
received as a hint that their inmates might, in their turn, be made
the subject of a similar ovation. The Skimmington, which in some
degree resembled the proceedings of Mumbo Jumbo in an African village,
has been long discontinued in England, apparently because female rule
has become either milder or less frequent than among our ancestors.]
upon such another scolding jade as yourself."
"I hope to see you ride up Holborn next," said Dame Ursley, provoked
out of all her holiday and sugar-plum expressions, "with a nosegay at
your breast, and a parson at your elbow!"
"That may well be," answered Jin Vin, bitterly, "if I walk by your
counsels as I have begun by them; but, before that day comes, you
shall know that Jin Vin has the brisk boys of Fleet Street still at
his wink.--Yes, you jade, you shall be carted for bawd and conjurer,
double-dyed in grain, and bing off to Bridewell, with every brass
basin betwixt the Bar and Paul's beating before you, as if the devil
were banging them with his beef-hook."
Dame Ursley coloured like scarlet, seized upon the half-emptied flask
of cordial, and seemed, by her first gesture, about to hurl it at the
head of her adversary; but suddenly, and as if by a strong internal
effort, she checked her outrageous resentment, and, putting the bottle
to its more legitimate use, filled, with wonderful composure, the two
glasses, and, taking up one of them, said, with a smile, which better
became her comely and jovial countenance than the fury by which it was
animated the moment before--
"Here is to thee, Jin Vin, my lad, in all loving kindness, whatever
spite thou bearest to me, that have always been a mother to thee."
Jenkin's English good-nature could not resist this forcible appeal; he
took up the other glass, and lovingly pledged the dame in her cup of
reconciliation, and proceeded to make a kind of grumbling apology for
his own violence--
"For you know," he said, "it was you persuaded me to get these fine
things, and go to that godless ordinary, and ruffle it with the best,
and bring you home all the news; and you said, I, that was the cock of
the ward, would soon be the cock of the ordinary, and would win ten
times as much at gleek and primero, as I used to do at put and beggar-
my-neighbour--and turn up doublets with the dice, as busily as I was
wont to trowl down the ninepins in the skittle-ground--and then you
said I should bring you such news out of the ordinary as should make
us all, when used as you knew how to use it--and now you see what is
to come of it all!"
"'Tis all true thou sayest, lad," said the dame; "but thou must have
patience. Rome was not built in a day--you cannot become used to your
court-suit in a month's time, any more than when you changed your long
coat for a doublet and hose; and in gaming you must expect to lose as
well as gain--'tis the sitting gamester sweeps the board."
"The board has swept me, I know," replied Jin Vin, "and that pretty
clean out.--I would that were the worst; but I owe for all this
finery, and settling-day is coming on, and my master will find my
accompt worse than it should be by a score of pieces. My old father
will be called in to make them good; and I--may save the hangman a
labour and do the job myself, or go the Virginia voyage."
"Do not speak so loud, my dear boy," said Dame Ursley; "but tell me
why you borrow not from a friend to make up your arrear. You could
lend him as much when his settling-day came round."
"No, no--I have had enough of that work," said Vincent. "Tunstall
would lend me the money, poor fellow, an he had it; but his gentle,
beggarly kindred, plunder him of all, and keep him as bare as a birch
at Christmas. No--my fortune may be spelt in four letters, and these
read, RUIN."
"Now hush, you simple craven," said the dame; "did you never hear,
that when the need is highest the help is nighest? We may find aid for
you yet, and sooner than you are aware of. I am sure I would never
have advised you to such a course, but only you had set heart and eye
on pretty Mistress Marget, and less would not serve you--and what
could I do but advise you to cast your city-slough, and try your luck
where folks find fortune?"
"Ay, ay--I remember your counsel well," said Jenkin; "I was to be
introduced to her by you when I was perfect in my gallantries, and as
rich as the king; and then she was to be surprised to find I was poor
Jin Vin, that used to watch, from matin to curfew, for one glance of
her eye; and now, instead of that, she has set her soul on this
Scottish sparrow-hawk of a lord that won my last tester, and be cursed
to him; and so I am bankrupt in love, fortune, and character, before I
am out of my time, and all along of you, Mother Midnight."
"Do not call me out of my own name, my dear boy, Jin Vin," answered
Ursula, in a tone betwixt rage and coaxing,--"do not; because I am no
saint, but a poor sinful woman, with no more patience than she needs,
to carry her through a thousand crosses. And if I have done you wrong
by evil counsel, I must mend it and put you right by good advice. And
for the score of pieces that must be made up at settling-day, why,
here is, in a good green purse, as much as will make that matter good;
and we will get old Crosspatch, the tailor, to take a long day for
your clothes; and--"
"Mother, are you serious?" said Jin Vin, unable to trust either his
eyes or his ears.
"In troth am I," said the dame; "and will you call me Mother Midnight
now, Jin Vin?"
"Mother Midnight!" exclaimed Jenkin, hugging the dame in his
transport, and bestowing on her still comely cheek a hearty and not
unacceptable smack, that sounded like the report of a pistol,--"Mother
Midday, rather, that has risen to light me out of my troubles--a
mother more dear than she who bore me; for she, poor soul, only
brought me into a world of sin and sorrow, and your timely aid has
helped me out of the one and the other. "And the good-natured fellow
threw himself back in his chair, and fairly drew his hand across his
eyes.
"You would not have me be made to ride the Skimmington then," said the
dame; "or parade me in a cart, with all the brass basins of the ward
beating the march to Bridewell before me?"
"I would sooner be carted to Tyburn myself," replied the penitent.
"Why, then, sit up like a man, and wipe thine eyes; and, if thou art
pleased with what I have done, I will show thee how thou mayst requite
me in the highest degree."
"How?" said Jenkin Vincent, sitting straight up in his chair.--"You
would have me, then, do you some service for this friendship of
yours?"
"Ay, marry would I," said Dame Ursley; "for you are to know, that
though I am right glad to stead you with it, this gold is not mine,
but was placed in my hands in order to find a trusty agent, for a
certain purpose; and so--But what's the matter with you?--are you fool
enough to be angry because you cannot get a purse of gold for nothing?
I would I knew where such were to come by. I never could find them
lying in my road, I promise you."
"No, no, dame," said poor Jenkin, "it is not for that; for, look you,
I would rather work these ten bones to the knuckles, and live by my
labour; but--" (and here he paused.)
"But what, man?" said Dame Ursley. "You are willing to work for what
you want; and yet, when I offer you gold for the winning, you look on
me as the devil looks over Lincoln."
"It is ill talking of the devil, mother," said Jenkin. "I had him even
now in my head--for, look you, I am at that pass, when they say he
will appear to wretched ruined creatures, and proffer them gold for
the fee-simple of their salvation. But I have been trying these two
days to bring my mind strongly up to the thought, that I will rather
sit down in shame, and sin, and sorrow, as I am like to do, than hold
on in ill courses to get rid of my present straits; and so take care,
Dame Ursula, how you tempt me to break such a good resolution."
"I tempt you to nothing, young man," answered Ursula; "and, as I
perceive you are too wilful to be wise, I will e'en put my purse in my
pocket, and look out for some one that will work my turn with better
will, and more thankfulness. And you may go your own course,--break
your indenture, ruin your father, lose your character, and bid pretty
Mistress Margaret farewell, for ever and a day."
"Stay, stay," said Jenkin "the woman is in as great a hurry as a brown
baker when his oven is overheated. First, let me hear that which you
have to propose to me."
"Why, after all, it is but to get a gentleman of rank and fortune, who
is in trouble, carried in secret down the river, as far as the Isle of
Dogs, or somewhere thereabout, where he may lie concealed until he can
escape aboard. I know thou knowest every place by the river's side as
well as the devil knows an usurer, or the beggar knows his dish."
"A plague of your similes, dame," replied the apprentice; "for the
devil gave me that knowledge, and beggary may be the end on't.--But
what has this gentleman done, that he should need to be under hiding?
No Papist, I hope--no Catesby and Piercy business--no Gunpowder Plot?"
"Fy, fy!--what do you take me for?" said Dame Ursula. "I am as good a
churchwoman as the parson's wife, save that necessary business will
not allow me to go there oftener than on Christmas-day, heaven help
me!--No, no--this is no Popish matter. The gentleman hath but struck
another in the Park--"
"Ha! what?" said Vincent, interrupting her with a start.
"Ay, ay, I see you guess whom I mean. It is even he we have spoken of
so often--just Lord Glenvarloch, and no one else."
Vincent sprung from his seat, and traversed the room with rapid and
disorderly steps.
"There, there it is now--you are always ice or gunpowder. You sit in
the great leathern armchair, as quiet as a rocket hangs upon the frame
in a rejoicing-night till the match be fired, and then, whizz! you are
in the third heaven, beyond the reach of the human voice, eye, or
brain.--When you have wearied yourself with padding to and fro across
the room, will you tell me your determination, for time presses? Will
you aid me in this matter, or not?"
"No--no--no--a thousand times no," replied Jenkin. "Have you not
confessed to me, that Margaret loves him?"
"Ay," answered the dame, "that she thinks she does; but that will not
last long."
"And have I not told you but this instant," replied Jenkin, "that it
was this same Glenvarloch that rooked me, at the ordinary, of every
penny I had, and made a knave of me to boot, by gaining more than was
my own?--O that cursed gold, which Shortyard, the mercer, paid me that
morning on accompt, for mending the clock of Saint Stephen's! If I had
not, by ill chance, had that about me, I could but have beggared my
purse, without blemishing my honesty; and, after I had been rooked of
all the rest amongst them, I must needs risk the last five pieces with
that shark among the minnows!"
"Granted," said Dame Ursula. "All this I know; and I own, that as Lord
Glenvarloch was the last you played with, you have a right to charge
your ruin on his head. Moreover, I admit, as already said, that
Margaret has made him your rival. Yet surely, now he is in danger to
lose his hand, it is not a time to remember all this?"
"By my faith, but it is, though," said the young citizen. "Lose his
hand, indeed? They may take his head, for what I care. Head and hand
have made me a miserable wretch!"
"Now, were it not better, my prince of flat-caps," said Dame Ursula,
"that matters were squared between you; and that, through means of the
same Scottish lord, who has, as you say, deprived you of your money
and your mistress, you should in a short time recover both?"
"And how can your wisdom come to that conclusion, dame?" said the
apprentice. "My money, indeed, I can conceive--that is, if I comply
with your proposal; but--my pretty Marget!--how serving this lord,
whom she has set her nonsensical head upon, can do me good with her,
is far beyond my conception."
"That is because, in simple phrase," said Dame Ursula, "thou knowest
no more of a woman's heart than doth a Norfolk gosling. Look you, man.
Were I to report to Mistress Margaret that the young lord has
miscarried through thy lack of courtesy in refusing to help him, why,
then, thou wert odious to her for ever. She will loathe thee as she
will loathe the very cook who is to strike off Glenvarloch's hand with
his cleaver--and then she will be yet more fixed in her affections
towards this lord. London will hear of nothing but him--speak of
nothing but him--think of nothing but him, for three weeks at least,
and all that outcry will serve to keep him uppermost in her mind; for
nothing pleases a girl so much as to bear relation to any one who is
the talk of the whole world around her. Then, if he suffer this
sentence of the law, it is a chance if she ever forgets him. I saw
that handsome, proper young gentleman Babington, suffer in the Queen's
time myself, and though I was then but a girl, he was in my head for a
year after he was hanged. But, above all, pardoned or punished,
Glenvarloch will probably remain in London, and his presence will keep
up the silly girl's nonsensical fancy about him. Whereas, if he
escapes--"
"Ay, show me how that is to avail me?" said Jenkin. "If he escapes,"
said the dame, resuming her argument, "he must resign the Court for
years, if not for life; and you know the old saying, 'out of sight,
and out of mind.'"
"True--most true," said Jenkin; "spoken like an oracle, most wise
Ursula." "Ay, ay, I knew you would hear reason at last," said the wily
dame; "and then, when this same lord is off and away for once and for
ever, who, I pray you, is to be pretty pet's confidential person, and
who is to fill up the void in her affections?--why, who but thou, thou
pearl of 'prentices! And then you will have overcome your own
inclinations to comply with hers, and every woman is sensible of that-
-and you will have run some risk, too, in carrying her desires into
effect--and what is it that woman likes better than bravery, and
devotion to her will? Then you have her secret, and she must treat you
with favour and observance, and repose confidence in you, and hold
private intercourse with you, till she weeps with one eye for the
absent lover whom she is never to see again, and blinks with the other
blithely upon him who is in presence; and then if you know not how to
improve the relation in which you stand with her, you are not the
brisk lively lad that all the world takes you for--Said I well?"
"You have spoken like an empress, most mighty Ursula," said Jenkin
Vincent; "and your will shall be obeyed."
"You know Alsatia well?" continued his tutoress.
"Well enough, well enough," replied he with a nod; "I have heard the
dice rattle there in my day, before I must set up for gentleman, and
go among the gallants at the Shavaleer Bojo's, as they call him,--the
worse rookery of the two, though the feathers are the gayest."
"And they will have a respect for thee yonder, I warrant?"
"Ay, ay," replied Vin, "when I am got into my fustian doublet again,
with my bit of a trunnion under my arm, I can walk Alsatia at midnight
as I could do that there Fleet Street in midday--they will not one of
them swagger with the prince of 'prentices, and the king of clubs--
they know I could bring every tall boy in the ward down upon them."
"And you know all the watermen, and so forth?"
"Can converse with every sculler in his own language, from Richmond to
Gravesend, and know all the water-cocks, from John Taylor the Poet to
little Grigg the Grinner, who never pulls but he shows all his teeth
from ear to ear, as if he were grimacing through a horse-collar."
"And you can take any dress or character upon you well, such as a
waterman's, a butcher's, a foot-soldier's," continued Ursula, "or the
like?"
"Not such a mummer as I am within the walls, and thou knowest that
well enough, dame," replied the apprentice. "I can touch the players
themselves, at the Ball and at the Fortune, for presenting any thing
except a gentleman. Take but this d--d skin of frippery off me, which
I think the devil stuck me into, and you shall put me into nothing
else that I will not become as if I were born to it."
"Well, we will talk of your transmutation by and by," said the dame,
"and find you clothes withal, and money besides; for it will take a
good deal to carry the thing handsomely through."
"But where is that money to come from, dame?" said Jenkin; "there is a
question I would fain have answered before I touch it."
"Why, what a fool art thou to ask such a question! Suppose I am
content to advance it to please young madam, what is the harm then?"
"I will suppose no such thing," said Jenkin, hastily; "I know that
you, dame, have no gold to spare, and maybe would not spare it if you
had--so that cock will not crow. It must be from Margaret herself."
"Well, thou suspicious animal, and what if it were?" said Ursula.
"Only this," replied Jenkin, "that I will presently to her, and learn
if she has come fairly by so much ready money; for sooner than connive
at her getting it by any indirection, I would hang myself at once. It
is enough what I have done myself, no need to engage poor Margaret in
such villainy--I'll to her, and tell her of the danger--I will, by
heaven!"
"You are mad to think of it," said Dame Suddlechop, considerably
alarmed--"hear me but a moment. I know not precisely from whom she got
the money; but sure I am that she obtained it at her godfather's."
"Why, Master George Heriot is not returned from France," said Jenkin.
"No," replied Ursula, "but Dame Judith is at home--and the strange
lady, whom they call Master Heriot's ghost--she never goes abroad."
"It is very true, Dame Suddlechop," said Jenkin; "and I believe you
have guessed right--they say that lady has coin at will; and if Marget
can get a handful of fairy-gold, why, she is free to throw it away at
will."
"Ah, Jin Vin," said the dame, reducing her voice almost to a whisper,
"we should not want gold at will neither, could we but read the riddle
of that lady!"
"They may read it that list," said Jenkin, "I'll never pry into what
concerns me not--Master George Heriot is a worthy and brave citizen,
and an honour to London, and has a right to manage his own household
as he likes best.--There was once a talk of rabbling him the fifth of
November before the last, because they said he kept a nunnery in his
house, like old Lady Foljambe; but Master George is well loved among
the 'prentices, and we got so many brisk boys of us together as should
have rabbled the rabble, had they had but the heart to rise."
"Well, let that pass," said Ursula; "and now, tell me how you will
manage to be absent from shop a day or two, for you must think that
this matter will not be ended sooner."
"Why, as to that, I can say nothing," said Jenkin, "I have always
served duly and truly; I have no heart to play truant, and cheat my
master of his time as well as his money."
"Nay, but the point is to get back his money for him," said Ursula,
"which he is not likely to see on other conditions. Could you not ask
leave to go down to your uncle in Essex for two or three days? He may
be ill, you know."
"Why, if I must, I must," said Jenkin, with a heavy sigh; "but I will
not be lightly caught treading these dark and crooked paths again."
"Hush thee, then," said the dame, "and get leave for this very
evening; and come back hither, and I will introduce you to another
implement, who must be employed in the matter.--Stay, stay!--the lad
is mazed--you would not go into your master's shop in that guise,
surely? Your trunk is in the matted chamber, with your 'prentice
things--go and put them on as fast as you can."
"I think I am bewitched," said Jenkin, giving a glance towards his
dress, "or that these fool's trappings have made as great an ass of me
as of many I have seen wear them; but let line once be rid of the
harness, and if you catch me putting it on again, I will give you
leave to sell me to a gipsy, to carry pots, pans, and beggar's
bantlings, all the rest of my life." So saying, he retired to change
his apparel.
CHAPTER XXII
Chance will not do the work--Chance sends the breeze;
But if the pilot slumber at the helm,
The very wind that wafts us towards the port
May dash us on the shelves.--The steersman's part is vigilance,
Blow it or rough or smooth.
_Old Play_.
We left Nigel, whose fortunes we are bound to trace by the engagement
contracted in our title-page, sad and solitary in the mansion of
Trapbois the usurer, having just received a letter instead of a visit
from his friend the Templar, stating reasons why he could not at that
time come to see him in Alsatia. So that it appeared that his
intercourse with the better and more respectable class of society,
was, for the present, entirely cut off. This was a melancholy, and, to
a proud mind like that of Nigel, a degrading reflection.
He went to the window of his apartment, and found the street enveloped
in one of those thick, dingy, yellow-coloured fogs, which often invest
the lower part of London and Westminster. Amid the darkness, dense and
palpable, were seen to wander like phantoms a reveller or two, whom
the morning had surprised where the evening left them; and who now,
with tottering steps, and by an instinct which intoxication could not
wholly overcome, were groping the way to their own homes, to convert
day into night, for the purpose of sleeping off the debauch which had
turned night into day. Although it was broad day in the other parts of
the city, it was scarce dawn yet in Alsatia; and none of the sounds of
industry or occupation were there heard, which had long before aroused
the slumberers in any other quarter. The prospect was too tiresome and
disagreeable to detain Lord Glenvarloch at his station, so, turning
from the window, he examined with more interest the furniture and
appearance of the apartment which he tenanted.
Much of it had been in its time rich and curious--there was a huge
four-post bed, with as much carved oak about it as would have made the
head of a man-of-war, and tapestry hangings ample enough to have been
her sails. There was a huge mirror with a massy frame of gilt brass-
work, which was of Venetian manufacture, and must have been worth a
considerable sum before it received the tremendous crack, which,
traversing it from one corner to the other, bore the same proportion
to the surface that the Nile bears to the map of Egypt. The chairs
were of different forms and shapes, some had been carved, some gilded,
some covered with damasked leather, some with embroidered work, but
all were damaged and worm-eaten. There was a picture of Susanna and
the Elders over the chimney-piece, which might have been accounted a
choice piece, had not the rats made free with the chaste fair one's
nose, and with the beard of one of her reverend admirers.
In a word, all that Lord Glenvarloch saw, seemed to have been articles
carried off by appraisement or distress, or bought as pennyworths at
some obscure broker's, and huddled together in the apartment, as in a
sale-room, without regard to taste or congruity.
The place appeared to Nigel to resemble the houses near the sea-coast,
which are too often furnished with the spoils of wrecked vessels, as
this was probably fitted up with the relics of ruined profligates.--
"My own skiff is among the breakers," thought Lord Glenvarloch,
"though my wreck will add little to the profits of the spoiler."
He was chiefly interested in the state of the grate, a huge assemblage
of rusted iron bars which stood in the chimney, unequally supported by
three brazen feet, moulded into the form of lion's claws, while the
fourth, which had been bent by an accident, seemed proudly uplifted as
if to paw the ground; or as if the whole article had nourished the
ambitious purpose of pacing forth into the middle of the apartment,
and had one foot ready raised for the journey. A smile passed over
Nigel's face as this fantastic idea presented itself to his fancy.--"I
must stop its march, however," he thought; "for this morning is chill
and raw enough to demand some fire."
He called accordingly from the top of a large staircase, with a heavy
oaken balustrade, which gave access to his own and other apartments,
for the house was old and of considerable size; but, receiving no
answer to his repeated summons, he was compelled to go in search of
some one who might accommodate him with what he wanted.
Nigel had, according to the fashion of the old world in Scotland,
received an education which might, in most particulars, be termed
simple, hardy, and unostentatious; but he had, nevertheless, been
accustomed to much personal deference, and to the constant attendance
and ministry of one or more domestics. This was the universal custom
in Scotland, where wages were next to nothing, and where, indeed, a
man of title or influence might have as many attendants as he pleased,
for the mere expense of food, clothes, and countenance. Nigel was
therefore mortified and displeased when he found himself without
notice or attendance; and the more dissatisfied, because he was at the
same time angry with himself for suffering such a trifle to trouble
him at all, amongst matters of more deep concernment. "There must
surely be some servants in so large a house as this," said he, as he
wandered over the place, through which he was conducted by a passage
which branched off from the gallery. As he went on, he tried the
entrance to several apartments, some of which he found were locked and
others unfurnished, all apparently unoccupied; so that at length he
returned to the staircase, and resolved to make his way down to the
lower part of the house, where he supposed he must at least find the
old gentleman, and his ill-favoured daughter. With this purpose he
first made his entrance into a little low, dark parlour, containing a
well-worn leathern easy-chair, before which stood a pair of slippers,
while on the left side rested a crutch-handled staff; an oaken table
stood before it, and supported a huge desk clamped with iron, and a
massive pewter inkstand. Around the apartment were shelves, cabinets,
and other places convenient for depositing papers. A sword, musketoon,
and a pair of pistols, hung over the chimney, in ostentatious display,
as if to intimate that the proprietor would be prompt in the defence
of his premises.
"This must be the usurer's den," thought Nigel; and he was about to
call aloud, when the old man, awakened even by the slightest noise,
for avarice seldom sleeps sound, soon was heard from the inner room,
speaking in a voice of irritability, rendered more tremulous by his
morning cough.
"Ugh, ugh, ugh--who is there? I say--ugh, ugh--who is there? Why,
Martha!--ugh! ugh--Martha Trapbois--here be thieves in the house, and
they will not speak to me--why, Martha!--thieves, thieves--ugh, ugh,
ugh!"
Nigel endeavoured to explain, but the idea of thieves had taken
possession of the old man's pineal gland, and he kept coughing and
screaming, and screaming and coughing, until the gracious Martha
entered the apartment; and, having first outscreamed her father, in
order to convince him that there was no danger, and to assure him that
the intruder was their new lodger, and having as often heard her sire
ejaculate--"Hold him fast--ugh, ugh--hold him fast till I come," she
at length succeeded in silencing his fears and his clamour, and then
coldly and dryly asked Lord Glenvarloch what he wanted in her father's
apartment.
Her lodger had, in the meantime, leisure to contemplate her
appearance, which did not by any means improve the idea he had formed
of it by candlelight on the preceding evening. She was dressed in what
was called a Queen Mary's ruff and farthingale; not the falling ruff
with which the unfortunate Mary of Scotland is usually painted, but
that which, with more than Spanish stiffness, surrounded the throat,
and set off the morose head, of her fierce namesake, of Smithfield
memory. This antiquated dress assorted well with the faded complexion,
grey eyes, thin lips, and austere visage of the antiquated maiden,
which was, moreover, enhanced by a black hood, worn as her head-gear,
carefully disposed so as to prevent any of her hair from escaping to
view, probably because the simplicity of the period knew no art of
disguising the colour with which time had begun to grizzle her
tresses. Her figure was tall, thin, and flat, with skinny arms and
hands, and feet of the larger size, cased in huge high-heeled shoes,
which added height to a stature already ungainly. Apparently some art
had been used by the tailor, to conceal a slight defect of shape,
occasioned by the accidental elevation of one shoulder above the
other; but the praiseworthy efforts of the ingenious mechanic, had
only succeeded in calling the attention of the observer to his
benevolent purpose, without demonstrating that he had been able to
achieve it.
Such was Mrs. Martha Trapbois, whose dry "What were you seeking here,
sir?" fell again, and with reiterated sharpness, on the ear of Nigel,
as he gazed upon her presence, and compared it internally to one of
the faded and grim figures in the old tapestry which adorned his
bedstead. It was, however, necessary to reply, and he answered, that
he came in search of the servants, as he desired to have a fire
kindled in his apartment on account of the rawness of the morning.
"The woman who does our char-work," answered Mistress Martha, "comes
at eight o'clock-if you want fire sooner, there are fagots and a
bucket of sea-coal in the stone-closet at the head of the stair--and
there is a flint and steel on the upper shelf--you can light fire for
yourself if you will."
"No--no--no, Martha," ejaculated her father, who, having donned his
rustic tunic, with his hose all ungirt, and his feet slip-shod,
hastily came out of the inner apartment, with his mind probably full
of robbers, for he had a naked rapier in his hand, which still looked
formidable, though rust had somewhat marred its shine.--What he had
heard at entrance about lighting a fire, had changed, however, the
current of his ideas. "No--no--no," he cried, and each negative was
more emphatic than its predecessor-"The gentleman shall not have the
trouble to put on a fire--ugh--ugh. I'll put it on myself, for a con-
si-de-ra-ti-on."
This last word was a favourite expression with the old gentleman,
which he pronounced in a peculiar manner, gasping it out syllable by
syllable, and laying a strong emphasis upon the last. It was, indeed,
a sort of protecting clause, by which he guarded himself against all
inconveniences attendant on the rash habit of offering service or
civility of any kind, the which, when hastily snapped at by those to
whom they are uttered, give the profferer sometimes room to repent his
promptitude.
"For shame, father," said Martha, "that must not be. Master Grahame
will kindle his own fire, or wait till the char-woman comes to do it
for him, just as likes him best."
"No, child--no, child. Child Martha, no," reiterated the old miser--
"no char-woman shall ever touch a grate in my house; they put--ugh,
ugh--the faggot uppermost, and so the coal kindles not, and the flame
goes up the chimney, and wood and heat are both thrown away. Now, I
will lay it properly for the gentleman, for a consideration, so that
it shall last--ugh, ugh--last the whole day." Here his vehemence
increased his cough so violently, that Nigel could only, from a
scattered word here and there, comprehend that it was a recommendation
to his daughter to remove the poker and tongs from the stranger's
fireside, with an assurance, that, when necessary, his landlord would
be in attendance to adjust it himself, "for a consideration."
Martha paid as little attention to the old man's injunctions as a
predominant dame gives to those of a henpecked husband. She only
repeated, in a deeper and more emphatic tone of censure,--"For shame,
father--for shame!" then, turning to her guest, said, with her usual
ungraciousness of manner--"Master Grahame--it is best to be plain with
you at first. My father is an old, a very old man, and his wits, as
you may see, are somewhat weakened--though I would not advise you to
make a bargain with him, else you may find them too sharp for your
own. For myself, I am a lone woman, and, to say truth, care little to
see or converse with any one. If you can be satisfied with house-room,
shelter, and safety, it will be your own fault if you have them not,
and they are not always to be found in this unhappy quarter. But, if
you seek deferential observance and attendance, I tell you at once you
will not find them here."
"I am not wont either to thrust myself upon acquaintance, madam, or to
give trouble," said the guest; "nevertheless, I shall need the
assistance of a domestic to assist me to dress--Perhaps you can
recommend me to such?"
"Yes, to twenty," answered Mistress Martha, "who will pick your purse
while they tie your points, and cut your throat while they smooth your
pillow."
"I will be his servant, myself," said the old man, whose intellect,
for a moment distanced, had again, in some measure, got up with the
conversation. "I will brush his cloak--ugh, ugh--and tie his points--
ugh, ugh--and clean his shoes--ugh--and run on his errands with speed
and safety--ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh--for a consideration."
"Good-morrow to you, sir," said Martha, to Nigel, in a tone of direct
and positive dismissal. "It cannot be agreeable to a daughter that a
stranger should hear her father speak thus. If you be really a
gentleman, you will retire to your own apartment."
"I will not delay a moment," said Nigel, respectfully, for he was
sensible that circumstances palliated the woman's rudeness. "I would
but ask you, if seriously there can be danger in procuring the
assistance of a serving-man in this place?"
"Young gentleman," said Martha, "you must know little of Whitefriars
to ask the question. We live alone in this house, and seldom has a
stranger entered it; nor should you, to be plain, had my will been
consulted. Look at the door--see if that of a castle can be better
secured; the windows of the first floor are grated on the outside, and
within, look to these shutters."
She pulled one of them aside, and showed a ponderous apparatus of
bolts and chains for securing the window-shutters, while her father,
pressing to her side, seized her gown with a trembling hand, and said,
in a low whisper, "Show not the trick of locking and undoing them.
Show him not the trick on't, Martha--ugh, ugh--on _no_ consideration."
Martha went on, without paying him any attention.
"And yet, young gentleman, we have been more than once like to find
all these defences too weak to protect our lives; such an evil effect
on the wicked generation around us hath been made by the unhappy
report of my poor father's wealth."
"Say nothing of that, housewife," said the miser, his irritability
increased by the very supposition of his being wealthy--"Say nothing
of that, or I will beat thee, housewife--beat thee with my staff, for
fetching and carrying lies that will procure our throats to be cut at
last--ugh, ugh.--I am but a poor man," he continued, turning to Nigel-
-"a very poor man, that am willing to do any honest turn upon earth,
for a modest consideration."
"I therefore warn you of the life you must lead, young gentleman,"
said Martha; "the poor woman who does the char-work will assist you so
far as in her power, but the wise man is his own best servant and
assistant."
"It is a lesson you have taught me, madam, and I thank you for it--I
will assuredly study it at leisure."
"You will do well," said Martha; "and as you seem thankful for advice,
I, though I am no professed counsellor of others, will give you more.
Make no intimacy with any one in Whitefriars--borrow no money, on any
score, especially from my father, for, dotard as he seems, he will
make an ass of you. Last, and best of all, stay here not an instant
longer than you can help it. Farewell, sir."
"A gnarled tree may bear good fruit, and a harsh nature may give good
counsel," thought the Lord of Glenvarloch, as he retreated to his own
apartment, where the same reflection occurred to him again and again,
while, unable as yet to reconcile himself to the thoughts of becoming
his own fire-maker, he walked up and down his bedroom, to warm himself
by exercise.
At length his meditations arranged themselves in the following
soliloquy--by which expression I beg leave to observe once for all,
that I do not mean that Nigel literally said aloud with his bodily
organs, the words which follow in inverted commas, (while pacing the
room by himself,) but that I myself choose to present to my dearest
reader the picture of my hero's mind, his reflections and resolutions,
in the form of a speech, rather than in that of a narrative. In other
words, I have put his thoughts into language; and this I conceive to
be the purpose of the soliloquy upon the stage as well as in the
closet, being at once the most natural, and perhaps the only way of
communicating to the spectator what is supposed to be passing in the
bosom of the scenic personage. There are no such soliloquies in
nature, it is true, but unless they were received as a conventional
medium of communication betwixt the poet and the audience, we should
reduce dramatic authors to the recipe of Master Puff, who makes Lord
Burleigh intimate a long train of political reasoning to the audience,
by one comprehensive shake of his noddle. In narrative, no doubt, the
writer has the alternative of telling that his personages thought so
and so, inferred thus and thus, and arrived at such and such a
conclusion; but the soliloquy is a more concise and spirited mode of
communicating the same information; and therefore thus communed, or
thus might have communed, the Lord of Glenvarloch with his own mind.
"She is right, and has taught me a lesson I will profit by. I have
been, through my whole life, one who leant upon others for that
assistance, which it is more truly noble to derive from my own
exertions. I am ashamed of feeling the paltry inconvenience which long
habit had led me to annex to the want of a servant's assistance--I am
ashamed of that; but far, far more am I ashamed to have suffered the
same habit of throwing my own burden on others, to render me, since I
came to this city, a mere victim of those events, which I have never
even attempted to influence--a thing never acting, but perpetually
acted upon--protected by one friend, deceived by another; but in the
advantage which I received from the one, and the evil I have sustained
from the other, as passive and helpless as a boat that drifts without
oar or rudder at the mercy of the winds and waves. I became a
courtier, because Heriot so advised it--a gamester, because Dalgarno
so contrived it--an Alsatian, because Lowestoffe so willed it.
Whatever of good or bad has befallen me, has arisen out of the agency
of others, not from my own. My father's son must no longer hold this
facile and puerile course. Live or die, sink or swim, Nigel Olifaunt,
from this moment, shall owe his safety, success, and honour, to his
own exertions, or shall fall with the credit of having at least
exerted his own free agency. I will write it down in my tablets, in
her very words,--'The wise man is his own best assistant.'"
He had just put his tablets in his pocket when the old charwoman, who,
to add to her efficiency, was sadly crippled by rheumatism, hobbled
into the room, to try if she could gain a small gratification by
waiting on the stranger. She readily undertook to get Lord
Glenvarloch's breakfast, and as there was an eating-house at the next
door, she succeeded in a shorter time than Nigel had augured.
As his solitary meal was finished, one of the Temple porters, or
inferior officers, was announced, as seeking Master Grahame, on the
part of his friend, Master Lowestoffe; and, being admitted by the old
woman to his apartment, he delivered to Nigel a small mail-trunk, with
the clothes he had desired should be sent to him, and then, with more
mystery, put into his hand a casket, or strong-boy, which he carefully
concealed beneath his cloak. "I am glad to be rid on't," said the
fellow, as he placed it on the table.
"Why, it is surely not so very heavy," answered Nigel, "and you are a
stout young man."
"Ay, sir," replied the fellow; "but Samson himself would not have
carried such a matter safely through Alsatia, had the lads of the Huff
known what it was. Please to look into it, sir, and see all is right--
I am an honest fellow, and it comes safe out of my hands. How long it
may remain so afterwards, will depend on your own care. I would not my
good name were to suffer by any after-clap."
To satisfy the scruples of the messenger, Lord Glenvarloch opened the
casket in his presence, and saw that his small stock of money, with
two or three valuable papers which it contained, and particularly the
original sign-manual which the king had granted in his favour, were in
the same order in which he had left them. At the man's further
instance, he availed himself of the writing materials which were in
the casket, in order to send a line to Master Lowestoffe, declaring
that his property had reached him in safety. He added some grateful
acknowledgments for Lowestoffe's services, and, just as he was sealing
and delivering his billet to the messenger, his aged landlord entered
the apartment. His threadbare suit of black clothes was now somewhat
better arranged than they had been in the dishabille of his first
appearance, and his nerves and intellects seemed to be less fluttered;
for, without much coughing or hesitation, he invited Nigel to partake
of a morning draught of wholesome single ale, which he brought in a
large leathern tankard, or black-jack, carried in the one hand, while
the other stirred it round with a sprig of rosemary, to give it, as
the old man said, a flavour.
Nigel declined the courteous proffer, and intimated by his manner,
while he did so, that he desired no intrusion on the privacy of his
own apartment; which, indeed, he was the more entitled to maintain,
considering the cold reception he had that morning met with when
straying from its precincts into those of his landlord. But the open
casket contained matter, or rather metal, so attractive to old
Trapbois, that he remained fixed, like a setting-dog at a dead point,
his nose advanced, and one hand expanded like the lifted forepaw, by
which that sagacious quadruped sometimes indicates that it is a hare
which he has in the wind. Nigel was about to break the charm which had
thus arrested old Trapbois, by shutting the lid of the casket, when
his attention was withdrawn from him by the question of the messenger,
who, holding out the letter, asked whether he was to leave it at Mr.
Lowestoffe's chambers in the Temple, or carry it to the Marshalsea?
"The Marshalsea?" repeated Lord Glenvarloch; "what of the Marshalsea?"
"Why, sir," said the man, "the poor gentleman is laid up there in
lavender, because, they say, his own kind heart led him to scald his
fingers with another man's broth."
Nigel hastily snatched back the letter, broke the seal, joined to the
contents his earnest entreaty that he might be instantly acquainted
with the cause of his confinement, and added, that, if it arose out of
his own unhappy affair, it would be of a brief duration, since he had,
even before hearing of a reason which so peremptorily demanded that he
should surrender himself, adopted the resolution to do so, as the
manliest and most proper course which his ill fortune and imprudence
had left in his own power. He therefore conjured Mr. Lowestoffe to
have no delicacy upon this score, but, since his surrender was what he
had determined upon as a sacrifice due to his own character, that he
would have the frankness to mention in what manner it could be best
arranged, so as to extricate him, Lowestoffe, from the restraint to
which the writer could not but fear his friend had been subjected, on
account of the generous interest which he had taken in his concerns.
The letter concluded, that the writer would suffer twenty-four hours
to elapse in expectation of hearing from him, and, at the end of that
period, was determined to put his purpose in execution. He delivered
the billet to the messenger, and, enforcing his request with a piece
of money, urged him, without a moment's delay, to convey it to the
hands of Master Lowestoffe.
"I--I--I--will carry it to him myself," said the old usurer, "for half
the consideration."
The man who heard this attempt to take his duty and perquisites over
his head, lost no time in pocketing the money, and departed on his
errand as fast as he could.
"Master Trapbois," said Nigel, addressing the old man somewhat
impatiently, "had you any particular commands for me?"
"I--I--came to see if you rested well," answered the old man; "and--if
I could do anything to serve you, on any consideration."
"Sir, I thank you," said Lord Glenvarloch--I thank you;" and, ere he
could say more, a heavy footstep was heard on the stair.
"My God!" exclaimed the old man, starting up--"Why, Dorothy--char-
woman--why, daughter,--draw bolt, I say, housewives--the door hath
been left a-latch!"
The door of the chamber opened wide, and in strutted the portly bulk
of the military hero whom Nigel had on the preceding evening in vain
endeavoured to recognise.
CHAPTER XXIII
SWASH-BUCKLER. Bilboe's the word--
PIERROT. It hath been spoke too often,
The spell hath lost its charm--I tell thee, friend,
The meanest cur that trots the street, will turn,
And snarl against your proffer'd bastinado.
SWASH-BUCKLER. 'Tis art shall do it, then--I will dose the mongrels--
Or, in plain terms, I'll use the private knife
'Stead of the brandish'd falchion.
_Old Play_.
The noble Captain Colepepper or Peppercull, for he was known by both
these names, and some others besides; had a martial and a swashing
exterior, which, on the present occasion, was rendered yet more
peculiar, by a patch covering his left eye and a part of the cheek.
The sleeves of his thickset velvet jerkin were polished and shone with
grease,--his buff gloves had huge tops, which reached almost to the
elbow; his sword-belt of the same materials extended its breadth from
his haunchbone to his small ribs, and supported on the one side his
large black-hilted back-sword, on the other a dagger of like
proportions He paid his compliments to Nigel with that air of
predetermined effrontery, which announces that it will not be repelled
by any coldness of reception, asked Trapbois how he did, by the
familiar title of old Peter Pillory, and then, seizing upon the black-
jack, emptied it off at a draught, to the health of the last and
youngest freeman of Alsatia, the noble and loving master Nigel
Grahame.
When he had set down the empty pitcher and drawn his breath, he began
to criticise the liquor which it had lately contained.--"Sufficient
single beer, old Pillory--and, as I take it, brewed at the rate of a
nutshell of malt to a butt of Thames--as dead as a corpse, too, and
yet it went hissing down my throat--bubbling, by Jove, like water upon
hot iron.--You left us early, noble Master Grahame, but, good faith,
we had a carouse to your honour--we heard _butt_ ring hollow ere we
parted; we were as loving as inkle-weavers--we fought, too, to finish
off the gawdy. I bear some marks of the parson about me, you see--a
note of the sermon or so, which should have been addressed to my ear,
but missed its mark, and reached my left eye. The man of God bears my
sign-manual too, but the Duke made us friends again, and it cost me
more sack than I could carry, and all the Rhenish to boot, to pledge
the seer in the way of love and reconciliation--But, Caracco! 'tis a
vile old canting slave for all that, whom I will one day beat out of
his devil's livery into all the colours of the rainbow.--Basta!--Said
I well, old Trapbois? Where is thy daughter, man?--what says she to my
suit?--'tis an honest one--wilt have a soldier for thy son-in-law, old
Pillory, to mingle the soul of martial honour with thy thieving,
miching, petty-larceny blood, as men put bold brandy into muddy ale?"
"My daughter receives not company so early, noble captain," said the
usurer, and concluded his speech with a dry, emphatical "ugh, ugh."
"What, upon no con-si-de-ra-ti-on?" said the captain; and wherefore
not, old Truepenny? she has not much time to lose in driving her
bargain, methinks."
"Captain," said Trapbois, "I was upon some little business with our
noble friend here, Master Nigel Green--ugh, ugh, ugh--"
"And you would have me gone, I warrant you?" answered the bully; "but
patience, old Pillory, thine hour is not yet come, man--You see," he
said, pointing to the casket, "that noble Master Grahame, whom you
call Green, has got the _decuses_ and the _smelt_."
Which you would willingly rid him of, ha! ha!--ugh, ugh," answered the
usurer, "if you knew how--but, lack-a-day! thou art one of those that
come out for wool, and art sure to go home shorn. Why now, but that I
am sworn against laying of wagers, I would risk some consideration
that this honest guest of mine sends thee home penniless, if thou
darest venture with him--ugh, ugh--at any game which gentlemen play
at."
"Marry, thou hast me on the hip there, thou old miserly cony-catcher!"
answered the captain, taking a bale of dice from the sleeve of his
coat; "I must always keep company with these damnable doctors, and
they have made me every baby's cully, and purged my purse into an
atrophy; but never mind, it passes the time as well as aught else--How
say you, Master Grahame?"
The fellow paused; but even the extremity of his impudence could
scarcely hardly withstand the cold look of utter contempt with which
Nigel received his proposal, returning it with a simple, "I only play
where I know my company, and never in the morning."
"Cards may be more agreeable," said Captain Colepepper; "and, for
knowing your company, here is honest old Pillory will tell you Jack
Colepepper plays as truly on the square as e'er a man that trowled a
die--Men talk of high and low dice, Fulhams and bristles, topping,
knapping, slurring, stabbing, and a hundred ways of rooking besides;
but broil me like a rasher of bacon, if I could ever learn the trick
on 'em!"
"You have got the vocabulary perfect, sir, at the least," said Nigel,
in the same cold tone.
"Yes, by mine honour have I," returned the Hector; "they are phrases
that a gentleman learns about town.--But perhaps you would like a set
at tennis, or a game at balloon--we have an indifferent good court
hard by here, and a set of as gentleman-like blades as ever banged
leather against brick and mortar."
"I beg to be excused at present," said Lord Glenvarloch; "and to be
plain, among the valuable privileges your society has conferred on me,
I hope I may reckon that of being private in my own apartment when I
have a mind."
"Your humble servant, sir," said the captain; "and I thank you for
your civility--Jack Colepepper can have enough of company, and thrusts
himself on no one.--But perhaps you will like to make a match at
skittles?"
"I am by no means that way disposed," replied the young nobleman,
"Or to leap a flea--run a snail--match a wherry, eh?"
"No--I will do none of these," answered Nigel.
Here the old man, who had been watching with his little peery eyes,
pulled the bulky Hector by the skirt, and whispered, "Do not vapour
him the huff, it will not pass--let the trout play, he will rise to
the hook presently."
But the bully, confiding in his own strength, and probably mistaking
for timidity the patient scorn with which Nigel received his
proposals, incited also by the open casket, began to assume a louder
and more threatening tone. He drew himself up, bent his brows, assumed
a look of professional ferocity, and continued, "In Alsatia, look ye,
a man must be neighbourly and companionable. Zouns! sir, we would slit
any nose that was turned up at us honest fellows.--Ay, sir, we would
slit it up to the gristle, though it had smelt nothing all its life
but musk, ambergris, and court-scented water.--Rabbit me, I am a
soldier, and care no more for a lord than a lamplighter!"
"Are you seeking a quarrel, sir?" said Nigel, calmly, having in truth
no desire to engage himself in a discreditable broil in such a place,
and with such a character.
"Quarrel, sir?" said the captain; "I am not seeking a quarrel, though
I care not how soon I find one. Only I wish you to understand you must
be neighbourly, that's all. What if we should go over the water to the
garden, and see a bull hanked this fine morning--'sdeath, will you do
nothing?"
"Something I am strangely tempted to do at this moment," said Nigel.
"Videlicet," said Colepepper, with a swaggering air, "let us hear the
temptation."
"I am tempted to throw you headlong from the window, unless you
presently make the best of your way down stairs."
"Throw me from the window?--hell and furies!" exclaimed the captain;
"I have confronted twenty crooked sabres at Buda with my single
rapier, and shall a chitty-faced, beggarly Scots lordling, speak of me
and a window in the same breath?--Stand off, old Pillory, let me make
Scotch collops of him--he dies the death!"
"For the love of Heaven, gentlemen," exclaimed the old miser, throwing
himself between them, "do not break the peace on any consideration!
Noble guest, forbear the captain--he is a very Hector of Troy--Trusty
Hector, forbear my guest, he is like to prove a very Achilles-ugh-ugh-
---"
Here he was interrupted by his asthma, but, nevertheless, continued to
interpose his person between Colepepper (who had unsheathed his
whinyard, and was making vain passes at his antagonist) and Nigel, who
had stepped back to take his sword, and now held it undrawn in his
left hand.
"Make an end of this foolery, you scoundrel!" said Nigel--"Do you come
hither to vent your noisy oaths and your bottled-up valour on me? You
seem to know me, and I am half ashamed to say I have at length been
able to recollect you--remember the garden behind the ordinary,--you
dastardly ruffian, and the speed with which fifty men saw you run from
a drawn sword.--Get you gone, sir, and do not put me to the vile
labour of cudgelling such a cowardly rascal down stairs."
The bully's countenance grew dark as night at this unexpected
recognition; for he had undoubtedly thought himself secure in his
change of dress, and his black patch, from being discovered by a
person who had seen him but once. He set his teeth, clenched his
hands, and it seemed as if he was seeking for a moment's courage to
fly upon his antagonist. But his heart failed, he sheathed his sword,
turned his back in gloomy silence, and spoke not until he reached the
door, when, turning round, he said, with a deep oath, "If I be not
avenged of you for this insolence ere many days go by, I would the
gallows had my body and the devil my spirit!"
So saying, and with a look where determined spite and malice made his
features savagely fierce, though they could not overcome his fear, he
turned and left the house. Nigel followed him as far as the gallery at
the head of the staircase, with the purpose of seeing him depart, and
ere he returned was met by Mistress Martha Trapbois, whom the noise of
the quarrel had summoned from her own apartment. He could not resist
saying to her in his natural displeasure--"I would, madam, you could
teach your father and his friends the lesson which you had the
goodness to bestow on me this morning, and prevail on them to leave me
the unmolested privacy of my own apartment."
"If you came hither for quiet or retirement, young man," answered she,
"you have been advised to an evil retreat. You might seek mercy in the
Star-Chamber, or holiness in hell, with better success than quiet in
Alsatia. But my father shall trouble you no longer."
So saying, she entered the apartment, and, fixing her eyes on the
casket, she said with emphasis--"If you display such a loadstone, it
will draw many a steel knife to your throat."
While Nigel hastily shut the casket, she addressed her father,
upbraiding him, with small reverence, for keeping company with the
cowardly, hectoring, murdering villain, John Colepepper.
"Ay, ay, child," said the old man, with the cunning leer which
intimated perfect satisfaction with his own superior address--"I know-
-I know--ugh--but I'll crossbite him--I know them all, and I can
manage them--ay, ay--I have the trick on't--ugh-ugh."
"_You_ manage, father!" said the austere damsel; "you will manage to
have your throat cut, and that ere long. You cannot hide from them
your gains and your gold as formerly."
"My gains, wench? my gold?" said the usurer; "alack-a-day, few of
these and hard got--few and hard got."
"This will not serve you, father, any longer," said she, "and had not
served you thus long, but that Bully Colepepper had contrived a
cheaper way of plundering your house, even by means of my miserable
self.--But why do I speak to him of all this," she said, checking
herself, and shrugging her shoulders with an expression of pity which
did not fall much short of scorn. "He hears me not--he thinks not of
me.--Is it not strange that the love of gathering gold should survive
the care to preserve both property and life?"
"Your father," said Lord Glenvarloch, who could not help respecting
the strong sense and feeling shown by this poor woman, even amidst all
her rudeness and severity, "your father seems to have his faculties
sufficiently alert when he is in the exercise of his ordinary pursuits
and functions. I wonder he is not sensible of the weight of your
arguments."
"Nature made him a man senseless of danger, and that insensibility is
the best thing I have derived from him," said she; "age has left him
shrewdness enough to tread his old beaten paths, but not to seek new
courses. The old blind horse will long continue to go its rounds in
the mill, when it would stumble in the open meadow."
"Daughter!--why, wench--why, housewife!" said the old man, awakening
out of some dream, in which he had been sneering and chuckling in
imagination, probably over a successful piece of roguery,--"go to
chamber, wench--go to chamber--draw bolts and chain--look sharp to
door--let none in or out but worshipful Master Grahame--I must take my
cloak, and go to Duke Hildebrod--ay, ay, time has been, my own warrant
was enough; but the lower we lie, the more are we under the wind."
And, with his wonted chorus of muttering and coughing, the old man
left the apartment. His daughter stood for a moment looking after him,
with her usual expression of discontent and sorrow.
"You ought to persuade your father," said Nigel, "to leave this evil
neighbourhood, if you are in reality apprehensive for his safety."
"He would be safe in no other quarter," said the daughter; "I would
rather the old man were dead than publicly dishonoured. In other
quarters he would be pelted and pursued, like an owl which ventures
into sunshine. Here he was safe, while his comrades could avail
themselves of his talents; he is now squeezed and fleeced by them on
every pretence. They consider him as a vessel on the strand, from
which each may snatch a prey; and the very jealousy which they
entertain respecting him as a common property, may perhaps induce them
to guard him from more private and daring assaults."
"Still, methinks, you ought to leave this place," answered Nigel,
"since you might find a safe retreat in some distant country."
"In Scotland, doubtless," said she, looking at him with a sharp and
suspicious eye, "and enrich strangers with our rescued wealth--Ha!
young man?"
"Madam, if you knew me," said Lord Glenvarloch, "you would spare the
suspicion implied in your words."
"Who shall assure me of that?" said Martha, sharply. "They say you are
a brawler and a gamester, and I know how far these are to be trusted
by the unhappy."
"They do me wrong, by Heaven!" said Lord Glenvarloch.
"It may be so," said Martha; "I am little interested in the degree of
your vice or your folly; but it is plain, that the one or the other
has conducted you hither, and that your best hope of peace, safety,
and happiness, is to be gone, with the least possible delay, from a
place which is always a sty for swine, and often a shambles." So
saying, she left the apartment.
There was something in the ungracious manner of this female, amounting
almost to contempt of him she spoke to--an indignity to which
Glenvarloch, notwithstanding his poverty, had not as yet been
personally exposed, and which, therefore, gave him a transitory
feeling of painful surprise. Neither did the dark hints which Martha
threw out concerning the danger of his place of refuge, sound by any
means agreeably to his ears. The bravest man, placed in a situation in
which he is surrounded by suspicious persons, and removed from all
counsel and assistance, except those afforded by a valiant heart and a
strong arm, experiences a sinking of the spirit, a consciousness of
abandonment, which for a moment chills his blood, and depresses his
natural gallantry of disposition.
But, if sad reflections arose in Nigel's mind, he had not time to
indulge them; and, if he saw little prospect of finding friends in
Alsatia, he found that he was not likely to be solitary for lack of
visitors.
He had scarcely paced his apartment for ten minutes, endeavouring to
arrange his ideas on the course which he was to pursue on quitting
Alsatia, when he was interrupted by the Sovereign of the quarter, the
great Duke Hildebrod himself, before whose approach the bolts and
chains of the miser's dwelling fell, or withdrew, as of their own
accord; and both the folding leaves of the door were opened, that he
might roll himself into the house like a huge butt of liquor, a vessel
to which he bore a considerable outward resemblance, both in size,
shape, complexion, and contents."
"Good-morrow to your lordship," said the greasy puncheon, cocking his
single eye, and rolling it upon Nigel with a singular expression of
familiar impudence; whilst his grim bull-dog, which was close at his
heels, made a kind of gurgling in his throat, as if saluting, in
similar fashion, a starved cat, the only living thing in Trapbois'
house which we have not yet enumerated, and which had flown up to the
top of the tester, where she stood clutching and grinning at the
mastiff, whose greeting she accepted with as much good-will as Nigel
bestowed on that of the dog's master.
"Peace, Belzie!--D--n thee, peace!" said Duke Hildebrod. "Beasts and
fools will be meddling, my lord."
"I thought, sir," answered Nigel, with as much haughtiness as was
consistent with the cool distance which he desired to preserve, "I
thought I had told you, my name at present was Nigel Grahame."
His eminence of Whitefriars on this burst out into a loud,
chuckling, impudent laugh, repeating the word, till his voice was
almost inarticulate,--"Niggle Green--Niggle Green--Niggle Green!--why,
my lord, you would be queered in the drinking of a penny pot of
Malmsey, if you cry before you are touched. Why, you have told me the
secret even now, had I not had a shrewd guess of it before. Why,
Master Nigel, since that is the word, I only called you my lord,
because we made you a peer of Alsatia last night, when the sack was
predominant.
--How you look now!--Ha! ha! ha!"
Nigel, indeed, conscious that he had unnecessarily betrayed himself,
replied hastily,--"he was much obliged to him for the honours
conferred, but did not propose to remain in the Sanctuary long enough
to enjoy them."
"Why, that may be as you will, an you will walk by wise counsel,"
answered the ducal porpoise; and, although Nigel remained standing, in
hopes to accelerate his guest's departure, he threw himself into one
of the old tapestry-backed easy-chairs, which cracked under his
weight, and began to call for old Trapbois.
The crone of all work appearing instead of her master, the Duke cursed
her for a careless jade, to let a strange gentleman, and a brave
guest, go without his morning's draught.
"I never take one, sir," said Glenvarloch.
"Time to begin--time to begin," answered the Duke.--"Here, you old
refuse of Sathan, go to our palace, and fetch Lord Green's morning
draught. Let us see--what shall it be, my lord?--a humming double pot
of ale, with a roasted crab dancing in it like a wherry above bridge?-
-or, hum--ay, young men are sweet-toothed--a quart of burnt sack, with
sugar and spice?--good against the fogs. Or, what say you to sipping a
gill of right distilled waters? Come, we will have them all, and you
shall take your choice.--Here, you Jezebel, let Tim send the ale, and
the sack, and the nipperkin of double-distilled, with a bit of diet-
loaf, or some such trinket, and score it to the new comer."
Glenvarloch, bethinking himself that it might be as well to endure
this fellow's insolence for a brief season, as to get into farther
discreditable quarrels, suffered him to take his own way, without
interruption, only observing, "You make yourself at home, sir, in my
apartment; but, for the time, you may use your pleasure. Meanwhile, I
would fain know what has procured me the honour of this unexpected
visit?"
"You shall know that when old Deb has brought the liquor--I never
speak of business dry-lipped. Why, how she drumbles--I warrant she
stops to take a sip on the road, and then you will think you have had
unchristian measure.--In the meanwhile, look at that dog there--look
Belzebub in the face, and tell me if you ever saw a sweeter beast--
never flew but at head in his life."
And, after this congenial panegyric, he was proceeding with a tale of
a dog and a bull, which threatened to be somewhat of the longest, when
he was interrupted by the return of the old crone, and two of his own
tapsters, bearing the various kinds of drinkables which he had
demanded, and which probably was the only species of interruption he
would have endured with equanimity.
When the cups and cans were duly arranged upon the table, and when
Deborah, whom the ducal generosity honoured with a penny farthing in
the way of gratuity, had withdrawn with her satellites, the worthy
potentate, having first slightly invited Lord Glenvarloch to partake
of the liquor which he was to pay for, and after having observed,
that, excepting three poached eggs, a pint of bastard, and a cup of
clary, he was fasting from every thing but sin, set himself seriously
to reinforce the radical moisture. Glenvarloch had seen Scottish
lairds and Dutch burgomasters at their potations; but their exploits
(though each might be termed a thirsty generation) were nothing to
those of Duke Hildebrod, who seemed an absolute sandbed, capable of
absorbing any given quantity of liquid, without being either vivified
or overflowed. He drank off the ale to quench a thirst which, as he
said, kept him in a fever from morning to night, and night to morning;
tippled off the sack to correct the crudity of the ale; sent the
spirits after the sack to keep all quiet, and then declared that,
probably, he should not taste liquor till _post meridiem_, unless it
was in compliment to some especial friend. Finally, he intimated that
he was ready to proceed on the business which brought him from home so
early, a proposition which Nigel readily received, though he could not
help suspecting that the most important purpose of Duke Hildebrod's
visit was already transacted.
In this, however, Lord Glenvarloch proved to be mistaken. Hildebrod,
before opening what he had to say, made an accurate survey of the
apartment, laying, from time to time, his finger on his nose, and
winking on Nigel with his single eye, while he opened and shut the
doors, lifted the tapestry, which concealed, in one or two places, the
dilapidation of time upon the wainscoted walls, peeped into closets,
and, finally, looked under the bed, to assure himself that the coast
was clear of listeners and interlopers. He then resumed his seat, and
beckoned confidentially to Nigel to draw his chair close to him.
"I am well as I am, Master Hildebrod," replied the young lord, little
disposed to encourage the familiarity which the man endeavoured to fix
on him; but the undismayed Duke proceeded as follows:
"You shall pardon me, my lord--and I now give you the title right
seriously--if I remind you that our waters may be watched; for though
old Trapbois be as deaf as Saint Paul's, yet his daughter has sharp
ears, and sharp eyes enough, and it is of them that it is my business
to speak."
"Say away, then, sir," said Nigel, edging his chair somewhat closer to
the Quicksand, "although I cannot conceive what business I have either
with mine host or his daughter."
"We will see that in the twinkling of a quart-pot," answered the
gracious Duke; "and first, my lord, you must not think to dance in a
net before old Jack Hildebrod, that has thrice your years o'er his
head, and was born, like King Richard, with all his eye-teeth ready
cut."
"Well, sir, go on," said Nigel.
"Why, then, my lord, I presume to say, that, if you are, as I believe
you are, that Lord Glenvarloch whom all the world talk of--the Scotch
gallant that has spent all, to a thin cloak and a light purse--be not
moved, my lord, it is so noised of you--men call you the sparrow-hawk,
who will fly at all--ay, were it in the very Park--Be not moved, my
lord."
"I am ashamed, sirrah," replied Glenvarloch, "that you should have
power to move me by your insolence--but beware--and, if you indeed
guess who I am, consider how long I may be able to endure your tone of
insolent familiarity."
"I crave pardon, my lord," said Hildebrod, with a sullen, yet
apologetic look; "I meant no harm in speaking my poor mind. I know not
what honour there may be in being familiar with your lordship, but I
judge there is little safety, for Lowestoffe is laid up in lavender
only for having shown you the way into Alsatia; and so, what is to
come of those who maintain you when you are here, or whether they will
get most honour or most trouble by doing so, I leave with your
lordship's better judgment."
"I will bring no one into trouble on my account," said Lord
Glenvarloch. "I will leave Whitefriars to-morrow. Nay, by Heaven, I
will leave it this day."
"You will have more wit in your anger, I trust," said Duke Hildebrod;
"listen first to what I have to say to you, and, if honest Jack
Hildebrod puts you not in the way of nicking them all, may he never
cast doublets, or dull a greenhorn again! And so, my lord, in plain
words, you must wap and win."
"Your words must be still plainer before I can understand them," said
Nigel.
"What the devil--a gamester, one who deals with the devil's bones and
the doctors, and not understand Pedlar's French! Nay, then, I must
speak plain English, and that's the simpleton's tongue."
"Speak, then, sir," said Nigel; "and I pray you be brief, for I have
little more time to bestow on you."
"Well, then, my lord, to be brief, as you and the lawyers call it--I
understand you have an estate in the north, which changes masters for
want of the redeeming ready.--Ay, you start, but you cannot dance in a
net before me, as I said before; and so the king runs the frowning
humour on you, and the Court vapours you the go-by; and the Prince
scowls at you from under his cap; and the favourite serves you out the
puckered brow and the cold shoulder; and the favourite's favourite--"
"To go no further, sir," interrupted Nigel, "suppose all this true--
and what follows?"
"What follows?" returned Duke Hildebrod. "Marry, this follows, that
you will owe good deed, as well as good will, to him who shall put you
in the way to walk with your beaver cocked in the presence, as an ye
were Earl of Kildare; bully the courtiers; meet the Prince's blighting
look with a bold brow; confront the favourite; baffle his deputy, and-
-"
"This is all well," said Nigel! "but how is it to be accomplished?"
"By making thee a Prince of Peru, my lord of the northern latitudes;
propping thine old castle with ingots,--fertilizing thy failing
fortunes with gold dust--it shall but cost thee to put thy baron's
coronet for a day or so on the brows of an old Caduca here, the man's
daughter of the house, and thou art master of a mass of treasure that
shall do all I have said for thee, and--"
"What, you would have me marry this old gentlewoman here, the daughter
of mine host?" said Nigel, surprised and angry, yet unable to suppress
some desire to laugh.
"Nay, my lord, I would have you marry fifty thousand good sterling
pounds; for that, and better, hath old Trapbois hoarded; and thou
shall do a deed of mercy in it to the old man, who will lose his
golden smelts in some worse way--for now that he is well-nigh past his
day of work, his day of payment is like to follow."
"Truly, this is a most courteous offer," said Lord Glenvarloch; "but
may I pray of your candour, most noble duke, to tell me why you
dispose of a ward of so much wealth on a stranger like me, who may
leave you to-morrow?"
"In sooth, my lord," said the Duke, "that question smacks more of the
wit of Beaujeu's ordinary, than any word I have yet heard your
lordship speak, and reason it is you should be answered. Touching my
peers, it is but necessary to say, that Mistress Martha Trapbois will
none of them, whether clerical or laic. The captain hath asked her, so
hath the parson, but she will none of them--she looks higher than
either, and is, to say truth, a woman of sense, and so forth, too
profound, and of spirit something too high, to put up with greasy buff
or rusty prunella. For ourselves, we need but hint that we have a
consort in the land of the living, and, what is more to purpose, Mrs.
Martha knows it. So, as she will not lace her kersey hood save with a
quality binding, you, my lord, must be the man, and must carry off
fifty thousand decuses, the spoils of five thousand bullies, cutters,
and spendthrifts,--always deducting from the main sum some five
thousand pounds for our princely advice and countenance, without
which, as matters stand in Alsatia, you would find it hard to win the
plate."
"But has your wisdom considered, sir," replied Glenvarloch, "how this
wedlock can serve me in my present emergence?"
"As for that, my lord," said Duke Hildebrod, "if, with forty or fifty
thousand pounds in your pouch, you cannot save yourself, you will
deserve to lose your head for your folly, and your hand for being
close-fisted."
"But, since your goodness has taken my matters into such serious
consideration," continued Nigel, who conceived there was no prudence
in breaking with a man, who, in his way, meant him favour rather than
offence, "perhaps you may be able to tell me how my kindred will be
likely to receive such a bride as you recommend to me?"
"Touching that matter, my lord, I have always heard your countrymen
knew as well as other folks, on which side their bread was buttered.
And, truly, speaking from report, I know no place where fifty thousand
pounds--fifty thousand pounds, I say--will make a woman more welcome
than it is likely to do in your ancient kingdom. And, truly, saving
the slight twist in her shoulder, Mrs. Martha Trapbois is a person of
very awful and majestic appearance, and may, for aught I know, be come
of better blood than any one wots of; for old Trapbois looks not over
like to be her father, and her mother was a generous, liberal sort of
a woman."
"I am afraid," answered Nigel, "that chance is rather too vague to
assure her a gracious reception into an honourable house."
"Why, then, my lord," replied Hildebrod, "I think it like she will be
even with them; for I will venture to say, she has as much ill-nature
as will make her a match for your whole clan."
"That may inconvenience me a little," replied Nigel.
"Not a whit--not a whit," said the Duke, fertile in expedients; "if
she should become rather intolerable, which is not unlikely, your
honourable house, which I presume to be a castle, hath, doubtless,
both turrets and dungeons, and ye may bestow your bonny bride in
either the one or the other, and then you know you will be out of
hearing of her tongue, and she will be either above or below the
contempt of your friends."
"It is sagely counselled, most equitable sir," replied Nigel, "and
such restraint would be a fit meed for her folly that gave me any
power over her."
"You entertain the project then, my lord?" said Duke Hildebrod.
"I must turn it in my mind for twenty-four hours," said Nigel; "and I
will pray you so to order matters that I be not further interrupted by
any visitors."
"We will utter an edict to secure your privacy," said the Duke; "and
you do not think," he added, lowering his voice to a confidential
whisper, "that ten thousand is too much to pay to the Sovereign, in
name of wardship?"
"Ten thousand!" said Lord Glenvarloch; "why, you said five thousand
but now."
"Aha! art avised of that?" said the Duke, touching the side of his
nose with his finger; "nay, if you have marked me so closely, you are
thinking on the case more nearly than I believed, till you trapped me.
Well, well, we will not quarrel about the consideration, as old
Trapbois would call it--do you win and wear the dame; it will be no
hard matter with your face and figure, and I will take care that no
one interrupts you. I will have an edict from the Senate as soon as
they meet for their meridiem."
So saying, Duke Hildebrod took his leave.
CHAPTER XXIV
This is the time--Heaven's maiden sentinel
Hath quitted her high watch--the lesser spangles
Are paling one by one; give me the ladder
And the short lever--bid Anthony
Keep with his carabine the wicket-gate;
And do thou bare thy knife and follow me,
For we will in and do it--darkness like this
Is dawning of our fortunes.
_Old Play._
When Duke Hildebrod had withdrawn, Nigel's first impulse was an
irresistible feeling to laugh at the sage adviser, who would have thus
connected him with age, ugliness, and ill-temper; but his next thought
was pity for the unfortunate father and daughter, who, being the only
persons possessed of wealth in this unhappy district, seemed like a
wreck on the sea-shore of a barbarous country, only secured from
plunder for the moment by the jealousy of the tribes among whom it had
been cast. Neither could he help being conscious that his own
residence here was upon conditions equally precarious, and that he was
considered by the Alsatians in the same light of a godsend on the
Cornish coast, or a sickly but wealthy caravan travelling through the
wilds of Africa, and emphatically termed by the nations of despoilers
through whose regions it passes _Dummalafong_, which signifies a thing
given to be devoured--a common prey to all men.
Nigel had already formed his own plan to extricate himself, at
whatever risk, from his perilous and degrading situation; and, in
order that he might carry it into instant execution, he only awaited
the return of Lowestoffe's messenger. He expected him, however, in
vain, and could only amuse himself by looking through such parts of
his baggage as had been sent to him from his former lodgings, in order
to select a small packet of the most necessary articles to take with
him, in the event of his quitting his lodgings secretly and suddenly,
as speed and privacy would, he foresaw, be particularly necessary, if
he meant to obtain an interview with the king, which was the course
his spirit and his interest alike determined him to pursue.
While he was thus engaged, he found, greatly to his satisfaction, that
Master Lowestoffe had transmitted not only his rapier and poniard, but
a pair of pistols, which he had used in travelling; of a smaller and
more convenient size than the large petronels, or horse pistols, which
were then in common use, as being made for wearing at the girdle or in
the pockets. Next to having stout and friendly comrades, a man is
chiefly emboldened by finding himself well armed in case of need, and
Nigel, who had thought with some anxiety on the hazard of trusting his
life, if attacked, to the protection of the clumsy weapon with which
Lowestoffe had equipped him, in order to complete his disguise, felt
an emotion of confidence approaching to triumph, as, drawing his own
good and well-tried rapier, he wiped it with his handkerchief,
examined its point, bent it once or twice against the ground to prove
its well-known metal, and finally replaced it in the scabbard, the
more hastily, that he heard a tap at the door of his chamber, and had
no mind to be found vapouring in the apartment with his sword drawn.
It was his old host who entered, to tell him with many cringes that
the price of his apartment was to be a crown per diem; and that,
according to the custom of Whitefriars, the rent was always payable
per advance, although he never scrupled to let the money lie till a
week or fortnight, or even a month, in the hands of any honourable
guest like Master Grahame, always upon some reasonable consideration
for the use. Nigel got rid of the old dotard's intrusion, by throwing
down two pieces of gold, and requesting the accommodation of his
present apartment for eight days, adding, however, he did not think he
should tarry so long.
The miser, with a sparkling eye and a trembling hand, clutched fast
the proffered coin, and, having balanced the pieces with exquisite
pleasure on the extremity of his withered finger, began almost
instantly to show that not even the possession of gold can gratify for
more than an instant the very heart that is most eager in the pursuit
of it. First, the pieces might be light--with hasty hand he drew a
small pair of scales from his bosom, and weighed them, first together,
then separately, and smiled with glee as he saw them attain the due
depression in the balance--a circumstance which might add to his
profits, if it were true, as was currently reported, that little of
the gold coinage was current in Alsatia in a perfect state, and that
none ever left the Sanctuary in that condition.
Another fear then occurred to trouble the old miser's pleasure. He had
been just able to comprehend that Nigel intended to leave the Friars
sooner than the arrival of the term for which he had deposited the
rent. This might imply an expectation of refunding, which, as a Scotch
wag said, of all species of funding, jumped least with the old
gentleman's humour. He was beginning to enter a hypothetical caveat on
this subject, and to quote several reasons why no part of the money
once consigned as room-rent, could be repaid back on any pretence,
without great hardship to the landlord, when Nigel, growing impatient,
told him that the money was his absolutely, and without any intention
on his part of resuming any of it--all he asked in return was the
liberty of enjoying in private the apartment he had paid for. Old
Trapbois, who had still at his tongue's end much of the smooth
language, by which, in his time, he had hastened the ruin of many a
young spendthrift, began to launch out upon the noble and generous
disposition of his new guest, until Nigel, growing impatient, took the
old gentleman by the hand, and gently, yet irresistibly, leading him
to the door of the chamber, put him out, but with such decent and
moderate exertion of his superior strength, as to render the action in
no shape indecorous, and, fastening the door, began to do that for his
pistols which he had done for his favourite sword, examining with care
the flints and locks, and reviewing the state of his small provision
of ammunition.
In this operation he was a second time interrupted by a knocking at
the door--he called upon the person to enter, having no doubt that it
was Lowestoffe's messenger at length arrived. It was, however, the
ungracious daughter of old Trapbois, who, muttering something about
her father's mistake, laid down upon the table one of the pieces of
gold which Nigel had just given to him, saying, that what she retained
was the full rent for the term he had specified. Nigel replied, he had
paid the money, and had no desire to receive it again.
"Do as you will with it, then," replied his hostess, "for there it
lies, and shall lie for me. If you are fool enough to pay more than is
reason, my father shall not be knave enough to take it."
"But your father, mistress," said Nigel, "your father told me--"
"Oh, my father, my father," said she, interrupting him,--"my father
managed these affairs while he was able--I manage them now, and that
may in the long run be as well for both of us."
She then looked on the table, and observed the weapons.
"You have arms, I see," she said; "do you know how to use them?"
"I should do so mistress," replied Nigel, "for it has been my
occupation."
"You are a soldier, then?" she demanded.
"No farther as yet, than as every gentleman of my country is a
soldier."
"Ay, that is your point of honour--to cut the throats of the poor--a
proper gentlemanlike occupation for those who should protect them!"
"I do not deal in cutting throats, mistress," replied Nigel; "but I
carry arms to defend myself, and my country if it needs me."
"Ay," replied Martha, "it is fairly worded; but men say you are as
prompt as others in petty brawls, where neither your safety nor your
country is in hazard; and that had it not been so, you would not have
been in the Sanctuary to-day."
"Mistress," returned Nigel, "I should labour in vain to make you
understand that a man's honour, which is, or should be, dearer to him
than his life, may often call on and compel us to hazard our own
lives, or those of others, on what would otherwise seem trifling
contingencies."
"God's law says nought of that," said the female; "I have only read
there, that thou shall not kill. But I have neither time nor
inclination to preach to you--you will find enough of fighting here if
you like it, and well if it come not to seek you when you are least
prepared. Farewell for the present--the char-woman will execute your
commands for your meals."
She left the room, just as Nigel, provoked at her assuming a superior
tone of judgment and of censure, was about to be so superfluous as to
enter into a dispute with an old pawnbroker's daughter on the subject
of the point of honour. He smiled at himself for the folly into which
the spirit of self-vindication had so nearly hurried him.
Lord Glenvarloch then applied to old Deborah the char-woman, by whose
intermediation he was provided with a tolerably decent dinner; and the
only embarrassment which he experienced, was from the almost forcible
entry of the old dotard his landlord, who insisted upon giving his
assistance at laying the cloth. Nigel had some difficulty to prevent
him from displacing his arms and some papers which were lying on a
small table at which he had been sitting; and nothing short of a stern
and positive injunction to the contrary could compel him to use
another board (though there were two in the room) for the purpose of
laying the cloth.
Having at length obliged him to relinquish his purpose, he could not
help observing that the eyes of the old dotard seemed still anxiously
fixed upon the small table on which lay his sword and pistols; and
that, amidst all the little duties which he seemed officiously anxious
to render to his guest, he took every opportunity of looking towards
and approaching these objects of his attention. At length, when
Trapbois thought he had completely avoided the notice of his guest,
Nigel, through the observation of one of the cracked mirrors, oh which
channel of communication the old man had not calculated, beheld him
actually extend his hand towards the table in question. He thought it
unnecessary to use further ceremony, but telling his landlord, in a
stern voice, that he permitted no one to touch his arms, he commanded
him to leave the apartment. The old usurer commenced a maundering sort
of apology, in which all that Nigel distinctly apprehended, was a
frequent repetition of the word _consideration_, and which did not
seem to him to require any other answer than a reiteration of his
command to him to leave the apartment, upon pain of worse
consequences.
The ancient Hebe who acted as Lord Glenvarloch's cup-bearer, took his
part against the intrusion of the still more antiquated Ganymede, and
insisted on old Trapbois leaving the room instantly, menacing him at
the same time with her mistress's displeasure if he remained there any
longer. The old man seemed more under petticoat government than any
other, for the threat of the char-woman produced greater effect upon
him than the more formidable displeasure of Nigel. He withdrew
grumbling and muttering, and Lord Glenvarloch heard him bar a large
door at the nearer end of the gallery, which served as a division
betwixt the other parts of the extensive mansion, and the apartment
occupied by his guest, which, as the reader is aware, had its access
from the landing-place at the head of the grand staircase.
Nigel accepted the careful sound of the bolts and bars as they were
severally drawn by the trembling hand of old Trapbois, as an omen that
the senior did not mean again to revisit him in the course of the
evening, and heartily rejoiced that he was at length to be left to
uninterrupted solitude.
The old woman asked if there was aught else to be done for his
accommodation; and, indeed, it had hitherto seemed as if the pleasure
of serving him, or more properly the reward which she expected, had
renewed her youth and activity. Nigel desired to have candles, to have
a fire lighted in his apartment, and a few fagots placed beside it,
that he might feed it from time to time, as he began to feel the
chilly effects of the damp and low situation of the house, close as it
was to the Thames. But while the old woman was absent upon his errand,
he began to think in what way he should pass the long solitary evening
with which he was threatened.
His own reflections promised to Nigel little amusement, and less
applause. He had considered his own perilous situation in every light
in which it could be viewed, and foresaw as little utility as comfort
in resuming the survey. To divert the current of his ideas, books
were, of course, the readiest resource; and although, like most of us,
Nigel had, in his time, sauntered through large libraries, and even
spent a long time there without greatly disturbing their learned
contents, he was now in a situation where the possession of a volume,
even of very inferior merit, becomes a real treasure. The old
housewife returned shortly afterwards with fagots, and some pieces of
half-burnt wax-candles, the perquisites, probably, real or usurped, of
some experienced groom of the chambers, two of which she placed in
large brass candlesticks, of different shapes and patterns, and laid
the others on the table, that Nigel might renew them from time to time
as they burnt to the socket. She heard with interest Lord
Glenvarloch's request to have a book--any sort of book--to pass away
the night withal, and returned for answer, that she knew of no other
books in the house than her young mistress's (as she always
denominated Mistress Martha Trapbois) Bible, which the owner would not
lend; and her master's Whetstone of Witte, being the second part of
Arithmetic, by Robert Record, with the Cossike Practice and Rule of
Equation; which promising volume Nigel declined to borrow. She
offered, however, to bring him some books from Duke Hildebrod--"who
sometimes, good gentleman, gave a glance at a book when the State
affairs of Alsatia left him as much leisure."
Nigfil embraced the proposal, and his unwearied Iris scuttled away on
this second embassy. She returned in a short time with a tattered
quarto volume under her arm, and a bottle of sack in her hand; for the
Duke, judging that mere reading was dry work, had sent the wine by way
of sauce to help it down, not forgetting to add the price to the
morning's score, which he had already run up against the stranger in
the Sanctuary.
Nigel seized on the book, and did not refuse the wine, thinking that a
glass or two, as it really proved to be of good quality, would be no
bad interlude to his studies. He dismissed, with thanks and assurance
of reward, the poor old drudge who had been so zealous in his service;
trimmed his fire and candles, and placed the easiest of the old arm-
chairs in a convenient posture betwixt the fire and the table at which
he had dined, and which now supported the measure of sack and the
lights; and thus accompanying his studies with such luxurious
appliances as were in his power, he began to examine the only volume
with which the ducal library of Alsatia had been able to supply him.
The contents, though of a kind generally interesting, were not well
calculated to dispel the gloom by which he was surrounded. The book
was entitled "God's Revenge against Murther;" not, as the
bibliomaniacal reader may easily conjecture, the work which Reynolds
published under that imposing name, but one of a much earlier date,
printed and sold by old Wolfe; and which, could a copy now be found,
would sell for much more than its weight in gold.[Footnote: Only three
copies are known to exist; one in the library at Kennaquhair, and two-
-one foxed and cropped, the other tall and in good condition--both in
the possession of an eminent member of the Roxburghe Club.--_Note by_
CAPTAIN CLUTTERBUCK.] Nigel had soon enough of the doleful tales which
the book contains, and attempted one or two other modes of killing the
evening. He looked out at window, but the night was rainy, with gusts
of wind; he tried to coax the fire, but the fagots were green, and
smoked without burning; and as he was naturally temperate, he felt his
blood somewhat heated by the canary sack which he had already drank,
and had no farther inclination to that pastime. He next attempted to
compose a memorial addressed to the king, in which he set forth his
case and his grievances; but, speedily stung with the idea that his
supplication would be treated with scorn, he flung the scroll into the
fire, and, in a sort of desperation, resumed the book which he had
laid aside.
Nigel became more interested in the volume at the second than at the
first attempt which he made to peruse it. The narratives, strange and
shocking as they were to human feeling, possessed yet the interest of
sorcery or of fascination, which rivets the attention by its awakening
horrors. Much was told of the strange and horrible acts of blood by
which men, setting nature and humanity alike at defiance, had, for the
thirst of revenge, the lust of gold, or the cravings of irregular
ambition, broken into the tabernacle of life. Yet more surprising and
mysterious tales were recounted of the mode in which such deeds of
blood had come to be discovered and revenged. Animals, irrational
animals, had told the secret, and birds of the air had carried the
matter. The elements had seemed to betray the deed which had polluted
them--earth had ceased to support the murderer's steps, fire to warm
his frozen limbs, water to refresh his parched lips, air to relieve
his gasping lungs. All, in short, bore evidence to the homicide's
guilt. In other circumstances, the criminal's own awakened conscience
pursued and brought him to justice; and in some narratives the grave
was said to have yawned, that the ghost of the sufferer might call for
revenge.
It was now wearing late in the night, and the book was still in
Nigel's hands, when the tapestry which hung behind him flapped against
the wall, and the wind produced by its motion waved the flame of the
candles by which he was reading. Nigel started and turned round, in
that excited and irritated state of mind which arose from the nature
of his studies, especially at a period when a certain degree of
superstition was inculcated as a point of religious faith. It was not
without emotion that he saw the bloodless countenance, meagre form,
and ghastly aspect of old Trapbois, once more in the very act of
extending his withered hand towards the table which supported his
arms. Convinced by this untimely apparition that something evil was
meditated towards him, Nigel sprung up, seized his sword, drew it, and
placing it at the old man's breast, demanded of him what he did in his
apartment at so untimely an hour. Trapbois showed neither fear nor
surprise, and only answered by some imperfect expressions, intimating
he would part with his life rather than with his property; and Lord
Glenvarloch, strangely embarrassed, knew not what to think of the
intruder's motives, and still less how to get rid of him. As he again
tried the means of intimidation, he was surprised by a second
apparition from behind the tapestry, in the person of the daughter of
Trapbois, bearing a lamp in her hand. She also seemed to possess her
father's insensibility to danger, for, coming close to Nigel, she
pushed aside impetuously his naked sword, and even attempted to take
it out of his hand.
"For shame," she said, "your sword on a man of eighty years and more!-
=this the honour of a Scottish gentleman!--give it to me to make a
spindle of!"
"Stand back," said Nigel; "I mean your father no injury--but I _will_
know what has caused him to prowl this whole day, and even at this
late hour of night, around my arms."
"Your arms!" repeated she; "alas! young man, the whole arms in the
Tower of London are of little value to him, in comparison of this
miserable piece of gold which I left this morning on the table of a
young spendthrift, too careless to put what belonged to him into his
own purse."
So saying, she showed the piece of gold, which, still remaining on the
table, where she left it, had been the bait that attracted old
Trapbois so frequently to the spot; and which, even in the silence of
the night, had so dwelt on his imagination, that he had made use of a
private passage long disused, to enter his guest's apartment, in order
to possess himself of the treasure during his slumbers. He now
exclaimed, at the highest tones of his cracked and feeble voice--
"It is mine--it is mine!--he gave it to me for a consideration--I will
die ere I part with my property!"
"It is indeed his own, mistress," said Nigel, "and I do entreat you to
restore it to the person on whom I have bestowed it, and let me have
my apartment in quiet."
"I will account with you for it, then,"--said the maiden, reluctantly
giving to her father the morsel of Mammon, on which he darted as if
his bony fingers had been the talons of a hawk seizing its prey; and
then making a contented muttering and mumbling, like an old dog after
he has been fed, and just when he is wheeling himself thrice round for
the purpose of lying down, he followed his daughter behind the
tapestry, through a little sliding-door, which was perceived when the
hangings were drawn apart.
"This shall be properly fastened to-morrow," said the daughter to
Nigel, speaking in such a tone that her father, deaf, and engrossed by
his acquisition, could not hear her; "to-night I will continue to
watch him closely.--I wish you good repose."
These few words, pronounced in a tone of more civility than she had
yet made use of towards her lodger, contained a wish which was not to
be accomplished, although her guest, presently after her departure,
retired to bed.
There was a slight fever in Nigel's blood, occasioned by the various
events of the evening, which put him, as the phrase is, beside his
rest. Perplexing and painful thoughts rolled on his mind like a
troubled stream, and the more he laboured to lull himself to slumber,
the farther he seemed from attaining his object. He tried all the
resources common in such cases; kept counting from one to a thousand,
until his head was giddy--he watched the embers of the wood fire till
his eyes were dazzled--he listened to the dull moaning of the wind,
the swinging and creaking of signs which projected from the houses,
and the baying of here and there a homeless dog, till his very ear was
weary.
Suddenly, however, amid this monotony, came a sound which startled him
at once. It was a female shriek. He sat up in his bed to listen, then
remembered he was in Alsatia, where brawls of every sort were current
among the unruly inhabitants. But another scream, and another, and
another, succeeded so close, that he was certain, though the noise was
remote and sounded stifled, it must be in the same house with himself.
Nigel jumped up hastily, put on a part of his clothes, seized his
sword and pistols, and ran to the door of his chamber. Here he plainly
heard the screams redoubled, and, as he thought, the sounds came from
the usurer's apartment. All access to the gallery was effectually
excluded by the intermediate door, which the brave young lord shook
with eager, but vain impatience. But the secret passage occurred
suddenly to his recollection. He hastened back to his room, and
succeeded with some difficulty in lighting a candle, powerfully
agitated by hearing the cries repeated, yet still more afraid lest
they should sink into silence.
He rushed along the narrow and winding entrance, guided by the noise,
which now burst more wildly on his ear; and, while he descended a
narrow staircase which terminated the passage, he heard the stifled
voices of men, encouraging, as it seemed, each other. "D--n her,
strike her down--silence her--beat her brains out!"--while the voice
of his hostess, though now almost exhausted, was repeating the cry of
"murder," and "help." At the bottom of the staircase was a small door,
which gave way before Nigel as he precipitated himself upon the scene
of action,--a cocked pistol in one hand, a candle in the other, and
his naked sword under his arm.
Two ruffians had, with great difficulty, overpowered, or, rather, were
on the point of overpowering, the daughter of Trapbois, whose
resistance appeared to have been most desperate, for the floor was
covered with fragments of her clothes, and handfuls of her hair. It
appeared that her life was about to be the price of her defence, for
one villain had drawn a long clasp-knife, when they were surprised by
the entrance of Nigel, who, as they turned towards him, shot the
fellow with the knife dead on the spot, and when the other advanced to
him, hurled the candlestick at his head, and then attacked him with
his sword. It was dark, save some pale moonlight from the window; and
the ruffian, after firing a pistol without effect, and fighting a
traverse or two with his sword, lost heart, made for the window,
leaped over it, and escaped. Nigel fired his remaining pistol after
him at a venture, and then called for light.
"There is light in the kitchen," answered Martha Trapbois, with more
presence of mind than could have been expected. "Stay, you know not
the way; I will fetch it myself.--Oh! my father--my poor father!--I
knew it would come to this--and all along of the accursed gold!--They
have _murdered_ him!"
CHAPTER XXV
Death finds us 'mid our playthings--snatches us,
As a cross nurse might do a wayward child,
From all our toys and baubles. His rough call
Unlooses all our favourite ties on earth;
And well if they are such as may be answer'd
In yonder world, where all is judged of truly.
_Old Play_.
It was a ghastly scene which opened, upon Martha Trapbois's return
with a light. Her own haggard and austere features were exaggerated by
all the desperation of grief, fear, and passion--but the latter was
predominant. On the floor lay the body of the robber, who had expired
without a groan, while his blood, flowing plentifully, had crimsoned
all around. Another body lay also there, on which the unfortunate
woman precipitated herself in agony, for it was that of her unhappy
father. In the next moment she started up, and exclaiming--"There may
be life yet!" strove to raise the body. Nigel went to her assistance,
but not without a glance at the open window; which Martha, as acute as
if undisturbed either by passion or terror, failed not to interpret
justly.
"Fear not," she cried, "fear not; they are base cowards, to whom
courage is as much unknown as mercy. If I had had weapons, I could
have defended myself against them without assistance or protection.--
Oh! my poor father! protection comes too late for this cold and stiff
corpse.--He is dead--dead!"
While she spoke, they were attempting to raise the dead body of the
old miser; but it was evident, even from the feeling of the inactive
weight and rigid joints, that life had forsaken her station. Nigel
looked for a wound, but saw none. The daughter of the deceased, with
more presence of mind than a daughter could at the time have been
supposed capable of exerting, discovered the instrument of his murder-
-a sort of scarf, which had been drawn so tight round his throat, as
to stifle his cries for assistance, in the first instance, and
afterwards to extinguish life.
She undid the fatal noose; and, laying the old man's body in the arms
of Lord Glenvarloch, she ran for water, for spirits, for essences, in
the vain hope that life might be only suspended. That hope proved
indeed vain. She chafed his temples, raised his head, loosened his
nightgown, (for it seemed as if he had arisen from bed upon hearing
the entrance of the villains,) and, finally, opened, with difficulty,
his fixed and closely-clenched hands, from one of which dropped a key,
from the other the very piece of gold about which the unhappy man had
been a little before so anxious, and which probably, in the impaired
state of his mental faculties, he was disposed to defend with as
desperate energy as if its amount had been necessary to his actual
existence.
"It is in vain--it is in vain," said the daughter, desisting from her
fruitless attempts to recall the spirit which had been effectually
dislodged, for the neck had been twisted by the violence of the
murderers; "It is in vain--he is murdered--I always knew it would be
thus; and now I witness it!"
She then snatched up the key and the piece of money, but it was only
to dash them again on the floor, as she exclaimed, "Accursed be ye
both, for you are the causes of this deed!"
Nigel would have spoken--would have reminded her, that measures should
be instantly taken for the pursuit of the murderer who had escaped, as
well as for her own security against his return; but she interrupted
him sharply.
"Be silent," she said, "be silent. Think you, the thoughts of my own
heart are not enough to distract me, and with such a sight as this
before me? I say, be silent," she said again, and in a yet sterner
tone--"Can a daughter listen, and her father's murdered corpse lying
on her knees?"
Lord Glenvarloch, however overpowered by the energy of her grief, felt
not the less the embarrassment of his own situation. He had discharged
both his pistols--the robber might return--he had probably other
assistants besides the man who had fallen, and it seemed to him,
indeed, as if he had heard a muttering beneath the windows. He
explained hastily to his companion the necessity of procuring
ammunition.
"You are right," she said, somewhat contemptuously, "and have ventured
already more than ever I expected of man. Go, and shift for yourself,
since that is your purpose--leave me to my fate."
Without stopping for needless expostulation, Nigel hastened to his own
room through the secret passage, furnished himself with the ammunition
he sought for, and returned with the same celerity; wondering himself
at the accuracy with which he achieved, in the dark, all the
meanderings of the passage which he had traversed only once, and that
in a moment of such violent agitation.
He found, on his return, the unfortunate woman standing like a statue
by the body of her father, which she had laid straight on the floor,
having covered the face with the skirt of his gown. She testified
neither surprise nor pleasure at Nigel's return, but said to him
calmly--"My moan is made--my sorrow--all the sorrow at least that man
shall ever have noting of, is gone past; but I will have justice, and
the base villain who murdered this poor defenceless old man, when he
had not, by the course of nature, a twelvemonth's life in him, shall
not cumber the earth long after him. Stranger, whom heaven has sent to
forward the revenge reserved for this action, go to Hildebrod's--there
they are awake all night in their revels--bid him come hither--he is
bound by his duty, and dare not, and shall not, refuse his assistance,
which he knows well I can reward. Why do ye tarry?--go instantly." "I
would," said Nigel, "but I am fearful of leaving you alone; the
villains may return, and--"
"True, most true," answered Martha, "he may return; and, though I care
little for his murdering me, he may possess himself of what has most
tempted him. Keep this key and this piece of gold; they are both of
importance--defend your life if assailed, and if you kill the villain
I will make you rich. I go myself to call for aid."
Nigel would have remonstrated with her, but she had departed, and in a
moment he heard the house-door clank behind her. For an instant he
thought of following her; but upon recollection that the distance was
but short betwixt the tavern of Hildebrod and the house of Trapbois,
he concluded that she knew it better than he--incurred little danger
in passing it, and that he would do well in the meanwhile to remain on
the watch as she recommended.
It was no pleasant situation for one unused to such scenes to remain
in the apartment with two dead bodies, recently those of living and
breathing men, who had both, within the space of less than half an
hour, suffered violent death; one of them by the hand of the assassin,
the other, whose blood still continued to flow from the wound in his
throat, and to flood all around him, by the spectator's own deed of
violence, though of justice. He turned his face from those wretched
relics of mortality with a feeling of disgust, mingled with
superstition; and he found, when he had done so, that the
consciousness of the presence of these ghastly objects, though unseen
by him, rendered him more uncomfortable than even when he had his eyes
fixed upon, and reflected by, the cold, staring, lifeless eyeballs of
the deceased. Fancy also played her usual sport with him. He now
thought he heard the well-worn damask nightgown of the deceased usurer
rustle; anon, that he heard the slaughtered bravo draw up his leg, the
boot scratching the floor as if he was about to rise; and again he
deemed he heard the footsteps and the whisper of the returned ruffian
under the window from which he had lately escaped. To face the last
and most real danger, and to parry the terrors which the other class
of feelings were like to impress upon him, Nigel went to the window,
and was much cheered to observe the light of several torches
illuminating the street, and followed, as the murmur of voices
denoted, by a number of persons, armed, it would seem, with firelocks
and halberds, and attendant on Hildebrod, who (not in his fantastic
office of duke, but in that which he really possessed of bailiff of
the liberty and sanctuary of Whitefriars) was on his way to inquire
into the crime and its circumstances.
It was a strange and melancholy contrast to see these debauchees,
disturbed in the very depth of their midnight revel, on their arrival
at such a scene as this. They stared on each other, and on the bloody
work before them, with lack-lustre eyes; staggered with uncertain
steps over boards slippery with blood; their noisy brawling voices
sunk into stammering whispers; and, with spirits quelled by what they
saw, while their brains were still stupefied by the liquor which they
had drunk, they seemed like men walking in their sleep.
Old Hildebrod was an exception to the general condition. That seasoned
cask, however full, was at all times capable of motion, when there
occurred a motive sufficiently strong to set him a-rolling. He seemed
much shocked at what he beheld, and his proceedings, in consequence,
had more in them of regularity and propriety, than he might have been
supposed capable of exhibiting upon any occasion whatever. The
daughter was first examined, and stated, with wonderful accuracy and
distinctness, the manner in which she had been alarmed with a noise of
struggling and violence in her father's apartment, and that the more
readily, because she was watching him on account of some alarm
concerning his health. On her entrance, she had seen her father
sinking under the strength of two men, upon whom she rushed with all
the fury she was capable of. As their faces were blackened, and their
figures disguised, she could not pretend, in the hurry of a moment so
dreadfully agitating, to distinguish either of them as persons whom
she had seen before. She remembered little more except the firing of
shots, until she found herself alone with her guest, and saw that the
ruffians had escaped. Lord Glenvarloch told his story as we have given
it to the reader. The direct evidence thus received, Hildebrod
examined the premises. He found that the villains had made their
entrance by the window out of which the survivor had made his escape;
yet it seemed singular that they should have done so, as it was
secured with strong iron bars, which old Trapbois was in the habit of
shutting with his own hand at nightfall. He minuted down with great
accuracy, the state of every thing in the apartment, and examined
carefully the features of the slain robber. He was dressed like a
seaman of the lowest order, but his face was known to none present.
Hildebrod next sent for an Alsatian surgeon, whose vices, undoing what
his skill might have done for him, had consigned him to the wretched
practice of this place. He made him examine the dead bodies, and make
a proper declaration of the manner in which the sufferers seemed to
have come by their end. The circumstances of the sash did not escape
the learned judge, and having listened to all that could be heard or
conjectured on the subject, and collected all particulars of evidence
which appeared to bear on the bloody transaction, he commanded the
door of the apartment to be locked until next morning; and carrying,
the unfortunate daughter of the murdered man into the kitchen, where
there was no one in presence but Lord Glenvarloch, he asked her
gravely, whether she suspected no one in particular of having
committed the deed.
"Do _you_ suspect no one?" answered Martha, looking fixedly on him.
"Perhaps, I may, mistress; but it is my part to ask questions, yours
to answer them. That's the rule of the game."
"Then I suspect him who wore yonder sash. Do not you know whom I
mean?"
"Why, if you call on me for honours, I must needs say I have seen
Captain Peppercull have one of such a fashion, and he was not a man to
change his suits often."
"Send out, then," said Martha, "and have him apprehended."
"If it is he, he will be far by this time; but I will communicate with
the higher powers," answered the judge.
"You would have him escape," resumed she, fixing her eyes on him
sternly.
"By cock and pie," replied Hildebrod, "did it depend on me, the
murdering cut-throat should hang as high as ever Haman did--but let me
take my time. He has friends among us, _that_ you wot well; and all
that should assist me are as drunk as fiddlers."
"I will have revenge--I _will_ have it," repeated she; "and take heed
you trifle not with me."
"Trifle! I would sooner trifle with a she-bear the minute after they
had baited her. I tell you, mistress, be but patient, and we will have
him. I know all his haunts, and he cannot forbear them long; and I
will have trap-doors open for him. You cannot want justice, mistress,
for you have the means to get it."
"They who help me in my revenge," said Martha, "shall share those
means."
"Enough said," replied Hildebrod; "and now I would have you go to my
house, and get something hot--you will be but dreary here by
yourself."
"I will send for the old char-woman," replied Martha, "and we have the
stranger gentleman, besides."
"Umph, umph--the stranger gentleman!" said Hildebrod to Nigel, whom he
drew a little apart. "I fancy the captain has made the stranger
gentleman's fortune when he was making a bold dash for his own. I can
tell your honour--I must not say lordship--that I think my having
chanced to give the greasy buff-and-iron scoundrel some hint of what I
recommended to you to-day, has put him on this rough game. The better
for you--you will get the cash without the father-in-law.--You will
keep conditions, I trust?"
"I wish you had said nothing to any one of a scheme so absurd," said
Nigel.
"Absurd!--Why, think you she will not have thee? Take her with the
tear in her eye, man--take her with the tear in her eye. Let me hear
from you to-morrow. Good-night, good-night--a nod is as good as a
wink. I must to my business of sealing and locking up. By the way,
this horrid work has put all out of my head.--Here is a fellow from
Mr. Lowestoffe has been asking to see you. As he said his business was
express, the Senate only made him drink a couple of flagons, and he
was just coming to beat up your quarters when this breeze blew up.--
Ahey, friend! there is Master Nigel Grahame."
A young man, dressed in a green plush jerkin, with a badge on the
sleeve, and having the appearance of a waterman, approached and took
Nigel aside, while Duke Hildebrod went from place to place to exercise
his authority, and to see the windows fastened, and the doors of the
apartment locked up. The news communicated by Lowestoffe's messenger
were not the most pleasant. They were intimated in a courteous whisper
to Nigel, to the following effect:--That Master Lowestoffe prayed him
to consult his safety by instantly leaving Whitefriars, for that a
warrant from the Lord Chief-Justice had been issued out for
apprehending him, and would be put in force to-morrow, by the
assistance of a party of musketeers, a force which the Alsatians
neither would nor dared to resist.
"And so, squire," said the aquatic emissary, "my wherry is to wait you
at the Temple Stairs yonder, at five this morning, and, if you would
give the blood-hounds the slip, why, you may."
"Why did not Master Lowestoffe write to me?" said Nigel.
"Alas! the good gentleman lies up in lavender for it himself, and has
as little to do with pen and ink as if he were a parson."
"Did he send any token to me?" said Nigel.
"Token!--ay, marry did he--token enough, an I have not forgot it,"
said the fellow; then, giving a hoist to the waistband of his
breeches, he said,--" Ay, I have it--you were to believe me, because
your name was written with an O, for Grahame. Ay, that was it, I
think.--Well, shall we meet in two hours, when tide turns, and go down
the river like a twelve-oared barge?"
"Where is the king just now, knowest thou?" answered Lord Glenvarloch.
"The king! why, he went down to Greenwich yesterday by water, like a
noble sovereign as he is, who will always float where he can. He was
to have hunted this week, but that purpose is broken, they say; and
the Prince, and the Duke, and all of them at Greenwich, are as merry
as minnows."
"Well," replied Nigel, "I will be ready to go at five; do thou come
hither to carry my baggage."
"Ay, ay, master," replied the fellow, and left the house mixing
himself with the disorderly attendants of Duke Hildebrod, who were now
retiring. That potentate entreated Nigel to make fast the doors behind
him, and, pointing to the female who sat by the expiring fire with her
limbs outstretched, like one whom the hand of Death had already
arrested, he whispered, "Mind your hits, and mind your bargain, or I
will cut your bow-string for you before you can draw it."
Feeling deeply the ineffable brutality which could recommend the
prosecuting such views over a wretch in such a condition, Lord
Glenvarloch yet commanded his temper so far as to receive the advice
in silence, and attend to the former part of it, by barring the door
carefully behind Duke Hildebrod and his suite, with the tacit hope
that he should never again see or hear of them. He then returned to
the kitchen, in which the unhappy woman remained, her hands still
clenched, her eyes fixed, and her limbs extended, like those of a
person in a trance. Much moved by her situation, and with the prospect
which lay before her, he endeavoured to awaken her to existence by
every means in his power, and at length apparently succeeded in
dispelling her stupor, and attracting her attention. He then explained
to her that he was in the act of leaving Whitefriars in a few hours--
that his future destination was uncertain, but that he desired
anxiously to know whether he could contribute to her protection by
apprizing any friend of her situation, or otherwise. With some
difficulty she seemed to comprehend his meaning, and thanked him with
her usual short ungracious manner. "He might mean well," she said,
"but he ought to know that the miserable had no friends."
Nigel said, "He would not willingly be importunate, but, as he was
about to leave the Friars--" She interrupted him--
"You are about to leave the Friars? I will go with you."
"You go with me!" exclaimed Lord Glenvarloch.
"Yes," she said, "I will persuade my father to leave this murdering
den." But, as she spoke, the more perfect recollection of what had
passed crowded on her mind. She hid her face in her hands, and burst
out into a dreadful fit of sobs, moans, and lamentations, which
terminated in hysterics, violent in proportion to the uncommon
strength of her body and mind.
Lord Glenvarloch, shocked, confused, and inexperienced, was about to
leave the house in quest of medical, or at least female assistance;
but the patient, when the paroxysm had somewhat spent its force, held
him fast by the sleeve with one hand, covering her face with the
other, while a copious flood of tears came to relieve the emotions of
grief by which she had been so violently agitated.
"Do not leave me," she said--"do not leave me, and call no one. I have
never been in this way before, and would not now," she said, sitting
upright, and wiping her eyes with her apron,--"would not now--but
that--but that he loved _me_. if he loved nothing else that was human-
-To die so, and by such hands!"
And again the unhappy woman gave way to a paroxysm of sorrow, mingling
her tears with sobbing, wailing, and all the abandonment of female
grief, when at its utmost height. At length, she gradually recovered
the austerity of her natural composure, and maintained it as if by a
forcible exertion of resolution, repelling, as she spoke, the repeated
returns of the hysterical affection, by such an effort as that by
which epileptic patients are known to suspend the recurrence of their
fits. Yet her mind, however resolved, could not so absolutely overcome
the affection of her nerves, but that she was agitated by strong fits
of trembling, which, for a minute or two at a time, shook her whole
frame in a manner frightful to witness. Nigel forgot his own
situation, and, indeed, every thing else, in the interest inspired by
the unhappy woman before him--an interest which affected a proud
spirit the more deeply, that she herself, with correspondent highness
of mind, seemed determined to owe as little as possible either to the
humanity or the pity of others.
"I am not wont to be in this way," she said,--"but--but--Nature will
have power over the frail beings it has made. Over you, sir, I have
some right; for, without you, I had not survived this awful night. I
wish your aid had been either earlier or later--but you have saved my
life, and you are bound to assist in making it endurable to me."
"If you will show me how it is possible," answered Nigel.
"You are going hence, you say, instantly--carry me with you," said the
unhappy woman. "By my own efforts, I shall never escape from this
wilderness of guilt and misery."
"Alas! what can I do for you?" replied Nigel. "My own way, and I must
not deviate from it, leads me, in all probability, to a dungeon. I
might, indeed, transport you from hence with me, if you could
afterwards bestow yourself with any friend."
"Friend!" she exclaimed--"I have no friend--they have long since
discarded us. A spectre arising from the dead were more welcome than I
should be at the doors of those who have disclaimed us; and, if they
were willing to restore their friendship to me now, I would despise
it, because they withdrew it from him--from him"--(here she underwent
strong but suppressed agitation, and then added firmly)--"from _him_
who lies yonder.--I have no friend." Here she paused; and then
suddenly, as if recollecting herself, added, "I have no friend, but I
have that will purchase many--I have that which will purchase both
friends and avengers.--It is well thought of; I must not leave it for
a prey to cheats and ruffians.--Stranger, you must return to yonder
room. Pass through it boldly to his--that is, to the sleeping
apartment; push the bedstead aside; beneath each of the posts is a
brass plate, as if to support the weight, but it is that upon the
left, nearest to the wall, which must serve your turn--press the
corner of the plate, and it will spring up and show a keyhole, which
this key will open. You will then lift a concealed trap-door, and in a
cavity of the floor you will discover a small chest. Bring it hither;
it shall accompany our journey, and it will be hard if the contents
cannot purchase me a place of refuge."
"But the door communicating with the kitchen has been locked by these
people," said Nigel.
"True, I had forgot; they had their reasons for that, doubtless,"
answered she. "But the secret passage from your apartment is open, and
you may go that way."
Lord Glenvarloch took the key, and, as he lighted a lamp to show him
the way, she read in his countenance some unwillingness to the task
imposed.
"You fear?" said she--"there is no cause; the murderer and his victim
are both at rest. Take courage, I will go with you myself--you cannot
know the trick of the spring, and the chest will be too heavy for
you."
"No fear, no fear," answered Lord Glenvarloch, ashamed of the
construction she put upon a momentary hesitation, arising from a
dislike to look upon what is horrible, often connected with those
high-wrought minds which are the last to fear what is merely
dangerous--"I will do your errand as you desire; but for you, you must
not--cannot go yonder."
"I can--I will," she said. "I am composed. You shall see that I am
so." She took from the table a piece of unfinished sewing-work, and,
with steadiness and composure, passed a silken thread into the eye of
a fine needle.--"Could I have done that," she said, with a smile yet
more ghastly than her previous look of fixed despair, "had not my
heart and hand been both steady?"
She then led the way rapidly up stairs to Nigel's chamber, and
proceeded through the secret passage with the same haste, as if she
had feared her resolution might have failed her ere her purpose was
executed. At the bottom of the stairs she paused a moment, before
entering the fatal apartment, then hurried through with a rapid step
to the sleeping chamber beyond, followed closely by Lord Glenvarloch,
whose reluctance to approach the scene of butchery was altogether lost
in the anxiety which he felt on account of the survivor of the
tragedy.
Her first action was to pull aside the curtains of her father's bed.
The bed-clothes were thrown aside in confusion, doubtless in the
action of his starting from sleep to oppose the entrance of the
villains into the next apartment. The hard mattress scarcely showed
the slight pressure where the emaciated body of the old miser had been
deposited. His daughter sank beside the bed, clasped her hands, and
prayed to heaven, in a short and affectionate manner, for support in
her affliction, and for vengeance on the villains who had made her
fatherless. A low-muttered and still more brief petition recommended
to Heaven the soul of the sufferer, and invoked pardon for his sins,
in virtue of the great Christian atonement.
This duty of piety performed, she signed to Nigel to aid her; and,
having pushed aside the heavy bedstead, they saw the brass plate which
Martha had described. She pressed the spring, and, at once, the plate
starting up, showed the keyhole, and a large iron ring used in lifting
the trap-door, which, when raised, displayed the strong box, or small
chest, she had mentioned, and which proved indeed so very weighty,
that it might perhaps have been scarcely possible for Nigel, though a
very strong man, to have raised it without assistance.
Having replaced everything as they had found it, Nigel, with such help
as his companion was able to afford, assumed his load, and made a
shift to carry it into the next apartment, where lay the miserable
owner, insensible to sounds and circumstances, which, if any thing
could have broken his long last slumber, would certainly have done so.
His unfortunate daughter went up to his body, and had even the courage
to remove the sheet which had been decently disposed over it. She put
her hand on the heart, but there was no throb--held a feather to the
lips, but there was no motion--then kissed with deep reverence the
starting veins of the pale forehead, and then the emaciated hand.
"I would you could hear me," she said,--"Father! I would you could
hear me swear, that, if I now save what you most valued on earth, it
is only to assist me in obtaining vengeance for your death."
She replaced the covering, and, without a tear, a sigh, or an
additional word of any kind, renewed her efforts, until they conveyed
the strong-box betwixt them into Lord Glenvarloch's sleeping
apartment. "It must pass," she said, "as part of your baggage. I will
be in readiness so soon as the waterman calls."
She retired; and Lord Glenvarloch, who saw the hour of their departure
approach, tore down a part of the old hanging to make a covering,
which he corded upon the trunk, lest the peculiarity of its shape, and
the care with which it was banded and counterbanded with bars of
steel, might afford suspicions respecting the treasure which it
contained. Having taken this measure of precaution, he changed the
rascally disguise, which he had assumed on entering Whitefriars, into
a suit becoming his quality, and then, unable to sleep, though
exhausted with the events of the night, he threw himself on his bed to
await the summons of the waterman.
CHAPTER XXVI
Give us good voyage, gentle stream--we stun not
Thy sober ear with sounds of revelry;
Wake not the slumbering echoes of thy banks
With voice of flute and horn--we do but seek
On the broad pathway of thy swelling bosom
To glide in silent safety.
_The Double Bridal._
Grey, or rather yellow light, was beginning to twinkle through the
fogs of Whitefriars, when a low tap at the door of the unhappy miser
announced to Lord Glenvarloch the summons of the boatman. He found at
the door the man whom he had seen the night before, with a companion.
"Come, come, master, let us get afloat," said one of them, in a rough
impressive whisper, "time and tide wait for no man." "They shall not
wait for me," said Lord Glenvarloch; "but I have some things to carry
with me."
"Ay, ay--no man will take a pair of oars now, Jack, unless he means to
load the wherry like a six-horse waggon. When they don't want to shift
the whole kitt, they take a sculler, and be d--d to them. Come, come,
where be your rattle-traps?"
One of the men was soon sufficiently loaded, in his own estimation at
least, with Lord Glenvarloch's mail and its accompaniments, with which
burden he began to trudge towards the Temple Stairs. His comrade, who
seemed the principal, began to handle the trunk which contained the
miser's treasure, but pitched it down again in an instant, declaring,
with a great oath, that it was as reasonable to expect a man to carry
Paul's on his back. The daughter of Trapbois, who had by this time
joined them, muffled up in a long dark hood and mantle, exclaimed to
Lord Glenvarloch--"Let them leave it if they will, let them leave it
all; let us but escape from this horrible place."
We have mentioned elsewhere, that Nigel was a very athletic young man,
and, impelled by a strong feeling of compassion and indignation, he
showed his bodily strength singularly on this occasion, by seizing on
the ponderous strong-box, and, by means of the rope he had cast around
it, throwing it on his shoulders, and marching resolutely forward
under a weight, which would have sunk to the earth three young
gallants, at the least, of our degenerate day. The waterman followed
him in amazement, calling out, "Why, master, master, you might as well
gie me t'other end on't!" and anon offered his assistance to support
it in some degree behind, which after the first minute or two Nigel
was fain to accept. His strength was almost exhausted when he reached
the wherry, which was lying at the Temple Stairs according to
appointment; and, when he pitched the trunk into it, the weight sank
the bow of the boat so low in the water as well-nigh to overset it.
"We shall have as hard a fare of it," said the waterman to his
companion, "as if we were ferrying over an honest bankrupt with all
his secreted goods--Ho, ho! good woman, what, are you stepping in
for?--our gunwale lies deep enough in the water without live lumber to
boot."
"This person comes with me," said Lord Glenvarloch; "she is for the
present under my protection."
"Come, come, master," rejoined the fellow, "that is out of my
commission. You must not double my freight on me--she may go by land--
and, as for protection, her face will protect her from Berwick to the
Land's End."
"You will not except at my doubling the loading, if I double the
fare?" said Nigel, determined on no account to relinquish the
protection of this unhappy woman, for which he had already devised
some sort of plan, likely now to be baffled by the characteristic
rudeness of the Thames watermen.
"Ay, by G--, but I will except, though, "said the fellow with the
green plush jacket: "I will overload my wherry neither for love nor
money--I love my boat as well as my wife, and a thought better."
"Nay, nay, comrade," said his mate, "that is speaking no true water
language. For double fare we are bound to row a witch in her eggshell
if she bid us; and so pull away, Jack, and let us have no more
prating."
They got into the stream-way accordingly, and, although heavily laden,
began to move down the river with reasonable speed.
The lighter vessels which passed, overtook, or crossed them, in their
course, failed not to assail them with their boisterous raillery,
which was then called water-wit; for which the extreme plainness of
Mistress Martha's features, contrasted with the youth, handsome
figure, and good looks of Nigel, furnished the principal topics; while
the circumstance of the boat being somewhat overloaded, did not escape
their notice. They were hailed successively, as a grocer's wife upon a
party of pleasure with her eldest apprentice--as an old woman carrying
her grandson to school--and as a young strapping Irishman, conveying
an ancient maiden to Dr. Rigmarole's, at Redriffe, who buckles beggars
for a tester and a dram of Geneva. All this abuse was retorted in a
similar strain of humour by Greenjacket and his companion, who
maintained the war of wit with the same alacrity with which they were
assailed.
Meanwhile, Lord Glenvarloch asked his desolate companion if she had
thought on any place where she could remain in safety with her
property. She confessed, in more detail than formerly, that her
father's character had left her no friends; and that, from the time he
had betaken himself to Whitefriars, to escape certain legal
consequences of his eager pursuit of gain, she had lived a life of
total seclusion; not associating with the society which the place
afforded, and, by her residence there, as well as her father's
parsimony, effectually cut off from all other company. What she now
wished, was, in the first place, to obtain the shelter of a decent
lodging, and the countenance of honest people, however low in life,
until she should obtain legal advice as to the mode of obtaining
justice on her father's murderer. She had no hesitation to charge the
guilt upon Colepepper, (commonly called Peppercull,) whom she knew to
be as capable of any act of treacherous cruelty, as he was cowardly,
where actual manhood was required. He had been strongly suspected of
two robberies before, one of which was coupled with an atrocious
murder. He had, she intimated, made pretensions to her hand as the
easiest and safest way of obtaining possession of her father's wealth;
and, on her refusing his addresses, if they could be termed so, in the
most positive terms, he had thrown out such obscure hints of
vengeance, as, joined with some imperfect assaults upon the house, had
kept her in frequent alarm, both on her father's account and her own.
Nigel, but that his feeling of respectful delicacy to the unfortunate
woman forebade him to do so, could here have communicated a
circumstance corroborative of her suspicions, which had already
occurred to his own mind. He recollected the hint that old Hildebrod
threw forth on the preceding night, that some communication betwixt
himself and Colepepper had hastened the catastrophe. As this
communication related to the plan which Hildebrod had been pleased to
form, of promoting a marriage betwixt Nigel himself and the rich
heiress of Trapbois, the fear of losing an opportunity not to be
regained, together with the mean malignity of a low-bred ruffian,
disappointed in a favourite scheme, was most likely to instigate the
bravo to the deed of violence which had been committed. The reflection
that his own name was in some degree implicated with the causes of
this horrid tragedy, doubled Lord Glenvarloch's anxiety in behalf of
the victim whom he had rescued, while at the same time he formed the
tacit resolution, that, so soon as his own affairs were put upon some
footing, he would contribute all in his power towards the
investigation of this bloody affair.
After ascertaining from his companion that she could form no better
plan of her own, he recommended to her to take up her lodging for the
time, at the house of his old landlord, Christie the ship-chandler, at
Paul's Wharf, describing the decency and honesty of that worthy
couple, and expressing his hopes that they would receive her into
their own house, or recommend her at least to that of some person for
whom they would be responsible, until she should have time to enter
upon other arrangements for herself.
The poor woman received advice so grateful to her in her desolate
condition, with an expression of thanks, brief indeed, but deeper than
any thing had yet extracted from the austerity of her natural
disposition.
Lord Glenvarloch then proceeded to inform Martha, that certain
reasons, connected with his personal safety, called him immediately to
Greenwich, and, therefore, it would not be in his power to accompany
her to Christie's house, which he would otherwise have done with
pleasure: but, tearing a leaf from his tablet, he wrote on it a few
lines, addressed to his landlord, as a man of honesty and humanity, in
which he described the bearer as a person who stood in singular
necessity of temporary protection and good advice, for which her
circumstances enabled her to make ample acknowledgment. He therefore
requested John Christie, as his old and good friend, to afford her the
shelter of his roof for a short time; or, if that might not be
consistent with his convenience, at least to direct her to a proper
lodging-and, finally, he imposed on him the additional, and somewhat
more difficult commission, to recommend her to the counsel and
services of an honest, at least a reputable and skilful attorney, for
the transacting some law business of importance. The note he
subscribed with his real name, and, delivering it to his _protegee_,
who received it with another deeply uttered "I thank you," which spoke
the sterling feelings of her gratitude better than a thousand combined
phrases, he commanded the watermen to pull in for Paul's Wharf, which
they were now approaching.
"We have not time," said Green-jacket; "we cannot be stopping every
instant."
But, upon Nigel insisting upon his commands being obeyed, and adding,
that it was for the purpose of putting the lady ashore, the waterman
declared that he would rather have her room than her company, and put
the wherry alongside the wharf accordingly. Here two of the porters,
who ply in such places, were easily induced to undertake the charge of
the ponderous strong-box, and at the same time to guide the owner to
the well-known mansion of John Christie, with whom all who lived in
that neighbourhood were perfectly acquainted.
The boat, much lightened of its load, went down the Thames at a rate
increased in proportion. But we must forbear to pursue her in her
voyage for a few minutes, since we have previously to mention the
issue of Lord Glenvarloch's recommendation.
Mistress Martha Trapbois reached the shop in perfect safety, and was
about to enter it, when a sickening sense of the uncertainty of her
situation, and of the singularly painful task of telling her story,
came over her so strongly, that she paused a moment at the very
threshold of her proposed place of refuge, to think in what manner she
could best second the recommendation of the friend whom Providence had
raised up to her. Had she possessed that knowledge of the world, from
which her habits of life had completely excluded her, she might have
known that the large sum of money which she brought along with her,
might, judiciously managed, have been a passport to her into the
mansions of nobles, and the palaces of princes. But, however conscious
of its general power, which assumes so many forms and complexions, she
was so inexperienced as to be most unnecessarily afraid that the means
by which the wealth had been acquired, might exclude its inheretrix
from shelter even in the house of a humble tradesman.
While she thus delayed, a more reasonable cause for hesitation arose,
in a considerable noise and altercation within the house, which grew
louder and louder as the disputants issued forth upon the street or
lane before the door.
The first who entered upon the scene was a tall raw-boned hard-
favoured man, who stalked out of the shop hastily, with a gait like
that of a Spaniard in a passion, who, disdaining to add speed to his
locomotion by running, only condescends, in the utmost extremity of
his angry haste, to add length to his stride. He faced about, so soon
as he was out of the house, upon his pursuer, a decent-looking,
elderly, plain tradesman--no other than John Christie himself, the
owner of the shop and tenement, by whom he seemed to be followed, and
who was in a state of agitation more than is usually expressed by such
a person.
"I'll hear no more on't," said the personage who first appeared on the
scene.--"Sir, I will hear no more on it. Besides being a most false
and impudent figment, as I can testify--it is _Scandaalum Magnaatum_,
sir--_Scandaalum Magnaatum_" he reiterated with a broad accentuation
of the first vowel, well known in the colleges of Edinburgh and
Glasgow, which we can only express in print by doubling the said first
of letters and of vowels, and which would have cheered the cockles of
the reigning monarch had he been within hearing,--as he was a severer
stickler for what he deemed the genuine pronunciation of the Roman
tongue, than for any of the royal prerogatives, for which he was at
times disposed to insist so strenuously in his speeches to Parliament.
"I care not an ounce of rotten cheese," said John Christie in reply,
"what you call it--but it is TRUE; and I am a free Englishman, and
have right to speak the truth in my own concerns; and your master is
little better than a villain, and you no more than a swaggering
coxcomb, whose head I will presently break, as I have known it well
broken before on lighter occasion."
And, so saying, he flourished the paring-shovel which usually made
clean the steps of his little shop, and which he had caught up as the
readiest weapon of working his foeman damage, and advanced therewith
upon him. The cautious Scot (for such our readers must have already
pronounced him, from his language and pedantry) drew back as the
enraged ship-chandler approached, but in a surly manner, and bearing
his hand on his sword-hilt rather in the act of one who was losing
habitual forbearance and caution of deportment, than as alarmed by the
attack of an antagonist inferior to himself in youth, strength, and
weapons.
"Bide back," he said, "Maister Christie--I say bide back, and consult
your safety, man. I have evited striking you in your ain house under
muckle provocation, because I am ignorant how the laws here may
pronounce respecting burglary and hamesucken, and such matters; and,
besides, I would not willingly hurt ye, man, e'en on the causeway,
that is free to us baith, because I mind your kindness of lang syne,
and partly consider ye as a poor deceived creature. But deil d--n me,
sir, and I am not wont to swear, but if you touch my Scotch shouther
with that shule of yours, I will make six inches of my Andrew Ferrara
deevilish intimate with your guts, neighbour."
And therewithal, though still retreating from the brandished shovel,
he made one-third of the basket-hilled broadsword which he wore,
visible from the sheath. The wrath of John Christie was abated, either
by his natural temperance of disposition, or perhaps in part by the
glimmer of cold steel, which flashed on him from his adversary's last
action.
"I would do well to cry clubs on thee, and have thee ducked at the
wharf," he said, grounding his shovel, however, at the same time, "for
a paltry swaggerer, that would draw thy bit of iron there on an honest
citizen before his own door; but get thee gone, and reckon on a salt
eel for thy supper, if thou shouldst ever come near my house again. I
wish it had been at the bottom of the Thames when it first gave the
use of its roof to smooth-faced, oily-tongued, double-minded Scots
thieves!"
"It's an ill bird that fouls its own nest," replied his adversary, not
perhaps the less bold that he saw matters were taking the turn of a
pacific debate; "and a pity it is that a kindly Scot should ever have
married in foreign parts, and given life to a purse-proud, pudding-
headed, fat-gutted, lean-brained Southron, e'en such as you, Maister
Christie. But fare ye weel--fare ye weel, for ever and a day; and, if
you quarrel wi' a Scot again, man, say as mickle ill o' himsell as ye
like, but say nane of his patron or of his countrymen, or it will
scarce be your flat cap that will keep your lang lugs from the sharp
abridgement of a Highland whinger, man."
"And, if you continue your insolence to me before my own door, were it
but two minutes longer," retorted John Christie, "I will call the
constable, and make your Scottish ankles acquainted with an English
pair of stocks!"
So saying, he turned to retire into his shop with some show of
victory; for his enemy, whatever might be his innate valour,
manifested no desire to drive matters to extremity--conscious,
perhaps, that whatever advantage he might gain in single combat with
Jonn Christie, would be more than overbalanced by incurring an affair
with the constituted authorities of Old England, not at that time apt
to be particularly favourable to their new fellow-subjects, in the
various successive broils which were then constantly taking place
between the individuals of two proud nations, who still retained a
stronger sense of their national animosity during centuries, than of
their late union for a few years under the government of the same
prince.
Mrs. Martha Trapbois had dwelt too long in Alsatia, to be either
surprised or terrified at the altercation she had witnessed. Indeed,
she only wondered that the debate did not end in some of those acts of
violence by which they were usually terminated in the Sanctuary. As
the disputants separated from each other, she, who had no idea that
the cause of the quarrel was more deeply rooted than in the daily
scenes of the same nature which she had heard of or witnessed, did not
hesitate to stop Master Christie in his return to his shop, and
present to him the letter which Lord Glenvarloch had given to her. Had
she been better acquainted with life and its business, she would
certainly have waited for a more temperate moment; and she had reason
to repent of her precipitation, when, without saying a single word, or
taking the trouble to gather more of the information contained in the
letter than was expressed in the subscription, the incensed ship
chandler threw it down on the ground, trampled it in high disdain,
and, without addressing a single word to the bearer, except, indeed,
something much more like a hearty curse than was perfectly consistent
with his own grave appearance, he retired into his shop, and shut the
hatch-door.
It was with the most inexpressible anguish that the desolate,
friendless and unhappy female, thus beheld her sole hope of succour,
countenance, and protection, vanish at once, without being able to
conceive a reason; for, to do her justice, the idea that her friend,
whom she knew by the name of Nigel Grahame, had imposed on her, a
solution which might readily have occurred to many in her situation,
never once entered her mind. Although it was not her temper easily to
bend her mind to entreaty, she could not help exclaiming after the
ireful and retreating ship-chandler,--"Good Master, hear me but a
moment! for mercy's sake, for honesty's sake!"
"Mercy and honesty from him, mistress!" said the Scot, who, though he
essayed not to interrupt the retreat of his antagonist, still kept
stout possession of the field of action,--"ye might as weel expect
brandy from bean-stalks, or milk from a craig of blue whunstane. The
man is mad, bom mad, to boot."
"I must have mistaken the person to whom the letter was addressed,
then;" and, as she spoke, Mistress Martha Trapbois was in the act of
stooping to lift the paper which had been so uncourteously received.
Her companion, with natural civility, anticipated her purpose; but,
what was not quite so much in etiquette, he took a sly glance at it as
he was about to hand it to her, and his eye having caught the
subscription, he said, with surprise, "Glenvarloch--Nigel Olifaunt of
Glenvarloch! Do you know the Lord Glenvarloch, mistress?"
"I know not of whom you speak," said Mrs. Martha, peevishly. "I had
that paper from one Master Nigel Gram."
"Nigel Grahame!--umph.-O, ay, very true--I had forgot," said the
Scotsman. "A tall, well-set young man, about my height; bright blue
eyes like a hawk's; a pleasant speech, something leaning to the kindly
north-country accentuation, but not much, in respect of his having
been resident abroad?"
"All this is true--and what of it all?" said the daughter of the
miser.
"Hair of my complexion?"
"Yours is red," replied she.
"I pray you peace," said the Scotsman. "I was going to say--of my
complexion, but with a deeper shade of the chestnut. Weel, mistress,
if I have guessed the man aright, he is one with whom I am, and have
been, intimate and familiar,--nay,--I may truly say I have done him
much service in my time, and may live to do him more. I had indeed a
sincere good-will for him, and I doubt he has been much at a loss
since we parted; but the fault is not mine. Wherefore, as this letter
will not avail you with him to whom it is directed, you may believe
that heaven hath sent it to me, who have a special regard for the
writer--I have, besides, as much mercy and honesty within me as man
can weel make his bread with, and am willing to aid any distressed
creature, that is my friend's friend, with my counsel, and otherwise,
so that I am not put to much charges, being in a strange country, like
a poor lamb that has wandered from its ain native hirsel, and leaves a
tait of its woo' in every d--d Southron bramble that comes across it."
While he spoke thus, he read the contents of the letter, without
waiting for permission, and then continued,--"And so this is all that
you are wanting, my dove? nothing more than safe and honourable
lodging, and sustenance, upon your own charges?"
"Nothing more," said she. "If you are a man and a Christian, you will
help me to what I need so much."
"A man I am," replied the formal Caledonian, "e'en sic as ye see me;
and a Christian I may call myself, though unworthy, and though I have
heard little pure doctrine since I came hither--a' polluted with men's
devices--ahem! Weel, and if ye be an honest woman," (here he peeped
under her muffler,) "as an honest woman ye seem likely to be--though,
let me tell you, they are a kind of cattle not so rife in the streets
of this city as I would desire them--I was almost strangled with my
own band by twa rampallians, wha wanted yestreen, nae farther gane, to
harle me into a change-house--however, if ye be a decent honest
woman," (here he took another peep at features certainly bearing no
beauty which could infer suspicion,) "as decent and honest ye seem to
be, why, I will advise you to a decent house, where you will get
douce, quiet entertainment, on reasonable terms, and the occasional
benefit of my own counsel and direction--that is, from time to time,
as my other avocations may permit."
"May I venture to accept of such an offer from a stranger?" said
Martha, with natural hesitation.
"Troth, I see nothing to hinder you, mistress," replied the bonny
Scot; "ye can but see the place, and do after as ye think best.
Besides, we are nae such strangers, neither; for I know your friend,
and you, it's like, know mine, whilk knowledge, on either hand, is a
medium of communication between us, even as the middle of the string
connecteth its twa ends or extremities. But I will enlarge on this
farther as we pass along, gin ye list to bid your twa lazy loons of
porters there lift up your little kist between them, whilk ae true
Scotsman might carry under his arm. Let me tell you, mistress, ye will
soon make a toom pock-end of it in Lon'on, if you hire twa knaves to
do the work of ane."
So saying, he led the way, followed by Mistress Martha Trapbois, whose
singular destiny, though it had heaped her with wealth, had left her,
for the moment, no wiser counsellor, or more distinguished protector,
than honest Richie Moniplies, a discarded serving-man.
CHAPTER XXVII
This way lie safety and a sure retreat;
Yonder lie danger, shame, and punishment
Most welcome danger then--Nay, let me say,
Though spoke with swelling heart--welcome e'en shame
And welcome punishment--for, call me guilty,
I do but pay the tax that's due to justice;
And call me guiltless, then that punishment
Is shame to those alone who do inflict it,
_The Tribunal_.
We left Lord Glenvarloch, to whose fortunes our story chiefly attaches
itself, gliding swiftly down the Thames. He was not, as the reader may
have observed, very affable in his disposition, or apt to enter into
conversation with those into whose company he was casually thrown.
This was, indeed, an error in his conduct, arising less from pride,
though of that feeling we do not pretend to exculpate him, than from a
sort of bashful reluctance to mix in the conversation of those with
whom he was not familiar. It is a fault only to be cured by experience
and knowledge of the world, which soon teaches every sensible and
acute person the important lesson, that amusement, and, what is of
more consequence, that information and increase of knowledge, are to
be derived from the conversation of every individual whatever, with
whom he is thrown into a natural train of communication. For
ourselves, we can assure the reader--and perhaps if we have ever been
able to afford him amusement, it is owing in a great degree to this
cause--that we never found ourselves in company with the stupidest of
all possible companions in a post-chaise, or with the most arrant
cumber-corner that ever occupied a place in the mail-coach, without
finding, that, in the course of our conversation with him, we had some
ideas suggested to us, either grave orgay, or some information
communicated in the course of our journey, which we should have
regretted not to have learned, and which we should be sorry to have
immediately forgotten. But Nigel was somewhat immured within the
Bastile of his rank, as some philosopher (Tom Paine, we think) has
happily enough expressed that sort of shyness which men of dignified
situations are apt to be beset with, rather from not exactly knowing
how far, or with whom, they ought to be familiar, than from any real
touch of aristocratic pride. Besides, the immediate pressure of our
adventurer's own affairs was such as exclusively to engross his
attention.
He sat, therefore, wrapt in his cloak, in the stern of the boat, with
his mind entirely bent upon the probable issue of the interview with
his Sovereign, which it was his purpose to seek; for which abstraction
of mind he may be fully justified, although perhaps, by questioning
the watermen who were transporting him down the river, he might have
discovered matters of high concernment to him.
At any rate, Nigel remained silent till the wherry approached the town
of Greenwich, when he commanded the men to put in for the nearest
landing-place, as it was his purpose to go ashore there, and dismiss
them from further attendance.
"That is not possible," said the fellow with the green jacket, who, as
we have already said, seemed to take on himself the charge of
pilotage. "We must go," he continued, "to Gravesend, where a Scottish
vessel, which dropped down the river last tide for the very purpose,
lies with her anchor a-peak, waiting to carry you to your own dear
northern country. Your hammock is slung, and all is ready for you, and
you talk of going ashore at Greenwich, as seriously as if such a thing
were possible!"
"I see no impossibility," said Nigel, "in your landing me where I
desire to be landed; but very little possibility of your carrying me
anywhere I am not desirous of going."
"Why, whether do you manage the wherry, or we, master?" asked Green-
jacket, in a tone betwixt jest and earnest; "I take it she will go the
way we row her."
"Ay," retorted Nigel, "but I take it you will row her on the course I
direct you, otherwise your chance of payment is but a poor one."
"Suppose we are content to risk that," said the undaunted waterman, "I
wish to know how you, who talk so big--I mean no offence, master, but
you do talk big--would help yourself in such a case?"
"Simply thus," answered Lord Glenvarloch--"You saw me, an hour since,
bring down to the boat a trunk that neither of you could lift. If we
are to contest the destination of our voyage, the same strength which
tossed that chest into the wherry, will suffice to fling you out of
it; wherefore, before we begin the scuffle, I pray you to remember,
that, whither I would go, there I will oblige you to carry me."
"Gramercy for your kindness," said Green-jacket; "and now mark me in
return. My comrade and I are two men--and you, were you as stout as
George-a-Green, can pass but for one; and two, you will allow, are
more than a match for one. You mistake in your reckoning, my friend."
"It is you who mistake," answered Nigel, who began to grow warm; "it
is I who am three to two, sirrah--I carry two men's lives at my
girdle."
So saying, he opened his cloak and showed the two pistols which he had
disposed at his girdle. Green-jacket was unmoved at the display.
"I have got," said he, "a pair of barkers that will match yours," and
he showed that he also was armed with pistols; "so you may begin as
soon as you list."
"Then," said Lord Glenvarloch, drawing forth and cocking a pistol,
"the sooner the better. Take notice, I hold you as a ruffian, who have
declared you will put force on my person; and that I will shoot you
through the head if you do not instantly put me ashore at Greenwich."
The other waterman, alarmed at Nigel's gesture, lay upon his oar; but
Green-jacket replied coolly--"Look you, master, I should not care a
tester to venture a life with you on this matter; but the truth is, I
am employed to do you good, and not to do you harm."
"By whom are you employed?" said the Lord Glenvarloch; "or who dare
concern themselves in me, or my affairs, without my authority?"
"As to that," answered the waterman, in the same tone of indifference,
"I shall not show my commission. For myself, I care not, as I said,
whether you land at Greenwich to get yourself hanged, or go down to
get aboard the Royal Thistle, to make your escape to your own country;
you will be equally out of my reach either way. But it is fair to put
the choice before you."
"My choice is made," said Nigel. "I have told you thrice already it is
my pleasure to be landed at Greenwich."
"Write it on a piece of paper," said the waterman, "that such is your
positive will; I must have something to show to my employers, that the
transgression of their orders lies with yourself, not with me."
"I choose to hold this trinket in my hand for the present," said
Nigel, showing his pistol, "and will write you the acquittance when I
go ashore."
"I would not go ashore with you for a hundred pieces," said the
waterman. "111 luck has ever attended you, except in small gaming; do
me fair justice, and give me the testimony I desire. If you are afraid
of foul play while you write it, you may hold my pistols, if you
will." He offered the weapons to Nigel accordingly, who, while they
were under his control, and all possibility of his being taken at
disadvantage was excluded, no longer hesitated to give the waterman an
acknowledgment, in the following terms:--
"Jack in the Green, with his mate, belonging to the wherry called the
Jolly Raven, have done their duty faithfully by me, landing me at
Greenwich by my express command; and being themselves willing and
desirous to carry me on board the Royal Thistle, presently lying at
Gravesend." Having finished this acknowledgment, which he signed with
the letters, N. O. G. as indicating his name and title, he again
requested to know of the waterman, to whom he delivered it, the name
of his employers.
"Sir," replied Jack in the Green, "I have respected your secret, do
not you seek to pry into mine. It would do you no good to know for
whom I am taking this present trouble; and, to be brief, you shall not
know it--and, if you will fight in the quarrel, as you said even now,
the sooner we begin the better. Only this you may be cock-sure of,
that we designed you no harm, and that, if you fall into any, it will
be of your own wilful seeking." As he spoke, they approached the
landing-place, where Nigel instantly jumped ashore. The waterman
placed his small mail-trunk on the stairs, observing that there were
plenty of spare hands about, to carry it where he would.
"We part friends, I hope, my lads," said the young nobleman, offering
at the same time a piece of money more than double the usual fare, to
the boatmen.
"We part as we met," answered Green-jacket; "and, for your money, I am
paid sufficiently with this bit of paper. Only, if you owe me any love
for the cast I have given you, I pray you not to dive so deep into the
pockets of the next apprentice that you find fool enough to play the
cavalier.--And you, you greedy swine," said he to his companion, who
still had a longing eye fixed on the money which Nigel continued to
offer, "push off, or, if I take a stretcher in hand, I'll break the
knave's pate of thee." The fellow pushed off, as he was commanded, but
still could not help muttering, "This was entirely out of waterman's
rules."
Glenvarloch, though without the devotion of the "injured Thales" of
the moralist, to the memory of that great princess, had now attained
"The hallow'd soil which gave Eliza birth,"
whose halls were now less respectably occupied by her successor. It
was not, as has been well shown by a late author, that James was void
either of parts or of good intentions; and his predecessor was at
least as arbitrary in effect as he was in theory. But, while Elizabeth
possessed a sternness of masculine sense and determination which
rendered even her weaknesses, some of which were in themselves
sufficiently ridiculous, in a certain degree respectable, James, on
the other hand, was so utterly devoid of "firm resolve," so well
called by the Scottish bard,
"The stalk of carle-hemp in man,"
that even his virtues and his good meaning became laughable, from the
whimsical uncertainty of his conduct; so that the wisest things he
ever said, and the best actions he ever did, were often touched with a
strain of the ludicrous and fidgety character of the man. Accordingly,
though at different periods of his reign he contrived to acquire with
his people a certain degree of temporary popularity, it never long
outlived the occasion which produced it; so true it is, that the mass
of mankind will respect a monarch stained with actual guilt, more than
one whose foibles render him only ridiculous.
To return from this digression, Lord Glenvarloch soon received, as
Green-jacket had assured him, the offer of an idle bargeman to
transport his baggage where he listed; but that where was a question
of momentary doubt. At length, recollecting the necessity that his
hair and beard should be properly arranged before he attempted to
enter the royal presence, and desirous, at the same time, of obtaining
some information of the motions of the Sovereign and of the Court, he
desired to be guided to the next barber's shop, which we have already
mentioned as the place where news of every kind circled and centred.
He was speedily shown the way to such an emporium of intelligence, and
soon found he was likely to hear all he desired to know, and much
more, while his head was subjected to the art of a nimble tonsor, the
glibness of whose tongue kept pace with the nimbleness of his fingers
while he ran on, without stint or stop, in the following excursive
manner:--
"The Court here, master?--yes, master--much to the advantage of trade-
-good custom stirring. His Majesty loves Greenwich--hunts every
morning in the Park--all decent persons admitted that have the entries
of the Palace--no rabble--frightened the king's horse with their
hallooing, the uncombed slaves.--Yes, sir, the beard more peaked? Yes,
master, so it is worn. I know the last cut--dress several of the
courtiers--one valet-of-the-chamber, two pages of the body, the clerk
of the kitchen, three running footmen, two dog-boys, and an honourable
Scottish knight, Sir Munko Malgrowler."
"Malagrowther, I suppose?" said Nigel, thrusting in his conjectural
emendation, with infinite difficulty, betwixt two clauses of the
barber's text.
"Yes, sir--Malcrowder, sir, as you say, sir--hard names the Scots
have, sir, for an English mouth. Sir Munko is a handsome person, sir--
perhaps you know him--bating the loss of his fingers, and the lameness
of his leg, and the length of his chin. Sir, it takes me one minute,
twelve seconds, more time to trim that chin of his, than any chin that
I know in the town of Greenwich, sir. But he is a very comely
gentleman, for all that; and a pleasant--a very pleasant gentleman,
sir--and a good-humoured, saving that he is so deaf he can never hear
good of any one, and so wise, that he can never believe it; but he is
a very good-natured gentleman for all that, except when one speaks too
low, or when a hair turns awry.--Did I graze you, sir? We shall put it
to rights in a moment, with one drop of styptic--my styptic, or rather
my wife's, sir--She makes the water herself. One drop of the styptic,
sir, and a bit of black taffeta patch, just big enough to be the
saddle to a flea, sir--Yes, sir, rather improves than otherwise. The
Prince had a patch the other day, and so had the Duke: and, if you
will believe me, there are seventeen yards three quarters of black
taffeta already cut into patches for the courtiers."
"But Sir Mungo Malagrowther?" again interjected Nigel, with
difficulty.
"Ay, ay, sir--Sir Munko, as you say; a pleasant, good-humoured
gentleman as ever--To be spoken with, did you say? O ay, easily to be
spoken withal, that is, as easily as his infirmity will permit. He
will presently, unless some one hath asked him forth to breakfast, be
taking his bone of broiled beef at my neighbour Ned Kilderkin's
yonder, removed from over the way. Ned keeps an eating-house, sir,
famous for pork-griskins; but Sir Munko cannot abide pork, no more
than the King's most Sacred Majesty,[Footnote: The Scots, till within
the last generation, disliked swine's flesh as an article of food as
much as the Highlanders do at present. It was remarked as
extraordinary rapacity, when the Border depredators condescended to
make prey of the accursed race, whom the fiend made his habitation.
Ben Jonson, in drawing James's character, says, he loved "no part of a
swine."] nor my Lord Duke of Lennox, nor Lord Dalgarno,--nay, I am
sure, sir, if I touched you this time, it was your fault, not mine.--
But a single drop of the styptic, another little patch that would make
a doublet for a flea, just under the left moustache; it will become
you when you smile, sir, as well as a dimple; and if you would salute
your fair mistress--but I beg pardon, you are a grave gentleman, very
grave to be so young.--Hope I have given no offence; it is my duty to
entertain customers--my duty, sir, and my pleasure--Sir Munko
Malcrowther?--yes, sir, I dare say he is at this moment in Ned's
eating-house, for few folks ask him out, now Lord Huntinglen is gone
to London. You will get touched again--yes, sir--there you shall find
him with his can of single ale, stirred with a sprig of rosemary, for
he never drinks strong potations, sir, unless to oblige Lord
Huntinglen--take heed, sir--or any other person who asks him forth to
breakfast--but single beer he always drinks at Ned's, with his broiled
bone of beef or mutton--or, it may be, lamb at the season--but not
pork, though Ned is famous for his griskins. But the Scots never eat
pork--strange that! some folk think they are a sort of Jews. There is
a resemblance, sir,--Do you not think so? Then they call our most
gracious Sovereign the Second Solomon, and Solomon, you know, was King
of the Jews; so the thing bears a face, you see. I believe, sir, you
will find yourself trimmed now to your content. I will be judged by
the fair mistress of your affections. Crave pardon--no offence, I
trust. Pray, consult the glass--one touch of the crisping tongs, to
reduce this straggler.--Thank your munificence, sir--hope your custom
while you stay in Greenwich. Would you have a tune on that ghittern,
to put your temper in concord for the day?--Twang, twang--twang,
twang, dillo. Something out of tune, sir--too many hands to touch it--
we cannot keep these things like artists. Let me help you with your
cloak, sir--yes, sir--You would not play yourself, sir, would you?--
Way to Sir Munko's eating-house?--Yes, sir; but it is Ned's eating-
house, not Sir Munko's.--The knight, to be sure, eats there, and makes
it his eating-house in some sense, sir--ha, ha! Yonder it is, removed
from over the way, new white-washed posts, and red lattice--fat man in
his doublet at the door--Ned himself, sir--worth a thousand pounds,
they say--better singeing pigs' faces than trimming courtiers--but
ours is the less mechanical vocation.--Farewell, sir; hope your
custom. "So saying, he at length permitted Nigel to depart, whose
ears, so long tormented with continued babble, tingled when it had
ceased, as if a bell had been rung close to them for the same space of
time.
Upon his arrival at the eating-house, where he proposed to meet with
Sir Mungo Malagrowther, from whom, in despair of better advice, he
trusted to receive some information as to the best mode of introducing
himself into the royal presence, Lord Glenvarloch found, in the host
with whom he communed, the consequential taciturnity of an Englishman
well to pass in the world. Ned Kilderkin spoke as a banker writes,
only touching the needful. Being asked if Sir Mungo Malagrowther was
there? he replied, No. Being interrogated whether he was expected? he
said, Yes. And being again required to say when he was expected, he
answered, Presently. As Lord Glenvarloch next inquired, whether he
himself could have any breakfast? the landlord wasted not even a
syllable in reply, but, ushering him into a neat room where there were
several tables, he placed one of them before an armchair, and
beckoning Lord Glenvarloch to take possession, he set before him, in a
very few minutes, a substantial repast of roast-beef, together with a
foaming tankard, to which refreshment the keen air of the river
disposed him, notwithstanding his mental embarrassments, to do much
honour.
While Nigel was thus engaged in discussing his commons, but raising
his head at the same time whenever he heard the door of the apartment
open, eagerly desiring the arrival of Sir Mungo Malagrowther, (an
event which had seldom been expected by any one with so much anxious
interest,) a personage, as it seemed, of at least equal importance
with the knight, entered into the apartment, and began to hold earnest
colloquy with the publican, who thought proper to carry on the
conference on his side unbonneted. This important gentleman's
occupation might be guessed from his dress. A milk-white jerkin, and
hose of white kersey; a white apron twisted around his body in the
manner of a sash, in which, instead of a war-like dagger, was stuck a
long-bladed knife, hilted with buck's-horn; a white nightcap on his
head, under which his hair was neatly tucked, sufficiently pourtrayed
him as one of those priests of Comus whom the vulgar call cooks; and
the air with which he rated the publican for having neglected to send
some provisions to the Palace, showed that he ministered to royalty
itself.
"This will never answer," he said, "Master Kilderkin--the king twice
asked for sweetbreads, and fricasseed coxcombs, which are a favourite
dish of his most Sacred Majesty, and they were not to be had, because
Master Kilderkin had not supplied them to the clerk of the kitchen, as
by bargain bound." Here Kilderkin made some apology, brief, according
to his own nature, and muttered in a lowly tone after the fashion of
all who find themselves in a scrape. His superior replied, in a lofty
strain of voice, "Do not tell me of the carrier and his wain, and of
the hen-coops coming from Norfolk with the poultry; a loyal man would
have sent an express--he would have gone upon his stumps, like
Widdrington. What if the king had lost his appetite, Master Kilderkin?
What if his most Sacred Majesty had lost his dinner? O, Master
Kilderkin, if you had but the just sense of the dignity of our
profession, which is told of by the witty African slave, for so the
king's most excellent Majesty designates him, Publius Terentius,
_Tanguam in specula--in patinas inspicerejubeo_."
"You are learned, Master Linklater," replied the English publican,
compelling, as it were with difficulty, his mouth to utter three or
four words consecutively.
"A poor smatterer," said Mr. Linklater; "but it would be a shame to
us, who are his most excellent Majesty's countrymen, not in some sort
to have cherished those arts wherewith he is so deeply embued--_Regis
ad exemplar_, Master Kilderkin, _totus componitur orbis_--which is as
much as to say, as the king quotes the cook learns. In brief, Master
Kilderkin, having had the luck to be bred where humanities may be had
at the matter of an English five groats by the quarter, I, like
others, have acquired--ahem-hem!--" Here, the speaker's eye having
fallen upon Lord Glenvarloch, he suddenly stopped in his learned
harangue, with such symptoms of embarrassment as induced Ned Kilderkin
to stretch his taciturnity so far as not only to ask him what he
ailed, but whether he would take any thing.
"Ail nothing," replied the learned rival of the philosophical Syrus;
"Nothing--and yet I do feel a little giddy. I could taste a glass of
your dame's _aqua mirabilis_."
"I will fetch it," said Ned, giving a nod; and his back was no sooner
turned, than the cook walked near the table where Lord Glenvarloch was
seated, and regarding him with a look of significance, where more was
meant than met the ear, said,--"You are a stranger in Greenwich, sir.
I advise you to take the opportunity to step into the Park--the
western wicket was ajar when I came hither; I think it will be locked
presently, so you had better make the best of your way--that is, if
you have any curiosity. The venison are coming into season just now,
sir, and there is a pleasure in looking at a hart of grease. I always
think when they are bounding so blithely past, what a pleasure it
would be, to broach their plump haunches on a spit, and to embattle
their breasts in a noble fortification of puff-paste, with plenty of
black pepper."
He said no more, as Kilderkin re-entered with the cordial, but edged
off from Nigel without waiting any reply, only repeating the same look
of intelligence with which he had accosted him.
Nothing makes men's wits so alert as personal danger. Nigel took the
first opportunity which his host's attention to the yeoman of the
royal kitchen permitted, to discharge his reckoning, and readily
obtained a direction to the wicket in question. He found it upon the
latch, as he had been taught to expect; and perceived that it admitted
him to a narrow footpath, which traversed a close and tangled thicket,
designed for the cover of the does and the young fawns. Here he
conjectured it would be proper to wait; nor had he been stationary
above five minutes, when the cook, scalded as much with heat of motion
as ever he had been by his huge fire-place, arrived almost breathless,
and with his pass-key hastily locked the wicket behind him.
Ere Lord Glenvarloch had time to speculate upon this action, the man
approached with anxiety, and said--"Good lord, my Lord Glenvarloch!--
why will you endanger yourself thus?"
"You know me then, my friend?" said Nigel.
"Not much of that, my lord--but I know your honour's noble house
well.--My name is Laurie Linklater, my lord."
"Linklater!" repeated Nigel. "I should recollect--'
"Under your lordship's favour," he continued, "I was 'prentice, my
lord, to old Mungo Moniplies, the flesher at the wanton West-Port of
Edinburgh, which I wish I saw again before I died. And, your honour's
noble father having taken Richie Moniplies into his house to wait on
your lordship, there was a sort of connexion, your lordship sees."
"Ah!" said Lord Glenvarloch, "I had almost forgot your name, but not
your kind purpose. You tried to put Richie in the way of presenting a
supplication to his Majesty?"
"Most true, my lord," replied the king's cook. "I had like to have
come by mischief in the job; for Richie, who was always wilful, 'wadna
be guided by me,' as the sang says. But nobody amongst these brave
English cooks can kittle up his Majesty's most sacred palate with our
own gusty Scottish dishes. So I e'en betook myself to my craft, and
concocted a mess of friar's chicken for the soup, and a savoury
hachis, that made the whole cabal coup the crans; and, instead of
disgrace, I came by preferment. I am one of the clerks of the kitchen
now, make me thankful--with a finger in the purveyor's office, and may
get my whole hand in by and by."
"I am truly glad," said Nigel, "to hear that you have not suffered on
my account,--still more so at your good fortune."
"You bear a kind heart, my lord," said Linklater, "and do not forget
poor people; and, troth, I see not why they should be forgotten, since
the king's errand may sometimes fall in the cadger's gate. I have
followed your lordship in the street, just to look at such a stately
shoot of the old oak-tree; and my heart jumped into my throat, when I
saw you sitting openly in the eating-house yonder, and knew there was
such danger to your person."
"What! there are warrants against me, then?" said Nigel.
"It is even true, my lord; and there are those who are willing to
blacken you as much as they can.--God forgive them, that would
sacrifice an honourable house for their own base ends!"
"Amen," said Nigel.
"For, say your lordship may have been a little wild, like other young
gentlemen--"
"We have little time to talk of it, my friend," said Nigel. "The point
in question is, how am I to get speech of the king?"
"The king, my lord!" said Linklater in astonishment; "why, will not
that be rushing wilfully into danger?--scalding yourself, as I may
say, with your own ladle?"
"My good friend," answered Nigel, "my experience of the Court, and my
knowledge of the circumstances in which I stand, tell me, that the
manliest and most direct road is, in my case, the surest and the
safest. The king has both a head to apprehend what is just, and a
heart to do what is kind."
"It is e'en true, my lord, and so we, his old servants, know," added
Linklater; "but, woe's me, if you knew how many folks make it their
daily and nightly purpose to set his head against his heart, and his
heart against his head--to make him do hard things because they are
called just, and unjust things because they are represented as kind.
Woe's me! it is with his Sacred Majesty, and the favourites who work
upon him, even according to the homely proverb that men taunt my
calling with,--'God sends good meat, but the devil sends cooks.'"
"It signifies not talking of it, my good friend," said Nigel, "I must
take my risk, my honour peremptorily demands it. They may maim me, or
beggar me, but they shall not say I fled from my accusers. My peers
shall hear my vindication."
"Your peers?" exclaimed the cook--"Alack-a-day, my lord, we are not in
Scotland, where the nobles can bang it out bravely, were it even with
the king himself, now and then. This mess must be cooked in the Star-
Chamber, and that is an oven seven times heated, my lord;--and yet, if
you are determined to see the king, I will not say but you may find
some favour, for he likes well any thing that is appealed directly to
his own wisdom, and sometimes, in the like cases, I have known him
stick by his own opinion, which is always a fair one. Only mind, if
you will forgive me, my lord--mind to spice high with Latin; a curn or
two of Greek would not be amiss; and, if you can bring in any thing
about the judgment of Solomon, in the original Hebrew, and season with
a merry jest or so, the dish will be the more palatable.--Truly, I
think, that, besides my skill in art, I owe much to the stripes of the
Rector of the High School, who imprinted on my mind that cooking scene
in the Heautontimorumenos." "Leaving that aside, my friend," said Lord
Glenvarloch, "can you inform me which way I shall most readily get to
the sight and speech of the king?"
"To the sight of him readily enough," said Linklater; "he is galloping
about these alleys, to see them strike the hart, to get him an
appetite for a nooning--and that reminds me I should be in the
kitchen. To the speech of the king you will not come so easily, unless
you could either meet him alone, which rarely chances, or wait for him
among the crowd that go to see him alight. And now, farewell, my lord,
and God speed!--if I could do more for you, I would offer it."
"You have done enough, perhaps, to endanger yourself," said Lord
Glenvarloch. "I pray you to be gone, and leave me to my fate."
The honest cook lingered, but a nearer burst of the horns apprized him
that there was no time to lose; and, acquainting Nigel that he would
leave the postern-door on the latch to secure his retreat in that
direction, he bade God bless him, and farewell.
In the kindness of this humble countryman, flowing partly from
national partiality, partly from a sense of long-remembered benefits,
which had been scarce thought on by those who had bestowed them, Lord
Glenvarloch thought he saw the last touch of sympathy which he was to
receive in this cold and courtly region, and felt that he must now be
sufficient to himself, or be utterly lost.
He traversed more than one alley, guided by the sounds of the chase,
and met several of the inferior attendants upon the king's sport, who
regarded him only as one of the spectators who were sometimes
permitted to enter the Park by the concurrence of the officers about
the Court. Still there was no appearance of James, or any of his
principal courtiers, and Nigel began to think whether, at the risk of
incurring disgrace similar to that which had attended the rash exploit
of Richie Moniplies, he should not repair to the Palace-gate, in order
to address the king on his return, when Fortune presented him the
opportunity of doing so, in her own way.
He was in one of those long walks by which the Park was traversed,
when he heard, first a distant rustling, then the rapid approach of
hoofs shaking the firm earth on which he stood; then a distant halloo,
warned by which he stood up by the side of the avenue, leaving free
room for the passage of the chase. The stag, reeling, covered with
foam, and blackened with sweat, his nostrils extended as he gasped for
breath, made a shift to come up as far as where Nigel stood, and,
without turning to bay, was there pulled down by two tall greyhounds
of the breed still used by the hardy deer-stalkers of the Scottish
Highlands, but which has been long unknown in England. One dog struck
at the buck's throat, another dashed his sharp nose and fangs, I might
almost say, into the animal's bowels. It would have been natural for
Lord Glenvarloch, himself persecuted as if by hunters, to have thought
upon the occasion like the melancholy Jacques; but habit is a strange
matter, and I fear that his feelings on the occasion were rather those
of the practised huntsman than of the moralist. He had no time,
however, to indulge them, for mark what befell.
A single horseman followed the chase, upon a steed so thoroughly
subjected to the rein, that it obeyed the touch of the bridle as if it
had been a mechanical impulse operating on the nicest piece of
machinery; so that, seated deep in his demipique saddle, and so
trussed up there as to make falling almost impossible, the rider,
without either fear or hesitation, might increase or diminish the
speed at which he rode, which, even on the most animating occasions of
the chase, seldom exceeded three-fourths of a gallop, the horse
keeping his haunches under him, and never stretching forward beyond
the managed pace of the academy. The security with which he chose to
prosecute even this favourite, and, in the ordinary case, somewhat
dangerous amusement, as well as the rest of his equipage, marked King
James. No attendant was within sight; indeed, it was often a nice
strain of flattery to permit the Sovereign to suppose he had outridden
and distanced all the rest of the chase.
"Weel dune, Bash--weel dune, Battie!" he exclaimed as he came up. "By
the honour of a king, ye are a credit to the Braes of Balwhither!--
Haud my horse, man," he called out to Nigel, without stopping to see
to whom he had addressed himself--"Haud my naig, and help me doun out
o' the saddle--deil ding your saul, sirrah, canna ye mak haste before
these lazy smaiks come up?--haud the rein easy--dinna let him swerve--
now, haud the stirrup--that will do, man, and now we are on terra
firma." So saying, without casting an eye on his assistant, gentle
King Jamie, unsheathing the short, sharp hanger, (_couteau de
chasse_,) which was the only thing approaching to a sword that he
could willingly endure the sight of, drew the blade with great
satisfaction across the throat of the buck, and put an end at once to
its struggles and its agonies.
Lord Glenvarloch, who knew well the silvan duty which the occasion
demanded, hung the bridle of the king's palfrey on the branch of a
tree, and, kneeling duteously down, turned the slaughtered deer upon
its back, and kept the _quarree_ in that position, while the king, too
intent upon his sport to observe any thing else, drew his _couteau_
down the breast of the animal, _secundum artem_; and, having made a
cross cut, so as to ascertain the depth of the fat upon the chest,
exclaimed, in a sort of rapture, "Three inches of white fat on the
brisket!--prime--prime--as I am a crowned sinner--and deil ane o' the
lazy loons in but mysell! Seven--aught--aught tines on the antlers. By
G--d, a hart of aught tines, and the first of the season! Bash and
Battie, blessings on the heart's-root of ye! Buss me, my bairns, buss
me. "The dogs accordingly fawned upon him, licked him with bloody
jaws, and soon put him in such a state that it might have seemed
treason had been doing its full work upon his anointed body." Bide
doun, with a mischief to ye--bide doun, with a wanion," cried the
king, almost overturned by the obstreperous caresses of the large
stag-hounds. "But ye are just like ither folks, gie ye an inch and ye
take an ell.--And wha may ye be, friend? "he said, now finding leisure
to take a nearer view of Nigel, and observing what in his first
emotion of silvan delight had escaped him,--" Ye are nane of our
train, man. In the name of God, what the devil are ye?"
"An unfortunate man, sire," replied Nigel.
"I dare say that," answered the king, snappishly, "or I wad have seen
naething of you. My lieges keep a' their happiness to themselves; but
let bowls row wrang wi' them, and I am sure to hear of it."
"And to whom else can we carry our complaints but to your Majesty, who
is Heaven's vicegerent over us!" answered Nigel.
"Right, man, right--very weel spoken," said the king; "but you should
leave Heaven's vicegerent some quiet on earth, too."
"If your Majesty will look on me," (for hitherto the king had been so
busy, first with the dogs, and then with the mystic operation of
_breaking_, in vulgar phrase, cutting up the deer, that he had scarce
given his assistant above a transient glance,) "you will see whom
necessity makes bold to avail himself of an opportunity which may
never again occur."
King James looked; his blood left his cheek, though it continued
stained with that of the animal which lay at his feet, he dropped the
knife from his hand, cast behind him a faltering eye, as if he either
meditated flight or looked out for assistance, and then exclaimed,--
"Glenvarlochides! as sure as I was christened James Stewart. Here is a
bonny spot of work, and me alone, and on foot too!" he added, bustling
to get upon his horse.
"Forgive me that I interrupt you, my liege," said Nigel, placing
himself between the king and his steed; "hear me but a moment!"
"I'll hear ye best on horseback," said the king. "I canna hear a word
on foot, man, not a word; and it is not seemly to stand cheek-for-
chowl confronting us that gate. Bide out of our gate, sir, we charge
you on your allegiance.--The deil's in them a', what can they be
doing?"
"By the crown that you wear, my liege," said Nigel, "and for which my
ancestors have worthily fought, I conjure you to be composed, and to
hear me but a moment!"
That which he asked was entirely out of the monarch's power to grant.
The timidity which he showed was not the plain downright cowardice,
which, like a natural impulse, compels a man to flight, and which can
excite little but pity or contempt, but a much more ludicrous, as well
as more mingled sensation. The poor king was frightened at once and
angry, desirous of securing his safety, and at the same time ashamed
to compromise his dignity; so that without attending to what Lord
Glenvarloch endeavoured to explain, he kept making at his horse, and
repeating, "We are a free king, man,--we are a free king--we will not
be controlled by a subject.--In the name of God, what keeps Steenie?
And, praised be his name, they are coming--Hillo, ho--here, here--
Steenie, Steenie!"
The Duke of Buckingham galloped up, followed by several courtiers and
attendants of the royal chase, and commenced with his usual
familiarity,--"I see Fortune has graced our dear dad, as usual.--But
what's this?"
"What is it? It is treason for what I ken," said the king; "and a'
your wyte, Steenie. Your dear dad and gossip might have been murdered,
for what you care."
"Murdered? Secure the villain!" exclaimed the Duke. "By Heaven, it is
Olifaunt himself!" A dozen of the hunters dismounted at once, letting
their horses run wild through the park. Some seized roughly on Lord
Glenvarloch, who thought it folly to offer resistance, while others
busied themselves with the king. "Are you wounded, my liege--are you
wounded?"
"Not that I ken of," said the king, in the paroxysm of his
apprehension, (which, by the way, might be pardoned in one of so
timorous a temper, and who, in his time, had been exposed to so many
strange attempts)--"Not that I ken of--but search him--search him. I
am sure I saw fire-arms under his cloak. I am sure I smelled powder--I
am dooms sure of that."
Lord Glenvarloch's cloak being stripped off, and his pistols
discovered, a shout of wonder and of execration on the supposed
criminal purpose, arose from the crowd now thickening every moment.
Not that celebrated pistol, which, though resting on a bosom as
gallant and as loyal as Nigel's, spread such cause less alarm among
knights and dames at a late high solemnity--not that very pistol
caused more temporary consternation than was so groundlessly excited
by the arms which were taken from Lord Glenvarloch's person; and not
Mhic-Allastar-More himself could repel with greater scorn and
indignation, the insinuations that they were worn for any sinister
purposes.
"Away with the wretch--the parricide--the bloody-minded villain!" was
echoed on all hands; and the king, who naturally enough set the same
value on his own life, at which it was, or seemed to be, rated by
others, cried out, louder than all the rest, "Ay, ay--away with him. I
have had enough of him and so has the country. But do him no bodily
harm--and, for God's sake, sirs, if ye are sure ye have thoroughly
disarmed him, put up your swords, dirks, and skenes, for you will
certainly do each other a mischief."
There was a speedy sheathing of weapons at the king's command; for
those who had hitherto been brandishing them in loyal bravado, began
thereby to call to mind the extreme dislike which his Majesty
nourished against naked steel, a foible which seemed to be as
constitutional as his timidity, and was usually ascribed to the brutal
murder of Rizzio having been perpetrated in his unfortunate mother's
presence before he yet saw the light.
At this moment, the Prince, who had been hunting in a different part
of the then extensive Park, and had received some hasty and confused
information of what was going forward, came rapidly up, with one or
two noblemen in his train, and amongst others Lord Dalgarno. He sprung
from his horse and asked eagerly if his father were wounded.
"Not that I am sensible of, Baby Charles--but a wee matter exhausted,
with struggling single-handed with the assassin.--Steenie, fill up a
cup of wine--the leathern bottle is hanging at our pommel.--Buss me,
then, Baby Charles," continued the monarch, after he had taken this
cup of comfort; "O man, the Commonwealth and you have had a fair
escape from the heavy and bloody loss of a dear father; for we are
_pater patriae_, as weel as _pater familias_.-_Quis desiderio sit
pudor aut modus tarn cari capitis!_-Woe is me, black cloth would have
been dear in England, and dry een scarce!"
And, at the very idea of the general grief which must have attended
his death, the good-natured monarch cried heartily himself.
"Is this possible?" said Charles, sternly; for his pride was hurt at
his father's demeanour on the one hand, while on the other, he felt
the resentment of a son and a subject, at the supposed attempt on the
king's life. "Let some one speak who has seen what happened--My Lord
of Buckingham!"
"I cannot say my lord," replied the Duke, "that I saw any actual
violence offered to his Majesty, else I should have avenged him on the
spot."
"You would have done wrong, then, in your zeal, George," answered the
Prince; "such offenders were better left to be dealt with by the laws.
But was the villain not struggling with his Majesty?"
"I cannot term it so, my lord," said the Duke, who, with many faults,
would have disdained an untruth; "he seemed to desire to detain his
Majesty, who, on the contrary, appeared to wish to mount his horse;
but they have found pistols on his person, contrary to the
proclamation, and, as it proves to be by Nigel Olifaunt, of whose
ungoverned disposition your Royal Highness has seen some samples, we
seem to be justified in apprehending the worst."
"Nigel Olifaunt!" said the Prince; "can that unhappy man so soon have
engaged in a new trespass? Let me see those pistols."
"Ye are not so unwise as to meddle with such snap-haunces, Baby
Charles?" said James--"Do not give him them, Steenie--I command you on
your allegiance! They may go off of their own accord, whilk often
befalls.--You will do it, then?--Saw ever a man sic wilful bairns as
we are cumbered with!--Havena we guardsmen and soldiers enow, but you
must unload the weapons yoursell--you, the heir of our body and
dignities, and sae mony men around that are paid for venturing life in
our cause?"
But without regarding his father's exclamations, Prince Charles, with
the obstinacy which characterised him in trifles, as well as matters
of consequence, persisted in unloading the pistols with his own hand,
of the double bullets with which each was charged. The hands of all
around were held up in astonishment at the horror of the crime
supposed to have been intended, and the escape which was presumed so
narrow.
Nigel had not yet spoken a word--he now calmly desired to be heard.
"To what purpose?" answered the Prince coldly. "You knew yourself
accused of a heavy offence, and, instead of rendering yourself up to
justice, in terms of the proclamation, you are here found intruding
yourself on his Majesty's presence, and armed with unlawful weapons."
"May it please you, sir," answered Nigel, "I wore these unhappy
weapons for my own defence; and not very many hours since they were
necessary to protect the lives of others."
"Doubtless, my lord," answered the Prince, still calm and unmoved,--
"your late mode of life, and the associates with whom you have lived,
have made you familiar with scenes and weapons of violence. But it is
not to me you are to plead your cause."
"Hear me--hear me, noble Prince!" said Nigel, eagerly. "Hear me! You--
even you yourself--may one day ask to be heard, and in vain."
"How, sir," said the Prince, haughtily--"how am I to construe that, my
lord?"
"If not on earth, sir," replied the prisoner, "yet to Heaven we must
all pray for patient and favourable audience."
"True, my lord," said the Prince, bending his head with haughty
acquiescence; "nor would I now refuse such audience to you, could it
avail you. But you shall suffer no wrong. We will ourselves look into
your case."
"Ay, ay," answered the king, "he hath made _appellatio ad Casarem_--we
will interrogate Glenvarlochides ourselves, time and place fitting;
and, in the meanwhile, have him and his weapons away, for I am weary
of the sight of them."
In consequence of directions hastily given, Nigel was accordingly
removed from the presence, where, however, his words had not
altogether fallen to the ground. "This is a most strange matter,
George," said the Prince to the favourite; "this gentleman hath a good
countenance, a happy presence, and much calm firmness in his look and
speech. I cannot think he would attempt a crime so desperate and
useless."
"I profess neither love nor favour to the young man," answered
Buckingham, whose high-spirited ambition bore always an open
character: "but I cannot but agree with your Highness, that our dear
gossip hath been something hasty in apprehending personal danger from
him."
"By my saul, Steenie, ye are not blate, to say so!" said the king. "Do
I not ken the smell of pouther, think ye? Who else nosed out the Fifth
of November, save our royal selves? Cecil, and Suffolk, and all of
them, were at fault, like sae mony mongrel tikes, when I puzzled it
out: and trow ye that I cannot smell pouther? Why, 'sblood, man,
Joannes Barclaius thought my ingine was in some measure inspiration,
and terms his history of the plot, Series patefacti divinitus
parricidii; and Spondanus, in like manner, saith of us, Divinitus
evasit."
"The land was happy in your Majesty's escape," said the Duke of
Buckingham, "and not less in the quick wit which tracked that
labyrinth of treason by so fine and almost invisible a clew."
"Saul, man, Steenie, ye are right! There are few youths have sic true
judgment as you, respecting the wisdom of their elders; and, as for
this fause, traitorous smaik, I doubt he is a hawk of the same nest.
Saw ye not something papistical about him? Let them look that he bears
not a crucifix, or some sic Roman trinket, about him."
"It would ill become me to attempt the exculpation of this unhappy
man," said Lord Dalgarno, "considering the height of his present
attempt, which has made all true men's blood curdle in their veins.
Yet I cannot avoid intimating, with all due submission to his
Majesty's infallible judgment, in justice to one who showed himself
formerly only my enemy, though he now displays himself in much blacker
colours, that this Olifaunt always appeared to me more as a Puritan
than as a Papist."
"Ah, Dalgarno, art thou there, man?" said the king. "And ye behoved to
keep back, too, and leave us to our own natural strength and the care
of Providence, when we were in grips with the villain!"
"Providence, may it please your most Gracious Majesty, would not fail
to aid, in such a strait, the care of three weeping kingdoms," said
Lord Dalgarno.
"Surely, man--surely," replied the king--"but a sight of your father,
with his long whinyard, would have been a blithe matter a short while
syne; and in future we will aid the ends of Providence in our favour,
by keeping near us two stout beef-eaters of the guard.--And so this
Olifaunt is a Puritan?--not the less like to be a Papist, for all
that--for extremities meet, as the scholiast proveth. There are, as I
have proved in my book, Puritans of papistical principles--it is just
a new tout on an old horn."
Here the king was reminded by the Prince, who dreaded perhaps that he
was going to recite the whole Basilicon Doron, that it would be best
to move towards the Palace, and consider what was to be done for
satisfying the public mind, in whom the morning's adventure was likely
to excite much speculation. As they entered the gate of the Palace, a
female bowed and presented a paper, which the king received, and, with
a sort of groan, thrust it into his side pocket. The Prince expressed
some curiosity to know its contents. "The valet in waiting will tell
you them," said the king, "when I strip off my cassock. D'ye think,
Baby, that I can read all that is thrust into my hands? See to me,
man,--(he pointed to the pockets of his great trunk breeches, which
were stuffed with papers)--"We are like an ass--that we should so
speak--stooping betwixt two burdens. Ay, ay, Asinus fortis accumbens
inter terminos, as the Vulgate hath it--Ay, ay, Vidi terrain quod
esset optima, et supposui humerum ad portandum, et factus sum tributis
serviens--I saw this land of England, and became an overburdened king
thereof."
"You are indeed well loaded, my dear dad and gossip," said the Duke of
Buckingham, receiving the papers which King James emptied out of his
pockets.
"Ay, ay," continued the monarch; "take them to you per aversionem,
bairns--the one pouch stuffed with petitions, t'other with
pasquinadoes; a fine time we have on't. On my conscience, I believe
the tale of Cadmus was hieroglyphical, and that the dragon's teeth
whilk he sowed were the letters he invented. Ye are laughing, Baby
Charles?--Mind what I say.--When I came here first frae our ain
country, where the men are as rude as the weather, by my conscience,
England was a bieldy bit; one would have thought the king had little
to do but to walk by quiet waters, per aquam refectionis. But, I kenna
how or why, the place is sair changed--read that libel upon us and on
our regimen. The dragon's teeth are sown, Baby Charles; I pray God
they bearna their armed harvest in your day, if I suld not live to see
it. God forbid I should, for there will be an awful day's kemping at
the shearing of them."
"I shall know how to stifle the crop in the blade,--ha, George?" said
the Prince, turning to the favourite with a look expressive of some
contempt for his father's apprehensions, and full of confidence in the
superior firmness and decision of his own counsels.
While this discourse was passing, Nigel, in charge of a pursuivant-at-
arms, was pushed and dragged through the small town, all the
inhabitants of which, having been alarmed by the report of an attack
on the king's life, now pressed forward to see the supposed traitor.
Amid the confusion of the moment, he could descry the face of the
victualler, arrested into a stare of stolid wonder, and that of the
barber grinning betwixt horror and eager curiosity. He thought that he
also had a glimpse of his waterman in the green jacket.
He had no time for remarks, being placed in a boat with the pursuivant
and two yeomen of the guard, and rowed up the river as fast as the
arms of six stout watermen could pull against the tide. They passed
the groves of masts which even then astonished the stranger with the
extended commerce of London, and now approached those low and
blackened walls of curtain and bastion, which exhibit here and there a
piece of ordnance, and here and there a solitary sentinel under arms,
but have otherwise so little of the military terrors of a citadel. A
projecting low-browed arch, which had loured over many an innocent,
and many a guilty head, in similar circumstances, now spread its dark
frowns over that of Nigel. The boat was put close up to the broad
steps against which the tide was lapping its lazy wave. The warder on
duty looked from the wicket, and spoke to the pursuivant in whispers.
In a few minutes the Lieutenant of the Tower appeared, received, and
granted an acknowledgment for the body of Nigel, Lord Glenvarloch.
CHAPTER XXVIII
Ye towers of Julius! London's lasting shame;
With many a foul and midnight murder fed!
_Gray._
Such is the exclamation of Gray. Bandello, long before him, has said
something like it; and the same sentiment must, in some shape or
other, have frequently occurred to those, who, remembering the fate of
other captives in that memorable state-prison, may have had but too
much reason to anticipate their own. The dark and low arch, which
seemed, like the entrance to Dante's Hell, to forbid hope of regress--
the muttered sounds of the warders, and petty formalities observed in
opening and shutting the grated wicket--the cold and constrained
salutation of the Lieutenant of the fortress, who showed his prisoner
that distant and measured respect which authority pays as a tax to
decorum, all struck upon Nigel's heart, impressing on him the cruel
consciousness of captivity.
"I am a prisoner," he said, the words escaping from him almost
unawares; "I am a prisoner, and in the Tower !"
The Lieutenant bowed--"And it is my duty," he said, "to show your
lordship your chamber, where, I am compelled to say, my orders are to
place you under some restraint. I will make it as easy as my duty
permits."
Nigel only bowed in return to this compliment, and followed the
Lieutenant to the ancient buildings on the western side of the parade,
and adjoining to the chapel, used in those days as a state-prison, but
in ours as the mess-room of the officers of the guard upon duty at the
fortress. The double doors were unlocked, the prisoner ascended a few
steps, followed by the Lieutenant, and a warder of the higher class.
They entered a large, but irregular, low-roofed, and dark apartment,
exhibiting a very scanty proportion of furniture. The warder had
orders to light a fire, and attend to Lord Glenvarloch's commands in
all things consistent with his duty; and the Lieutenant, having made
his reverence with the customary compliment, that he trusted his
lordship would not long remain under his guardianship, took his leave.
Nigel would have asked some questions of the warder, who remained to
put the apartment into order, but the man had caught the spirit of his
office. He seemed not to hear some of the prisoner's questions, though
of the most ordinary kind, did not reply to others, and when he did
speak, it was in a short and sullen tone, which, though not positively
disrespectful, was such as at least to encourage no farther
communication.
Nigel left him, therefore, to do his work in silence, and proceeded to
amuse himself with the melancholy task of deciphering the names,
mottoes, verses, and hieroglyphics, with which his predecessors in
captivity had covered the walls of their prison-house. There he saw
the names of many a forgotten sufferer mingled with others which will
continue in remembrance until English history shall perish. There were
the pious effusions of the devout Catholic, poured forth on the eve of
his sealing his profession at Tyburn, mingled with those of the firm
Protestant, about to feed the fires of Smithfield. There the slender
hand of the unfortunate Jane Grey, whose fate was to draw tears from
future generations, might be contrasted with the bolder touch which
impressed deep on the walls the Bear and Ragged Staff, the proud
emblem of the proud Dudleys. It was like the roll of the prophet, a
record of lamentation and mourning, and yet not unmixed with brief
interjections of resignation, and sentences expressive of the firmest
resolution.[Footnote: These memorials of illustrious criminals, or of
innocent persons who had the fate of such, are still preserved, though
at one time, in the course of repairing the rooms, they were in some
danger of being whitewashed. They are preserved at present with
becoming respect, and have most of them been engraved.--_See_ BAYLEY'S
_History and Antiquities of the Tower of London._]
In the sad task of examining the miseries of his predecessors in
captivity, Lord Glenvarloch was interrupted by the sudden opening of
the door of his prison-room. It was the warder, who came to inform
him, that, by order of the Lieutenant of the Tower, his lordship was
to have the society and attendance of a fellow-prisoner in his place
of confinement. Nigel replied hastily, that he wished no attendance,
and would rather be left alone; but the warder gave him to understand,
with a kind of grumbling civility, that the Lieutenant was the best
judge how his prisoners should be accommodated, and that he would have
no trouble with the boy, who was such a slip of a thing as was scarce
worth turning a key upon.--"There, Giles," he said, "bring the child
in."
Another warder put the "lad before him" into the room, and, both
withdrawing, bolt crashed and chain clanged, as they replaced these
ponderous obstacles to freedom. The boy was clad in a grey suit of the
finest cloth, laid down with silver lace, with a buff-coloured cloak
of the same pattern. His cap, which was a Montero of black velvet, was
pulled over his brows, and, with the profusion of his long ringlets,
almost concealed his face. He stood on the very spot where the warder
had quitted his collar, about two steps from the door of the
apartment, his eyes fixed on the ground, and every joint trembling
with confusion and terror. Nigel could well have dispensed with his
society, but it was not in his nature to behold distress, whether of
body or mind, without endeavouring to relieve it.
"Cheer up," he said, "my pretty lad. We are to be companions, it
seems, for a little time--at least I trust your confinement will be
short, since you are too young to have done aught to deserve long
restraint. Come, come--do not be discouraged. Your hand is cold and
trembles? the air is warm too--but it may be the damp of this darksome
room. Place you by the fire.--What! weeping-ripe, my little man? I
pray you, do not be a child. You have no beard yet, to be dishonoured
by your tears, but yet you should not cry like a girl. Think you are
only shut up for playing truant, and you can pass a day without
weeping, surely."
The boy suffered himself to be led and seated by the fire, but, after
retaining for a long time the very posture which he assumed in sitting
down, he suddenly changed it in order to wring his hands with an air
of the bitterest distress, and then, spreading them before his face,
wept so plentifully, that the tears found their way in floods through
his slender fingers.
Nigel was in some degree rendered insensible to his own situation, by
his feelings for the intense agony by which so young and beautiful a
creature seemed to be utterly overwhelmed; and, sitting down close
beside the boy, he applied the most soothing terms which occurred, to
endeavour to alleviate his distress; and, with an action which the
difference of their age rendered natural, drew his hand kindly along
the long hair of the disconsolate child. The lad appeared so shy as
even to shrink from this slight approach to familiarity--yet, when
Lord Glenvarloch, perceiving and allowing for his timidity, sat down
on the farther side of the fire, he appeared to be more at his ease,
and to hearken with some apparent interest to the arguments which from
time to time Nigel used, to induce him to moderate, at least, the
violence of his grief. As the boy listened, his tears, though they
continued to flow freely, seemed to escape from their source more
easily, his sobs were less convulsive, and became gradually changed
into low sighs, which succeeded each other, indicating as much sorrow,
perhaps, but less alarm, than his first transports had shown.
"Tell me who and what you are, my pretty boy," said Nigel.--"Consider
me, child, as a companion, who wishes to be kind to you, would you but
teach him how he can be so."
"Sir--my lord, I mean," answered the boy, very timidly, and in a voice
which could scarce be heard even across the brief distance which
divided them, "you are very good--and I--am very unhappy--"
A second fit of tears interrupted what else he had intended to say,
and it required a renewal of Lord Glenvarloch's good-natured
expostulations and encouragements, to bring him once more to such
composure as rendered the lad capable of expressing himself
intelligibly. At length, however, he was able to say--"I am sensible
of your goodness, my lord--and grateful for it--but I am a poor
unhappy creature, and, what is worse, have myself only to thank for my
misfortunes."
"We are seldom absolutely miserable, my young acquaintance," said
Nigel, "without being ourselves more or less responsible for it--I may
well say so, otherwise I had not been here to-day--but you are very
young, and can have but little to answer for."
"O sir! I wish I could say so--I have been self-willed and obstinate--
and rash and ungovernable--and now--now, how dearly do I pay the price
of it!"
"Pshaw, my boy," replied Nigel; "this must be some childish frolic--
some breaking out of bounds--some truant trick--And yet how should any
of these have brought you to the Tower?--There is something mysterious
about you, young man, which I must inquire into."
"Indeed, indeed, my lord, there is no harm about me," said the boy,
more moved it would seem to confession by the last words, by which he
seemed considerably alarmed, than by all the kind expostulations and
arguments which Nigel had previously used. "I am innocent--that is, I
have done wrong, but nothing to deserve being in this frightful
place."
"Tell me the truth, then," said Nigel, in a tone in which command
mingled with encouragement; "you have nothing to fear from me, and as
little to hope, perhaps--yet, placed as I am, I would know with whom I
speak."
"With an unhappy--boy, sir--and idle and truantly disposed, as your
lordship said," answered the lad, looking up, and showing a
countenance in which paleness and blushes succeeded each other, as
fear and shamefacedness alternately had influence. "I left my father's
house without leave, to see the king hunt in the Park at Greenwich;
there came a cry of treason, and all the gates were shut--I was
frightened, and hid myself in a thicket, and I was found by some of
the rangers and examined--and they said I gave no good account of
myself--and so I was sent hither."
"I am an unhappy, a most unhappy being," said Lord Glenvarloch, rising
and walking through the apartment; "nothing approaches me but shares
my own bad fate! Death and imprisonment dog my steps, and involve all
who are found near me. Yet this boy's story sounds strangely.--You say
you were examined, my young friend--Let me pray you to say whether you
told your name, and your means of gaining admission into the Park--if
so, they surely would not have detained you?"
"O, my lord," said the boy, "I took care not to tell them the name of
the friend that let me in; and as to my father--I would not he knew
where I now am for all the wealth in London!"
"But do you not expect," said Nigel, "that they will dismiss you till
you let them know who and what you are?"
"What good will it do them to keep so useless a creature as myself?"
said the boy; "they must let me go, were it but out of shame."
"Do not trust to that--tell me your name and station--I will
communicate them to the Lieutenant--he is a man of quality and honour,
and will not only be willing to procure your liberation, but also, I
have no doubt, will intercede with your father. I am partly answerable
for such poor aid as I can afford, to get you out of this
embarrassment, since I occasioned the alarm owing to which you were
arrested; so tell me your name, and your father's name."
"My name to you? O never, never!" answered the boy, in a tone of deep
emotion, the cause of which Nigel could not comprehend.
"Are you so much afraid of me, young man," he replied, "because I am
here accused and a prisoner? Consider, a man may be both, and deserve
neither suspicion nor restraint. Why should you distrust me? You seem
friendless, and I am myself so much in the same circumstances, that I
cannot but pity your situation when I reflect on my own. Be wise; I
have spoken kindly to you--I mean as kindly as I speak."
"O, I doubt it not, I doubt it not, my lord," said the boy, "and I
could tell you all--that is, almost all."
"Tell me nothing, my young friend, excepting what may assist me in
being useful to you," said Nigel.
"You are generous, my lord," said the boy; "and I am sure--O sure, I
might safely trust to your honour--But yet--but yet--I am so sore
beset--I have been so rash, so unguarded--I can never tell you of my
folly. Besides, I have already told too much to one whose heart I
thought I had moved--yet I find myself here."
"To whom did you make this disclosure?" said Nigel.
"I dare not tell," replied the youth.
"There is something singular about you, my young friend," said Lord
Glenvarloch, withdrawing with a gentle degree of compulsion the hand
with which the boy had again covered his eyes; "do not pain yourself
with thinking on your situation just at present--your pulse is high,
and your hand feverish--lay yourself on yonder pallet, and try to
compose yourself to sleep. It is the readiest and best remedy for the
fancies with which you are worrying yourself."
"I thank you for your considerate kindness, my lord," said the boy;
"with your leave I will remain for a little space quiet in this chair-
-I am better thus than on the couch. I can think undisturbedly on what
I have done, and have still to do; and if God sends slumber to a
creature so exhausted, it shall be most welcome."
So saying, the boy drew his hand from Lord Nigel's, and, drawing
around him and partly over his face the folds of his ample cloak, he
resigned himself to sleep or meditation, while his companion,
notwithstanding the exhausting scenes of this and the preceding day,
continued his pensive walk up and down the apartment.
Every reader has experienced, that times occur, when far from being
lord of external circumstances, man is unable to rule even the wayward
realm of his own thoughts. It was Nigel's natural wish to consider his
own situation coolly, and fix on the course which it became him as a
man of sense and courage to adopt; and yet, in spite of himself, and
notwithstanding the deep interest of the critical state in which he
was placed, it did so happen that his fellow-prisoner's situation
occupied more of his thoughts than did his own. There was no
accounting for this wandering of the imagination, but also there was
no striving with it. The pleading tones of one of the sweetest voices
he had ever heard, still rung in his ear, though it seemed that sleep
had now fettered the tongue of the speaker. He drew near on tiptoe to
satisfy himself whether it were so. The folds of the cloak hid the
lower part of his face entirely; but the bonnet, which had fallen a
little aside, permitted him to see the forehead streaked with blue
veins, the closed eyes, and the long silken eyelashes.
"Poor child," said Nigel to himself, as he looked on him, nestled up
as it were in the folds of his mantle, "the dew is yet on thy
eyelashes, and thou hast fairly wept thyself asleep. Sorrow is a rough
nurse to one so young and delicate as thou art. Peace be to thy
slumbers, I will not disturb them. My own misfortunes require my
attention, and it is to their contemplation that I must resign
myself."
He attempted to do so, but was crossed at every turn by conjectures
which intruded themselves as before, and which all regarded the
sleeper rather than himself. He was angry and vexed, and expostulated
with himself concerning the overweening interest which he took in the
concerns of one of whom he knew nothing, saving that the boy was
forced into his company, perhaps as a spy, by those to whose custody
he was committed--but the spell could not be broken, and the thoughts
which he struggled to dismiss, continued to haunt him.
Thus passed half an hour, or more; at the conclusion of which, the
harsh sound of the revolving bolts was again heard, and the voice of
the warder announced that a man desired to speak with Lord
Glenvarloch. "A man to speak with me, under my present circumstances!-
-Who can it be?" And John Christie, his landlord of Paul's Wharf,
resolved his doubts, by entering the apartment. "Welcome--most
welcome, mine honest landlord!" said Lord Glenvarloch. "How could I
have dreamt of seeing you in my present close lodgings?" And at the
same time, with the frankness of old kindness, he walked up to
Christie and offered his hand; but John started back as from the look
of a basilisk.
"Keep your courtesies to yourself, my lord," said he, gruffly; "I have
had as many of them already as may serve me for my life."
"Why, Master Christie," said Nigel, "what means this? I trust I have
not offended you?"
"Ask me no questions, my lord," said Christie, bluntly. "I am a man of
peace--I came not hither to wrangle with you at this place and season.
Just suppose that I am well informed of all the obligements from your
honour's nobleness, and then acquaint me, in as few words as may be,
where is the unhappy woman--What have you done with her?"
"What have I done with her!" said Lord Glenvarloch--"Done with whom? I
know not what you are speaking of."
"Oh, yes, my lord," said Christie; "play surprise as well as you will,
you must have some guess that I am speaking of the poor fool that was
my wife, till she became your lordship's light-o'-love."
"Your wife! Has your wife left you? and, if she has, do you come to
ask her of me?"
"Yes, my lord, singular as it may seem," returned Christie, in a tone
of bitter irony, and with a sort of grin widely discording from the
discomposure of his features, the gleam of his eye, and the froth
which stood on his lip, "I do come to make that demand of your
lordship. Doubtless, you are surprised I should take the trouble; but,
I cannot tell, great men and little men think differently. She has
lain in my bosom, and drunk of my cup; and, such as she is, I cannot
forget that--though I will never see her again--she must not starve,
my lord, or do worse, to gain bread, though I reckon your lordship may
think I am robbing the public in trying to change her courses."
"By my faith as a Christian, by my honour as a gentleman," said Lord
Glenvarloch, "if aught amiss has chanced with your wife, I know
nothing of it. I trust in Heaven you are as much mistaken in imputing
guilt to her, as in supposing me her partner in it."
"Fie! fie! my lord," said Christie, "why will you make it so tough?
She is but the wife of a clod-pated old chandler, who was idiot enough
to marry a wench twenty years younger than himself. Your lordship
cannot have more glory by it than you have had already; and, as for
advantage and solace, I take it Dame Nelly is now unnecessary to your
gratification. I should be sorry to interrupt the course of your
pleasure; an old wittol should have more consideration of his
condition. But, your precious lordship being mewed up here among other
choice jewels of the kingdom, Dame Nelly cannot, I take it, be
admitted to share the hours of dalliance which--"Here the incensed
husband stammered, broke off his tone of irony, and proceeded,
striking his staff against the ground--"O that these false limbs of
yours, which I wish had been hamstrung when they first crossed my
honest threshold, were free from the fetters they have well deserved!
I would give you the odds of your youth, and your weapon, and would
bequeath my soul to the foul fiend if I, with this piece of oak, did
not make you such an example to all ungrateful, pick-thank courtiers,
that it should be a proverb to the end of time, how John Christie
swaddled his wife's fine leman!"
"I understand not your insolence," said Nigel, "but I forgive it,
because you labour under some strange delusion. In so far as I can
comprehend your vehement charge, it is entirely undeserved on my part.
You seem to impute to me the seduction of your wife--I trust she is
innocent. For me, at least, she is as innocent as an angel in bliss. I
never thought of her--never touched her hand or cheek, save in
honourable courtesy."
"O, ay--courtesy!--that is the very word. She always praised your
lordship's honourable courtesy. Ye have cozened me between ye, with
your courtesy. My lord--my lord, you came to us no very wealthy man--
you know it. It was for no lucre of gain I took you and your swash-
buckler, your Don Diego yonder, under my poor roof. I never cared if
the little room were let or no; I could live without it. If you could
not have paid for it, you should never have been asked. All the wharf
knows John Christie has the means and spirit to do a kindness. When
you first darkened my honest doorway, I was as happy as a man need to
be, who is no youngster, and has the rheumatism. Nelly was the kindest
and best-humoured wench--we might have a word now and then about a
gown or a ribbon, but a kinder soul on the whole, and a more careful,
considering her years, till you come--and what is she now!--But I will
not be a fool to cry, if I can help it. _What_ she is, is not the
question, but where she is; and that I must learn, sir, of you."
"How can you, when I tell you," replied Nigel, "that I am as ignorant
as yourself, or rather much more so? Till this moment, I never heard
of any disagreement betwixt your dame and you."
"That is a lie," said John Christie, bluntly.
"How, you base villain!" said Lord Glenvarloch--"do you presume on my
situation? If it were not that I hold you mad, and perhaps made so by
some wrong sustained, you should find my being weaponless were no
protection, I would beat your brains out against the wall."
"Ay, ay," answered Christie, "bully as ye list. Ye have been at the
ordinaries, and in Alsatia, and learned the ruffian's rant, I doubt
not. But I repeat, you have spoken an untruth, when you said you knew
not of my wife's falsehood; for, when you were twitted with it among
your gay mates, it was a common jest among you, and your lordship took
all the credit they would give you for your gallantry and gratitude."
There was a mixture of truth in this part of the charge which
disconcerted Lord Glenvarloch exceedingly; for he could not, as a man
of honour, deny that Lord Dalgarno, and others, had occasionally
jested with him on the subject of Dame Nelly, and that, though he had
not played exactly _le fanfaron des vices qu'il n'avoit pas_, he had
not at least been sufficiently anxious to clear himself of the
suspicion of such a crime to men who considered it as a merit. It was
therefore with some hesitation, and in a sort of qualifying tone, that
he admitted that some idle jests had passed upon such a supposition,
although without the least foundation in truth. John Christie would
not listen to his vindication any longer. "By your own account," he
said, "you permitted lies to be told of you injest. How do I know you
are speaking truth, now you are serious? You thought it, I suppose, a
fine thing to wear the reputation of having dishonoured an honest
family,--who will not think that you had real grounds for your base
bravado to rest upon? I will not believe otherwise for one, and
therefore, my lord, mark what I have to say. You are now yourself in
trouble--As you hope to come through it safely, and without loss of
life and property, tell me where this unhappy woman is. Tell me, if
you hope for heaven--tell me, if you fear hell--tell me, as you would
not have the curse of an utterly ruined woman, and a broken-hearted
man, attend you through life, and bear witness against you at the
Great Day, which shall come after death. You are moved, my lord, I see
it. I cannot forget the wrong you have done me. I cannot even promise
to forgive it--but--tell me, and you shall never see me again, or hear
more of my reproaches."
"Unfortunate man," said Lord Glenvarloch, "you have said more, far
more than enough, to move me deeply. Were I at liberty, I would lend
you my best aid to search out him who has wronged you, the rather that
I do suspect my having been your lodger has been in some degree the
remote cause of bringing the spoiler into the sheepfold."
"I am glad your lordship grants me so much," said John Christie,
resuming the tone of embittered irony with which he had opened the,
singular conversation; "I will spare you farther reproach and
remonstrance--your mind is made up, and so is mine.--So, ho, warder!"
The warder entered, and John went on,--"I want to get out, brother.
Look well to your charge--it were better that half the wild beasts in
their dens yonder were turned loose upon Tower Hill, than that this
same smooth-faced, civil-spoken gentleman, were again returned to
honest men's company!"
So saying, he hastily left the apartment; and Nigel had full leisure
to lament the waywardness of his fate, which seemed never to tire of
persecuting him for crimes of which he was innocent, and investing him
with the appearances of guilt which his mind abhorred. He could not,
however, help acknowledging to himself, that all the pain which he
might sustain from the present accusation of John Christie, was so far
deserved, from his having suffered himself, out of vanity, or rather
an unwillingness to encounter ridicule, to be supposed capable of a
base inhospitable crime, merely because fools called it an affair of
gallantry; and it was no balsam to the wound, when he recollected what
Richie had told him of his having been ridiculed behind his back by
the gallants of the ordinary, for affecting the reputation of an
intrigue which he had not in reality spirit enough to have carried on.
His simulation had, in a word, placed him in the unlucky predicament
of being rallied as a braggart amongst the dissipated youths, with
whom the reality of the amour would have given him credit; whilst, on
the other hand, he was branded as an inhospitable seducer by the
injured husband, who was obstinately persuaded of his guilt.
CHAPTER XXIX
How fares the man on whom good men would look
With eyes where scorn and censure combated,
But that kind Christian love hath taught the lesson--
That they who merit most contempt and hate,
Do most deserve our pity.--
_Old Play_.
It might have seemed natural that the visit of John Christie should
have entirely diverted Nigel's attention from his slumbering
companion, and, for a time, such was the immediate effect of the chain
of new ideas which the incident introduced; yet, soon after the
injured man had departed, Lord Glenvarloch began to think it
extraordinary that the boy should have slept so soundly, while they
talked loudly in his vicinity. Yet he certainly did not appear to have
stirred. Was he well--was he only feigning sleep? He went close to him
to make his observations, and perceived that he had wept, and was
still weeping, though his eyes were closed. He touched him gently on
the shoulder--the boy shrunk from his touch, but did not awake. He
pulled him harder, and asked him if he was sleeping.
"Do they waken folk in your country to know whether they are asleep or
no?" said the boy, in a peevish tone.
"No, my young sir," answered Nigel; "but when they weep in the manner
you do in your sleep, they awaken them to see what ails them."
"It signifies little to any one what ails me," said the boy.
"True," replied Lord Glenvarloch; "but you knew before you went to
sleep how little I could assist you in your difficulties, and you
seemed disposed, notwithstanding, to put some confidence in me."
"If I did, I have changed my mind," said the lad.
"And what may have occasioned this change of mind, I trow?" said Lord
Glenvarloch. "Some men speak through their sleep--perhaps you have the
gift of hearing in it?"
"No, but the Patriarch Joseph never dreamt truer dreams than I do."
"Indeed!" said Lord Glenvarloch. "And, pray, what dream have you had
that has deprived me of your good opinion; for that, I think, seems
the moral of the matter?"
"You shall judge yourself," answered the boy. "I dreamed I was in a
wild forest, where there was a cry of hounds, and winding of horns,
exactly as I heard in Greenwich Park."
"That was because you were in the Park this morning, you simple
child," said Nigel.
"Stay, my lord," said the youth. "I went on in my dream, till, at the
top of a broad green alley, I saw a noble stag which had fallen into
the toils; and methought I knew that he was the very stag which the
whole party were hunting, and that if the chase came up, the dogs
would tear him to pieces, or the hunters would cut his throat; and I
had pity on the gallant stag, and though I was of a different kind
from him, and though I was somewhat afraid of him, I thought I would
venture something to free so stately a creature; and I pulled out my
knife, and just as I was beginning to cut the meshes of the net, the
animal started up in my face in the likeness of a tiger, much larger
and fiercer than any you may have seen in the ward of the wild beasts
yonder, and was just about to tear me limb from limb, when you awaked
me."
"Methinks," said Nigel, "I deserve more thanks than I have got, for
rescuing you from such a danger by waking you. But, my pretty master,
methinks all this tale of a tiger and a stag has little to do with
your change of temper towards me."
"I know not whether it has or no," said the lad; "but I will not tell
you who I am."
"You will keep your secret to yourself then, peevish boy," said Nigel,
turning from him, and resuming his walk through the room; then
stopping suddenly, he said--"And yet you shall not escape from me
without knowing that I penetrate your mystery."
"My mystery!" said the youth, at once alarmed and irritated--"what
mean you, my lord?"
"Only that I can read your dream without the assistance of a Chaldean
interpreter, and my exposition is--that my fair companion does not
wear the dress of her sex."
"And if I do not, my lord," said his companion, hastily starting up,
and folding her cloak tight around her, "my dress, such as it is,
covers one who will not disgrace it."
"Many would call that speech a fair challenge," said Lord Glenvarloch,
looking on her fixedly; "women do not masquerade in men's clothes, to
make use of men's weapons."
"I have no such purpose," said the seeming boy; "I have other means of
protection, and powerful--but I would first know what is _your_
purpose."
"An honourable and a most respectful one," said Lord Glenvarloch;
"whatever you are--whatever motive may have brought you into this
ambiguous situation, I am sensible--every look, word, and action of
yours, makes me sensible, that you are no proper subject of
importunity, far less of ill usage. What circumstances can have forced
you into so doubtful a situation, I know not; but I feel assured there
is, and can be, nothing in them of premeditated wrong, which should
expose you to cold-blooded insult. From me you have nothing to dread."
"I expected nothing less from your nobleness, my lord," answered the
female; "my adventure, though I feel it was both desperate and
foolish, is not so very foolish, nor my safety here so utterly
unprotected, as at first sight--and in this strange dress, it may
appear to be. I have suffered enough, and more than enough, by the
degradation of having been seen in this unfeminine attire, and the
comments you must necessarily have made on my conduct--but I thank God
that I am so far protected, that I could not have been subjected to
insult unavenged." When this extraordinary explanation had proceeded
thus far, the warder appeared, to place before Lord Glenvarloch a
meal, which, for his present situation, might be called comfortable,
and which, if not equal to the cookery of the celebrated Chevalier
Beaujeu, was much superior in neatness and cleanliness to that of
Alsatia. A warder attended to do the honours of the table, and made a
sign to the disguised female to rise and assist him in his functions.
But Nigel, declaring that he knew the youth's parents, interfered, and
caused his companion to eat along with him. She consented with a sort
of embarrassment, which rendered her pretty features yet more
interesting. Yet she maintained with a natural grace that sort of
good-breeding which belongs to the table; and it seemed to Nigel,
whether already prejudiced in her favour by the extraordinary
circumstances of their meeting, or whether really judging from what
was actually the fact, that he had seldom seen a young person comport
herself with more decorous propriety, mixed with ingenuous simplicity;
while the consciousness of the peculiarity of her situation threw a
singular colouring over her whole demeanour, which could be neither
said to be formal, nor easy, nor embarrassed, but was compounded of,
and shaded with, an interchange of all these three characteristics.
Wine was placed on the table, of which she could not be prevailed on
to taste a glass. Their conversation was, of course, limited by the
presence of the warder to the business of the table: but Nigel had,
long ere the cloth was removed, formed the resolution, if possible, of
making himself master of this young person's history, the more
especially as he now began to think that the tones of her voice and
her features were not so strange to him as he had originally supposed.
This, however, was a conviction which he adopted slowly, and only as
it dawned upon him from particular circumstances during the course of
the repast.
At length the prison-meal was finished, and Lord Glenvarloch began to
think how he might most easily enter upon the topic he meditated, when
the warder announced a visitor.
"Soh!" said Nigel, something displeased, "I find even a prison does
not save one from importunate visitations."
He prepared to receive his guest, however, while his alarmed companion
flew to the large cradle-shaped chair, which had first served her as a
place of refuge, drew her cloak around her, and disposed herself as
much as she could to avoid observation. She had scarce made her
arrangements for that purpose when the door opened, and the worthy
citizen, George Heriot, entered the prison-chamber.
He cast around the apartment his usual sharp, quick glance of
observation, and, advancing to Nigel, said--"My lord, I wish I could
say I was happy to see you."
"The sight of those who are unhappy themselves, Master Heriot, seldom
produces happiness to their friends--I, however, am glad to see you."
He extended his hand, but Heriot bowed with much formal complaisance,
instead of accepting the courtesy, which in those times, when the
distinction of ranks was much guarded by etiquette and ceremony, was
considered as a distinguished favour.
"You are displeased with me, Master Heriot," said Lord Glenvarloch,
reddening, for he was not deceived by the worthy citizen's affectation
of extreme reverence and respect.
"By no means, my lord," replied Heriot; "but I have been in France,
and have thought it is well to import, along with other more
substantial articles, a small sample of that good-breeding which the
French are so renowned for."
"It is not kind of you," said Nigel, "to bestow the first use of it on
an old and obliged friend."
Heriot only answered to this observation with a short dry cough, and
then proceeded.
"Hem! hem! I say, ahem! My lord, as my French politeness may not carry
me far, I would willingly know whether I am to speak as a friend,
since your lordship is pleased to term me such; or whether I am, as
befits my condition, to confine myself to the needful business which
must be treated of between us."
"Speak as a friend by all means, Master Heriot," said Nigel; "I
perceive you have adopted some of the numerous prejudices against me,
if not all of them. Speak out, and frankly--what I cannot deny I will
at least confess."
"And I trust, my lord, redress," said Heriot.
"So far as in my power, certainly," answered Nigel.
"Ah I my lord," continued Heriot, "that is a melancholy though a
necessary restriction; for how lightly may any one do an hundred times
more than the degree of evil which it may be within his power to
repair to the sufferers and to society! But we are not alone here," he
said, stopping, and darting his shrewd eye towards the muffled figure
of the disguised maiden, whose utmost efforts had not enabled her so
to adjust her position as altogether to escape observation. More
anxious to prevent her being discovered than to keep his own affairs
private, Nigel hastily answered-
"'Tis a page of mine; you may speak freely before him. He is of
France, and knows no English."
"I am then to speak freely," said Heriot, after a second glance at the
chair; "perhaps my words may be more free than welcome."
"Go on, sir," said Nigel, "I have told you I can bear reproof."
"In one word, then, my lord--why do I find you in this place, and
whelmed with charges which must blacken a name rendered famous by ages
of virtue?"
"Simply, then, you find me here," said Nigel, "because, to begin from
my original error, I would be wiser than my father."
"It was a difficult task, my lord," replied Heriot; "your father was
voiced generally as the wisest and one of the bravest men of
Scotland."
"He commanded me," continued Nigel, "to avoid all gambling; and I took
upon me to modify this injunction into regulating my play according to
my skill, means, and the course of my luck."
"Ay, self opinion, acting on a desire of acquisition, my lord--you
hoped to touch pitch and not to be defiled, "answered Heriot. "Well,
my lord, you need not say, for I have heard with much regret, how far
this conduct diminished your reputation. Your next error I may without
scruple remind you of--My lord, my lord, in whatever degree Lord
Dalgarno may have failed towards you, the son of his father should
have been sacred from your violence."
"You speak in cold blood, Master Heriot, and I was smarting under a
thousand wrongs inflicted on me under the mask of friendship."
"That is, he gave your lordship bad advice, and you," said Heriot--
"Was fool enough to follow his counsel," answered Nigel--"But we will
pass this, Master Heriot, if you please. Old men and young men, men of
the sword and men of peaceful occupation, always have thought, always
will think, differently on such subjects."
"I grant," answered Heriot, "the distinction between the old goldsmith
and the young nobleman--still you should have had patience for Lord
Huntinglen's sake, and prudence for your own. Supposing your quarrel
just--"
"I pray you to pass on to some other charge," said Lord Glenvarloch.
"I am not your accuser, my lord; but I trust in heaven, that your own
heart has already accused you bitterly on the inhospitable wrong which
your late landlord has sustained at your hand."
"Had I been guilty of what you allude to," said Lord Glenvarloch,--
"had a moment of temptation hurried me away, I had long ere now most
bitterly repented it. But whoever may have wronged the unhappy woman,
it was not I--I never heard of her folly until within this hour."
"Come, my lord," said Heriot, with some severity, "this sounds too
much like affectation. I know there is among our modern youth a new
creed respecting adultery as well as homicide--I would rather hear you
speak of a revision of the Decalogue, with mitigated penalties in
favour of the privileged orders--I would rather hear you do this than
deny a fact in which you have been known to glory."
"Glory!--I never did, never would have taken honour to myself from
such a cause," said Lord Glenvarloch. "I could not prevent other idle
tongues, and idle brains, from making false inferences."
"You would have known well enough how to stop their mouths, my lord,"
replied Heriot, "had they spoke of you what was unpleasing to your
ears, and what the truth did not warrant.--Come, my lord, remember
your promise to confess; and, indeed, to confess is, in this case, in
some slight sort to redress. I will grant you are young--the woman
handsome--and, as I myself have observed, light-headed enough. Let me
know where she is. Her foolish husband has still some compassion for
her--will save her from infamy--perhaps, in time, receive her back;
for we are a good-natured generation we traders. Do not, my lord,
emulate those who work mischief merely for the pleasure of doing so--
it is the very devil's worst quality."
"Your grave remonstrances will drive me mad," said Nigel. "There is a
show of sense and reason in what you say; and yet, it is positively
insisting on my telling the retreat of a fugitive of whom I know
nothing earthly."
"It is well, my lord," answered Heriot, coldly. "You have a right,
such as it is, to keep your own secrets; but, since my discourse on
these points seems so totally unavailing, we had better proceed to
business. Yet your father's image rises before me, and seems to plead
that I should go on."
"Be it as you will, sir," said Glenvarloch; "he who doubts my word
shall have no additional security for it."
"Well, my lord.--In the Sanctuary at Whitefriars--a place of refuge so
unsuitable to a young man of quality and character--I am told a murder
was committed."
"And you believe that I did the deed, I suppose?"
"God forbid, my lord!" said Heriot. "The coroner's inquest hath sat,
and it appeared that your lordship, under your assumed name of
Grahame, behaved with the utmost bravery."
"No compliment, I pray you," said Nigel; "I am only too happy to find,
that I did not murder, or am not believed to have murdered, the old
man."
"True, my lord, said Heriot; "but even in this affair there lacks
explanation. Your lordship embarked this morning in a wherry with a
female, and, it is said, an immense sum of money, in specie and other
valuables--but the woman has not since been heard of."
"I parted with her at Paul's Wharf," said Nigel, "where she went
ashore with her charge. I gave her a letter to that very man, John
Christie."
"Ay, that is the waterman's story; but John Christie denies that he
remembers anything of the matter."
"I am sorry to hear this," said the young nobleman; "I hope in Heaven
she has not been trepanned, for the treasure she had with her."
"I hope not, my lord," replied Heriot; "but men's minds are much
disturbed about it. Our national character suffers on all hands. Men
remember the fatal case of Lord Sanquhar, hanged for the murder of a
fencing-master; and exclaim, they will not have their wives whored,
and their property stolen, by the nobility of Scotland."
"And all this is laid to my door!" said Nigel; "my exculpation is
easy."
"I trust so, my lord," said Heriot;--"nay, in this particular, I do
not doubt it.--But why did you leave Whitefriars under such
circumstances?"
"Master Reginald Lowestoffe sent a boat for me, with intimation to
provide for my safety."
"I am sorry to say," replied Heriot, "that he denies all knowledge of
your lordship's motions, after having dispatched a messenger to you
with some baggage."
"The watermen told me they were employed by him."
"Watermen!" said Heriot; "one of these proves to be an idle
apprentice, an old acquaintance of mine--the other has escaped; but
the fellow who is in custody persists in saying he was employed by
your lordship, and you only."
"He lies!" said Lord Glenvarloch, hastily;--"He told me Master
Lowestoffe had sent him.--I hope that kind-hearted gentleman is at
liberty?"
"He is," answered Heriot; "and has escaped with a rebuke from the
benchers, for interfering in such a matter as your lordship's. The
Court desire to keep well with the young Templars in these times of
commotion, or he had not come off so well."
"That is the only word of comfort I have heard from you," replied
Nigel. "But this poor woman,--she and her trunk were committed to the
charge of two porters."
"So said the pretended waterman; but none of the fellows who ply at
the wharf will acknowledge the employment.--I see the idea makes you
uneasy, my lord; but every effort is made to discover the poor woman's
place of retreat--if, indeed, she yet lives.--And now, my lord, my
errand is spoken, so far as it relates exclusively to your lordship;
what remains, is matter of business of a more formal kind."
"Let us proceed to it without delay," said Lord Glenvarloch. "I would
hear of the affairs of any one rather than of my own."
"You cannot have forgotten, my lord," said Heriot, "the transaction
which took place some weeks since at Lord Huntinglen's--by which a
large sum of money was advanced for the redemption of your lordship's
estate?"
"I remember it perfectly," said Nigel; "and your present austerity
cannot make me forget your kindness on the occasion."
Heriot bowed gravely, and went on.--"That money was advanced under the
expectation and hope that it might be replaced by the contents of a
grant to your lordship, under the royal sign-manual, in payment of
certain monies due by the crown to your father.--I trust your lordship
understood the transaction at the time--I trust you now understand my
resumption of its import, and hold it to be correct?"
"Undeniably correct," answered Lord Glenvarloch. "If the sums
contained in the warrant cannot be recovered, my lands become the
property of those who paid off the original holders of the mortgage,
and now stand in their right."
"Even so, my lord," said Heriot. "And your lordship's unhappy
circumstances having, it would seem, alarmed these creditors, they are
now, I am sorry to say, pressing for one or other of these
alternatives--possession of the land, or payment of their debt."
"They have a right to one or other," answered Lord Glenvarloch; "and
as I cannot do the last in my present condition, I suppose they must
enter on possession."
"Stay, my lord," replied Heriot; "if you have ceased to call me a
friend to your person, at least you shall see I am willing to be such
to your father's house, were it but for the sake of your father's
memory. If you will trust me with the warrant under the sign-manual, I
believe circumstances do now so stand at Court, that I may be able to
recover the money for you."
"I would do so gladly," said Lord Glenvarloch, "but the casket which
contains it is not in my possession. It was seized when I was arrested
at Greenwich."
"It will be no longer withheld from you," said Heriot; "for, I
understand, my Master's natural good sense, and some information which
he has procured, I know not how, has induced him to contradict the
whole charge of the attempt on his person. It is entirely hushed up;
and you will only be proceeded against for your violence on Lord
Dalgarno, committed within the verge of the Palace--and that you will
find heavy enough to answer."
"I will not shrink under the weight," said Lord Glenvarloch. "But that
is not the present point.--If I had that casket--"
"Your baggage stood in the little ante-room, as I passed," said the
citizen; "the casket caught my eye. I think you had it of me. It was
my old friend Sir Faithful Frugal's. Ay; he, too, had a son--"
Here he stopped short.
"A son who, like Lord Glenvarloch's, did no credit to his father.--Was
it not so you would have ended the sentence, Master Heriot?" asked the
young nobleman.
"My lord, it was a word spoken rashly," answered Heriot. "God may mend
all in his own good time. This, however, I will say, that I have
sometimes envied my friends their fair and flourishing families; and
yet have I seen such changes when death has removed the head, so many
rich men's sons penniless, the heirs of so many knights and nobles
acreless, that I think mine own estate and memory, as I shall order
it, has a fair chance of outliving those of greater men, though God
has given me no heir of my name. But this is from the purpose.--Ho!
warder, bring in Lord Glenvarloch's baggage." The officer obeyed.
Seals had been placed upon the trunk and casket, but were now removed,
the warder said, in consequence of the subsequent orders from Court,
and the whole was placed at the prisoner's free disposal.
Desirous to bring this painful visit to a conclusion, Lord Glenvarloch
opened the casket, and looked through the papers which it contained,
first hastily, and then more slowly and accurately; but it was all in
vain. The Sovereign's signed warrant had disappeared.
"I thought and expected nothing better," said George Heriot, bitterly.
"The beginning of evil is the letting out of water. Here is a fair
heritage lost, I dare say, on a foul cast at dice, or a conjuring
trick at cards!--My lord, your surprise is well played. I give you
full joy of your accomplishments. I have seen many as young brawlers
and spendthrifts, but never as young and accomplished a dissembler.--
Nay, man, never bend your angry brows on me. I speak in bitterness of
heart, from what I remember of your worthy father; and if his son
hears of his degeneracy from no one else, he shall hear it from the
old goldsmith."
This new suspicion drove Nigel to the very extremity of his patience;
yet the motives and zeal of the good old man, as well as the
circumstances of suspicion which created his displeasure, were so
excellent an excuse for it, that they formed an absolute curb on the
resentment of Lord Glenvarloch, and constrained him, after two or
three hasty exclamations, to observe a proud and sullen silence. At
length, Master Heriot resumed his lecture.
"Hark you, my lord," he said, "it is scarce possible that this most
important paper can be absolutely assigned away. Let me know in what
obscure corner, and for what petty sum, it lies pledged--something may
yet be done."
"Your efforts in my favour are the more generous," said Lord
Glenvarloch, "as you offer them to one whom you believe you have cause
to think hardly of--but they are altogether unavailing. Fortune has
taken the field against me at every point. Even let her win the
battle."
"Zouns!" exclaimed Heriot, impatiently,--"you would make a saint
swear! Why, I tell you, if this paper, the loss of which seems to sit
so light on you, be not found, farewell to the fair lordship of
Glenvarloch--firth and forest--lea and furrow--lake and stream--all
that has been in the house of Olifaunt since the days of William the
Lion!"
"Farewell to them, then," said Nigel,--"and that moan is soon made."
"'Sdeath! my lord, you will make more moan for it ere you die," said
Heriot, in the same tone of angry impatience.
"Not I, my old friend," said Nigel. "If I mourn, Master Heriot, it
will be for having lost the good opinion of a worthy man, and lost it,
as I must say, most undeservedly."
"Ay, ay, young man," said Heriot, shaking his head, "make me believe
that if you can.--To sum the matter up," he said, rising from his
seat, and walking towards that occupied by the disguised female, "for
our matters are now drawn into small compass, you shall as soon make
me believe that this masquerading mummer, on whom I now lay the hand
of paternal authority, is a French page, who understands no English."
So saying, he took hold of the supposed page's cloak, and, not without
some gentle degree of violence, led into the middle of the apartment
the disguised fair one, who in vain attempted to cover her face, first
with her mantle, and afterwards with her hands; both which impediments
Master Heriot removed something unceremoniously, and gave to view the
detected daughter of the old chronologist, his own fair god-daughter,
Margaret Ramsay.
"Here is goodly gear!" he said; and, as he spoke, he could not prevent
himself from giving her a slight shake, for we have elsewhere noticed
that he was a severe disciplinarian.--"How comes it, minion, that I
find you in so shameless a dress, and so unworthy a situation? Nay,
your modesty is now mistimed--it should have come sooner. Speak, or I
will--"
"Master Heriot," said Lord Glenvarloch, "whatever right you may have
over this maiden elsewhere, while in my apartment she is under my
protection."
"Your protection, my lord!--a proper protector!--and how long,
mistress, have you been under my lord's protection? Speak out
forsooth!"
"For the matter of two hours, godfather," answered the maiden, with a
countenance bent to the ground, and covered with blushes, "but it was
against my will."
"Two hours!" repeated Heriot,--"space enough for mischief.--My lord,
this is, I suppose, another victim offered to your character of
gallantry--another adventure to be boasted of at Beaujeu's ordinary?
Methinks the roof under which you first met this silly maiden should
have secured _her_, at least, from such a fate."
"On my honour, Master Heriot," said Lord Glenvarloch, "you remind me
now, for the first time, that I saw this young lady in your family.
Her features are not easily forgotten, and yet I was trying in vain to
recollect where I had last looked on them. For your suspicions, they
are as false as they are injurious both to her and me. I had but
discovered her disguise as you entered. I am satisfied, from her whole
behaviour, that her presence here in this dress was involuntary; and
God forbid that I have been capable of taking advantage of it to her
prejudice."
"It is well mouthed, my lord," said Master Heriot; "but a cunning
clerk can read the Apocrypha as loud as the Scripture. Frankly, my
lord, you are come to that pass, where your words will not be received
without a warrant."
"I should not speak, perhaps," said Margaret, the natural vivacity of
whose temper could never be long suppressed by any situation, however
disadvantageous, "but I cannot be silent. Godfather, you do me wrong--
and no less wrong to this young nobleman. You say his words want a
warrant. I know where to find a warrant for some of them, and the rest
I deeply and devoutly believe without one."
"And I thank you, maiden," replied Nigel, "for the good opinion you
have expressed. I am at that point, it seems, though how I have been
driven to it I know not, where every fair construction of my actions
and motives is refused me. I am the more obliged to her who grants me
that right which the world denies me. For you, lady, were I at
liberty, I have a sword and arm should know how to guard your
reputation."
"Upon my word, a perfect Amadis and Oriana!" said George Heriot. "I
should soon get my throat cut betwixt the knight and the princess, I
suppose, but that the beef-eaters are happily within halloo.--Come,
come, Lady Light-o'-Love--if you mean to make your way with me, it
must be by plain facts, not by speeches from romaunts and play-books.
How, in Heaven's name, came you here?"
"Sir," answered Margaret, "since I must speak, I went to Greenwich
this morning with Monna Paula, to present a petition to the king on
the part of the Lady Hermione."
"Mercy-a-gad!" exclaimed Heriot, "is she in the dance, too? Could she
not have waited my return to stir in her affairs? But I suppose the
intelligence I sent her had rendered her restless. Ah! woman, woman--
he that goes partner with you, had need of a double share of patience,
for you will bring none into the common stock.--Well, but what on
earth had this embassy of Monna Paula's to do with your absurd
disguise? Speak out."
"Monna Paula was frightened," answered Margaret, "and did not know how
to set about the errand, for you know she scarce ever goes out of
doors--and so--and so--I agreed to go with her to give her courage;
and, for the dress, I am sure you remember I wore it at a Christmas
mumming, and you thought it not unbeseeming."
"Yes, for a Christmas parlour," said Heriot, "but not to go a-masking
through the country in. I do remember it, minion, and I knew it even
now; that and your little shoe there, linked with a hint I had in the
morning from a friend, or one who called himself such, led to your
detection."--Here Lord Glenvarloch could not help giving a glance at
the pretty foot, which even the staid citizen thought worth
recollection--it was but a glance, for he saw how much the least
degree of observation added to Margaret's distress and confusion. "And
tell me, maiden," continued Master Heriot, for what we have observed
was by-play,--"did the Lady Hermione know of this fair work?"
"I dared not have told her for the world," said Margaret--"she
thought one of our apprentices went with Monna Paula."
It may be here noticed, that the words, "our apprentices," seemed to
have in them something of a charm to break the fascination with which
Lord Glenvarloch had hitherto listened to the broken, yet interesting
details of Margaret's history.
"And wherefore went he not?--he had been a fitter companion for Monna
Paula than you, I wot," said the citizen.
"He was otherwise employed," said Margaret, in a voice scarce audible.
Master George darted a hasty glance at Nigel, and when he saw his
features betoken no consciousness, he muttered to himself,--"It must
be better than I feared.--And so this cursed Spaniard, with her head
full, as they all have, of disguises, trap-doors, rope-ladders, and
masks, was jade and fool enough to take you with her on this wild
goose errand?--And how sped you, I pray?"
"Just as we reached the gate of the Park," replied Margaret, "the cry
of treason was raised. I know not what became of Monna, but I ran till
I fell into the arms of a very decent serving-man, called Linklater;
and I was fain to tell him I was your god-daughter, and so he kept the
rest of them from me, and got me to speech of his Majesty, as I
entreated him to do."
"It is the only sign you showed in the whole matter that common sense
had not utterly deserted your little skull," said Heriot.
"His Majesty," continued the damsel, "was so gracious as to receive me
alone, though the courtiers cried out against the danger to his
person, and would have searched me for arms, God help me, but the king
forbade it. I fancy he had a hint from Linklater how the truth stood
with me."
"Well, maiden, I ask not what passed," said Heriot; "it becomes not me
to pry into my Master's secrets. Had you been closeted with his
grandfather the Red Tod of Saint Andrews, as Davie Lindsay used to
call him, by my faith, I should have had my own thoughts of the
matter; but our Master, God bless him, is douce and temperate, and
Solomon in every thing, save in the chapter of wives and concubines."
"I know not what you mean, sir," answered Margaret. "His Majesty was
most kind and compassionate, but said I must be sent hither, and that
the Lieutenant's lady, the Lady Mansel, would have a charge of me, and
see that I sustained no wrong; and the king promised to send me in a
tilted barge, and under conduct of a person well known to you; and
thus I come to be in the Tower."
"But how, or why, in this apartment, nymph?" said George Heriot--
"Expound that to me, for I think the riddle needs reading."
"I cannot explain it, sir, further, than that the Lady Mansel sent me
here, in spite of my earnest prayers, tears, and entreaties. I was not
afraid of any thing, for I knew I should be protected. But I could
have died then--could die now--for very shame and confusion!"
"Well, well, if your tears are genuine," said Heriot, "they may the
sooner wash out the memory of your fault--Knows your father aught of
this escape of yours?"
"I would not for the world he did," replied she; "he believes me with
the Lady Hermione."
"Ay, honest Davy can regulate his horologes better than his family.--
Come, damsel, now I will escort you back to the Lady Mansel, and pray
her, of her kindness, that when she is again trusted with a goose, she
will not give it to the fox to keep.--The warders will let us pass to
my lady's lodgings, I trust."
"Stay but one moment," said Lord Glenvarloch. "Whatever hard opinion
you may have formed of me, I forgive you, for time will show that you
do me wrong; and you yourself, I think, will be the first to regret
the injustice you have done me. But involve not in your suspicions
this young person, for whose purity of thought angels themselves
should be vouchers. I have marked every look, every gesture; and
whilst I can draw breath, I shall ever think of her with--"
"Think not at all of her, my lord," answered George Heriot,
interrupting him; "it is, I have a notion, the best favour you can do
her;--or think of her as the daughter of Davy Ramsay, the clockmaker,
no proper subject for fine speeches, romantic adventures, or high-
flown Arcadian compliments. I give you god-den, my lord. I think not
altogether so harshly as my speech may have spoken. If I can help--
that is, if I saw my way clearly through this labyrinth--but it avails
not talking now. I give your lordship god-den.--Here, warder! Permit
us to pass to the Lady Hansel's apartment." The warder said he must
have orders from the Lieutenant; and as he retired to procure them,
the parties remained standing near each other, but without speaking,
and scarce looking at each other save by stealth, a situation which,
in two of the party at least, was sufficiently embarrassing. The
difference of rank, though in that age a consideration so serious,
could not prevent Lord Glenvarloch from seeing that Margaret Ramsay
was one of the prettiest young women he had ever beheld--from
suspecting, he could scarce tell why, that he himself was not
indifferent to her--from feeling assured that he had been the cause of
much of her present distress--admiration, self-love, and generosity,
acting in favour of the same object; and when the yeoman returned with
permission to his guests to withdraw, Nigel's obeisance to the
beautiful daughter of the mechanic was marked with an expression,
which called up in her cheeks as much colour as any incident of the
eventful day had hitherto excited. She returned the courtesy timidly
and irresolutely--clung to her godfather's arm, and left the
apartment, which, dark as it was, had never yet appeared so obscure to
Nigel, as when the door closed behind her.
CHAPTER XXX
Yet though thou shouldst be dragg'd in scorn
To yonder ignominious tree,
Thou shall not want one faithful friend
To share the cruel fates' decree.
_Ballad of Jemmy Dawson._
Master George Heriot and his ward, as she might justly be termed, for
his affection to Margaret imposed on him all the cares of a guardian,
were ushered by the yeoman of the guard to the lodging of the
Lieutenant, where they found him seated with his lady. They were
received by both with that decorous civility which Master Heriot's
character and supposed influence demanded, even at the hand of a
punctilious old soldier and courtier like Sir Edward Mansel. Lady
Mansel received Margaret with like courtesy, and informed Master
George that she was now only her guest, and no longer her prisoner.
"She is at liberty," she said, "to return to her friends under your
charge--such is his Majesty's pleasure."
"I am glad of it, madam," answered Heriot, "but only I could have
wished her freedom had taken place before her foolish interview with
that singular young man; and I marvel your ladyship permitted it."
"My good Master Heriot," said Sir Edward, "we act according to the
commands of one better and wiser than ourselves--our orders from his
Majesty must be strictly and literally obeyed; and I need not say that
the wisdom of his Majesty doth more than ensure--"
"I know his Majesty's wisdom well," said Heriot; "yet there is an old
proverb about fire and flax--well, let it pass."
"I see Sir Mungo Malagrowther stalking towards the door of the
lodging," said the Lady Mansel, "with the gait of a lame crane--it is
his second visit this morning."
"He brought the warrant for discharging Lord Glenvarloch of the charge
of treason," said Sir Edward.
"And from him," said Heriot, "I heard much of what had befallen; for I
came from France only late last evening, and somewhat unexpectedly."
As they spoke, Sir Mungo entered the apartment--saluted the Lieutenant
of the Tower and his lady with ceremonious civility--honoured George
Heriot with a patronising nod of acknowledgment, and accosted Margaret
with--"Hey! my young charge, you have not doffed your masculine attire
yet?"
"She does not mean to lay it aside, Sir Mungo," said Heriot, speaking
loud, "until she has had satisfaction from you, for betraying her
disguise to me, like a false knight--and in very deed, Sir Mungo, I
think when you told me she was rambling about in so strange a dress,
you might have said also that she was under Lady Mansel's protection."
"That was the king's secret, Master Heriot," said Sir Mungo, throwing
himself into a chair with an air of atrabilarious importance; "the
other was a well-meaning hint to yourself, as the girl's friend."
"Yes," replied Heriot, "it was done like yourself--enough told to make
me unhappy about her--not a word which could relieve my uneasiness."
"Sir Mungo will not hear that remark," said the lady; "we must change
the subject.--Is there any news from Court, Sir Mungo? you have been
to Greenwich?"
"You might as well ask me, madam," answered the Knight, "whether there
is any news from hell."
"How, Sir Mungo, how!" said Sir Edward, "measure your words something
better--You speak of the Court of King James."
"Sir Edward, if I spoke of the court of the twelve Kaisers, I would
say it is as confused for the present as the infernal regions.
Courtiers of forty years' standing, and such I may write myself, are
as far to seek in the matter as a minnow in the Maelstrom. Some folk
say the king has frowned on the Prince--some that the Prince has
looked grave on the duke--some that Lord Glenvarloch will be hanged
for high treason--and some that there is matter against Lord Dalgarno
that may cost him as much as his head's worth."
"And what do you, that are a courtier of forty years' standing, think
of it all?" said Sir Edward Mansel.
"Nay, nay, do not ask him, Sir Edward," said the lady, with an
expressive look to her husband.
"Sir Mungo is too witty," added Master Heriot, "to remember that he
who says aught that may be repeated to his own prejudice, does but
load a piece for any of the company to shoot him dead with, at their
pleasure and convenience."
"What!" said the bold Knight, "you think I am afraid of the trepan?
Why now, what if I should say that Dalgarno has more wit than
honesty,--the duke more sail than ballast,--the Prince more pride than
prudence,--and that the king--" The Lady Mansel held up her finger in
a warning manner--"that the king is my very good master, who has given
me, for forty years and more, dog's wages, videlicit, bones and
beating.--Why now, all this is said, and Archie Armstrong [Footnote:
The celebrated Court jester.] says worse than this of the best of them
every day."
"The more fool he," said George Heriot; "yet he is not so utterly
wrong, for folly is his best wisdom. But do not you, Sir Mungo, set
your wit against a fool's, though he be a court fool."
"A fool, said you?" replied Sir Mungo, not having fully heard what
Master Heriot said, or not choosing to have it thought so,--"I have
been a fool indeed, to hang on at a close-fisted Court here, when men
of understanding and men of action have been making fortunes in every
other place of Europe. But here a man comes indifferently off unless
he gets a great key to turn," (looking at Sir Edward,) "or can beat
tattoo with a hammer on a pewter plate.--Well, sirs, I must make as
much haste back on mine errand as if I were a fee'd messenger.--Sir
Edward and my lady, I leave my commendations with you--and my good-
will with you, Master Heriot--and for this breaker of bounds, if you
will act by my counsel, some maceration by fasting, and a gentle use
of the rod, is the best cure for her giddy fits."
"If you propose for Greenwich, Sir Mungo," said the Lieutenant, "I can
spare you the labour--the king comes immediately to Whitehall."
"And that must be the reason the council are summoned to meet in such
hurry," said Sir Mungo. "Well--I will, with your permission, go to the
poor lad Glenvarloch, and bestow some comfort on him."
The Lieutenant seemed to look up, and pause for a moment as if in
doubt.
"The lad will want a pleasant companion, who can tell him the nature
of the punishment which he is to suffer, and other matters of
concernment. I will not leave him until I show him how absolutely he
hath ruined himself from feather to spur, how deplorable is his
present state, and how small his chance of mending it."
"Well, Sir Mungo," replied the Lieutenant, "if you really think all
this likely to be very consolatory to the party concerned, I will send
a warder to conduct you."
"And I," said George Heriot, "will humbly pray of Lady Mansel, that
she will lend some of her handmaiden's apparel to this giddy-brained
girl; for I shall forfeit my reputation if I walk up Tower Hill with
her in that mad guise--and yet the silly lassie looks not so ill in it
neither."
"I will send my coach with you instantly," said the obliging lady.
"Faith, madam, and if you will honour us by such courtesy, I will
gladly accept it at your hands," said the citizen, "for business
presses hard on me, and the forenoon is already lost, to little
purpose."
The coach being ordered accordingly, transported the worthy citizen
and his charge to his mansion in Lombard Street. There he found his
presence was anxiously expected by the Lady Hermione, who had just
received an order to be in readiness to attend upon the Royal Privy
Council in the course of an hour; and upon whom, in her inexperience
of business, and long retirement from society and the world, the
intimation had made as deep an impression as if it had not been the
necessary consequence of the petition which she had presented to the
king by Monna Paula. George Heriot gently blamed her for taking any
steps in an affair so important until his return from France,
especially as he had requested her to remain quiet, in a letter which
accompanied the evidence he had transmitted to her from Paris. She
could only plead in answer the influence which her immediately
stirring in the matter was likely to have on the affair of her kinsman
Lord Glenvarloch, for she was ashamed to acknowledge how much she had
been gained on by the eager importunity of her youthful companion. The
motive of Margaret's eagerness was, of course, the safety of Nigel;
but we must leave it to time to show in what particulars that came to
be connected with the petition of the Lady Hermione. Meanwhile, we
return to the visit with which Sir Mungo Malagrowther favoured the
afflicted young nobleman in his place of captivity.
The Knight, after the usual salutations, and having prefaced his
discourse with a great deal of professed regret for Nigel's situation,
sat down beside him, and composing his grotesque features into the
most lugubrious despondence, began his raven song as follows:--
"I bless God, my lord, that I was the person who had the pleasure to
bring his Majesty's mild message to the Lieutenant, discharging the
higher prosecution against ye, for any thing meditated against his
Majesty's sacred person; for, admit you be prosecuted on the lesser
offence, or breach of privilege of the Palace and its precincts,
_usque ad mutilationem_, even to dismemberation, as it is most likely
you will, yet the loss of a member is nothing to being hanged and
drawn quick, after the fashion of a traitor."
"I should feel the shame of having deserved such a punishment,"
answered Nigel, "more than the pain of undergoing it."
"Doubtless, my lord, the having, as you say, deserved it, must be an
excruciation to your own mind," replied his tormentor; "a kind of
mental and metaphysical hanging, drawing, and quartering, which may be
in some measure equipollent with the external application of hemp,
iron, fire, and the like, to the outer man."
"I say, Sir Mungo," repeated Nigel, "and beg you to understand my
words, that I am unconscious of any error, save that of having arms on
my person when I chanced to approach that of my Sovereign."
"Ye are right, my lord, to acknowledge nothing," said Sir Mungo. "We
have an old proverb,--Confess, and--so forth. And indeed, as to the
weapons, his Majesty has a special ill-will at all arms whatsoever,
and more especially pistols; but, as I said, there is an end of that
matter. [Footnote: Wilson informs us that when Colonel Grey, a
Scotsman who affected the buff dress even in the time of peace,
appeared in that military garb at Court, the king, seeing him with a
case of pistols at his girdle, which he never greatly liked, told him,
merrily, "he was now so fortified, that, if he were but well
victualled, he would be impregnable."--WILSON'S _Life and Reign of
James VI._, _apud_ KENNET'S _History of England_, vol. ii. p. 389. In
1612, the tenth year of James's reign, there was a rumour abroad that
a shipload of pocket-pistols had been exported from Spain, with a view
to a general massacre of the Protestants. Proclamations were of
consequence sent forth, prohibiting all persons from carrying pistols
under a foot long in the barrel. _Ibid_. p. 690.] I wish you as well
through the next, which is altogether unlikely."
"Surely, Sir Mungo," answered Nigel, "you yourself might say something
in my favour concerning the affair in the Park. None knows better than
you that I was at that moment urged by wrongs of the most heinous
nature, offered to me by Lord Dalgarno, many of which were reported to
me by yourself, much to the inflammation of my passion."
"Alack-a-day!-Alack-a-day!" replied Sir Mungo, "I remember but too
well how much your choler was inflamed, in spite of the various
remonstrances which I made to you respecting the sacred nature of the
place. Alas! alas! you cannot say you leaped into the mire for want of
warning."
"I see, Sir Mungo, you are determined to remember nothing which can do
me service," said Nigel.
"Blithely would I do ye service," said the Knight; "and the best whilk
I can think of is, to tell you the process of the punishment to the
whilk you will be indubitably subjected, I having had the good fortune
to behold it performed in the Queen's time, on a chield that had
written a pasquinado. I was then in my Lord Gray's train, who lay
leaguer here, and being always covetous of pleasing and profitable
sights, I could not dispense with being present on the occasion."
"I should be surprised, indeed," said Lord Glenvarloch, "if you had so
far put restraint upon your benevolence, as to stay away from such an
exhibition."
"Hey! was your lordship praying me to be present at your own
execution?" answered the Knight. "Troth, my lord, it will be a painful
sight to a friend, but I will rather punish myself than baulk you. It
is a pretty pageant, in the main--a very pretty pageant. The fallow
came on with such a bold face, it was a pleasure to look on him. He
was dressed all in white, to signify harmlessness and innocence. The
thing was done on a scaffold at Westminster--most likely yours will be
at the Charing. There were the Sheriffs and the Marshal's men, and
what not--the executioner, with his cleaver and mallet, and his man,
with a pan of hot charcoal, and the irons for cautery. He was a
dexterous fallow that Derrick. This man Gregory is not fit to jipper a
joint with him; it might be worth your lordship's while to have the
loon sent to a barber-surgeon's, to learn some needful scantling of
anatomy--it may be for the benefit of yourself and other unhappy
sufferers, and also a kindness to Gregory."
"I will not take the trouble," said Nigel.--"If the laws will demand
my hand, the executioner may get it off as he best can. If the king
leaves it where it is, it may chance to do him better service."
"Vera noble--vera grand, indeed, my lord," said Sir Mungo; "it is
pleasant to see a brave man suffer. This fallow whom I spoke of--This
Tubbs, or Stubbs, or whatever the plebeian was called, came forward as
bold as an emperor, and said to the people, 'Good friends, I come to
leave here the hand of a true Englishman,' and clapped it on the
dressing-block with as much ease as if he had laid it on his
sweetheart's shoulder; whereupon Derrick the hangman, adjusting, d'ye
mind me, the edge of his cleaver on the very joint, hit it with the
mallet with such force, that the hand flew off as far from the owner
as a gauntlet which the challenger casts down in the tilt-yard. Well,
sir, Stubbs, or Tubbs, lost no whit of countenance, until the fallow
clapped the hissing-hot iron on his raw stump. My lord, it fizzed like
a rasher of bacon, and the fallow set up an elritch screech, which
made some think his courage was abated; but not a whit, for he plucked
off his hat with his left hand, and waved it, crying, 'God save the
Queen, and confound all evil counsellors!' The people gave him three
cheers, which he deserved for his stout heart; and, truly, I hope to
see your lordship suffer with the same magnanimity."
"I thank you, Sir Mungo," said Nigel, who had not been able to forbear
some natural feelings of an unpleasant nature during this lively
detail,--"I have no doubt the exhibition will be a very engaging one
to you and the other spectators, whatever it may prove to the party
principally concerned."
"Vera engaging," answered Sir Mungo, "vera interesting--vera
interesting indeed, though not altogether so much so as an execution
for high treason. I saw Digby, the Winters, Fawkes, and the rest of
the gunpowder gang, suffer for that treason, whilk was a vera grand
spectacle, as well in regard to their sufferings, as to their
constancy in enduring."
"I am the more obliged to your goodness, Sir Mungo," replied Nigel,
"that has induced you, although you have lost the sight, to
congratulate me on my escape from the hazard of making the same
edifying appearance."
"As you say, my lord," answered Sir Mungo, "the loss is chiefly in
appearance. Nature has been very bountiful to us, and has given
duplicates of some organs, that we may endure the loss of one of them,
should some such circumstance chance in our pilgrimage. See my poor
dexter, abridged to one thumb, one finger, and a stump,--by the blow
of my adversary's weapon, however, and not by any carnificial knife.
Weel, sir, this poor maimed hand doth me, in some sort, as much
service as ever; and, admit yours to be taken off by the wrist, you
have still your left hand for your service, and are better off than
the little Dutch dwarf here about town, who threads a needle, limns,
writes, and tosses a pike, merely by means of his feet, without ever a
hand to help him."
"Well, Sir Mungo," said Lord Glenvarloch, "this is all no doubt very
consolatory; but I hope the king will spare my hand to fight for him
in battle, where, notwithstanding all your kind encouragement, I could
spend my blood much more cheerfully than on a scaffold."
"It is even a sad truth," replied Sir Mungo, "that your lordship was
but too like to have died on a scaffold--not a soul to speak for you
but that deluded lassie Maggie Ramsay."
"Whom mean you?" said Nigel, with more interest than he had hitherto
shown in the Knight's communications.
"Nay, who should I mean, but that travestied lassie whom we dined with
when we honoured Heriot the goldsmith? Ye ken best how you have made
interest with her, but I saw her on her knees to the king for you. She
was committed to my charge, to bring her up hither in honour and
safety. Had I had my own will, I would have had her to Bridewell, to
flog the wild blood out of her--a cutty quean, to think of wearing the
breeches, and not so much as married yet!"
"Hark ye, Sir Mungo Malagrowther," answered Nigel, "I would have you
talk of that young person with fitting respect."
"With all the respect that befits your lordship's paramour, and Davy
Ramsay's daughter, I shall certainly speak of her, my lord," said Sir
Mungo, assuming a dry tone of irony.
Nigel was greatly disposed to have made a serious quarrel of it, but
with Sir Mungo such an affair would have been ridiculous; he smothered
his resentment, therefore, and conjured him to tell what he had heard
and seen respecting this young person.
"Simply, that I was in the ante-room when she had audience, and heard
the king say, to my great perplexity, '_Pulchra sane puella;_' and
Maxwell, who hath but indifferent Latin ears, thought that his Majesty
called on him by his own name of Sawney, and thrust into the presence,
and there I saw our Sovereign James, with his own hand, raising up the
lassie, who, as I said heretofore, was travestied in man's attire. I
should have had my own thoughts of it, but our gracious Master is
auld, and was nae great gillravager amang the queans even in his
youth; and he was comforting her in his own way and saying,--'Ye
needna greet about it, my bonnie woman, Glenvarlochides shall have
fair play; and, indeed, when the hurry was off our spirits, we could
not believe that he had any design on our person. And touching his
other offences, we will look wisely and closely into the matter.' So I
got charge to take the young fence-louper to the Tower here, and
deliver her to the charge of Lady Mansel; and his Majesty charged me
to say not a word to her about your offences, for, said he, the poor
thing is breaking her heart for him."
"And on this you have charitably founded the opinion to the prejudice
of this young lady, which you have now thought proper to express?"
said Lord Glenvarloch.
"In honest truth, my lord," replied Sir Mungo, "what opinion would you
have me form of a wench who gets into male habiliments, and goes on
her knees to the king for a wild young nobleman? I wot not what the
fashionable word may be, for the phrase changes, though the custom
abides. But truly I must needs think this young leddy--if you call
Watchie Ramsay's daughter a young leddy--demeans herself more like a
leddy of pleasure than a leddy of honour."
"You do her egregious wrong, Sir Mungo," said Nigel; "or rather you
have been misled by appearances."
"So will all the world be misled, my lord," replied the satirist,
"unless you were doing that to disabuse them which your father's son
will hardly judge it fit to do."
"And what may that be, I pray you?"
"E'en marry the lass--make her Leddy Glenvarloch.--Ay, ay, ye may
start--but it's the course you are driving on. Rather marry than do
worse, if the worst be not done already."
"Sir Mungo," said Nigel, "I pray you to forbear this subject, and
rather return to that of the mutilation, upon which it pleased you to
enlarge a short while since."
"I have not time at present," said Sir Mungo, hearing the clock strike
four; "but so soon as you shall have received sentence, my lord, you
may rely on my giving you the fullest detail of the whole solemnity;
and I give you my word, as a knight and a gentleman, that I will
myself attend you on the scaffold, whoever may cast sour looks on me
for doing so. I bear a heart, to stand by a friend in the worst of
times."
So saying, he wished Lord Glenvarloch farewell; who felt as heartily
rejoiced at his departure, though it may be a bold word, as any person
who had ever undergone his society.
But, when left to his own reflections, Nigel could not help feeling
solitude nearly as irksome as the company of Sir Mungo Malagrowther.
The total wreck of his fortune,--which seemed now to be rendered
unavoidable by the loss of the royal warrant, that had afforded him
the means of redeeming his paternal estate,--was an unexpected and
additional blow. When he had seen the warrant he could not precisely
remember; but was inclined to think, it was in the casket when he took
out money to pay the miser for his lodgings at Whitefriars. Since
then, the casket had been almost constantly under his own eye, except
during the short time he was separated from his baggage by the arrest
in Greenwich Park. It might, indeed, have been taken out at that time,
for he had no reason to think either his person or his property was in
the hands of those who wished him well; but, on the other hand, the
locks of the strong-box had sustained no violence that he could
observe, and, being of a particular and complicated construction, he
thought they could scarce be opened without an instrument made on
purpose, adapted to their peculiarities, and for this there had been
no time. But, speculate as he would on the matter, it was clear that
this important document was gone, and probable that it had passed into
no friendly hands. "Let it be so," said Nigel to himself; "I am
scarcely worse off respecting my prospects of fortune, than when I
first reached this accursed city. But to be hampered with cruel
accusations, and stained with foul suspicions-to be the object of pity
of the most degrading kind to yonder honest citizen, and of the
malignity of that envious and atrabilarious courtier, who can endure
the good fortune and good qualities of another no more than the mole
can brook sunshine--this is indeed a deplorable reflection; and the
consequences must stick to my future life, and impede whatever my
head, or my hand, if it is left me, might be able to execute in my
favour."
The feeling, that he is the object of general dislike and dereliction,
seems to be one of the most unendurably painful to which a human being
can be subjected. The most atrocious criminals, whose nerves have not
shrunk from perpetrating the most horrid cruelty, endure more from the
consciousness that no man will sympathise with their sufferings, than
from apprehension of the personal agony of their impending punishment;
and are known often to attempt to palliate their enormities, and
sometimes altogether to deny what is established by the clearest
proof, rather than to leave life under the general ban of humanity. It
was no wonder that Nigel, labouring under the sense of general, though
unjust suspicion, should, while pondering on so painful a theme,
recollect that one, at least, had not only believed him innocent, but
hazarded herself, with all her feeble power, to interpose in his
behalf.
"Poor girl!" he repeated; "poor, rash, but generous maiden! your fate
is that of her in Scottish story, who thrust her arm into the staple
of the door, to oppose it as a bar against the assassins who
threatened the murder of her sovereign. The deed of devotion was
useless; save to give an immortal name to her by whom it was done, and
whose blood flows, it is said, in the veins of my house."
I cannot explain to the reader, whether the recollection of this
historical deed of devotion, and the lively effect which the
comparison, a little overstrained perhaps, was likely to produce in
favour of Margaret Ramsay, was not qualified by the concomitant ideas
of ancestry and ancient descent with which that recollection was
mingled. But the contending feelings suggested a new train of ideas.--
"Ancestry," he thought, "and ancient descent, what are they to me?--My
patrimony alienated--my title become a reproach--for what can be so
absurd as titled beggary?--my character subjected to suspicion,--I
will not remain in this country; and should I, at leaving it, procure
the society of one so lovely, so brave, and so faithful, who should
say that I derogated from the rank which I am virtually renouncing?"
There was something romantic and pleasing, as he pursued this picture
of an attached and faithful pair, becoming all the world to each
other, and stemming the tide of fate arm in arm; and to be linked thus
with a creature so beautiful, and who had taken such devoted and
disinterested concern in his fortunes, formed itself into such a
vision as romantic youth loves best to dwell upon.
Suddenly his dream was painfully dispelled, by the recollection, that
its very basis rested upon the most selfish ingratitude on his own
part. Lord of his castle and his towers, his forests and fields, his
fair patrimony and noble name, his mind would have rejected, as a sort
of impossibility, the idea of elevating to his rank the daughter of a
mechanic; but, when degraded from his nobility, and plunged into
poverty and difficulties, he was ashamed to feel himself not
unwilling, that this poor girl, in the blindness of her affection,
should abandon all the better prospects of her own settled condition,
to embrace the precarious and doubtful course which he himself was
condemned to. The generosity of Nigel's mind recoiled from the
selfishness of the plan of happiness which he projected; and he made a
strong effort to expel from his thoughts for the rest of the evening
this fascinating female, or, at least, not to permit them to dwell
upon the perilous circumstance, that she was at present the only
creature living who seemed to consider him as an object of kindness.
He could not, however, succeed in banishing her from his slumbers,
when, after having spent a weary day, he betook himself to a perturbed
couch. The form of Margaret mingled with the wild mass of dreams which
his late adventures had suggested; and even when, copying the lively
narrative of Sir Mungo, fancy presented to him the blood bubbling and
hissing on the heated iron, Margaret stood behind him like a spirit of
light, to breathe healing on the wound. At length nature was exhausted
by these fantastic creations, and Nigel slept, and slept soundly,
until awakened in the morning by the sound of a well-known voice,
which had often broken his slumbers about the same hour.
CHAPTER XXXI
Many, come up, sir, with your gentle blood!
Here's a red stream beneath this coarse blue doublet,
That warms the heart as kindly as if drawn
From the far source of old Assyrian kings.
Who first made mankind subject to their sway.
_Old Play_.
The sounds to which we alluded in our last, were no other than the
grumbling tones of Richie Moniplies's voice.
This worthy, like some other persons who rank high in their own
opinion, was very apt, when he could have no other auditor, to hold
conversation with one who was sure to be a willing listener--I mean
with himself. He was now brushing and arranging Lord Glenvarloch's
clothes, with as much composure and quiet assiduity as if he had never
been out of his service, and grumbling betwixt whiles to the following
purpose:--"Hump--ay, time cloak and jerkin were through my hands--I
question if horsehair has been passed over them since they and I last
parted. The embroidery finely frayed too--and the gold buttons of the
cloak--By my conscience, and as I am an honest man, there is a round
dozen of them gane! This comes of Alsatian frolics--God keep us with
his grace, and not give us over to our own devices!--I see no sword--
but that will be in respect of present circumstances."
Nigel for some time could not help believing that he was still in a
dream, so improbable did it seem that his domestic, whom he supposed
to be in Scotland, should have found him out, and obtained access to
him, in his present circumstances. Looking through the curtains,
however, he became well assured of the fact, when he beheld the stiff
and bony length of Richie, with a visage charged with nearly double
its ordinary degree of importance, employed sedulously in brushing his
master's cloak, and refreshing himself with whistling or humming, from
interval to interval, some snatch of an old melancholy Scottish
ballad-tune. Although sufficiently convinced of the identity of the
party, Lord Glenvarloch could not help expressing his surprise in the
superfluous question--"In the name of Heaven, Richie, is this you?"
"And wha else suld it be, my lord?" answered Richie; "I dreamna that
your lordship's levee in this place is like to be attended by ony that
are not bounded thereto by duty."
"I am rather surprised," answered Nigel, "that it should be attended
by any one at all--especially by you, Richie; for you know that we
parted, and I thought you had reached Scotland long since."
"I crave your lordship's pardon, but we have not parted yet, nor are
soon likely so to do; for there gang twa folk's votes to the unmaking
of a bargain, as to the making of ane. Though it was your lordship's
pleasure so to conduct yourself that we were like to have parted, yet
it was not, on reflection, my will to be gone. To be plain, if your
lordship does not ken when you have a good servant, I ken when I have
a kind master; and to say truth, you will be easier served now than
ever, for there is not much chance of your getting out of bounds."
"I am indeed bound over to good behaviour," said Lord Glenvarloch,
with a smile; "but I hope you will not take advantage of my situation
to be too severe on my follies, Richie?"
"God forbid, my lord--God forbid!" replied Richie, with an expression
betwixt a conceited consciousness of superior wisdom and real feeling-
-"especially in consideration of your lordship's having a due sense of
them. I did indeed remonstrate, as was my humble duty, but I scorn to
cast that up to your lordship now--Na, na, I am myself an erring
creature--very conscious of some small weaknesses--there is no
perfection in man."
"But, Richie," said Lord Glenvarloch, "although I am much obliged to
you for your proffered service, it can be of little use to me here,
and may be of prejudice to yourself."
"Your lordship shall pardon me again," said Richie, whom the relative
situation of the parties had invested with ten times his ordinary
dogmatism; "but as I will manage the matter, your lordship shall be
greatly benefited by my service, and I myself no whit prejudiced."
"I see not how that can be, my friend," said Lord Glenvarloch, "since
even as to your pecuniary affairs--"
"Touching my pecuniars, my lord," replied Richie, "I am indifferently
weel provided; and, as it chances, my living here will be no burden to
your lordship, or distress to myself. Only I crave permission to annex
certain conditions to my servitude with your lordship."
"Annex what you will," said Lord Glenvarloch, "for you are pretty sure
to take your own way, whether you make any conditions or not. Since
you will not leave me, which were, I think, your wisest course, you
must, and I suppose will, serve me only on such terms as you like
yourself."
"All that I ask, my lord," said Richie, gravely, and with a tone of
great moderation, "is to have the uninterrupted command of my own
motions, for certain important purposes which I have now in hand,
always giving your lordship the solace of my company and attendance,
at such times as may be at once convenient for me, and necessary for
your service."
"Of which, I suppose, you constitute yourself sole judge," replied
Nigel, smiling.
"Unquestionably, my lord," answered Richie, gravely; "for your
lordship can only know what yourself want; whereas I, who see both
sides of the picture, ken both what is the best for your affairs, and
what is the most needful for my own."
"Richie, my good friend," said Nigel, "I fear this arrangement, which
places the master much under the disposal of the servant, would scarce
suit us if we were both at large; but a prisoner as I am, I may be as
well at your disposal as I am at that of so many other persons; and so
you may come and go as you list, for I suppose you will not take my
advice, to return to your own country, and leave me to my fate."
"The deil be in my feet if I do," said Moniplies,--"I am not the lad
to leave your lordship in foul weather, when I followed you and fed
upon you through the whole summer day, And besides, there may be brave
days behind, for a' that has come and gane yet; for
"It's hame, and it's hame, and it's hame we fain would be, Though the
cloud is in the lift, and the wind is on the lea; For the sun through
the mirk blinks blithe on mine ee, Says,--'I'll shine on ye yet in our
ain country!"
Having sung this stanza in the manner of a ballad-singer, whose voice
has been cracked by matching his windpipe against the bugle of the
north blast, Richie Moniplies aided Lord Glenvarloch to rise, attended
his toilet with every possible mark of the most solemn and deferential
respect, then waited upon him at breakfast, and finally withdrew,
pleading that he had business of importance, which would detain him
for some hours.
Although Lord Glenvarloch necessarily expected to be occasionally
annoyed by the self-conceit and dogmatism of Richie Moniplies's
character, yet he could not but feel the greatest pleasure from the
firm and devoted attachment which this faithful follower had displayed
in the present instance, and indeed promised himself an alleviation of
the ennui of his imprisonment, in having the advantage of his
services. It was, therefore, with pleasure that he learned from the
warder, that his servant's attendance would be allowed at all times
when the general rules of the fortress permitted the entrance of
strangers.
In the meanwhile, the magnanimous Richie Moniplies had already reached
Tower Wharf. Here, after looking with contempt on several scullers by
whom he was plied, and whose services he rejected with a wave of his
hand, he called with dignity, "First oars!" and stirred into activity
several lounging Tritons of the higher order, who had not, on his
first appearance, thought it worth while to accost him with proffers
of service. He now took possession of a wherry, folded his arms within
his ample cloak, and sitting down in the stern with an air of
importance, commanded them to row to Whitehall Stairs. Having reached
the Palace in safety, he demanded to see Master Linklater, the under-
clerk of his Majesty's kitchen. The reply was, that he was not to be
spoken withal, being then employed in cooking a mess of cock-a-leekie
for the king's own mouth.
"Tell him," said Moniplies, "that it is a dear countryman of his, who
seeks to converse with him on matter of high import."
"A dear countryman?" said Linklater, when this pressing message was
delivered to him. "Well, let him come in and be d--d, that I should
say sae! This now is some red-headed, long-legged, gillie-white-foot
frae the West Port, that, hearing of my promotion, is come up to be a
turn-broche, or deputy scullion, through my interest. It is a great
hinderance to any man who would rise in the world, to have such
friends to hang by his skirts, in hope of being towed up along with
him.--Ha! Richie Moniplies, man, is it thou? And what has brought ye
here? If they should ken thee for the loon that scared the horse the
other day!--"
"No more o' that, neighbour," said Richie,--"I am just here on the
auld errand--I maun speak with the king."
"The king? Ye are red wud," said Linklater; then shouted to his
assistant in the kitchen, "Look to the broches, ye knaves--_pisces
purga_--_Salsamenta fac macerentur pulchre_--I will make you
understand Latin, ye knaves, as becomes the scullions of King James."
Then in a cautious tone, to Richie's private ear, he continued, "Know
ye not how ill your master came off the other day?--I can tell you
that job made some folk shake for their office."
"Weel, but, Laurie, ye maun befriend me this time, and get this wee
bit sifflication slipped into his Majesty's ain most gracious hand. I
promise you the contents will be most grateful to him."
"Richie," answered Linklater, "you have certainly sworn to say your
prayers in the porter's lodge, with your back bare; and twa grooms,
with dog-whips, to cry amen to you."
"Na, na, Laurie, lad," said Richie, "I ken better what belangs to
sifflications than I did yon day; and ye will say that yoursell, if ye
will but get that bit note to the king's hand."
"I will have neither hand nor foot in the matter," said the cautious
Clerk of the Kitchen; "but there is his Majesty's mess of cock-a-
leekie just going to be served to him in his closet--I cannot prevent
you from putting the letter between the gilt bowl and the platter; his
sacred Majesty will see it when he lifts the bowl, for he aye drinks
out the broth."
"Enough said," replied Richie, and deposited the paper accordingly,
just before a page entered to carry away the mess to his Majesty.
"Aweel, aweel, neighbour," said Laurence, when the mess was taken
away, "if ye have done ony thing to bring yoursell to the withy, or
the scourging post, it is your ain wilful deed."
"I will blame no other for it," said Richie; and with that undismayed
pertinacity of conceit, which made a fundamental part of his
character, he abode the issue, which was not long of arriving.
In a few minutes Maxwell himself arrived in the apartment, and
demanded hastily who had placed a writing on the king's trencher,
Linklater denied all knowledge of it; but Richie Moniplies, stepping
boldly forth, pronounced the emphatical confession, "I am the man."
"Follow me, then," said Maxwell, after regarding him with a look of
great curiosity.
They went up a private staircase,--even that private staircase, the
privilege of which at Court is accounted a nearer road to power than
the _grandes entrees_ themselves. Arriving in what Richie described as
an "ill redd-up" ante-room, the usher made a sign to him to stop,
while he went into the king's closet. Their conference was short, and
as Maxwell opened the door to retire, Richie heard the conclusion of
it.
"Ye are sure he is not dangerous?--I was caught once.--Bide within
call, but not nearer the door than within three geometrical cubits. If
I speak loud, start to me like a falcon--If I speak loun, keep your
lang lugs out of ear-shot--and now let him come in."
Richie passed forward at Maxwell's mute signal, and in a moment found
himself in the presence of the king. Most men of Richie's birth and
breeding, and many others, would have been abashed at finding
themselves alone with their Sovereign. But Richie Moniplies had an
opinion of himself too high to be controlled by any such ideas; and
having made his stiff reverence, he arose once more into his
perpendicular height, and stood before James as stiff as a hedge-
stake.
"Have ye gotten them, man? have ye gotten them?" said the king, in a
fluttered state, betwixt hope and eagerness, and some touch of
suspicious fear. "Gie me them--gie me them--before ye speak a word, I
charge you, on your allegiance."
Richie took a box from his bosom, and, stooping on one knee, presented
it to his Majesty, who hastily opened it, and having ascertained that
it contained a certain carcanet of rubies, with which the reader was
formerly made acquainted, he could not resist falling into a sort of
rapture, kissing the gems, as if they had been capable of feeling, and
repeating again and again with childish delight, "_Onyx cum prole,
silexque_---_Onyx cum prole!_ Ah, my bright and bonny sparklers, my
heart loups light to see you again." He then turned to Richie, upon
whose stoical countenance his Majesty's demeanour had excited
something like a grim smile, which James interrupted his rejoicing to
reprehend, saying, "Take heed, sir, you are not to laugh at us--we are
your anointed Sovereign."
"God forbid that I should laugh!" said Richie, composing his
countenance into its natural rigidity. "I did but smile, to bring my
visage into coincidence and conformity with your Majesty's
physiognomy."
"Ye speak as a dutiful subject, and an honest man," said the king;
"but what deil's your name, man?"
"Even Richie Moniplies, the son of auld Mungo Moniplies, at the West
Port of Edinburgh, who had the honour to supply your Majesty's
mother's royal table, as weel as your Majesty's, with flesh and other
vivers, when time was."
"Aha!" said the king, laughing,--for he possessed, as a useful
attribute of his situation, a tenacious memory, which recollected
every one with whom he was brought into casual contact,--"Ye are the
self-same traitor who had weelnigh coupit us endlang on the causey of
our ain courtyard? but we stuck by our mare. _Equam memento rebus in
arduis servare_. Weel, be not dismayed, Richie; for, as many men have
turned traitors, it is but fair that a traitor, now and then, suld
prove to be, contra expectanda, a true man. How cam ye by our jewels,
man?--cam ye on the part of George Heriot?"
"In no sort," said Richie. "May it please your Majesty, I come as
Harry Wynd fought, utterly for my own hand, and on no man's errand;
as, indeed, I call no one master, save Him that made me, your most
gracious Majesty who governs me, and the noble Nigel Olifaunt, Lord of
Glenvarloch, who maintained me as lang as he could maintain himself,
poor nobleman!"
"Glenvarlochides again!" exclaimed the king; "by my honour, he lies in
ambush for us at every corner!--Maxwell knocks at the door. It is
George Heriot come to tell us he cannot find these jewels.--Get thee
behind the arras, Richie--stand close, man--sneeze not--cough not--
breathe not!--Jingling Geordie is so damnably ready with his gold-ends
of wisdom, and sae accursedly backward with his gold-ends of siller,
that, by our royal saul, we are glad to get a hair in his neck."
Richie got behind the arras, in obedience to the commands of the good-
natured king, while the Monarch, who never allowed his dignity to
stand in the way of a frolic, having adjusted, with his own hand, the
tapestry, so as to complete the ambush, commanded Maxwell to tell him
what was the matter without. Maxwell's reply was so low as to be lost
by Richie Moniplies, the peculiarity of whose situation by no means
abated his curiosity and desire to gratify it to the uttermost.
"Let Geordie Heriot come in," said the king; and, as Richie could
observe through a slit in the tapestry, the honest citizen, if not
actually agitated, was at least discomposed. The king, whose talent
for wit, or humour, was precisely of a kind to be gratified by such a
scene as ensued, received his homage with coldness, and began to talk
to him with an air of serious dignity, very different from the usual
indecorous levity of his behaviour. "Master Heriot," he said, "if we
aright remember, we opignorated in your hands certain jewels of the
Crown, for a certain sum of money--Did we, or did we not?"
"My most gracious Sovereign," said Heriot, "indisputably your Majesty
was pleased to do so."
"The property of which jewels and _cimelia_ remained with us,"
continued the king, in the same solemn tone, "subject only to your
claim of advance thereupon; which advance being repaid, gives us right
to repossession of the thing opignorated, or pledged, or laid in wad.
Voetius, Vinnius, Groenwigeneus, Pagenstecherus,--all who have treated
_de Contractu Opignerationis, consentiunt in eundem_,--gree on the
same point. The Roman law, the English common law, and the municipal
law of our ain ancient kingdom of Scotland, though they split in mair
particulars than I could desire, unite as strictly in this as the
three strands of a twisted rope."
"May it please your Majesty," replied Heriot, "it requires not so many
learned authorities to prove to any honest man, that his interest in a
pledge is determined when the money lent is restored."
"Weel, sir, I proffer restoration of the sum lent, and I demand to be
repossessed of the jewels pledged with you. I gave ye a hint, brief
while since, that this would be essential to my service, for, as
approaching events are like to call us into public, it would seem
strange if we did not appear with those ornaments, which are heirlooms
of the Crown, and the absence whereof is like to place us in contempt
and suspicion with our liege subjects."
Master George Heriot seemed much moved by this address of his
Sovereign, and replied with emotion, "I call Heaven to witness, that I
am totally harmless in this matter, and that I would willingly lose
the sum advanced, so that I could restore those jewels, the absence of
which your Majesty so justly laments. Had the jewels remained with me,
the account of them would be easily rendered; but your Majesty will do
me the justice to remember, that, by your express order, I transferred
them to another person, who advanced a large sum, just about the time
of my departure for Paris. The money was pressingly wanted, and no
other means to come by it occurred to me. I told your Majesty, when I
brought the needful supply, that the man from whom the monies were
obtained, was of no good repute; and your most princely answer was,
smelling to the gold--_Non olet_, it smells not of the means that have
gotten it."
"Weel, man," said the king, "but what needs a' this din? If ye gave my
jewels in pledge to such a one, suld ye not, as a liege subject, have
taken care that the redemption was in our power? And are we to suffer
the loss of our _cimelia_ by your neglect, besides being exposed to
the scorn and censure of our lieges, and of the foreign ambassadors?"
"My lord and liege king," said Heriot, "God knows, if my bearing blame
or shame in this matter would keep it from your Majesty, it were my
duty to endure both, as a servant grateful for many benefits; but when
your Majesty considers the violent death of the man himself, the
disappearance of his daughter, and of his wealth, I trust you will
remember that I warned your Majesty, in humble duty, of the
possibility of such casualties, and prayed you not to urge me to deal
with him on your behalf."
"But you brought me nae better means," said the king--"Geordie, ye
brought me nae better means. I was like a deserted man; what could I
do but grip to the first siller that offered, as a drowning man grasps
to the willow-wand that comes readiest?--And now, man, what for have
ye not brought back the jewels? they are surely above ground, if ye
wad make strict search."
"All strict search has been made, may it please your Majesty," replied
the citizen; "hue and cry has been sent out everywhere, and it has
been found impossible to recover them."
"Difficult, ye mean, Geordie, not impossible," replied the king; "for
that whilk is impossible, is either naturally so, _exempli gratia_, to
make two into three; or morally so, as to make what is truth
falsehood; but what is only difficult may come to pass, with
assistance of wisdom and patience; as, for example, Jingling Geordie,
look here!" And he displayed the recovered treasure to the eyes of the
astonished jeweller, exclaiming, with great triumph, "What say ye to
that, Jingler?--By my sceptre and crown, the man stares as if he took
his native prince for a warlock! us that are the very _malleus
maleficarum_, the contunding and contriturating hammer of all witches,
sorcerers, magicians, and the like; he thinks we are taking a touch of
the black art outsells!--But gang thy way, honest Geordie; thou art a
good plain man, but nane of the seven sages of Greece; gang thy way,
and mind the soothfast word which you spoke, small time syne, that
there is one in this land that comes near to Solomon, King of Israel,
in all his gifts, except in his love to strange women, forby the
daughter of Pharaoh."
If Heriot was surprised at seeing the jewels so unexpectedly produced
at the moment the king was upbraiding him for the loss of them, this
allusion to the reflection which had escaped him while conversing with
Lord Glenvarloch, altogether completed his astonishment; and the king
was so delighted with the superiority which it gave him at the moment,
that he rubbed his hands, chuckled, and finally, his sense of dignity
giving way to the full feeling of triumph, he threw himself into his
easy-chair, and laughed with unconstrained violence till he lost his
breath, and the tears ran plentifully down his cheeks as he strove to
recover it. Meanwhile, the royal cachinnation was echoed out by a
discordant and portentous laugh from behind the arras, like that of
one who, little accustomed to give way to such emotions, feels himself
at some particular impulse unable either to control or to modify his
obstreperous mirth. Heriot turned his head with new surprise towards
the place, from which sounds so unfitting the presence of a monarch
seemed to burst with such emphatic clamour.
The king, too, somewhat sensible of the indecorum, rose up, wiped his
eyes, and calling,--"Todlowrie, come out o' your den," he produced
from behind the arras the length of Richie Moniplies, still laughing
with as unrestrained mirth as ever did gossip at a country
christening. "Whisht, man, whisht, man," said the king; "ye needna
nicher that gait, like a cusser at a caup o' corn, e'en though it was
a pleasing jest, and our ain framing. And yet to see Jingling Geordie,
that bauds himself so much the wiser than other folk--to see him, ha!
ha! ha!--in the vein of Euclio apud Plautum, distressing himself to
recover what was lying at his elbow--
'Peril, interii, occidi--quo curram? quo non curram?--Tene, tene--
quem? quis? nescio--nihil video."
"Ah! Geordie, your een are sharp enough to look after gowd and silver,
gems, rubies, and the like of that, and yet ye kenna how to come by
them when they are lost.--Ay, ay--look at them, man--look at them--
they are a' right and tight, sound and round, not a doublet crept in
amongst them."
George Heriot, when his first surprise was over, was too old a
courtier to interrupt the king's imaginary triumph, although he darted
a look of some displeasure at honest Richie, who still continued on
what is usually termed the broad grin. He quietly examined the stones,
and finding them all perfect, he honestly and sincerely congratulated
his Majesty on the recovery of a treasure which could not have been
lost without some dishonour to the crown; and asked to whom he himself
was to pay the sums for which they had been pledged, observing, that
he had the money by him in readiness.
"Ye are in a deevil of a hurry, when there is paying in the case,
Geordie," said the king.--"What's a' the haste, man? The jewels were
restored by an honest, kindly countryman of ours. There he stands, and
wha kens if he wants the money on the nail, or if he might not be as
weel pleased wi' a bit rescript on our treasury some six months hence?
Ye ken that our Exchequer is even at a low ebb just now, and ye cry
pay, pay, pay, as if we had all the mines of Ophir."
"Please your Majesty," said Heriot, "if this man has the real right to
these monies, it is doubtless at his will to grant forbearance, if he
will. But when I remember the guise in which I first saw him, with a
tattered cloak and a broken head, I can hardly conceive it.--Are not
you Richie Moniplies, with the king's favour?"
"Even sae, Master Heriot--of the ancient and honourable house of
Castle Collop, near to the West Port of Edinburgh," answered Richie.
"Why, please your Majesty, he is a poor serving-man," said Heriot.
"This money can never be honestly at his disposal."
"What for no?" said the king. "Wad ye have naebody spraickle up the
brae but yoursell, Geordie? Your ain cloak was thin enough when ye cam
here, though ye have lined it gay and weel. And for serving-men, there
has mony a red-shank cam over the Tweed wi' his master's wallet on his
shoulders, that now rustles it wi' his six followers behind him. There
stands the man himsell; speer at him, Geordie."
"His may not be the best authority in the case," answered the cautious
citizen.
"Tut, tut, man," said the king, "ye are over scrupulous. The knave
deer-stealers have an apt phrase, _Non est inquirendum unde venit_
VENISON. He that brings the gudes hath surely a right to dispose of
the gear.--Hark ye, friend, speak the truth and shame the deil. Have
ye plenary powers to dispose on the redemption-money as to delay of
payments, or the like, ay or no?"
"Full power, an it like your gracious Majesty," answered Richie
Moniplies; "and I am maist willing to subscrive to whatsoever may in
ony wise accommodate your Majesty anent the redemption-money, trusting
your Majesty's grace will be kind to me in one sma' favour."
"Ey, man," said the king, "come ye to me there? I thought ye wad e'en
be like the rest of them.--One would think our subjects' lives and
goods were all our ain, and holden of us at our free will; but when we
stand in need of ony matter of siller from them, which chances more
frequently than we would it did, deil a boddle is to be had, save on
the auld terms of giff-gaff. It is just niffer for niffer.--Aweel,
neighbour, what is it that ye want--some monopoly, I reckon? Or it may
be a grant of kirk-lands and teinds, or a knighthood, or the like? Ye
maun be reasonable, unless ye propose to advance more money for our
present occasions."
"My liege," answered Richie Moniplies, "the owner of these monies
places them at your Majesty's command, free of all pledge or usage as
long as it is your royal pleasure, providing your Majesty will
condescend to show some favour to the noble Lord Glenvarloch,
presently prisoner in your royal Tower of London."
"How, man--how,--man--how, man!" exclaimed the king, reddening and
stammering, but with emotions more noble than those by which he was
sometimes agitated--"What is that you dare to say to us?--Sell our
justice!--sell our mercy!--and we a crowned king, sworn to do justice
to our subjects in the gate, and responsible for our stewardship to
Him that is over all kings?"--Here he reverently looked up, touched
his bonnet, and continued, with some sharpness,--"We dare not traffic
in such commodities, sir; and, but that ye are a poor ignorant
creature, that have done us this day some not unpleasant service, we
wad have a red iron driven through your tongue, _in terrorem_ of
others.--Awa with him, Geordie,--pay him, plack and bawbee, out of our
monies in your hands, and let them care that come ahint."
Richie, who had counted with the utmost certainty upon the success of
this master-stroke of policy, was like an architect whose whole
scaffolding at once gives way under him. He caught, however, at what
he thought might break his fall. "Not only the sum for which the
jewels were pledged," he said, "but the double of it, if required,
should be placed at his Majesty's command, and even without hope or
condition of repayment, if only--"
But the king did not allow him to complete the sentence, crying out
with greater vehemence than before, as if he dreaded the stability of
his own good resolutions,--"Awa wi' him--swith awa wi' him! It is time
he were gane, if he doubles his bode that gate. And, for your life,
letna Steenie, or ony of them, hear a word from his mouth; for wha
kens what trouble that might bring me into! _Ne inducas in
tentationem_--_Vade retro, Sathanas!--Amen_."
In obedience to the royal mandate, George Heriot hurried the abashed
petitioner out of the presence and out of the Palace; and, when they
were in the Palace-yard, the citizen, remembering with some resentment
the airs of equality which Richie had assumed towards him in the
commencement of the scene which had just taken place, could not
forbear to retaliate, by congratulating him with an ironical smile on
his favour at Court, and his improved grace in presenting a
supplication.
"Never fash your beard about that, Master George Heriot," said Richie,
totally undismayed; "but tell me when and where I am to sifflicate you
for eight hundred pounds sterling, for which these jewels stood
engaged?"
"The instant that you bring with you the real owner of the money,"
replied Heriot; "whom it is important that I should see on more
accounts than one."
"Then will I back to his Majesty," said Richie Moniplies, stoutly,
"and get either the money or the pledge back again. I am fully
commissionate to act in that matter."
"It may be so, Richie," said the citizen, "and perchance it may _not_
be so neither, for your tales are not all gospel; and, therefore, be
assured I will see that it _is_ so, ere I pay you that large sum of
money. I shall give you an acknowledgment for it, and I will keep it
prestable at a moment's warning. But, my good Richard Moniplies, of
Castle Collop, near the West Port of Edinburgh, in the meantime I am
bound to return to his Majesty on matters of weight." So speaking, and
mounting the stair to re-enter the Palace, he added, by way of summing
up the whole,--"George Heriot is over old a cock to be caught with
chaff."
Richie stood petrified when he beheld him re-enter the Palace, and
found himself, as he supposed, left in the lurch.--"Now, plague on
ye," he muttered, "for a cunning auld skinflint! that, because ye are
an honest man yoursell, forsooth, must needs deal with all the world
as if they were knaves. But deil be in me if ye beat me yet!--Gude
guide us! yonder comes Laurie Linklater next, and he will be on me
about the sifflication.--I winna stand him, by Saint Andrew!"
So saying, and changing the haughty stride with which he had that
morning entered the precincts of the Palace, into a skulking shamble,
he retreated for his wherry, which was in attendance, with speed
which, to use the approved phrase on such occasions, greatly resembled
a flight.
CHAPTER XXXII
_Benedict_. This looks not like a nuptial.
_Much Ado About Nothing._
Master George Heriot had no sooner returned to the king's apartment,
than James inquired of Maxwell if the Earl of Huntinglen was in
attendance, and, receiving an answer in the affirmative, desired that
he should be admitted. The old Scottish Lord having made his reverence
in the usual manner, the king extended his hand to be kissed, and then
began to address him in a tone of great sympathy.
"We told your lordship in our secret epistle of this morning, written
with our ain hand, in testimony we have neither pretermitted nor
forgotten your faithful service, that we had that to communicate to
you that would require both patience and fortitude to endure, and
therefore exhorted you to peruse some of the most pithy passages of
Seneca, and of Boethius _de Consolatione_, that the back may be, as we
say, fitted for the burden--This we commend to you from our ain
experience.
'Non ignara mail, miseris succurrere disco,'
sayeth Dido, and I might say in my own person, _non ignarus_; but to
change the gender would affect the prosody, whereof our southern
subjects are tenacious. So, my Lord of Huntinglen, I trust you have
acted by our advice, and studied patience before ye need it--_venienti
occurrite morbo_--mix the medicament when the disease is coming on."
"May it please your Majesty," answered Lord Huntinglen, "I am more of
an old soldier than a scholar--and if my own rough nature will not
bear me out in any calamity, I hope I shall have grace to try a text
of Scripture to boot."
"Ay, man, are you there with your bears?" said the king; "The Bible,
man," (touching his cap,) "is indeed _principium et fons_--but it is
pity your lordship cannot peruse it in the original. For although we
did ourselves promote that work of translation,--since ye may read, at
the beginning of every Bible, that when some palpable clouds of
darkness were thought like to have overshadowed the land, after the
setting of that bright occidental star, Queen Elizabeth; yet our
appearance, like that of the sun in his strength, instantly dispelled
these surmised mists,--I say, that although, as therein mentioned, we
countenanced the preaching of the gospel, and especially the
translation of the Scriptures out of the original sacred tongues; yet
nevertheless, we ourselves confess to have found a comfort in
consulting them in the original Hebrew, whilk we do not perceive even
in the Latin version of the Septuagint, much less in the English
traduction."
"Please your Majesty," said Lord Huntinglen, "if your Majesty delays
communicating the bad news with which your honoured letter threatens
me, until I am capable to read Hebrew like your Majesty, I fear I
shall die in ignorance of the misfortune which hath befallen, or is
about to befall, my house."
"You will learn it but too soon, my lord," replied the king. "I grieve
to say it, but your son Dalgarno, whom I thought a very saint, as he
was so much with Steenie and Baby Charles, hath turned out a very
villain."
"Villain!" repeated Lord Huntinglen; and though he instantly checked
himself, and added, "but it is your Majesty speaks the word," the
effect of his first tone made the king step back as if he had received
a blow. He also recovered himself again, and said in the pettish way
which usually indicated his displeasure--"Yes, my lord, it was we that
said it--_non surdo canis_--we are not deaf--we pray you not to raise
your voice in speech with us--there is the bonny memorial--read, and
judge for yourself."
The king then thrust into the old nobleman's hand a paper, containing
the story of the Lady Hermione, with the evidence by which it was
supported, detailed so briefly and clearly, that the infamy of Lord
Dalgarno, the lover by whom she had been so shamefully deceived,
seemed undeniable. But a father yields not up so easily the cause of
his son.
"May it please your Majesty," he said, "why was this tale not sooner
told? This woman hath been here for years--wherefore was the claim on
my son not made the instant she touched English ground?"
"Tell him how that came about, Geordie," said the king, dressing
Heriot.
"I grieve to distress my Lord Huntinglen," said Heriot; but I must
speak the truth. For a long time the Lady Hermione could not brook the
idea of making her situation public; and when her mind became changed
in that particular, it was necessary to recover the evidence of the
false marriage, and letters and papers connected with it, which, when
she came to Paris, and just before I saw her, she had deposited with a
correspondent of her father in that city. He became afterwards
bankrupt, and in consequence of that misfortune the lady's papers
passed into other hands, and it was only a few days since I traced and
recovered them. Without these documents of evidence, it would have
been imprudent for her to have preferred her complaint, favoured as
Lord Dalgarno is by powerful friends."
"Ye are saucy to say sae," said the king; "I ken what ye mean weel
eneugh--ye think Steenie wad hae putten the weight of his foot into
the scales of justice, and garr'd them whomle the bucket--ye forget,
Geordie, wha it is whose hand uphaulds them. And ye do poor Steenie
the mair wrang, for he confessed it ance before us and our privy
council, that Dalgarno would have put the quean aff on him, the puir
simple bairn, making him trow that she was a light-o'-love; in whilk
mind he remained assured even when he parted from her, albeit Steenie
might hae weel thought ane of thae cattle wadna hae resisted the like
of him."
"The Lady Hermione," said George Heriot, "has always done the utmost
justice to the conduct of the duke, who, although strongly possessed
with prejudice against her character, yet scorned to avail himself of
her distress, and on the contrary supplied her with the means of
extricating herself from her difficulties."
"It was e'en like himsell--blessings on his bonny face!" said the
king; "and I believed this lady's tale the mair readily, my Lord
Huntinglen, that she spake nae ill of Steenie--and to make a lang tale
short, my lord, it is the opinion of our council and ourself, as weel
as of Baby Charles and Steenie, that your son maun amend his wrong by
wedding this lady, or undergo such disgrace and discountenance as we
can bestow."
The person to whom he spoke was incapable of answering him. He stood
before the king motionless, and glaring with eyes of which even the
lids seemed immovable, as if suddenly converted into an ancient statue
of the times of chivalry, so instantly had his hard features and
strong limbs been arrested into rigidity by the blow he had received--
And in a second afterwards, like the same statue when the lightning
breaks upon it, he sunk at once to the ground with a heavy groan. The
king was in the utmost alarm, called upon Heriot and Maxwell for help,
and, presence of mind not being his _forte_, ran to and fro in his
cabinet, exclaiming--"My ancient and beloved servant--who saved our
anointed self! _vae atque dolor!_ My Lord of Huntinglen, look up--look
up, man, and your son may marry the Queen of Sheba if he will."
By this time Maxwell and Heriot had raised the old nobleman, and
placed him on a chair; while the king, observing that he began to
recover himself, continued his consolations more methodically.
"Haud up your head--haud up your head, and listen to your ain kind
native Prince. If there is shame, man, it comesna empty-handed--there
is siller to gild it--a gude tocher, and no that bad a pedigree;--if
she has been a loon, it was your son made her sae, and he can make her
an honest woman again."
These suggestions, however reasonable in the common case, gave no
comfort to Lord Huntinglen, if indeed he fully comprehended them; but
the blubbering of his good-natured old master, which began to
accompany and interrupt his royal speech, produced more rapid effect.
The large tear gushed reluctantly from his eye, as he kissed the
withered hands, which the king, weeping with less dignity and
restraint, abandoned to him, first alternately and then both together,
until the feelings of the man getting entirely the better of the
Sovereign's sense of dignity, he grasped and shook Lord Huntinglen's
hands with the sympathy of an equal and a familiar friend."
"_Compone lachrymas_," said the Monarch; "be patient, man, be patient;
the council, and Baby Charles, and Steenie, may a' gang to the deevil-
-he shall not marry her since it moves you so deeply."
"He _shall_ marry her, by God!" answered the earl, drawing himself up,
dashing the tear from his eyes, and endeavouring to recover his
composure. "I pray your Majesty's pardon, but he shall marry her, with
her dishonour for her dowry, were she the veriest courtezan in all
Spain--If he gave his word, he shall make his word good, were it to
the meanest creature that haunts the streets--he shall do it, or my
own dagger shall take the life that I gave him. If he could stoop to
use so base a fraud, though to deceive infamy, let him wed infamy."
"No, no!" the Monarch continued to insinuate, "things are not so bad
as that--Steenie himself never thought of her being a streetwalker,
even when he thought the worst of her."
"If it can at all console my Lord of Huntinglen," said the citizen, "I
can assure him of this lady's good birth, and most fair and unspotted
fame."
"I am sorry for it," said Lord Huntinglen--then interrupting himself,
he said--"Heaven forgive me for being ungrateful for such comfort!--
but I am well-nigh sorry she should be as you represent her, so much
better than the villain deserves. To be condemned to wed beauty and
innocence and honest birth--"
"Ay, and wealth, my lord--wealth," insinuated the king, "is a better
sentence than his perfidy has deserved."
"It is long," said the embittered father, "since I saw he was selfish
and hardhearted; but to be a perjured liar--I never dreaded that such
a blot would have fallen on my race! I will never look on him again."
"Hoot ay, my lord, hoot ay," said the king; "ye maun tak him to task
roundly. I grant you should speak more in the vein of Demea than
Mitio, _vi nempe et via pervulgata patrum_; but as for not seeing him
again, and he your only son, that is altogether out of reason. I tell
ye, man, (but I would not for a boddle that Baby Charles heard me,)
that he might gie the glaiks to half the lasses of Lonnun, ere I could
find in my heart speak such harsh words as you have said of this deil
of a Dalgarno of yours."
"May it please your Majesty to permit me to retire," said Lord
Huntinglen, "and dispose of the case according to your own royal sense
of justice, for I desire no favour for him."
"Aweel, my lord, so be it; and if your lordship can think," added the
Monarch, "of any thing in our power which might comfort you--"
"Your Majesty's gracious sympathy," said Lord Huntinglen, "has already
comforted me as far as earth can; the rest must be from the King of
kings."
"To Him I commend you, my auld and faithful servant," said James with
emotion, as the earl withdrew from his presence. The king remained
fixed in thought for some time, and then said to Heriot, "Jingling
Geordie, ye ken all the privy doings of our Court, and have dune so
these thirty years, though, like a wise man, ye hear, and see, and say
nothing. Now, there is a thing I fain wad ken, in the way of
philosophical inquiry--Did you ever hear of the umquhile Lady
Huntinglen, the departed Countess of this noble earl, ganging a wee
bit gleed in her walk through the world; I mean in the way of slipping
a foot, casting a leglin-girth, or the like, ye understand me?"
[Footnote: A leglin-girth is the lowest hoop upon a _leglin_, or milk-
pail. Allan Ramsay applies the phrase in the same metaphorical sense.
"Or bairns can read, they first maun spell,
I learn'd this frae my mammy,
And cast a leglin-girth mysell,
Lang ere I married Tammy."
_Christ's Kirk On The Green_.]
"On my word as an honest man," said George Heriot, somewhat surprised
at the question, "I never heard her wronged by the slightest breath of
suspicion. She was a worthy lady, very circumspect in her walk, and
lived in great concord with her husband, save that the good Countess
was something of a puritan, and kept more company with ministers than
was altogether agreeable to Lord Huntinglen, who is, as your Majesty
well knows, a man of the old rough world, that will drink and swear."
"O Geordie!" exclaimed the king, "these are auld-warld frailties, of
whilk we dare not pronounce even ourselves absolutely free. But the
warld grows worse from day to day, Geordie. The juveniles of this age
may weel say with the poet--
'Aetas parentum, pejor avis, tulit
Nos nequiores--'
This Dalgarno does not drink so much, or swear so much, as his father;
but he wenches, Geordie, and he breaks his word and oath baith. As to
what you say of the leddy, and the ministers, we are a' fallible
creatures, Geordie, priests and kings, as weel as others; and wha kens
but what that may account for the difference between this Dalgarno and
his father? The earl is the vera soul of honour, and cares nae mair
for warld's gear than a noble hound for the quest of a foulmart; but
as for his son, he was like to brazen us a' out--ourselves, Steenie,
Baby Charles, and our council--till he heard of the tocher, and then,
by my kingly crown, he lap like a cock at a grossart! These are
discrepancies betwixt parent and son not to be accounted for
naturally, according to Baptista Porta, Michael Scott _de secretis_,
and others.--Ah, Jingling Geordie, if your clouting the caldron, and
jingling on pots, pans, and veshels of all manner of metal, hadna
jingled a' your grammar out of your head, I could have touched on that
matter to you at mair length."
Heriot was too plain-spoken to express much concern for the loss of
his grammar learning on this occasion; but after modestly hinting that
he had seen many men who could not fill their father's bonnet, though
no one had been suspected of wearing their father's nightcap, he
inquired "whether Lord Dalgarno had consented to do the Lady Hermione
justice."
"Troth, man, I have small doubt that he will," quoth the king; "I gave
him the schedule of her worldly substance, which you delivered to us
in the council, and we allowed him half-an-hour to chew the cud upon
that. It is rare reading for bringing him to reason. I left Baby
Charles and Steenie laying his duty before him; and if he can resist
doing what _they_ desire him--why, I wish he would teach _me_ the gate
of it. O Geordie, Jingling Geordie, it was grand to hear Baby Charles
laying down the guilt of dissimulation, and Steenie lecturing on the
turpitude of incontinence!"
"I am afraid," said George Heriot, more hastily than prudently, "I
might have thought of the old proverb of Satan reproving sin."
"Deil hae our saul, neighbour," said the king, reddening, "but ye are
not blate! I gie ye license to speak freely, and, by our saul, ye do
not let the privilege become lost _non utendo_--it will suffer no
negative prescription in your hands. Is it fit, think ye, that Baby
Charles should let his thoughts be publicly seen?--No--no--princes'
thoughts are _arcana imperii_--_Qui nescit dissimulare nescit
regnare_. Every liege subject is bound to speak the whole truth to the
king, but there is nae reciprocity of obligation--and for Steenie
having been whiles a dike-louper at a time, is it for you, who are his
goldsmith, and to whom, I doubt, he awes an uncomatable sum, to cast
that up to him?"
Heriot did not feel himself called on to play the part of Zeno and
sacrifice himself for upholding the cause of moral truth; he did not
desert it, however, by disavowing his words, but simply expressed
sorrow for having offended his Majesty, with which the placable king
was sufficiently satisfied.
"And now, Geordie, man," quoth he, "we will to this culprit, and hear
what he has to say for himself, for I will see the job cleared this
blessed day. Ye maun come wi' me, for your evidence may be wanted."
The king led the way, accordingly, into a larger apartment, where the
Prince, the Duke of Buckingham, and one or two privy counsellors were
seated at a table, before which stood Lord Dalgarno, in an attitude of
as much elegant ease and indifference as could be expressed,
considering the stiff dress and manners of the times.
All rose and bowed reverently, while the king, to use a north country
word, expressive of his mode of locomotion, _toddled_ to his chair or
throne, making a sign to Heriot to stand behind him.
"We hope," said his Majesty, "that Lord Dalgarno stands prepared to do
justice to this unfortunate lady, and to his own character and
honour?"
"May I humbly inquire the penalty," said Lord Dalgarno,
"in case I should unhappily find compliance with your Majesty's
demands impossible?"
"Banishment frae our Court, my lord," said the king; "frae our Court
and our countenance."
"Unhappy exile that I may be!" said Lord Dalgarno, in a tone of
subdued irony--"I will at least carry your Majesty's picture with me,
for I shall never see such another king." "And banishment, my lord,"
said the Prince, sternly, "from these our dominions."
"That must be by form of law, please your Royal Highness," said
Dalgarno, with an affectation of deep respect; "and I have not heard
that there is a statute, compelling us, under such penalty, to marry
every woman we may play the fool with. Perhaps his Grace of Buckingham
can tell me?"
"You are a villain, Dalgarno," said the haughty and vehement
favourite.
"Fie, my lord, fie!--to a prisoner, and in presence of your royal and
paternal gossip!" said Lord Dalgarno. "But I will cut this
deliberation short. I have looked over this schedule of the goods and
effects of Erminia Pauletti, daughter of the late noble--yes, he is
called the noble, or I read wrong, Giovanni Pauletti, of the Houee of
Sansovino, in Genoa, and of the no less noble Lady Maud Olifaunt, of
the House of Glenvarloch--Well, I declare that I was pre-contracted in
Spain to this noble lady, and there has passed betwixt us some certain
_proelibatio matrimonii_; and now, what more does this grave assembly
require of me?"
"That you should repair the gross and infamous wrong you have done the
lady, by marrying her within this hour," said the Prince.
"O, may it please your Royal Highness," answered Dalgarno, "I have a
trifling relationship with an old Earl, who calls himself my father,
who may claim some vote in the matter. Alas! every son is not blessed
with an obedient parent!" He hazarded a slight glance towards the
throne, to give meaning to his last words.
"We have spoken ourselves with Lord Huntinglen," said the king, "and
are authorised to consent in his name."
"I could never have expected this intervention of a _proxaneta_, which
the vulgar translate blackfoot, of such eminent dignity," said
Dalgarno, scarce concealing a sneer. "And my father hath consented? He
was wont to say, ere we left Scotland, that the blood of Huntinglen
and of Glenvarloch would not mingle, were they poured into the same
basin. Perhaps he has a mind to try the experiment?"
"My lord," said James, "we will not be longer trifled with--Will you
instantly, and _sine mora_, take this lady to your wife, in our
chapel?"
"_Statim atque instanter_," answered Lord Dalgarno; "for I perceive by
doing so, I shall obtain power to render great services to the
commonwealth--I shall have acquired wealth to supply the wants of your
Majesty, and a fair wife to be at the command of his Grace of
Buckingham."
The Duke rose, passed to the end of the table where Lord Dalgarno was
standing, and whispered in his ear, "You have placed a fair sister at
my command ere now."
This taunt cut deep through Lord Dalgarno's assumed composure. He
started as if an adder had stung him, but instantly composed himself,
and, fixing on the Duke's still smiling countenance an eye which spoke
unutterable hatred, he pointed the forefinger of his left hand to the
hilt of his sword, but in a manner which could scarce be observed by
any one save Buckingham. The Duke gave him another smile of bitter
scorn, and returned to his seat, in obedience to the commands of the
king, who continued calling out, "Sit down, Steenie, sit down, I
command ye--we will hae nae harnsbreaking here."
"Your Majesty needs not fear my patience," said Lord Dalgarno; "and
that I may keep it the better, I will not utter another word in this
presence, save those enjoined to me in that happy portion of the
Prayer-Book, which begins with _Dearly Beloved_, and ends with
_amazement_."
"You are a hardened villain, Dalgarno," said the king; "and were I the
lass, by my father's saul, I would rather brook the stain of having
been your concubine, than run the risk of becoming your wife. But she
shall be under our special protection.--Come, my lords, we will
ourselves see this blithesome bridal." He gave the signal by rising,
and moved towards the door, followed by the train. Lord Dalgarno
attended, speaking to none, and spoken to by no one, yet seeming as
easy and unembarrassed in his gait and manner as if in reality a happy
bridegroom.
They reached the Chapel by a private entrance, which communicated from
the royal apartment. The Bishop of Winchester, in his pontifical
dress, stood beside the altar; on the other side, supported by Monna
Paula, the colourless, faded, half-lifeless form of the Lady Hermione,
or Erminia Pauletti. Lord Dalgarno bowed profoundly to her, and the
Prince, observing the horror with which she regarded him, walked up,
and said to her, with much dignity,--"Madam, ere you put yourself
under the authority of this man, let me inform you, he hath in the
fullest degree vindicated your honour, so far as concerns your former
intercourse. It is for you to consider whether you will put your
fortune and happiness into the hands of one, who has shown himself
unworthy of all trust."
The lady, with much difficulty, found words to make reply. "I owe to
his Majesty's goodness," she said, "the care of providing me some
reservation out of my own fortune, for my decent sustenance. The rest
cannot be better disposed than in buying back the fair fame of which I
am deprived, and the liberty of ending my life in peace and
seclusion."
"The contract has been drawn up," said the king, "under our own eye,
specially discharging the _potestas maritalis_, and agreeing they
shall live separate. So buckle them, my Lord Bishop, as fast as you
can, that they may sunder again the sooner."
The Bishop accordingly opened his book and commenced the marriage
ceremony, under circumstances so novel and so inauspicious. The
responses of the bride were only expressed by inclinations of the head
and body; while those of the bridegroom were spoken boldly and
distinctly, with a tone resembling levity, if not scorn. When it was
concluded, Lord Dalgarno advanced as if to salute the bride, but
seeing that she drew back in fear and abhorrence, he contented himself
with making her a low bow. He then drew up his form to its height, and
stretched himself as if examining the power of his limbs, but
elegantly, and without any forcible change of attitude. "I could caper
yet," he said "though I am in fetters--but they are of gold, and
lightly worn.--Well, I see all eyes look cold on me, and it is time I
should withdraw. The sun shines elsewhere than in England! But first I
must ask how this fair Lady Dalgarno is to be bestowed. Methinks it is
but decent I should know. Is she to be sent to the harem of my Lord
Duke? Or is this worthy citizen, as before--"
"Hold thy base ribald tongue!" said his father, Lord Huntinglen, who
had kept in the background during the ceremony, and now stepping
suddenly forward, caught the lady by the arm, and confronted her
unworthy husband.--"The Lady Dalgarno," he continued, "shall remain as
a widow in my house. A widow I esteem her, as much as if the grave had
closed over her dishonoured husband."
Lord Dalgarno exhibited momentary symptoms of extreme confusion, and
said, in a submissive tone, "If you, my lord, can wish me dead, I
cannot, though your heir, return the compliment. Few of the first-born
of Israel," he added, recovering himself from the single touch of
emotion he had displayed, "can say so much with truth. But I will
convince you ere I go, that I am a true descendant of a house famed
for its memory of injuries."
"I marvel your Majesty will listen to him longer," said Prince
Charles. "Methinks we have heard enough of his daring insolence."
But James, who took the interest of a true gossip in such a scene as
was now passing, could not bear to cut the controversy short, but
imposed silence on his son, with "Whisht, Baby Charles--there is a
good bairn, whisht!--I want to hear what the frontless loon can say."
"Only, sir," said Dalgarno, "that but for one single line in this
schedule, all else that it contains could not have bribed me to take
that woman's hand into mine."
"That line maun have been the SUMMA TOTALIS," said the king.
"Not so, sire," replied Dalgarno. "The sum total might indeed have
been an object for consideration even to a Scottish king, at no very
distant period; but it would have had little charms for me, save that
I see here an entry which gives me the power of vengeance over the
family of Glenvarloch; and learn from it that yonder pale bride, when
she put the wedding-torch into my hand, gave me the power of burning
her mother's house to ashes!"
"How is that?" said the king. "What is he speaking about, Jingling
Geordie?"
"This friendly citizen, my liege," said Lord Dalgarno, "hath expended
a sum belonging to my lady, and now, I thank heaven, to me, in
acquiring a certain mortgage, or wanset, over the estate of
Glenvarloch, which, if it be not redeemed before to-morrow at noon,
will put me in possession of the fair demesnes of those who once
called themselves our house's rivals."
"Can this be true?" said the king.
"It is even but too true, please your Majesty," answered the citizen.
"The Lady Hermione having advanced the money for the original
creditor, I was obliged, in honour and honesty, to take the rights to
her; and doubtless, they pass to her husband."
"But the warrant, man," said the king--"the warrant on our Exchequer--
Couldna that supply the lad wi' the means of redemption?"
"Unhappily, my liege, he has lost it, or disposed of it--It is not to
be found. He is the most unlucky youth!"
"This is a proper spot of work!" said the king, beginning to amble
about and play with the points of his doublet and hose, in expression
of dismay. "We cannot aid him without paying our debts twice over, and
we have, in the present state of our Exchequer, scarce the means of
paying them once."
"You have told me news," said Lord Dalgarno, "but I will take no
advantage."
"Do not," said his father, "be a bold villain, since thou must be one,
and seek revenge with arms, and not with the usurer's weapons."
"Pardon me, my lord," said Lord Dalgarno. "Pen and ink are now my
surest means of vengeance; and more land is won by the lawyer with the
ram-skin, than by the Andrea Ferrara with his sheepshead handle. But,
as I said before, I will take no advantages. I will await in town to-
morrow, near Covent Garden; if any one will pay the redemption-money
to my scrivener, with whom the deeds lie, the better for Lord
Glenvarloch; if not, I will go forward on the next day, and travel
with all dispatch to the north, to take possession."
"Take a father's malison with you, unhappy wretch!" said Lord
Huntinglen.
"And a king's, who is _pater patriae_," said James.
"I trust to bear both lightly," said Lord Dalgarno; and bowing around
him, he withdrew; while all present, oppressed, and, as it were,
overawed, by his determined effrontery, found they could draw breath
more freely, when he at length relieved them of his society. Lord
Huntinglen, applying himself to comfort his new daughter-in-law,
withdrew with her also; and the king, with his privy-council, whom he
had not dismissed, again returned to his council-chamber, though the
hour was unusually late. Heriot's attendance was still commanded, but
for what reason was not explained to him.
CHAPTER XXXIII
---I'll play the eavesdropper.
_Richard III., Act V., Scene 3_.
James had no sooner resumed his seat at the council-board than he
began to hitch in his chair, cough, use his handkerchief, and make
other intimations that he meditated a long speech. The council
composed themselves to the beseeming degree of attention. Charles, as
strict in his notions of decorum, as his father was indifferent to it,
fixed himself in an attitude of rigid and respectful attention, while
the haughty favourite, conscious of his power over both father and
son, stretched himself more easily on his seat, and, in assuming an
appearance of listening, seemed to pay a debt to ceremonial rather
than to duty.
"I doubt not, my lords," said the Monarch, "that some of you may be
thinking the hour of refection is past, and that it is time to ask
with the slave in the comedy--_Quid de symbolo?_--Nevertheless, to do
justice and exercise judgment is our meat and drink; and now we are to
pray your wisdom to consider the case of this unhappy youth, Lord
Glenvarloch, and see whether, consistently with our honour, any thing
can be done in his favour."
"I am surprised at your Majesty's wisdom making the inquiry," said the
Duke; "it is plain this Dalgarno hath proved one of the most insolent
villains on earth, and it must therefore be clear, that if Lord
Glenvarloch had run him through the body, there would but have been
out of the world a knave who had lived in it too long. I think Lord
Glenvarloch hath had much wrong; and I regret that, by the persuasions
of this false fellow, I have myself had some hand in it."
"Ye speak like a child, Steenie--I mean my Lord of Buckingham,"
answered the king, "and as one that does not understand the logic of
the schools; for an action may be inconsequential or even meritorious,
_quoad hominem_, that is, as touching him upon _whom_ it is acted; and
yet most criminal, _quoad locum_, or considering the place _wherein_
it is done; as a man may lawfully dance Chrighty Beardie or any other
dance in a tavern, but not _inter parietes ecclesiae_. So that, though
it may have been a good deed to have sticked Lord Dalgarno, being such
as he has shown himself, anywhere else, yet it fell under the plain
statute, when violence was offered within the verge of the Court. For,
let me tell you, my lords, the statute against striking would be of no
small use in our Court, if it could be eluded by justifying the person
stricken to be a knave. It is much to be lamented that I ken nae Court
in Christendom where knaves are not to be found; and if men are to
break the peace under pretence of beating them, why, it will rain
Jeddart staves [Footnote: The old-fashioned weapon called the Jeddart
staff was a species of battle-axe. Of a very great tempest, it is
said, in the south of Scotland, that it rains Jeddart staffs, as in
England the common people talk of its raining cats and dogs.] in our
very ante-chamber."
"What your Majesty says," replied Prince Charles, "is marked with your
usual wisdom--the precincts of palaces must be sacred as well as the
persons of kings, which are respected even in the most barbarous
nations, as being one step only beneath their divinities. But your
Majesty's will can control the severity of this and every other law,
and it is in your power, on consideration of his case, to grant the
rash young man a free pardon."
"_Rem acu tetigisti, Carole, mi puerule,_" answered the king; "and
know, my lords, that we have, by a shrewd device and gift of our own,
already sounded the very depth of this Lord Glenvarloch's disposition.
I trow there be among you some that remember my handling in the
curious case of my Lady Lake, and how I trimmed them about the story
of hearkening behind the arras. Now this put me to cogitation, and I
remembered me of having read that Dionysius, King of Syracuse, whom
historians call Tyrannos, which signifieth not in the
Greek tongue, as in ours, a truculent usurper, but a royal king who
governs, it may be, something more strictly than we and other lawful
monarchs, whom the ancients termed Basileis--Now this Dionysius of
Syracuse caused cunning workmen to build for himself a _lugg_--D'ye
ken what that is, my Lord Bishop?"
"A cathedral, I presume to guess," answered the Bishop.
"What the deil, man--I crave your lordship's pardon for swearing--but
it was no cathedral--only a lurking-place called the king's _lugg_, or
_ear_, where he could sit undescried, and hear the converse of his
prisoners. Now, sirs, in imitation of this Dionysius, whom I took for
my pattern, the rather that he was a great linguist and grammarian,
and taught a school with good applause after his abdication, (either
he or his successor of the same name, it matters not whilk)--I have
caused them to make a _lugg_ up at the state-prison of the Tower
yonder, more like a pulpit than a cathedral, my Lord Bishop--and
communicating with the arras behind the Lieutenant's chamber, where we
may sit and privily hear the discourse of such prisoners as are pent
up there for state-offences, and so creep into the very secrets of our
enemies."
The Prince cast a glance towards the Duke, expressive of great
vexation and disgust. Buckingham shrugged his shoulders, but the
motion was so slight as to be almost imperceptible.
"Weel, my lords, ye ken the fray at the hunting this morning--I shall
not get out of the trembling exies until I have a sound night's sleep-
-just after that, they bring ye in a pretty page that had been found
in the Park. We were warned against examining him ourselves by the
anxious care of those around us; nevertheless, holding our life ever
at the service of these kingdoms, we commanded all to avoid the room,
the rather that we suspected this boy to be a girl. What think ye, my
lords?--few of you would have thought I had a hawk's eye for sic gear;
but we thank God, that though we are old, we know so much of such toys
as may beseem a man of decent gravity. Weel, my lords, we questioned
this maiden in male attire ourselves, and I profess it was a very
pretty interrogatory, and well followed. For, though she at first
professed that she assumed this disguise in order to countenance the
woman who should present us with the Lady Hermione's petition, for
whom she professed entire affection; yet when we, suspecting _anguis
in herba_, did put her to the very question, she was compelled to own
a virtuous attachment for Glenvarlochides, in such a pretty passion of
shame and fear, that we had much ado to keep our own eyes from keeping
company with hers in weeping. Also, she laid before us the false
practices of this Dalgarno towards Glenvarlochides, inveigling him
into houses of ill resort, and giving him evil counsel under pretext
of sincere friendship, whereby the inexperienced lad was led to do
what was prejudicial to himself, and offensive to us. But, however
prettily she told her tale, we determined not altogether to trust to
her narration, but rather to try the experiment whilk we had devised
for such occasions. And having ourselves speedily passed from
Greenwich to the Tower, we constituted ourselves eavesdropper, as it
is called, to observe what should pass between Glenvarlochides and his
page, whom we caused to be admitted to his apartment, well judging
that if they were of counsel together to deceive us, it could not be
but something of it would spunk out--And what think ye we saw, my
lords?--Naething for you to sniggle and laugh at, Steenie--for I
question if you could have played the temperate and Christian-like
part of this poor lad Glenvarloch. He might be a Father of the Church
in comparison of you, man.--And then, to try his patience yet farther,
we loosed on him a courtier and a citizen, that is Sir Mungo
Malagrowther and our servant George Heriot here, wha dang the poor lad
about, and didna greatly spare our royal selves.--You mind, Geordie,
what you said about the wives and concubines? but I forgie ye, man--
nae need of kneeling, I forgie ye--the readier, that it regards a
certain particular, whilk, as it added not much to Solomon's credit,
the lack of it cannot be said to impinge on ours. Aweel, my lords, for
all temptation of sore distress and evil ensample, this poor lad never
loosed his tongue on us to say one unbecoming word--which inclines us
the rather, acting always by your wise advice, to treat this affair of
the Park as a thing done in the heat of blood, and under strong
provocation, and therefore to confer our free pardon on Lord
Glenvarloch."
"I am happy your gracious Majesty," said the Duke of Buckingham, "has
arrived at that conclusion, though I could never have guessed at the
road by which you attained it."
"I trust," said Prince Charles, "that it is not a path which your
Majesty will think it consistent with your high dignity to tread
frequently."
"Never while I live again, Baby Charles, that I give you my royal word
on. They say that hearkeners hear ill tales of themselves--by my saul,
my very ears are tingling wi' that auld sorrow Sir Mungo's sarcasms.
He called us close-fisted, Steenie--I am sure you can contradict that.
But it is mere envy in the auld mutilated sinner, because he himself
has neither a noble to hold in his loof, nor fingers to close on it if
he had." Here the king lost recollection of Sir Mungo's irreverence in
chuckling over his own wit, and only farther alluded to it by saying--
"We must give the old maunderer _bos in linguam_--something to stop
his mouth, or he will rail at us from Dan to Beersheba.--And now, my
lords, let our warrant of mercy to Lord Glenvarloch be presently
expedited, and he put to his freedom; and as his estate is likely to
go so sleaveless a gate, we will consider what means of favour we can
show him.--My lords, I wish you an appetite to an early supper--for
our labours have approached that term.--Baby Charles and Steenie, you
will remain till our couchee.--My Lord Bishop, you will be pleased to
stay to bless our meat.--Geordie Heriot, a word with you apart."
His Majesty then drew the citizen into a corner, while the
counsellors, those excepted who had been commanded to remain, made
their obeisance, and withdrew. "Geordie," said the king, "my good and
trusty servant"--Here he busied his fingers much with the points and
ribbons of his dress,--"Ye see that we have granted, from our own
natural sense of right and justice, that which yon long-backed fallow,
Moniplies I think they ca' him, proffered to purchase from us with a
mighty bribe; whilk we refused, as being a crowned king, who wad
neither sell our justice nor our mercy for pecuniar consideration.
Now, what think ye should be the upshot of this?"
"My Lord Glenvarloch's freedom, and his restoration to your Majesty's
favour," said Heriot.
"I ken that," said the king, peevishly. "Ye are very dull to-day. I
mean, what do you think this fallow Moniplies should think about the
matter?"
"Surely that your Majesty is a most good and gracious sovereign,"
answered Heriot.
"We had need to be gude and gracious baith," said the king, still more
pettishly, "that have idiots about us that cannot understand what we
mint at, unless we speak it out in braid Lowlands. See this chield
Moniplies, sir, and tell him what we have done for Lord Glenvarloch,
in whom he takes such part, out of our own gracious motion, though we
refused to do it on ony proffer of private advantage. Now, you may put
it till him, as if of your own mind, whether it will be a gracious or
a dutiful part in him, to press us for present payment of the two or
three hundred miserable pounds for whilk we were obliged to opignorate
our jewels? Indeed, mony men may think ye wad do the part of a good
citizen, if you took it on yourself to refuse him payment, seeing he
hath had what he professed to esteem full satisfaction, and
considering, moreover, that it is evident he hath no pressing need of
the money, whereof we have much necessity."
George Heriot sighed internally. "O my Master," thought he--"my dear
Master, is it then fated you are never to indulge any kingly or noble
sentiment, without its being sullied by some afterthought of
interested selfishness!"
The king troubled himself not about what he thought, but taking him by
the collar, said,--"Ye ken my meaning now, Jingler--awa wi' ye. You
are a wise man--manage it your ain gate--but forget not our present
straits." The citizen made his obeisance, and withdrew.
"And now, bairns," said the king, "what do you look upon each other
for--and what have you got to ask of your dear dad and gossip?"
"Only," said the Prince, "that it would please your Majesty to command
the lurking-place at the prison to be presently built up--the groans
of a captive should not be brought in evidence against him."
"What! build up my lugg, Baby Charles? And yet, better deaf than hear
ill tales of oneself. So let them build it up, hard and fast, without
delay, the rather that my back is sair with sitting in it for a whole
hour.--And now let us see what the cooks have been doing for us, bonny
bairns."
CHAPTER XXXIV
To this brave man the knight repairs
For counsel in his law affairs;
And found him mounted in his pew.
With books and money placed for show,
Like nest-eggs to make clients lay,
And for his false opinion pay.
_Hudibras._
Our readers may recollect a certain smooth-tongued, lank-haired,
buckram-suited, Scottish scrivener, who, in the earlier part of this
history, appeared in the character of a protege of George Heriot. It
is to his house we are about to remove, but times have changed with
him. The petty booth hath become a chamber of importance--the buckram
suit is changed into black velvet; and although the wearer retains his
puritanical humility and politeness to clients of consequence, he can
now look others broad in the face, and treat them with a full
allowance of superior opulence, and the insolence arising from it. It
was but a short period that had achieved these alterations, nor was
the party himself as yet entirely accustomed to them, but the change
was becoming less embarrassing to him with every day's practice. Among
other acquisitions of wealth, you may see one of Davy Ramsay's best
timepieces on the table, and his eye is frequently observing its
revolutions, while a boy, whom he employs as a scribe, is occasionally
sent out to compare its progress with the clock of Saint Dunstan.
The scrivener himself seemed considerably agitated. He took from a
strong-box a bundle of parchments, and read passages of them with
great attention; then began to soliloquize--"There is no outlet which
law can suggest--no back-door of evasion--none--if the lands of
Glenvarloch are not redeemed before it rings noon, Lord Dalgarno has
them a cheap pennyworth. Strange, that he should have been at last
able to set his patron at defiance, and achieve for himself the fair
estate, with the prospect of which he so long flattered the powerful
Buckingham.--Might not Andrew Skurliewhitter nick him as neatly? He
hath been my patron--true--not more than Buckingham was his; and he
can be so no more, for he departs presently for Scotland. I am glad of
it--I hate him, and I fear him. He knows too many of my secrets--I
know too many of his. But, no--no--no--I need never attempt it, there
are no means of over-reaching him.--Well, Willie, what o'clock?"
"Ele'en hours just chappit, sir."
"Go to your desk without, child," said the scrivener. "What to do
next--I shall lose the old Earl's fair business, and, what is worse,
his son's foul practice. Old Heriot looks too close into business to
permit me more than the paltry and ordinary dues. The Whitefriars
business was profitable, but it has become unsafe ever since--pah!--
what brought that in my head just now? I can hardly hold my pen--if
men should see me in this way!--Willie," (calling aloud to the boy,)
"a cup of distilled waters--Soh!--now I could face the devil."
He spoke the last words aloud, and close by the door of the apartment,
which was suddenly opened by Richie Moniplies, followed by two
gentlemen, and attended by two porters bearing money-bags. "If ye can
face the devil, Maister Skurliewhitter," said Richie, "ye will be the
less likely to turn your back on a sack or twa o' siller, which I have
ta'en the freedom to bring you. Sathanas and Mammon are near akin."
The porters, at the same time, ranged their load on the floor.
"I--I,"--stammered the surprised scrivener--"I cannot guess what you
mean, sir."
"Only that I have brought you the redemption-money on the part of Lord
Glenvarloch, in discharge of a certain mortgage over his family
inheritance. And here, in good time, comes Master Reginald Lowestoffe,
and another honourable gentleman of the Temple, to be witnesses to the
transaction."
"I--I incline to think," said the scrivener, "that the term is
expired."
"You will pardon us, Master Scrivener," said Lowestoffe. "You will not
baffle us--it wants three-quarters of noon by every clock in the
city."
"I must have time, gentlemen," said Andrew, "to examine the gold by
tale and weight."
"Do so at your leisure, Master Scrivener," replied Lowestoffe again.
"We have already seen the contents of each sack told and weighed, and
we have put our seals on them. There they stand in a row, twenty in
number, each containing three hundred yellow-hammers--we are witnesses
to the lawful tender."
"Gentlemen," said the scrivener, "this security now belongs to a
mighty lord. I pray you, abate your haste, and let me send for Lord
Dalgarno,--or rather I will run for him myself."
So saying, he took up his hat; but Lowestoffe called out,--"Friend
Moniplies, keep the door fast, an thou be'st a man! he seeks but to
put off the time.--In plain terms, Andrew, you may send for the devil,
if you will, who is the mightiest lord of my acquaintance, but from
hence you stir not till you have answered our proposition, by
rejecting or accepting the redemption-money fairly tendered--there it
lies--take it, or leave it, as you will. I have skill enough to know
that the law is mightier than any lord in Britain--I have learned so
much at the Temple, if I have learned nothing else. And see that you
trifle not with it, lest it make your long ears an inch shorter,
Master Skurliewhitter."
"Nay, gentlemen, if you threaten me," said the scrivener, "I cannot
resist compulsion."
"No threats--no threats at all, my little Andrew," said Lowestoffe; "a
little friendly advice only--forget not, honest Andrew, I have seen
you in Alsatia."
Without answering a single word, the scrivener sat down, and drew in
proper form a full receipt for the money proffered.
"I take it on your report, Master Lowestoffe," he said; "I hope you
will remember I have insisted neither upon weight nor tale--I have
been civil--if there is deficiency I shall come to loss."
"Fillip his nose with a gold-piece, Richie," quoth the Templar. "Take
up the papers, and now wend we merrily to dine thou wot'st where."
"If I might choose," said Richie, "it should not be at yonder roguish
ordinary; but as it is your pleasure, gentlemen, the treat shall be
given wheresoever you will have it."
"At the ordinary," said the one Templar.
"At Beaujeu's," said the other; "it is the only house in London for
neat wines, nimble drawers, choice dishes, and--"
"And high charges," quoth Richie Moniplies. "But, as I said before,
gentlemen, ye have a right to command me in this thing, having so
frankly rendered me your service in this small matter of business,
without other stipulation than that of a slight banquet."
The latter part of this discourse passed in the street, where,
immediately afterwards, they met Lord Dalgarno. He appeared in haste,
touched his hat slightly to Master Lowestoffe, who returned his
reverence with the same negligence, and walked slowly on with his
companion, while Lord Dalgarno stopped Richie Moniplies with a
commanding sign, which the instinct of education compelled Moniplies,
though indignant, to obey.
"Whom do you now follow, sirrah?" demanded the noble.
"Whomsoever goeth before me, my lord," answered Moniplies.
"No sauciness, you knave--I desire to know if you still serve Nigel
Olifaunt?" said Dalgarno.
"I am friend to the noble Lord Glenvarloch," answered Moniplies, with
dignity.
"True," replied Lord Dalgarno, "that noble lord has sunk to seek
friends among lackeys--Nevertheless,--hark thee hither,--nevertheless,
if he be of the same mind as when we last met, thou mayst show him,
that, on to-morrow, at four afternoon, I shall pass northward by
Enfield Chase--I will be slenderly attended, as I design to send my
train through Barnet. It is my purpose to ride an easy pace through
the forest, and to linger a while by Camlet Moat--he knows the place;
and, if he be aught but an Alsatian bully, will think it fitter for
some purposes than the Park. He is, I understand, at liberty, or
shortly to be so. If he fail me at the place nominated, he must seek
me in Scotland, where he will find me possessed of his father's estate
and lands."
"Humph!" muttered Richie; "there go twa words to that bargain."
He even meditated a joke on the means which he was conscious he
possessed of baffling Lord Dalgarno's expectations; but there was
something of keen and dangerous excitement in the eyes of the young
nobleman, which prompted his discretion for once to rule his vit, and
he only answered--
"God grant your lordship may well brook your new conquest--when you
get it. I shall do your errand to my lord--whilk is to say," he added
internally, "he shall never hear a word of it from Richie. I am not
the lad to put him in such hazard."
Lord Dalgarno looked at him sharply for a moment, as if to penetrate
the meaning of the dry ironical tone, which, in spite of Richie's awe,
mingled with his answer, and then waved his hand, in signal he should
pass on. He himself walked slowly till the trio were out of sight,
then turned back with hasty steps to the door of the scrivener, which
he had passed in his progress, knocked, and was admitted.
Lord Dalgarno found the man of law with the money-bags still standing
before him; and it escaped not his penetrating glance, that
Skurliewhitter was disconcerted and alarmed at his approach.
"How now, man," he said; "what! hast thou not a word of oily
compliment to me on my happy marriage?--not a word of most
philosophical consolation on my disgrace at Court?--Or has my mien, as
a wittol and discarded favourite, the properties of the Gorgon's head,
the _turbatae Palladis arma_, as Majesty might say?"
"My lord, I am glad--my lord, I am sorry,"--answered the trembling
scrivener, who, aware of the vivacity of Lord Dalgarno's temper,
dreaded the consequence of the communication he had to make to him.
"Glad and sorry!" answered Lord Dalgarno. "That is blowing hot and
cold, with a witness. Hark ye, you picture of petty-larceny
personified--if you are sorry I am a cuckold, remember I am only mine
own, you knave--there is too little blood in her cheeks to have sent
her astray elsewhere. Well, I will bear mine antler'd honours as I
may--gold shall gild them; and for my disgrace, revenge shall sweeten
it. Ay, revenge--and there strikes the happy hour!"
The hour of noon was accordingly heard to peal from Saint Dunstan's.
"Well banged, brave hammers!" said Lord Dalgarno, in triumph.--"The
estate and lands of Glenvarloch are crushed beneath these clanging
blows. If my steel to-morrow prove but as true as your iron maces to-
day, the poor landless lord will little miss what your peal hath cut
him out from.--The papers--the papers, thou varlet! I am to-morrow
Northward, ho! At four, afternoon, I am bound to be at Camlet Moat, in
the Enfield Chase. To-night most of my retinue set forward. The
papers!--Come, dispatch."
"My lord, the--the papers of the Glenvarloch mortgage--I--I have them
not."
"Have them not!" echoed Lord Dalgarno,--"Hast thou sent them to my
lodgings, thou varlet? Did I not say I was coming hither?--What mean
you by pointing to that money? What villainy have you done for it? It
is too large to be come honestly by."
"Your lordship knows best," answered the scrivener, in great
perturbation. "The gold is your own. It is--it is--"
"Not the redemption-money of the Glenvarloch estate!" said Dalgarno.
"Dare not say it is, or I will, upon the spot, divorce your
pettifogging soul from your carrion carcass!" So saying, he seized the
scrivener by the collar, and shook him so vehemently, that he tore it
from the cassock.
"My lord, I must call for help," said the trembling caitiff, who felt
at that moment all the bitterness of the mortal agony--"It was the
law's act, not mine. What could I do?"
"Dost ask?--why, thou snivelling dribblet of damnation, were all thy
oaths, tricks, and lies spent? or do you hold yourself too good to
utter them in my service? Thou shouldst have lied, cozened, out-sworn
truth itself, rather than stood betwixt me and my revenge! But mark
me," he continued; "I know more of your pranks than would hang thee. A
line from me to the Attorney-General, and thou art sped."
"What would you have me to do, my lord?" said the scrivener. "All that
art and law can accomplish, I will try."
"Ah, are you converted? do so, or pity of your life!" said the lord;
"and remember I never fail my word.--Then keep that accursed gold," he
continued. "Or, stay, I will not trust you--send me this gold home
presently to my lodging. I will still forward to Scotland, and it
shall go hard but that I hold out Glenvarloch Castle against the
owner, by means of the ammunition he has himself furnished. Thou art
ready to serve me?" The scrivener professed the most implicit
obedience.
"Then remember, the hour was past ere payment was tendered--and see
thou hast witnesses of trusty memory to prove that point."
"Tush, my lord, I will do more," said Andrew, reviving--"I will prove
that Lord Glenvarloch's friends threatened, swaggered, and drew swords
on me.--Did your lordship think I was ungrateful enough to have
suffered them to prejudice your lordship, save that they had bare
swords at my throat?"
"Enough said," replied Dalgarno; "you are perfect--mind that you
continue so, as you would avoid my fury. I leave my page below--get
porters, and let them follow me instantly with the gold."
So saying, Lord Dalgarno left the scrivener's habitation.
Skurliewhitter, having dispatched his boy to get porters of trust for
transporting the money, remained alone and in dismay, meditating by
what means he could shake himself free of the vindictive and ferocious
nobleman, who possessed at once a dangerous knowledge of his
character, and the power of exposing him, where exposure would be
ruin. He had indeed acquiesced in the plan, rapidly sketched, for
obtaining possession of the ransomed estate, but his experience
foresaw that this would be impossible; while, on the other hand, he
could not anticipate the various consequences of Lord Dalgarno's
resentment, without fears, from which his sordid soul recoiled. To be
in the power, and subject both to the humours and the extortions of a
spendthrift young lord, just when his industry had shaped out the
means of fortune,--it was the most cruel trick which fate could have
played the incipient usurer.
While the scrivener was in this fit of anxious anticipation, one
knocked at the door of the apartment; and, being desired to enter,
appeared in the coarse riding-cloak of uncut Wiltshire cloth, fastened
by a broad leather belt and brass buckle, which was then generally
worn by graziers and countrymen. Skurliewhitter, believing he saw in
his visitor a country client who might prove profitable, had opened
his mouth to request him to be seated, when the stranger, throwing
back his frieze hood which he had drawn over his face, showed the
scrivener features well imprinted in his recollection, but which he
never saw without a disposition to swoon.
"Is it you?" he said, faintly, as the stranger replaced the hood which
concealed his features.
"Who else should it be?" said his visitor.
"Thou son of parchment, got betwixt the inkhorn
And the stuff'd process-bag--that mayest call
The pen thy father, and the ink thy mother,
The wax thy brother, and the sand thy sister
And the good pillory thy cousin allied--
Rise, and do reverence unto me, thy better!"
"Not yet down to the country," said the scrivener, "after every
warning? Do not think your grazier's cloak will bear you out, captain-
-no, nor your scraps of stage-plays."
"Why, what would you have me to do?" said the captain--"Would you have
me starve? If I am to fly, you must eke my wings with a few feathers.
You can spare them, I think."
"You had means already--you have had ten pieces--What is become of
them?"
"Gone," answered Captain Colepepper--"Gone, no matter where--I had a
mind to bite, and I was bitten, that's all--I think my hand shook at
the thought of t'other night's work, for I trowled the doctors like a
very baby."
"And you have lost all, then?--Well, take this and be gone," said the
scrivener.
"What, two poor smelts! Marry, plague of your bounty!--But remember,
you are as deep in as I."
"Not so, by Heaven!" answered the scrivener; "I only thought of easing
the old man of some papers and a trifle of his gold, and you took his
life."
"Were he living," answered Colepepper, "he would rather have lost it
than his money.--But that is not the question, Master Skurliewhitter--
you undid the private bolts of the window when you visited him about
some affairs on the day ere he died--so satisfy yourself, that, if I
am taken, I will not swing alone. Pity Jack Hempsfield is dead, it
spoils the old catch,
'And three merry men, and three merry men,
And three merry men are we,
As ever did sing three parts in a string,
All under the triple tree.'"
"For God's sake, speak lower," said the scrivener; "is this a place or
time to make your midnight catches heard?--But how much will serve
your turn? I tell you I am but ill provided."
"You tell me a lie, then," said the bully--"a most palpable and gross
lie.--How much, d'ye say, will serve my turn? Why, one of these bags
will do for the present."
"I swear to you that these bags of money are not at my disposal."
"Not honestly, perhaps," said the captain, "but that makes little
difference betwixt us."
"I swear to you," continued the scrivener "they are in no way at my
disposal--they have been delivered to me by tale--I am to pay them
over to Lord Dalgarno, whose boy waits for them, and I could not
skelder one piece out of them, without risk of hue and cry."
"Can you not put off the delivery?" said the bravo, his huge hand
still fumbling with one of the bags, as if his fingers longed to close
on it.
"Impossible," said the scrivener, "he sets forward to Scotland to-
morrow."
"Ay!" said the bully, after a moment's thought--"Travels he the north
road with such a charge?"
"He is well accompanied," added the scrivener; "but yet--"
"But yet--but what?" said the bravo.
"Nay, I meant nothing," said the scrivener.
"Thou didst--thou hadst the wind of some good thing," replied
Colepepper; "I saw thee pause like a setting dog. Thou wilt say as
little, and make as sure a sign, as a well-bred spaniel."
"All I meant to say, captain, was, that his servants go by Barnet, and
he himself, with his page, pass through Enfield Chase; and he spoke to
me yesterday of riding a soft pace."
"Aha!--Comest thou to me there, my boy?"
"And of resting"--continued the scrivener,--"resting a space at Camlet
Moat."
"Why, this is better than cock-fighting!" said the captain.
"I see not how it can advantage you, captain," said the scrivener.
"But, however, they cannot ride fast, for his page rides the sumpter-
horse, which carries all that weight," pointing to the money on the
table. "Lord Dalgarno looks sharp to the world's gear."
"That horse will be obliged to those who may ease him of his burden,"
said the bravo; "and egad, he may be met with.--He hath still that
page--that same Lutin--that goblin? Well, the boy hath set game for me
ere now. I will be revenged, too, for I owe him a grudge for an old
score at the ordinary. Let me see--Black Feltham, and Dick Shakebag--
we shall want a fourth--I love to make sure, and the booty will stand
parting, besides what I can bucket them out of. Well, scrivener, lend
me two pieces.--Bravely done--nobly imparted! Give ye good-den." And
wrapping his disguise closer around him, away he went.
When he had left the room, the scrivener wrung his hands, and
exclaimed, "More blood--more blood! I thought to have had done with
it, but this time there was no fault with me--none--and then I shall
have all the advantage. If this ruffian falls, there is truce with his
tugs at my purse-strings; and if Lord Dalgarno dies--as is most
likely, for though as much afraid of cold steel as a debtor of a dun,
this fellow is a deadly shot from behind a bush,--then am I in a
thousand ways safe--safe--safe."
We willingly drop the curtain over him and his reflections.
CHAPTER XXXV
We are not worst at once--the course of evil
Begins so slowly, and from such slight source,
An infant's hand might stem its breach with clay;
But let the stream get deeper, and philosophy--
Ay, and religion too--shall strive in vain
To turn the headlong torrent.
_Old Play._
The Templars had been regaled by our friend Richie Moniplies in a
private chamber at Beaujeu's, where he might be considered as good
company; for he had exchanged his serving-man's cloak and jerkin for a
grave yet handsome suit of clothes, in the fashion of the times, but
such as might have befitted an older man than himself. He had
positively declined presenting himself at the ordinary, a point to
which his companions were very desirous to have brought him, for it
will be easily believed that such wags as Lowestoffe and his companion
were not indisposed to a little merriment at the expense of the raw
and pedantic Scotsman; besides the chance of easing him of a few
pieces, of which he appeared to have acquired considerable command.
But not even a succession of measures of sparkling sack, in which the
little brilliant atoms circulated like motes in the sun's rays, had
the least effect on Richie's sense of decorum. He retained the gravity
of a judge, even while he drank like a fish, partly from his own
natural inclination to good liquor, partly in the way of good
fellowship towards his guests. When the wine began to make some
innovation on their heads, Master Lowestoffe, tired, perhaps, of the
humours of Richie, who began to become yet more stoically
contradictory and dogmatical than even in the earlier part of the
entertainment, proposed to his friend to break up their debauch and
join the gamesters.
The drawer was called accordingly, and Richie discharged the reckoning
of the party, with a generous remuneration to the attendants, which
was received with cap and knee, and many assurances of--"Kindly
welcome, gentlemen."
"I grieve we should part so soon, gentlemen," said Richie to his
companions,--"and I would you had cracked another quart ere you went,
or stayed to take some slight matter of supper, and a glass of
Rhenish. I thank you, however, for having graced my poor collation
thus far; and I commend you to fortune, in your own courses, for the
ordinary neither was, is, nor shall be, an element of mine."
"Fare thee well, then," said Lowestoffe, "most sapient and sententious
Master Moniplies. May you soon have another mortgage to redeem, and
may I be there to witness it; and may you play the good fellow, as
heartily as you have done this day."
"Nay, gentlemen, it is merely of your grace to say so--but, if you
would but hear me speak a few words of admonition respecting this
wicked ordinary--"
"Reserve the lesson, most honourable Richie," said Lowestoffe, "until
I have lost all my money," showing, at the same time, a purse
indifferently well provided, "and then the lecture is likely to have
some weight."
"And keep my share of it, Richie," said the other Templar, showing an
almost empty purse, in his turn, "till this be full again, and then I
will promise to hear you with some patience."
"Ay, ay, gallants," said Richie, "the full and the empty gang a' ae
gate, and that is a grey one--but the time will come."
"Nay, it is come already," said Lowestoffe; "they have set out the
hazard table. Since you will peremptorily not go with us, why,
farewell, Richie."
"And farewell, gentlemen," said Richie, and left the house, into which
they had returned.
Moniplies was not many steps from the door, when a person, whom, lost
in his reflections on gaming, ordinaries, and the manners of the age,
he had not observed, and who had been as negligent on his part, ran
full against him; and, when Richie desired to know whether he meant
"ony incivility," replied by a curse on Scotland, and all that
belonged to it. A less round reflection on his country would, at any
time, have provoked Richie, but more especially when he had a double
quart of Canary and better in his pate. He was about to give a very
rough answer, and to second his word by action, when a closer view of
his antagonist changed his purpose.
"You are the vera lad in the warld," said Richie, "whom I most wished
to meet."
"And you," answered the stranger, "or any of your beggarly countrymen,
are the last sight I should ever wish to see. You Scots are ever fair
and false, and an honest man cannot thrive within eyeshot of you."
"As to our poverty, friend," replied Richie, "that is as Heaven
pleases; but touching our falset, I'll prove to you that a Scotsman
bears as leal and true a heart to his friend as ever beat in English
doublet."
"I care not whether he does or not," said the gallant. "Let me go--why
keep you hold of my cloak? Let me go, or I will thrust you into the
kennel."
"I believe I could forgie ye, for you did me a good turn once, in
plucking me out of it," said the Scot.
"Beshrew my fingers, then, if they did so," replied the stranger. "I
would your whole country lay there, along with you; and Heaven's curse
blight the hand that helped to raise them!--Why do you stop my way?"
he added, fiercely.
"Because it is a bad one, Master Jenkin," said Richie. "Nay, never
start about it, man--you see you are known. Alack-a-day! that an
honest man's son should live to start at hearing himself called by his
own name!" Jenkin struck his brow violently with his clenched fist.
"Come, come," said Richie, "this passion availeth nothing. Tell me
what gate go you?"
"To the devil!" answered Jin Vin.
"That is a black gate, if you speak according to the letter," answered
Richie; "but if metaphorically, there are worse places in this great
city than the Devil Tavern; and I care not if I go thither with you,
and bestow a pottle of burnt sack on you--it will correct the
crudities of my stomach, and form a gentle preparative for the leg of
a cold pullet."
"I pray you, in good fashion, to let me go," said Jenkin. "You may
mean me kindly, and I wish you to have no wrong at my hand; but I am
in the humour to be dangerous to myself, or any one."
"I will abide the risk," said the Scot, "if you will but come with me;
and here is a place convenient, a howff nearer than the Devil, whilk
is but an ill-omened drouthy name for a tavern. This other of the
Saint Andrew is a quiet place, where I have ta'en my whetter now and
then, when I lodged in the neighbourhood of the Temple with Lord
Glenvarloch.--What the deil's the matter wi' the man, garr'd him gie
sic a spang as that, and almaist brought himself and me on the
causeway?"
"Do not name that false Scot's name to me," said Jin Vin, "if you
would not have me go mad!--I was happy before I saw him--he has been
the cause of all the ill that has befallen me--he has made a knave and
a madman of me!"
"If you are a knave," said Richie, "you have met an officer--if you
are daft, you have met a keeper; but a gentle officer and a kind
keeper. Look you, my gude friend, there has been twenty things said
about this same lord, in which there is no more truth than in the
leasings of Mahound. The warst they can say of him is, that he is not
always so amenable to good advice as I would pray him, you, and every
young man to be. Come wi' me--just come ye wi' me; and, if a little
spell of siller and a great deal of excellent counsel can relieve your
occasions, all I can say is, you have had the luck to meet one capable
of giving you both, and maist willing to bestow them."
The pertinacity of the Scot prevailed over the sullenness of Vincent,
who was indeed in a state of agitation and incapacity to think for
himself, which led him to yield the more readily to the suggestions of
another. He suffered himself to be dragged into the small tavern which
Richie recommended, and where they soon found themselves seated in a
snug niche, with a reeking pottle of burnt sack, and a paper of sugar
betwixt them. Pipes and tobacco were also provided, but were only used
by Richie, who had adopted the custom of late, as adding considerably
to the gravity and importance of his manner, and affording, as it
were, a bland and pleasant accompaniment to the words of wisdom which
flowed from his tongue. After they had filled their glasses and drank
them in silence, Richie repeated the question, whither his guest was
going when they met so fortunately.
"I told you," said Jenkin, "I was going to destruction--I mean to the
gaming-house. I am resolved to hazard these two or three pieces, to
get as much as will pay for a passage with Captain Sharker, whose ship
lies at Gravesend, bound for America--and so Eastward, ho!--I met one
devil in the way already, who would have tempted me from my purpose,
but I spurned him from me--you may be another for what I know.--What
degree of damnation do you propose for me," he added wildly, "and what
is the price of it?"
"I would have you to know," answered Richie, "that I deal in no such
commodities, whether as buyer or seller. But if you will tell me
honestly the cause of your distress, I will do what is in my power to
help you out of it,--not being, however, prodigal of promises, until I
know the case; as a learned physician only gives advice when he has
observed the diagnostics."
"No one has any thing to do with my affairs," said the poor lad; and
folding his arms on the table, he laid his head upon them, with the
sullen dejection of the overburdened lama, when it throws itself down
to die in desperation.
Richard Moniplies, like most folk who have a good opinion of
themselves, was fond of the task of consolation, which at once
displayed his superiority, (for the consoler is necessarily, for the
time at least, superior to the afflicted person,) and indulged his
love of talking. He inflicted on the poor penitenta harangue of
pitiless length, stuffed full of the usual topics of the mutability of
human affairs--the eminent advantages of patience under affliction--
the folly of grieving for what hath no remedy--the necessity of taking
more care for the future, and some gentle rebukes on account of the
past, which acid he threw in to assist in subduing the patient's
obstinacy, as Hannibal used vinegar in cutting his way through rocks.
It was not in human nature to endure this flood of commonplace
eloquence in silence; and Jin Vin, whether desirous of stopping the
flow of words--crammed thus into his ear, "against the stomach of his
sense," or whether confiding in Richie's protestations of friendship,
which the wretched, says Fielding, are ever so ready to believe, or
whether merely to give his sorrows vent in words, raised his head, and
turning his red and swollen eyes to Richie--
"Cocksbones, man, only hold thy tongue, and thou shall know all about
it,--and then all I ask of thee is to shake hands and part.--This
Margaret Ramsay,--you have seen her, man?"
"Once," said Richie, "once, at Master George Heriot's in Lombard
Street--I was in the room when they dined."
"Ay, you helped to shift their trenchers, I remember," said Jin Vin.
"Well, that same pretty girl--and I will uphold her the prettiest
betwixt Paul's and the Bar--she is to be wedded to your Lord
Glenvarloch, with a pestilence on him!"
"That is impossible," said Richie; "it is raving nonsense, man--they
make April gouks of you cockneys every month in the year--The Lord
Glenvarloch marry the daughter of a Lonnon mechanic! I would as soon
believe the great Prester John would marry the daughter of a Jew
packman."
"Hark ye, brother," said Jin Vin, "I will allow no one to speak
disregardfully of the city, for all I am in trouble."
"I crave your pardon, man--I meant no offence," said Richie; "but as
to the marriage, it is a thing simply impossible."
"It is a thing that will take place, though, for the Duke and the
Prince, and all of them, have a finger in it; and especially the old
fool of a king, that makes her out to be some great woman in her own
country, as all the Scots pretend to be, you know."
"Master Vincent, but that you are under affliction," said the
consoler, offended on his part, "I would hear no national
reflections."
The afflicted youth apologised in his turns, but asserted, "it
was true that the king said Peg-a-Ramsay was some far-off sort of
noblewoman; and that he had taken a great interest in the match, and
had run about like an old gander, cackling about Peggie ever since he
had seen her in hose and doublet--and no wonder," added poor Vin, with
a deep sigh.
"This may be all true," said Richie, "though it sounds strange in my
ears; but, man, you should not speak evil of dignities---Curse not the
king, Jenkin; not even in thy bed-chamber--stone walls have ears--no
one has a right to know better than I."
"I do not curse the foolish old man," said Jenkin; "but I would have
them carry things a peg lower.--If they were to see on a plain field
thirty thousand such pikes as I have seen in the artillery gardens, it
would not be their long-haired courtiers would help them, I trow."
[Footnote: Clarendon remarks, that the importance of the military
exercise of the citizens was severely felt by the cavaliers during the
civil war, notwithstanding the ridicule that had been showered upon it
by the dramatic poets of the day. Nothing less than habitual practice
could, at the battle of Newbury and elsewhere, have enabled the
Londoners to keep their ranks as pikemen, in spite of the repeated
charge of the fiery Prince Rupert and his gallant cavaliers.]
"Hout tout, man," said Richie, "mind where the Stewarts come frae, and
never think they would want spears or claymores either; but leaving
sic matters, whilk are perilous to speak on, I say once more, what is
your concern in all this matter?"
"What is it?" said Jenkin; "why, have I not fixed on Peg-a-Ramsay to
be my true love, from the day I came to her old father's shop? and
have I not carried her pattens and her chopines for three years, and
borne her prayer-book to church, and brushed the cushion for her to
kneel down upon, and did she ever say me nay?"
"I see no cause she had," said Richie, "if the like of such small
services were all that ye proffered. Ah, man! there are few--very few,
either of fools or of wise men, ken how to guide a woman."
"Why, did I not serve her at the risk of my freedom, and very nigh at
the risk of my neck? Did she not--no, it was not her neither, but that
accursed beldam whom she caused to work upon me--persuade me like a
fool to turn myself into a waterman to help my lord, and a plague to
him, down to Scotland? and instead of going peaceably down to the ship
at Gravesend, did not he rant and bully, and show his pistols, and
make me land him at Greenwich, where he played some swaggering pranks,
that helped both him and me into the Tower?"
"Aha!" said Richie, throwing more than his usual wisdom into his
looks, "so you were the green-jacketed waterman that rowed Lord
Glenvarloch down the river?"
"The more fool I, that did not souse him in the Thames," said Jenkin;
"and I was the lad who would not confess one word of who and what I
was, though they threatened to make me hug the Duke of Exeter's
daughter."[Footnote: A particular species of rack, used at the Tower
of London, was so called.]
"Wha is she, man?" said Richie; "she must be an ill-fashioned piece,
if you're so much afraid of her, and she come of such high kin."
"I mean the rack--the rack, man," said Jenkin. "Where were you bred
that never heard of the Duke of Exeter's daughter? But all the dukes
and duchesses in England could have got nothing out of me--so the
truth came out some other way, and I was set free.--Home I ran,
thinking myself one of the cleverest and happiest fellows in the ward.
And she--she--she wanted to pay me with _money_ for all my true
service! and she spoke so sweetly and so coldly at the same time, I
wished myself in the deepest dungeon of the Tower--I wish they had
racked me to death before I heard this Scottishman was to chouse me
out of my sweetheart!"
"But are ye sure ye have lost her?" said Richie; "it sounds strange in
my ears that my Lord Glenvarloch should marry the daughter of a
dealer,--though there are uncouth marriages made in London, I'll allow
that."
"Why, I tell you this lord was no sooner clear of the Tower, than he
and Master George Heriot comes to make proposals for her, with the
king's assent, and what not; and fine fair-day prospects of Court
favour for this lord, for he hath not an acre of land."
"Well, and what said the auld watch-maker?" said Richie; "was he not,
as might weel beseem him, ready to loop out of his skin-case for very
joy?"
"He multiplied six figures progressively, and reported the product--
then gave his consent."
"And what did you do?"
"I rushed into the streets," said the poor lad, "with a burning heart
and a blood-shot eye--and where did I first find myself, but with that
beldam, Mother Suddlechop--and what did she propose to me, but to take
the road?"
"Take the road, man? in what sense?" said Richie.
"Even as a clerk to Saint Nicholas--as a highwayman, like Poins and
Peto, and the good fellows in the play--and who think you was to be my
captain?--for she had the whole out ere I could speak to her--I fancy
she took silence for consent, and thought me damned too unutterably to
have one thought left that savoured of redemption--who was to be my
captain, but the knave that you saw me cudgel at the ordinary when you
waited on Lord Glenvarloch, a cowardly, sharking, thievish bully about
town here, whom they call Colepepper."
"Colepepper--umph--I know somewhat of that smaik," said Richie; "ken
ye by ony chance where he may be heard of, Master Jenkin?--ye wad do
me a sincere service to tell me."
"Why, he lives something obscurely," answered the apprentice, "on
account of suspicion of some villainy--I believe that horrid murder in
Whitefriars, or some such matter. But I might have heard all about him
from Dame Suddlechop, for she spoke of my meeting him at Enfield
Chase, with some other good fellows, to do a robbery on one that goes
northward with a store of treasure."
"And you did not agree to this fine project?" said Moniplies.
"I cursed her for a hag, and came away about my business," answered
Jenkin.
"Ay, and what said she to that, man? That would startle her," said
Richie.
"Not a whit. She laughed, and said she was in jest," answered Jenkin;
"but I know the she-devil's jest from her earnest too well to be taken
in that way. But she knows I would never betray her.'
"Betray her! No," replied Richie; "but are ye in any shape bound to
this birkie Peppercull, or Colepepper, or whatever they call him, that
ye suld let him do a robbery on the honest gentleman that is
travelling to the north, and may be a kindly Scot, for what we know?"
"Ay--going home with a load of English money," said Jenkin. "But be he
who he will, they may rob the whole world an they list, for I am
robbed and ruined."
Richie filled his friend's cup up to the brim, and insisted that he
should drink what he called "clean caup out." "This love," he said,
"is but a bairnly matter for a brisk young fellow like yourself,
Master Jenkin. And if ye must needs have a whimsy, though I think it
would be safer to venture on a staid womanly body, why, here be as
bonny lasses in London as this Peg-a-Ramsay. You need not sigh sae
deeply, for it is very true--there is as good fish in the sea as ever
came out of it. Now wherefore should you, who are as brisk and trig a
young fellow of your inches as the sun needs to shine on--wherefore
need you sit moping this way, and not try some bold way to better your
fortune?"
"I tell you, Master Moniplies," said Jenkin, "I am as poor as any Scot
among you--I have broke my indenture, and I think of running my
country."
"A-well-a-day!" said Richie; "but that maunna be, man--I ken weel, by
sad experience, that poortith takes away pith, and the man sits full
still that has a rent in his breeks. [Footnote: This elegant speech
was made by the Earl of Douglas, called Tineman after being wounded
and made prisoner at the battle of Shrewsbury, where
"His well labouring sword
Had three times slain the semblance of the king,"]
But courage, man; you have served me heretofore, and I will serve you
now. If you will but bring me to speech of this same captain, it will
be the best day's work you ever did."
"I guess where you are, Master Richard--you would save your
countryman's long purse," said Jenkin. "I cannot see how that should
advantage me, but I reck not if I should bear a hand. I hate that
braggart, that bloody-minded, cowardly bully. If you can get me
mounted I care not if I show you where the dame told me I should meet
him--but you must stand to the risk, for though he is a coward
himself, I know he will have more than one stout fellow with him."
"We'll have a warrant, man," said Richie, "and the hue and cry, to
boot."
"We will have no such thing," said Jenkin, "if I am to go with you. I
am not the lad to betray any one to the harmanbeck. You must do it by
manhood if I am to go with you. I am sworn to cutter's law, and will
sell no man's blood."
"Aweel," said Richie, "a wilful man must have his way; ye must think
that I was born and bred where cracked crowns were plentier than whole
ones. Besides, I have two noble friends here, Master Lowestoffe of the
Temple, and his cousin Master Ringwood, that will blithely be of so
gallant a party."
"Lowestoffe and Ringwood!" said Jenkin; "they are both brave gallants-
-they will be sure company. Know you where they are to be found?"
"Ay, marry do I," replied Richie. "They are fast at the cards and
dice, till the sma' hours, I warrant them."
"They are gentlemen of trust and honour," said Jenkin, "and, if they
advise it, I will try the adventure. Go, try if you can bring them
hither, since you have so much to say with, them. We must not be seen
abroad together.--I know not how it is, Master Moniplies," continued
he, as his countenance brightened up, and while, in his turn, he
filled the cups, "but I feel my heart something lighter since I have
thought of this matter."
"Thus it is to have counsellors, Master Jenkin," said Richie; "and
truly I hope to hear you say that your heart is as light as a
lavrock's, and that before you are many days aulder. Never smile and
shake your head, but mind what I tell you--and bide here in the
meanwhile, till I go to seek these gallants. I warrant you, cart-ropes
would not hold them back from such a ploy as I shall propose to them."
CHAPTER XXXVI
The thieves have bound the true men--
Now, could thou and I rob the thieves, and go
merrily to London.
_Henry IV., Part I._
The sun was high upon the glades of Enfield Chase, and the deer, with
which it then abounded, were seen sporting in picturesque groups among
the ancient oaks of the forest, when a cavalier and a lady, on foot,
although in riding apparel, sauntered slowly up one of the long alleys
which were cut through the park for the convenience of the hunters.
Their only attendant was a page, who, riding a Spanish jennet, which
seemed to bear a heavy cloak-bag, followed them at a respectful
distance. The female, attired in all the fantastic finery of the
period, with more than the usual quantity of bugles, flounces, and
trimmings, and holding her fan of ostrich feathers in one hand, and
her riding-mask of black velvet in the other, seemed anxious, by all
the little coquetry practised on such occasions, to secure the notice
of her companion, who sometimes heard her prattle without seeming to
attend to it, and at other times interrupted his train of graver
reflections, to reply to her.
"Nay, but, my lord--my lord, you walk so fast, you will leave me
behind you.--Nay, I will have hold of your arm, but how to manage with
my mask and my fan? Why would you not let me bring my waiting-
gentlewoman to follow us, and hold my things? But see, I will put my
fan in my girdle, soh!--and now that I have a hand to hold you with,
you shall not run away from me."
"Come on, then," answered the gallant, "and let us walk apace, since
you would not be persuaded to stay with your gentlewoman, as you call
her, and with the rest of the baggage.--You may perhaps see _that_,
though, you will not like to see."
She took hold of his arm accordingly; but as he continued to walk at
the same pace, she shortly let go her hold, exclaiming that he had
hurt her hand. The cavalier stopped, and looked at the pretty hand and
arm which she showed him, with exclamations against his cruelty. "I
dare say," she said, baring her wrist and a part of her arm, "it is
all black and blue to the very elbow."
"I dare say you are a silly little fool," said the cavalier,
carelessly kissing the aggrieved arm; "it is only a pretty incarnate
which sets off the blue veins."
"Nay, my lord, now it is you are silly," answered the dame; "but I am
glad I can make you speak and laugh on any terms this morning. I am
sure, if I did insist on following you into the forest, it was all for
the sake of diverting you. I am better company than your page, I
trow.--And now, tell me, these pretty things with horns, be they not
deer?" "Even such they be, Nelly," answered her neglectful attendant.
"And what can the great folk do with so many of them, forsooth?"
"They send them to the city, Nell, where wise men make venison pasties
of their flesh, and wear their horns for trophies," answered Lord
Dalgarno, whom our reader has already recognised.
"Nay, now you laugh at me, my lord," answered his companion; "but I
know all about venison, whatever you may think. I always tasted it
once a year when we dined with Mr. Deputy," she continued, sadly, as a
sense of her degradation stole across a mind bewildered with vanity
and folly, "though he would not speak to me now, if we met together in
the narrowest lane in the Ward!"
"I warrant he would not," said Lord Dalgarno, "because thou, Nell,
wouldst dash him with a single look; for I trust thou hast more spirit
than to throw away words on such a fellow as he?"
"Who, I!" said Dame Nelly. "Nay, I scorn the proud princox too much
for that. Do you know, he made all the folk in the Ward stand cap in
hand to him, my poor old John Christie and all?" Here her recollection
began to overflow at her eyes.
"A plague on your whimpering," said Dalgarno, somewhat harshly,--"Nay,
never look pale for the matter, Nell. I am not angry with you, you
simple fool. But what would you have me think, when you are eternally
looking back upon your dungeon yonder by the river, which smelt of
pitch and old cheese worse than a Welshman does of onions, and all
this when I am taking you down to a castle as fine as is in Fairy
Land!"
"Shall we be there to-night, my lord?" said Nelly, drying her tears.
"To-night, Nelly?--no, nor this night fortnight."
"Now, the Lord be with us, and keep us!--But shall we not go by sea,
my lord?--I thought everybody came from Scotland by sea. I am sure
Lord Glenvarloch and Richie Moniplies came up by sea."
"There is a wide difference between coming up and going down, Nelly,"
answered Lord Dalgarno.
"And so there is, for certain," said his simple companion. "But yet I
think I heard people speaking of going down to Scotland by sea, as
well as coming up. Are you well avised of the way?--Do you think it
possible we can go by land, my sweet lord?"
"It is but trying, my sweet lady," said Lord Dalgarno. "Men say
England and Scotland are in the same island, so one would hope there
may be some road betwixt them by land."
"I shall never be able to ride so far," said the lady.
"We will have your saddle stuffed softer," said the lord. "I tell you
that you shall mew your city slough, and change from the caterpillar
of a paltry lane into the butterfly of a prince's garden. You shall
have as many tires as there are hours in the day--as many handmaidens
as there are days in the week--as many menials as there are weeks in
the year--and you shall ride a hunting and hawking with a lord,
instead of waiting upon an old ship-chandler, who could do nothing but
hawk and spit"
"Ay, but will you make me your lady?" said Dame Nelly.
"Ay, surely--what else?" replied the lord--"My lady-love."
"Ay, but I mean your lady-wife," said Nelly.
"Truly, Nell, in that I cannot promise to oblige you. A lady-wife,"
continued Dalgarno, "is a very different thing from a lady-love."
"I heard from Mrs. Suddlechop, whom you lodged me with since I left
poor old John Christie, that Lord Glenvarloch is to marry David Ramsay
the clockmaker's daughter?"
"There is much betwixt the cup and the lip, Nelly. I wear something
about me may break the bans of that hopeful alliance, before the day
is much older," answered Lord Dalgarno.
"Well, but my father was as good a man as old Davy Ramsay, and as well
to pass in the world, my lord; and, therefore, why should you not
marry me? You have done me harm enough, I trow--wherefore should you
not do me this justice?"
"For two good reasons, Nelly. Fate put a husband on you, and the king
passed a wife upon me," answered Lord Dalgarno.
"Ay, my lord," said Nelly, "but they remain in England, and we go to
Scotland."
"Thy argument is better than thou art aware of," said Lord Dalgarno.
"I have heard Scottish lawyers say the matrimonial tie may be
unclasped in our happy country by the gentle hand of the ordinary
course of law, whereas in England it can only be burst by an act of
Parliament. Well, Nelly, we will look into that matter; and whether we
get married again or no, we will at least do our best to get
unmarried."
"Shall we indeed, my honey-sweet lord? and then I will think less
about John Christie, for he will marry again, I warrant you, for he is
well to pass; and I would be glad to think he had somebody to take
care of him, as I used to do, poor loving old man! He was a kind man,
though he was a score of years older than I; and I hope and pray he
will never let a young lord cross his honest threshold again!"
Here the dame was once more much inclined to give way to a passion of
tears; but Lord Dalgarno conjured down the emotion, by saying with
some asperity--"I am weary of these April passions, my pretty
mistress, and I think you will do well to preserve your tears for some
more pressing occasion. Who knows what turn of fortune may in a few
minutes call for more of them than you can render?"
"Goodness, my lord! what mean you by such expressions? John Christie
(the kind heart!) used to keep no secrets from me, and I hope your
lordship will not hide your counsel from me?"
"Sit down beside me on this bank," said the nobleman; "I am bound to
remain here for a short space, and if you can be but silent, I should
like to spend a part of it in considering how far I can, on the
present occasion, follow the respectable example which you recommend
to me."
The place at which he stopped was at that time little more than a
mound, partly surrounded by a ditch, from which it derived the name of
Camlet Moat. A few hewn stones there were, which had escaped the fate
of many others that had been used in building different lodges in the
forest for the royal keepers. These vestiges, just sufficient to show
that "herein former times the hand of man had been," marked the ruins
of the abode of a once illustrious but long-forgotten family, the
Mandevilles, Earls of Essex, to whom Enfield Chase and the extensive
domains adjacent had belonged in elder days. A wild woodland prospect
led the eye at various points through broad and seemingly interminable
alleys, which, meeting at this point as at a common centre, diverged
from each other as they receded, and had, therefore, been selected by
Lord Dalgarno as the rendezvous for the combat, which, through the
medium of Richie Moniplies, he had offered to his injured friend, Lord
Glenvarloch.
"He will surely come?" he said to himself; "cowardice was not wont to
be his fault--at least he was bold enough in the Park.--Perhaps yonder
churl may not have carried my message? But no--he is a sturdy knave--
one of those would prize their master's honour above their life.--Look
to the palfrey, Lutin, and see thou let him not loose, and cast thy
falcon glance down every avenue to mark if any one comes.--Buckingham
has undergone my challenge, but the proud minion pleads the king's
paltry commands for refusing to answer me. If I can baffle this
Glenvarloch, or slay him--If I can spoil him of his honour or his
life, I shall go down to Scotland with credit sufficient to gild over
past mischances. I know my dear countrymen--they never quarrel with
any one who brings them home either gold or martial glory, much more
if he has both gold and laurels."
As he thus reflected, and called to mind the disgrace which he had
suffered, as well as the causes he imagined for hating Lord
Glenvarloch, his countenance altered under the influence of his
contending emotions, to the terror of Nelly, who, sitting unnoticed at
his feet, and looking anxiously in his face, beheld the cheek kindle,
the mouth become compressed, the eye dilated, and the whole
countenance express the desperate and deadly resolution of one who
awaits an instant and decisive encounter with a mortal enemy. The
loneliness of the place, the scenery so different from that to which
alone she had been accustomed, the dark and sombre air which crept so
suddenly over the countenance of her seducer, his command imposing
silence upon her, and the apparent strangeness of his conduct in
idling away so much time without any obvious cause, when a journey of
such length lay before them, brought strange thoughts into her weak
brain. She had read of women, seduced from their matrimonial duties by
sorcerers allied to the hellish powers, nay, by the Father of Evil
himself, who, after conveying his victim into some desert remote from
human kind, exchanged the pleasing shape in which he gained her
affections, for all his natural horrors. She chased this wild idea
away as it crowded itself upon her weak and bewildered imagination;
yet she might have lived to see it realised allegorically, if not
literally, but for the accident which presently followed.
The page, whose eyes were remarkably acute, at length called out to
his master, pointing with his finger at the same time down one of the
alleys, that horsemen were advancing in that direction. Lord Dalgarno
started up, and shading his eyes with his hand, gazed eagerly down the
alley; when, at the same instant, he received a shot, which, grazing
his hand, passed right through his brain, and laid him a lifeless
corpse at the feet, or rather across the lap, of the unfortunate
victim of his profligacy. The countenance, whose varied expression she
had been watching for the last five minutes, was convulsed for an
instant, and then stiffened into rigidity for ever. Three ruffians
rushed from the brake from which the shot had been fired, ere the
smoke was dispersed. One, with many imprecations seized on the page;
another on the female, upon whose cries he strove by the most violent
threats to impose silence; whilst the third began to undo the burden
from the page's horse. But an instant rescue prevented their availing
themselves of the advantage they had obtained.
It may easily be supposed that Richie Moniplies, having secured the
assistance of the two Templars, ready enough to join in any thing
which promised a fray, with Jin Vin to act as their guide, had set
off, gallantly mounted and well armed, under the belief that they
would reach Camlet Moat before the robbers, and apprehend them in the
fact. They had not calculated that, according to the custom of robbers
in other countries, but contrary to that of the English highwayman of
those days, they meant to ensure robbery by previous murder. An
accident also happened to delay them a little while on the road. In
riding through one of the glades of the forest, they found a man
dismounted and sitting under a tree, groaning with such bitterness of
spirit, that Lowestoffe could not forbear asking if he was hurt. In
answer, he said he was an unhappy man in pursuit of his wife, who had
been carried off by a villain; and as he raised his countenance, the
eyes of Richie, to his great astonishment, encountered the visage of
John Christie.
"For the Almighty's sake, help me, Master Moniplies!" he said; "I have
learned my wife is but a short mile before, with that black villain
Lord Dalgarno."
"Have him forward by all means," said Lowestoffe; "a second Orpheus
seeking his Eurydice!--Have him forward--we will save Lord Dalgarno's
purse, and ease him of his mistress--Have him with us, were it but for
the variety of the adventure. I owe his lordship a grudge for rooking
me. We have ten minutes good."
But it is dangerous to calculate closely in matters of life and death.
In all probability the minute or two which was lost in mounting John
Christie behind one of their party, might have saved Lord Dalgarno
from his fate. Thus his criminal amour became the indirect cause of
his losing his life; and thus "our pleasant vices are made the whips
to scourge us."
The riders arrived on the field at full gallop the moment after the
shot was fired; and Richie, who had his own reasons for attaching
himself to Colepepper, who was bustling to untie the portmanteau from
the page's saddle, pushed against him with such violence as to
overthrow him, his own horse at the same time stumbling and
dismounting his rider, who was none of the first equestrians. The
undaunted Richie immediately arose, however, and grappled with the
ruffian with such good-will, that, though a strong fellow, and though
a coward now rendered desperate, Moniplies got him under, wrenched a
long knife from his hand, dealt him a desperate stab with his own
weapon, and leaped on his feet; and, as the wounded man struggled to
follow his example, he struck him upon the head with the butt-end of a
musketoon, which last blow proved fatal.
"Bravo, Richie!" cried Lowestoffe, who had himself engaged at sword-
point with one of the ruffians, and soon put him to flight,--"Bravo!
why, man, there lies Sin, struck down like an ox, and Iniquity's
throat cut like a calf."
"I know not why you should upbraid me with my upbringing, Master
Lowestoffe," answered Richie, with great composure; "but I can tell
you, the shambles is not a bad place for training one to this work."
The other Templar now shouted loudly to them,--"If ye be men, come
hither--here lies Lord Dalgarno, murdered!"
Lowestoffe and Richie ran to the spot, and the page took the
opportunity, finding himself now neglected on all hands, to ride off
in a different direction; and neither he, nor the considerable sum
with which his horse was burdened, were ever heard of from that
moment.
The third ruffian had not waited the attack of the Templar and Jin
Vin, the latter of whom had put down old Christie from behind him that
he might ride the lighter; and the whole five now stood gazing with
horror on the bloody corpse of the young nobleman, and the wild sorrow
of the female, who tore her hair and shrieked in the most disconsolate
manner, until her agony was at once checked, or rather received a new
direction, by the sudden and unexpected appearance of her husband,
who, fixing on her a cold and severe look, said, in a tone suited to
his manner--"Ay, woman! thou takest on sadly for the loss of thy
paramour."--Then, looking on the bloody corpse of him from whom he had
received so deep an injury, he repeated the solemn words of
Scripture,--"'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, and I will repay
it.'--I, whom thou hast injured, will be first to render thee the
decent offices due to the dead."
So saying, he covered the dead body with his cloak, and then looking
on it for a moment, seemed to reflect on what he had next to perform.
As the eye of the injured man slowly passed from the body of the
seducer to the partner and victim of his crime, who had sunk down to
his feet, which she clasped without venturing to look up, his
features, naturally coarse and saturnine, assumed a dignity of
expression which overawed the young Templars, and repulsed the
officious forwardness of Richie Moniplies, who was at first eager to
have thrust in his advice and opinion. "Kneel not to me, woman," he
said, "but kneel to the God thou hast offended, more than thou couldst
offend such another worm as thyself. How often have I told thee, when
thou wert at the gayest and the lightest, that pride goeth before
destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall? Vanity brought folly,
and folly brought sin, and sin hath brought death, his original
companion. Thou must needs leave duty, and decency, and domestic love,
to revel it gaily with the wild and with the wicked; and there thou
liest like a crushed worm, writhing beside the lifeless body of thy
paramour. Thou hast done me much wrong--dishonoured me among friends--
driven credit from my house, and peace from my fireside--But thou wert
my first and only love, and I will not see thee an utter castaway, if
it lies with me to prevent it.--Gentlemen, I render ye such thanks as
a broken-hearted man can give.--Richard, commend me to your honourable
master. I added gall to the bitterness of his affliction, but I was
deluded.--Rise up, woman, and follow me."
He raised her up by the arm, while, with streaming eyes, and bitter
sobs, she endeavoured to express her penitence. She kept her hands
spread over her face, yet suffered him to lead her away; and it was
only as they turned around a brake which concealed the scene they had
left, that she turned back, and casting one wild and hurried glance
towards the corpse of Dalgarno, uttered a shriek, and clinging to her
husband's arm, exclaimed wildly,--"Save me--save me! They have
murdered him!"
Lowestoffe was much moved by what he had witnessed; but he was
ashamed, as a town-gallant, of his own unfashionable emotion, and did
a force to his feelings when he exclaimed,--"Ay, let them go--the
kind-hearted, believing, forgiving husband--the liberal, accommodating
spouse. O what a generous creature is your true London husband!--Horns
hath he, but, tame as a fatted ox, he goreth not. I should like to see
her when she hath exchanged her mask and riding-beaver for her peaked
hat and muffler. We will visit them at Paul's Wharf, coz--it will be a
convenient acquaintance."
"You had better think of catching the gipsy thief, Lutin," said Richie
Moniplies; "for, by my faith, he is off with his master's baggage and
the siller."
A keeper, with his assistants, and several other persons, had now come
to the spot, and made hue and cry after Lutin, but in vain. To their
custody the Templars surrendered the dead bodies, and after going
through some formal investigation, they returned, with Richard and
Vincent, to London, where they received great applause for their
gallantry.--Vincent's errors were easily expiated, in consideration of
his having been the means of breaking up this band of villains; and
there is some reason to think, that what would have diminished the
credit of the action in other instances, rather added to it in the
actual circumstances, namely, that they came too late to save Lord
Dalgarno.
George Heriot, who suspected how matters stood with Vincent, requested
and obtained permission from his master to send the poor young fellow
on an important piece of business to Paris. We are unable to trace his
fate farther, but believe it was prosperous, and that he entered into
an advantageous partnership with his fellow-apprentice, upon old Davy
Ramsay retiring from business, in consequence of his daughter's
marriage. That eminent antiquary, Dr. Dryasdust, is possessed of an
antique watch, with a silver dial-plate, the mainspring being a piece
of catgut instead of a chain, which bears the names of Vincent and
Tunstall, Memory-Monitors.
Master Lowestoffe failed not to vindicate his character as a man of
gaiety, by inquiring after John Christie and Dame Nelly; but greatly
to his surprise, (indeed to his loss, for he had wagered ten pieces
that he would domesticate himself in the family,) he found the good-
will, as it was called, of the shop, was sold, the stock auctioned,
and the late proprietor and his wife gone, no one knew whither. The
prevailing belief was, that they had emigrated to one of the new
settlements in America.
Lady Dalgarno received the news of her unworthy husband's death with a
variety of emotions, among which, horror that he should have been cut
off in the middle career of his profligacy, was the most prominent.
The incident greatly deepened her melancholy, and injured her health,
already shaken by previous circumstances. Repossessed of her own
fortune by her husband's death, she was anxious to do justice to Lord
Glenvarloch, by treating for the recovery of the mortgage.
But the scrivener, having taken fright at the late events, had left
the city and absconded, so that it was impossible to discover into
whose hands the papers had now passed. Richard Moniplies was silent,
for his own reasons; the Templars, who had witnessed the transaction,
kept the secret at his request, and it was universally believed that
the scrivener had carried off the writings along with him. We may here
observe, that fears similar to those of Skurliewhitter freed London
for ever from the presence of Dame Suddlechop, who ended her career in
the _Rasp-haus_, (viz. Bridewell,) of Amsterdam.
The stout old Lord Huntinglen, with a haughty carriage and unmoistened
eye, accompanied the funeral procession of his only son to its last
abode; and perhaps the single tear which fell at length upon the
coffin, was given less to the fate of the individual, than to the
extinction of the last male of his ancient race.
CHAPTER XXXVII
_Jacques_. There is, suie, another flood toward, and these couples are
coming to the ark!--Here comes a pair of very strange beasts.--_As You
Like It_.
The fashion of such narratives as the present, changes like other
earthly things. Time was that the tale-teller was obliged to wind up
his story by a circumstantial description of the wedding, bedding, and
throwing the stocking, as the grand catastrophe to which, through so
many circumstances of doubt and difficulty, he had at length happily
conducted his hero and heroine. Not a circumstance was then omitted,
from the manly ardour of the bridegroom, and the modest blushes of the
bride, to the parson's new surplice, and the silk tabinet mantua of
the bridesmaid. But such descriptions are now discarded, for the same
reason, I suppose, that public marriages are no longer fashionable,
and that, instead of calling together their friends to a feast and a
dance, the happy couple elope in a solitary post-chaise, as secretly
as if they meant to go to Gretna-Green, or to do worse. I am not
ungrateful for a change which saves an author the trouble of
attempting in vain to give a new colour to the commonplace description
of such matters; but, notwithstanding, I find myself forced upon it in
the present instance, as circumstances sometimes compel a stranger to
make use of an old road which has been for some time shut up. The
experienced reader may have already remarked, that the last chapter
was employed in sweeping out of the way all the unnecessary and less
interesting characters, that I might clear the floor for a blithe
bridal.
In truth, it would be unpardonable to pass over slightly what so
deeply interested our principal personage, King James. That learned
and good-humoured monarch made no great figure in the politics of
Europe; but then, to make amends, he was prodigiously busy, when he
could find a fair opportunity of intermeddling with the private
affairs of his loving subjects, and the approaching marriage of Lord
Glenvarloch was matter of great interest to him. He had been much
struck (that is, for him, who was not very accessible to such
emotions) with the beauty and embarrassment of the pretty Peg-a-
Ramsay, as he called her, when he first saw her, and he glorified
himself greatly on the acuteness which he had displayed in detecting
her disguise, and in carrying through the whole inquiry which took
place in consequence of it.
He laboured for several weeks, while the courtship was in progress,
with his own royal eyes, so as wellnigh to wear out, he declared, a
pair of her father's best barnacles, in searching through old books
and documents, for the purpose of establishing the bride's pretensions
to a noble, though remote descent, and thereby remove the only
objection which envy might conceive against the match. In his own
opinion, at least, he was eminently successful; for, when Sir Mungo
Malagrowther one day, in the presence-chamber, took upon him to grieve
bitterly for the bride's lack of pedigree, the monarch cut him short
with, "Ye may save your grief for your ain next occasions, Sir Mungo;
for, by our royal saul, we will uphauld her father, Davy Ramsay, to be
a gentleman of nine descents, whase great gudesire came of the auld
martial stock of the House of Dalwolsey, than whom better men never
did, and better never will, draw sword for king and country. Heard ye
never of Sir William Ramsay of Dalwolsey, man, of whom John Fordoun
saith,--'He was _bellicosissimus, nobilissimus?_'--His castle stands
to witness for itsell, not three miles from Dalkeith, man, and within
a mile of Bannockrig. Davy Ramsay came of that auld and honoured
stock, and I trust he hath not derogated from his ancestors by his
present craft. They all wrought wi' steel, man; only the auld knights
drilled holes wi' their swords in their enemies' corslets, and he saws
nicks in his brass wheels. And I hope it is as honourable to give eyes
to the blind as to slash them out of the head of those that see, and
to show us how to value our time as it passes, as to fling it away in
drinking, brawling, spear-splintering, and such-like unchristian
doings. And you maun understand, that Davy Ramsay is no mechanic, but
follows a liberal art, which approacheth almost to the act of creating
a living being, seeing it may be said of a watch, as Claudius saith of
the sphere of Archimedes, the Syracusan--
"Inclusus variis famulatur spiritus astris,
Et vivum certis motibus urget opus.'"
"Your Majesty had best give auld Davy a coat-of-arms, as well as a
pedigree," said Sir Mungo.
"It's done, or ye bade, Sir Mungo," said the king; "and I trust we,
who are the fountain of all earthly honour, are free to spirit a few
drops of it on one so near our person, without offence to the Knight
of Castle Girnigo. We have already spoken with the learned men of the
Herald's College, and we propose to grant him an augmented coat-of-
arms, being his paternal coat, charged with the crown-wheel of a watch
in chief, for a difference; and we purpose to add Time and Eternity,
for supporters, as soon as the Garter King-at-Arms shall be able to
devise how Eternity is to be represented."
"I would make him twice as muckle as Time," [Footnote: Chaucer says,
there is nothing new but what it has been old. The reader has here the
original of an anecdote which has since been fathered on a Scottish
Chief of our own time.] said Archie Armstrong, the Court fool, who
chanced to be present when the king stated this dilemma. "Peace, man--
ye shall be whippet," said the king, in return for this hint; "and
you, my liege subjects of England, may weel take a hint from what we
have said, and not be in such a hurry to laugh at our Scottish
pedigrees, though they be somewhat long derived, and difficult to be
deduced. Ye see that a man of right gentle blood may, for a season,
lay by his gentry, and yet ken whare to find it, when he has occasion
for it. It would be as unseemly for a packman, or pedlar, as ye call a
travelling merchant, whilk is a trade to which our native subjects of
Scotland are specially addicted, to be blazing his genealogy in the
faces of those to whom he sells a bawbee's worth of ribbon, as it
would be to him to have a beaver on his head, and a rapier by his
side, when the pack was on his shoulders. Na, na--he hings his sword
on the cleek, lays his beaver on the shelf, puts his pedigree into his
pocket, and gangs as doucely and cannily about his peddling craft as
if his blood was nae better than ditch-water; but let our pedlar be
transformed, as I have kend it happen mair than ance, into a bein
thriving merchant, then ye shall have a transformation, my lords.
'In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas--'
Out he pulls his pedigree, on he buckles his sword, gives his beaver a
brush, and cocks it in the face of all creation. We mention these
things at the mair length, because we would have you all to know, that
it is not without due consideration of the circumstances of all
parties, that we design, in a small and private way, to honour with
our own royal presence the marriage of Lord Glenvarloch with Margaret
Ramsay, daughter and heiress of David Ramsay, our horologer, and a
cadet only thrice removed from the ancient house of Dalwolsey. We are
grieved we cannot have the presence of the noble Chief of that House
at the ceremony; but where there is honour to be won abroad the Lord
Dalwolsey is seldom to be found at home. _Sic fuit, est, et erit_.-
Jingling Geordie, as ye stand to the cost of the marriage feast, we
look for good cheer."
Heriot bowed, as in duty bound. In fact, the king, who was a great
politician about trifles, had manoeuvred greatly on this occasion, and
had contrived to get the Prince and Buckingham dispatched on an
expedition to Newmarket, in order that he might find an opportunity in
their absence of indulging himself in his own gossiping, _coshering_
habits, which were distasteful to Charles, whose temper inclined to
formality, and with which even the favourite, of late, had not thought
it worth while to seem to sympathise. When the levee was dismissed,
Sir Mungo Malagrowther seized upon the worthy citizen in the court-
yard of the Palace, and detained him, in spite of all his efforts, for
the purpose of subjecting him to the following scrutiny:--
"This is a sair job on you, Master George--the king must have had
little consideration--this will cost you a bonny penny, this wedding
dinner?"
"It will not break me, Sir Mungo," answered Heriot; "the king hath a
right to see the table which his bounty hath supplied for years, well
covered for a single day."
"Vera true, vera true--we'll have a' to pay, I doubt, less or mair--a
sort of penny-wedding it will prove, where all men contribute to the
young folk's maintenance, that they may not have just four bare legs
in a bed together. What do you propose to give, Master George?--we
begin with the city when money is in question." [Footnote: The penny-
wedding of the Scots, now disused even among the lowest ranks, was a
peculiar species of merry-making, at which, if the wedded pair were
popular, the guests who convened, contributed considerable sums under
pretence of paying for the bridal festivity, but in reality to set the
married folk afloat in the world.]
"Only a trifle, Sir Mungo--I give my god-daughter the marriage ring;
it is a curious jewel--I bought it in Italy; it belonged to Cosmo de
Medici. The bride will not need my help--she has an estate which
belonged to her maternal grandfather."
"The auld soap-boiler," said Sir Mungo; "it will need some of his suds
to scour the blot out of the Glenvarloch shield--I have heard that
estate was no great things."
"It is as good as some posts at Court, Sir Mungo, which are coveted by
persons of high quality," replied George Heriot.
"Court favour, said ye? Court favour, Master Heriot?" replied Sir
Mungo, choosing then to use his malady of misapprehension; "Moonshine
in water, poor thing, if that is all she is to be tochered with--I am
truly solicitous about them."
"I will let you into a secret," said the citizen, "which will relieve
your tender anxiety. The dowager Lady Dalgarno gives a competent
fortune to the bride, and settles the rest of her estate upon her
nephew the bridegroom."
"Ay, say ye sae?" said Sir Mungo, "just to show her regard to her
husband that is in the tomb--lucky that her nephew did not send him
there; it was a strange story that death of poor Lord Dalgarno--some
folk think the poor gentleman had much wrong. Little good comes of
marrying the daughter of the house you are at feud with; indeed, it
was less poor Dalgarno's fault, than theirs that forced the match on
him; but I am glad the young folk are to have something to live on,
come how it like, whether by charity or inheritance. But if the Lady
Dalgarno were to sell all she has, even to her very wylie-coat, she
canna gie them back the fair Castle of Glenvarloch--that is lost and
gane--lost and gane."
"It is but too true," said George Heriot; "we cannot discover what has
become of the villain Andrew Skurliewhitter, or what Lord Dalgarno has
done with the mortgage."
"Assigned it away to some one, that his wife might not get it after he
was gane; it would have disturbed him in his grave, to think
Glenvarloch should get that land back again," said Sir Mungo; "depend
on it, he will have ta'en sure measures to keep that noble lordship
out of her grips or her nevoy's either."
"Indeed it is but too probable, Sir Mungo," said Master Heriot; "but
as I am obliged to go and look after many things in consequence of
this ceremony, I must leave you to comfort yourself with the
reflection."
"The bride-day, you say, is to be on the thirtieth of the instant
month?" said Sir Mungo, holloing after the citizen; "I will be with
you in the hour of cause."
"The king invites the guests," said George Heriot, without turning
back.
"The base-born, ill-bred mechanic!" soliloquised Sir Mungo, "if it
were not the odd score of pounds he lent me last week, I would teach
him how to bear himself to a man of quality! But I will be at the
bridal banquet in spite of him."
Sir Mungo contrived to get invited, or commanded, to attend on the
bridal accordingly, at which there were but few persons present; for
James, on such occasions, preferred a snug privacy, which gave him
liberty to lay aside the encumbrance, as he felt it to be, of his
regal dignity. The company was very small, and indeed there were at
least two persons absent whose presence might have been expected. The
first of these was the Lady Dalgarno, the state of whose health, as
well as the recent death of her husband, precluded her attendance on
the ceremony. The other absentee was Richie Moniplies, whose conduct
for some time past had been extremely mysterious. Regulating his
attendance on Lord Glenvarloch entirely according to his own will and
pleasure, he had, ever since the rencounter in Enfield Chase, appeared
regularly at his bedside in the morning, to assist him to dress, and
at his wardrobe in the evening. The rest of the day he disposed of at
his own pleasure, without control from his lord, who had now a
complete establishment of attendants. Yet he was somewhat curious to
know how the fellow disposed of so much of his time; but on this
subject Richie showed no desire to be communicative.
On the morning of the bridal-day, Richie was particularly attentive in
doing all a valet-de-chambre could, so as to set off to advantage the
very handsome figure of his master; and when he had arranged his dress
to the utmost exactness, and put to his long curled locks what he
called "the finishing touch of the redding-kaim," he gravely kneeled
down, kissed his hand, and bade him farewell, saying that he humbly
craved leave to discharge himself of his lordship's service.
"Why, what humour is this?" said Lord Glenvarloch; "if you mean to
discharge yourself of my service, Richie, I suppose you intend to
enter my wife's?"
"I wish her good ladyship that shall soon be, and your good lordship,
the blessings of as good a servant as myself, in heaven's good time,"
said Richie; "but fate hath so ordained it, that I can henceforth only
be your servant in the way of friendly courtesy."
"Well, Richie," said the young lord, "if you are tired of service, we
will seek some better provision for you; but you will wait on me to
the church, and partake of the bridal dinner?"
"Under favour, my lord," answered Richie; "I must remind you of our
covenant, having presently some pressing business of mine own, whilk
will detain me during the ceremony; but I will not fail to prie Master
George's good cheer, in respect he has made very costly fare, whilk it
would be unthankful not to partake of."
"Do as you list," answered Lord Glenvarloch; and having bestowed a
passing thought on the whimsical and pragmatical disposition of his
follower, he dismissed the subject for others better suited to the
day.
The reader must fancy the scattered flowers which strewed the path of
the happy couple to church--the loud music which accompanied the
procession--the marriage service performed by a bishop--the king, who
met them at Saint Paul's, giving away the bride,--to the great relief
of her father, who had thus time, during the ceremony, to calculate
the just quotient to be laid on the pinion of report in a timepiece
which he was then putting together.
When the ceremony was finished, the company were transported in the
royal carriages to George Heriot's, where a splendid collation was
provided for the marriage-guests in the Foljambe apartments. The king
no sooner found himself in this snug retreat, than, casting from him
his sword and belt with such haste as if they burnt his fingers, and
flinging his plumed hat on the table, as who should say, Lie there,
authority! he swallowed a hearty cup of wine to the happiness of the
married couple, and began to amble about the room, mumping, laughing,
and cracking jests, neither the wittiest nor the most delicate, but
accompanied and applauded by shouts of his own mirth, in order to
encourage that of the company. Whilst his Majesty was in the midst of
this gay humour, and a call to the banquet was anxiously expected, a
servant whispered Master Heriot forth of the apartment. When he re-
entered, he walked up to the king, and, in his turn whispered
something, at which James started.
"He is not wanting his siller?" said the king, shortly and sharply.
"By no means, my liege," answered Heriot. "It is a subject he states
himself as quite indifferent about, so long as it can pleasure your
Majesty."
"Body of us, man!" said the king, "it is the speech of a true man and
a loving subject, and we will grace him accordingly--what though he be
but a carle--a twopenny cat may look at a king. Swith, man! have him--
_pundite fores_.--Moniplies?--They should have called the chield
Monypennies, though I sall warrant you English think we have not such
a name in Scotland."
"It is an ancient and honourable stock, the Monypennies," said Sir
Mungo Malagrowther; "the only loss is, there are sae few of the name."
"The family seems to increase among your countrymen, Sir Mungo," said
Master Lowestoffe, whom Lord Glenvarloch had invited to be present,
"since his Majesty's happy accession brought so many of you here."
"Right, sir--right," said Sir Mungo, nodding and looking at George
Heriot; "there have some of ourselves been the better of that great
blessing to the English nation."
As he spoke, the door flew open, and in entered, to the astonishment
of Lord Glenvarloch, his late serving-man Richie Moniplies, now
sumptuously, nay, gorgeously, attired in a superb brocaded suit, and
leading in his hand the tall, thin, withered, somewhat distorted form
of Martha Trapbois, arrayed in a complete dress of black velvet, which
suited so strangely with the pallid and severe melancholy of her
countenance, that the king himself exclaimed, in some perturbation,
"What the deil has the fallow brought us here? Body of our regal
selves! it is a corpse that has run off with the mort-cloth!"
"May I sifflicate your Majesty to be gracious unto her?" said Richie;
"being that she is, in respect of this morning's wark, my ain wedded
wife, Mrs. Martha Moniplies by name."
"Saul of our body, man! but she looks wondrous grim," answered King
James. "Art thou sure she has not been in her time maid of honour to
Queen Mary, our kinswoman, of redhot memory?"
"I am sure, an it like your Majesty, that she has brought me fifty
thousand pounds of good siller, and better; and that has enabled me to
pleasure your Majesty, and other folk."
"Ye need have said naething about that, man," said the king; "we ken
our obligations in that sma' matter, and we are glad this rudas spouse
of thine hath bestowed her treasure on ane wha kens to put it to the
profit of his king and country.--But how the deil did ye come by her,
man?"
"In the auld Scottish fashion, my liege. She is the captive of my bow
and my spear," answered Moniplies. "There was a convention that she
should wed me when I avenged her father's death--so I slew, and took
possession."
"It is the daughter of Old Trapbois, who has been missed so long,"
said Lowestoffe.--"Where the devil could you mew her up so closely,
friend Richie?"
"Master Richard, if it be your will," answered Richie; "or Master
Richard Moniplies, if you like it better. For mewing of her up, I
found her a shelter, in all honour and safety, under the roof of an
honest countryman of my own--and for secrecy, it was a point of
prudence, when wantons like you were abroad, Master Lowestoffe."
There was a laugh at Richie's magnanimous reply, on the part of every
one but his bride, who made to him a signal of impatience, and said,
with her usual brevity and sternness,--"Peace--peace, I pray you,
peace. Let us do that which we came for." So saying, she took out a
bundle of parchments, and delivering them to Lord Glenvarloch, she
said aloud,--"I take this royal presence, and all here, to witness,
that I restore the ransomed lordship of Glenvarloch to the right
owner, as free as ever it was held by any of his ancestors."
"I witnessed the redemption of the mortgage," said Lowestoffe; "but I
little dreamt by whom it had been redeemed."
"No need ye should," said Richie; "there would have been small wisdom
in crying roast-meat."
"Peace," said his bride, "once more.--This paper," she continued,
delivering another to Lord Glenvarloch, "is also your property--take
it, but spare me the question how it came into my custody."
The king had bustled forward beside Lord Glenvarloch, and fixing an
eager eye on the writing, exclaimed--"Body of ourselves, it is our
royal sign-manual for the money which was so long out of sight!--How
came you by it, Mistress Bride?"
"It is a secret," said Martha, dryly.
"A secret which my tongue shall never utter," said Richie,
resolutely,--"unless the king commands me on my allegiance."
"I do--I do command you," said James, trembling and stammering with
the impatient curiosity of a gossip; while Sir Mungo, with more
malicious anxiety to get at the bottom of the mystery, stooped his
long thin form forward like a bent fishing-rod, raised his thin grey
locks from his ear, and curved his hand behind it to collect every
vibration of the expected intelligence. Martha in the meantime frowned
most ominously on Richie, who went on undauntedly to inform the king,
"that his deceased father-in-law, a good careful man in the main, had
a' touch of worldly wisdom about him, that at times marred the
uprightness of his walk; he liked to dabble among his neighbour's
gear, and some of it would at times stick to his fingers in the
handling."
"For shame, man, for shame!" said Martha; "since the infamy of the
deed must be told, be it at least briefly.--Yes, my lord," she added,
addressing Glenvarloch, "the piece of gold was not the sole bait which
brought the miserable old man to your chamber that dreadful night--his
object, and he accomplished it, was to purloin this paper. The
wretched scrivener was with him that morning, and, I doubt not, urged
the doting old man to this villainy, to offer another bar to the
ransom of your estate. If there was a yet more powerful agent at the
bottom of this conspiracy, God forgive it to him at this moment, for
he is now where the crime must be answered!"
"Amen!" said Lord Glenvarloch, and it was echoed by all present.
"For my father," continued she, with her stern features twitched by an
involuntary and convulsive movement, "his guilt and folly cost him his
life; and my belief is constant, that the wretch, who counselled him
that morning to purloin the paper, left open the window for the
entrance of the murderers."
Every body was silent for an instant; the king was first to speak,
commanding search instantly to be made for the guilty scrivener. "_I,
lictor,_" he concluded, "_colliga manus--caput obnubito-infelici
suspendite arbori_."
Lowestoffe answered with due respect, that the scrivener had absconded
at the time of Lord Dalgarno's murder, and had not been heard of
since.
"Let him be sought for," said the king. "And now let us change the
discourse--these stories make one's very blood grew, and are
altogether unfit for bridal festivity. Hymen, O Hymenee!" added he,
snapping his fingers, "Lord Glenvarloch, what say you to Mistress
Moniplies, this bonny bride, that has brought you back your father's
estate on your bridal day?"
"Let him say nothing, my liege," said Martha; "that will best suit his
feelings and mine."
"There is redemption-money, at the least, to be repaid," said Lord
Glenvarloch; "in that I cannot remain debtor."
"We will speak of it hereafter," said Martha; "_my_ debtor _you_
cannot be." And she shut her mouth as if determined to say nothing
more on the subject.
Sir Mungo, however, resolved not to part with the topic, and availing
himself of the freedom of the moment, said to Richie--"A queer story
that of your father-in-law, honest man; methinks your bride thanked
you little for ripping it up."
"I make it a rule, Sir Mungo," replied Richie, "always to speak any
evil I know about my family myself, having observed, that if I do not,
it is sure to be told by ither folks."
"But, Richie," said Sir Mungo, "it seems to me that this bride of
yours is like to be master and mair in the conjugal state."
"If she abides by words, Sir Mungo," answered Richie, "I thank heaven
I can be as deaf as any one; and if she comes to dunts, I have twa
hands to paik her with."
"Weel said, Richie, again," said the king; "you have gotten it on
baith haffits, Sir Mungo.--Troth, Mistress Bride, for a fule, your
gudeman has a pretty turn of wit."
"There are fools, sire," replied she, "who have wit, and fools who
have courage--aye, and fools who have learning, and are great fools
notwithstanding.--I chose this man because he was my protector when I
was desolate, and neither for his wit nor his wisdom. He is truly
honest, and has a heart and hand that make amends for some folly.
Since I was condemned to seek a protector through the world, which is
to me a wilderness, I may thank God that I have come by no worse."
"And that is sae sensibly said," replied the king, "that, by my saul,
I'll try whether I canna make him better. Kneel down, Richie--somebody
lend me a rapier--yours, Mr. Langstaff, (that's a brave name for a
lawyer,)--ye need not flash it out that gate, Templar fashion, as if
ye were about to pink a bailiff!"
He took the drawn sword, and with averted eyes, for it was a sight he
loved not to look on, endeavoured to lay it on Richie's shoulder, but
nearly stuck it into his eye. Richie, starting back, attempted to
rise, but was held down by Lowestoffe, while Sir Mungo, guiding the
royal weapon, the honour-bestowing blow was given and received:
"_Surge, carnifex_--Rise up, Sir Richard Moniplies, of Castle-Collop!-
-And, my lords and lieges, let us all to our dinner, for the cock-a-
leekie is cooling."
NOTES
Note I. p. l4.--DAVID RAMSAY
David Ramsay, watchmaker and horologer to James I., was a real person,
though the author has taken the liberty of pressing him into the
service of fiction. Although his profession led him to cultivate the
exact sciences, like many at this period he mingled them with pursuits
which were mystical and fantastic. The truth was, that the boundaries
between truth and falsehood in mathematics, astronomy, and similar
pursuits, were not exactly known, and there existed a sort of _terra
incognita_ between them, in which the wisest men bewildered
themselves. David Ramsay risked his money on the success of the
vaticinations which his researches led him to form, since he sold
clocks and watches under condition, that their value should not become
payable till King James was crowned in the Pope's chair at Rome. Such
wagers were common in that day, as may be seen by looking at Jonson's
Every Man out of his Humour.
David Ramsay was also an actor in another singular scene, in which the
notorious astrologer Lilly was a performer, and had no small
expectation on the occasion, since he brought with him a half-quartern
sack to put the treasure in.
"David Ramsay, his Majesty's clock-maker, had been informed that there
was a great quantity of treasure buried in the cloister of Westminster
Abbey. He acquaints Dean Withnam therewith, who was also then Bishop
of Lincoln. The Dean gave him liberty to search after it, with this
proviso, that if any was discovered, his church should have a share of
it. Davy Ramsay finds out one John Scott, who pretended the use of the
Mosaical rods, to assist him herein. [Footnote: The same now called, I
believe, the Divining Rod, and applied to the discovery of water not
obvious to the eye.] I was desired to join with him, unto which I
consented. One winter's night, Davy Ramsay, with several gentlemen,
myself, and Scott, entered the cloisters. We played the hazel rods
round about the cloisters. Upon the west end of the cloisters the rods
turned one over another, an argument that the treasure was there. The
labourers digged at least six feet deep, and then we met with a
coffin; but which, in regard it was not heavy, we did not open, which
we afterwards much repented.
"From the cloisters we went into the abbey church, where, upon a
sudden, (there being no wind when we began,) so fierce and so high, so
blustering and loud a wind did rise, that we verily believed the west
end of the church would have fallen upon us. Our rods would not move
at all; the candles and torches, also, but one were extinguished, or
burned very dimly. John Scott, my partner, was amazed, looked pale,
knew not what to think or do, until I gave directions and command to
dismiss the demons; which, when done, all was quiet again, and each
man returned unto his lodging late, about twelve o'clock at night. I
could never since be induced to join with any such like actions.
"The true miscarriage of the business was by reason of so many people
being present at the operation; for there was about thirty, some
laughing, others deriding us; so that, if we had not dismissed the
demons, I believe most part of the abbey church would have been blown
down. Secrecy and intelligent operators, with a strong confidence and
knowledge of what they are doing, are best for the work."--LILLY'S
_Life and Times_, p. 46.
David Ramsay had a son called William Ramsay, who appears to have
possessed all his father's credulity. He became an astrologer, and in
1651-2 published "_Vox Stellarum_, an Introduction to the Judgment of
Eclipses and the Annual Revolutions of the World." The edition of 1652
is inscribed, to his father. It would appear, as indeed it might be
argued from his mode of disposing of his goods, that the old horologer
had omitted to make hay while the sun shone; for his son, in his
dedication, has this exception to the paternal virtues, "It's true
your carelessness in laying up while the sun shone for the tempests of
a stormy day, hath given occasion to some inferior spirited people not
to value you according to what you are by nature and in yourself, for
such look not to a man longer than he is in prosperity, esteeming none
but for their wealth, not wisdom, power, nor virtue." From these
expressions, it is to be apprehended that while old David Ramsay, a
follower of the Stewarts, sunk under the Parliamentary government, his
son, William, had advanced from being a dupe to astrology to the
dignity of being himself a cheat.
Note II. p. 27.-GEORGE HERIOT
This excellent person was but little known by his actions when alive,
but we may well use, in this particular, the striking phrase of
Scripture, "that being dead he yet speaketh." We have already
mentioned, in the Introduction, the splendid charity of which he was
the founder; the few notices of his personal history are slight and
meagre.
George Heriot was born at Trabroun, in the parish of Gladsmuir; he was
the eldest son of a goldsmith in Edinburgh, descended from a family of
some consequence in East Lothian. His father enjoyed the confidence of
his fellow-citizens, and was their representative in Parliament. He
was, besides, one of the deputies sent by the inhabitants of the city
to propitiate the King, when he had left Edinburgh abruptly, after the
riot of 17th December, 1596.
George Heriot, the son, pursued his father's occupation of a
goldsmith, then peculiarly lucrative, and much connected with that of
a money-broker. He enjoyed the favour and protection of James, and of
his consort, Anne of Denmark. He married, for his first wife, a maiden
of his own rank, named Christian Marjoribanks, daughter of a
respectable burgess. This was in 1586. He was afterwards named
jeweller to the Queen, whose account to him for a space of ten years
amounted to nearly L40,000. George Heriot, having lost his wife,
connected himself with the distinguished house of Rosebery, by
marrying a daughter of James Primrose, Clerk to the Privy Council. Of
this lady he was deprived by her dying in child-birth in 1612, before
attaining her twenty-first year. After a life spent in honourable and
successful industry, George Heriot died in London, to which city he
had followed his royal master, on the 12th February, 1624, at the age
of sixty-one years. His picture, (copied by Scougal from a lost
original,) in which he is represented in the prime of life, is thus
described: "His fair hair, which overshades the thoughtful brow and
calm calculating eye, with the cast of humour on the lower part of the
countenance, are all indicative of the genuine Scottish character, and
well distinguish a person fitted to move steadily and wisely through
the world, with a strength of resolution to ensure success, and a
disposition to enjoy it."--_Historical and Descriptive Account of
Heriot's Hospital, with a Memoir of the Founder, by Messrs James and
John Johnstone._ Edinburgh, 1827.
I may add, as every thing concerning George Heriot is interesting,
that his second wife, Alison Primrose, was interred in Saint Gregory's
Church, from the register of which parish the Rev. Mr. Barham, Rector,
has, in the kindest manner, sent me the following extract:--"Mrs.
Alison, the wife of Mr. George Heriot, gentleman, 2Oth April, 1612."
Saint Gregory's, before the Great Fire of London which consumed the
Cathedral, formed one of the towers of old Saint Paul's, and occupied
the space of ground now filled by Queen Anne's statue. In the south
aisle of the choir Mrs. Heriot reposed under a handsome monument,
bearing the following inscription:--
_"Sanctissimae et charissimae conjugi ALISONAE HERIOT, Jacobi
Primrosii, Regia Majestatis in Sanctiori Concilio Regni Scotia
Amanuensis, filiae, fernina omnibus turn animi turn corporis dotibus,
ac pio cultu instructissimae, maestissimus ipsius maritus GEORGIUS
HERIOT, ARMIGER, Regis, Reginae, Principum Henrici et Caroli
Gemmarius, bene merenti, non sine lachrymis, hoc Monumentum pie
posuit.
"Obiit Mensis Aprilis die 16, anno salutis 1612, aetatis 20, in ipso
flore juventae, et mihi, parentibus, et amicis tristissimum sui
desiderium reliquit.
Hic Alicia Primrosa
Jacet crudo abruta fato,
Intempestivas
Ut rosa pressa manus.
Nondum bisdenos
Annorum impleverat orbes,
Pulchra, pudica,
Patris delicium atque viri:
Quum gravida, heu! Nunquam
Mater, decessit, et inde
Cura dolorq: Patri,
Cura dolorq: viro.
Non sublata tamen
Tantum translata recessit;
Nunc Rosa prima Poli
Quae fuit antea soli."_
The loss of a young, beautiful, and amiable partner, at a period so
interesting, was the probable reason of her husband devoting his
fortune to a charitable institution. The epitaph occurs in Strype's
edition of _Stewe's Survey of London_, Book iii., page 228.
Note III. p. 39.--PROCLAMATION AGAINST THE SCOTS COMING TO ENGLAND
The English agreed in nothing more unanimously than in censuring James
on account of the beggarly rabble which not only attended the King at
his coming first out of Scotland, "but," says Osborne, "which, through
his whole reign, like a fluent spring, were found still crossing the
Tweed." Yet it is certain, from the number of proclamations published
by the Privy Council in Scotland, and bearing marks of the King's own
diction, that he was sensible of the whole inconveniences and
unpopularity attending the importunate crowd of disrespectable
suitors, and as desirous to get rid of them as his Southern subjects
could be. But it was in vain that his Majesty argued with his Scottish
subjects on the disrespect they were bringing on their native country
and sovereign, by causing the English to suppose there were no well-
nurtured or independent gentry in Scotland, they who presented
themselves being, in the opinion and conceit of all beholders, "but
idle rascals, and poor miserable bodies." It was even in vain that the
vessels which brought up this unwelcome cargo of petitioners were
threatened with fine and confiscation; the undaunted suitors continued
to press forward, and, as one of the proclamations says, many of them
under pretence of requiring payment of "auld debts due to them by the
King," which, it is observed with great _naivete_, "is, of all kinds
of importunity, most unpleasing to his Majesty." The expressions in
the text are selected from these curious proclamations.
NOTE IV. p. 59.--KING JAMES
The dress of this monarch, together with his personal appearance, is
thus described by a contemporary:--
"He was of a middle stature, more corpulent through [i.e. by means of]
his clothes than in his body, yet fat enough. His legs were very weak,
having had, as was thought, some foul play in his youth, or rather
before he was born, that he was not able to stand at seven years of
age. That weakness made him ever leaning on other men's shoulders. His
walk was even circular; his hands are in that walk ever fiddling
about----[a part of dress now laid aside]. He would make a great deal
too bold with God in his passion, both with cursing and swearing, and
a strain higher verging on blasphemy; but would, in his better temper,
say, he hoped God would not impute them as sins, and lay them to his
charge, seeing they proceeded from passion. He had need of great
assistance, rather than hope, that would daily make thus bold with
God."--DALZELL'S _Sketches of Scottish History _, p. 86.
NOTE V. p. 78.--SIR MUNGO MALAGROWTHER
It will perhaps be recognised by some of my countrymen, that the
caustic Scottish knight, as described in the preceding chapter,
borrowed some of his attributes from a most worthy and respectable
baronet, who was to be met with in Edinburgh society about twenty-five
or thirty years ago. It is not by any means to be inferred, that the
living person resembled the imaginary one in the course of life
ascribed to him, or in his personal attributes. But his fortune was
little adequate to his rank and the antiquity of his family; and, to
avenge himself of this disparity, the worthy baronet lost no
opportunity of making the more avowed sons of fortune feel the edge of
his satire. This he had the art of disguising under the personal
infirmity of deafness, and usually introduced his most severe things
by an affected mistake of what was said around him. For example, at a
public meeting of a certain county, this worthy gentleman had chosen
to display a laced coat, of such a pattern as had not been seen in
society for the better part of a century. The young men who were
present amused themselves with rallying him on his taste, when he
suddenly singled out one of the party:--"Auld d'ye think my coat--
auld-fashioned?--indeed it canna be new; but it was the wark of a braw
tailor, and that was your grandfather, who was at the head of the
trade in Edinburgh about the beginning of last century." Upon another
occasion, when this type of Sir Mungo Malagrowther happened to hear a
nobleman, the high chief of one of those Border clans who were accused
of paying very little attention in ancient times to the distinctions
of _Meum_ and _Tuum,_ addressing a gentleman of the same name, as if
conjecturing there should be some relationship between them, he
volunteered to ascertain the nature of the connexion by saying, that
the "chief's ancestors had _stolen_ the cows, and the other
gentleman's ancestors had _killed_ them,"--fame ascribing the origin
of the latter family to a butcher. It may be well imagined, that among
a people that have been always punctilious about genealogy, such a
person, who had a general acquaintance with all the flaws and specks
in the shields of the proud, the pretending, and the nouveaux riches,
must have had the same scope for amusement as a monkey in a china
shop.
Note VI. p. 98.--MRS. ANNE TURNER
Mrs. Anne Turner was a dame somewhat of the occupation of Mrs.
Suddlechop in the text; that is, half milliner half procuress, and
secret agent in all manner of proceedings. She was a trafficker in the
poisoning of Sir Thomas Overbury, for which so many subordinate agents
lost their lives, while, to the great scandal of justice, the Earl of
Somerset and his Countess were suffered to escape, upon a threat of
Somerset to make public some secret which nearly affected his master,
King James. Mrs. Turner introduced into England a French custom of
using yellow starch in getting up bands and cuffs, and, by Lord Coke's
orders, she appeared in that fashion at the place of execution. She
was the widow of a physician, and had been eminently beautiful, as
appears from the description of her in the poem called Overbury's
Vision. There was produced in court a parcel of dolls or puppets
belonging to this lady, some naked, some dressed, and which she used
for exhibiting fashions upon. But, greatly to the horror of the
spectators, who accounted these figures to be magical devices, there
was, on their being shown, "heard a crack from the scaffold, which
caused great fear, tumult, and confusion, among the spectators and
throughout the hall, every one fearing hurt, as if the devil had been
present, and grown angry to have his workmanship showed to such as
were not his own scholars." Compare this curious passage in the
History of King James for the First Fourteen Years, 1651, with the
Aulicus Coquinarius of Dr. Heylin. Both works are published in the
Secret History of King James.
Note VII. p. 110.--LORD HUNTINGLEN
The credit of having rescued James I. from the dagger of Alexander
Ruthven, is here fictitiously ascribed to an imaginary Lord
Huntinglen. In reality, as may be read in every history, his preserver
was John Ramsay, afterwards created Earl of Holderness, who stabbed
the younger Ruthven with his dagger while he was struggling with the
King. Sir Anthony Weldon informs us, that, upon the annual return of
the day, the King's deliverance was commemorated by an anniversary
feast. The time was the fifth of August, "upon which," proceeds the
satirical historian, "Sir John Ramsay, for his good service in that
preservation, was the principal guest, and so did the King grant him
any boon he would ask that day. But he had such limitation made to his
asking, as made his suit as unprofitable, as the action for which he
asked it for was unserviceable to the King."
Note VIII. p. 115.--BUCKINGHAM
Buckingham, who had a frankness in his high and irascible ambition,
was always ready to bid defiance to those by whom he was thwarted or
opposed. He aspired to be created Prince of Tipperary in Ireland, and
Lord High Constable of England. Coventry, then Lord Keeper, opposed
what seemed such an unreasonable extent of power as was annexed to the
office of Constable. On this opposition, according to Sir Anthony
Weldon, "the Duke peremptorily accosted Coventry, 'Who made you Lord
Keeper, Coventry?' He replied, 'The King.' Buckingham replied, 'It's
false; 'twas I did make you, and you shall know that I, who made you,
can, and will, unmake you.' Coventry thus answered him, 'Did I
conceive that I held my place by your favour, I would presently unmake
myself, by rendering up the seals to his Majesty.' Then Buckingham, in
a scorn and fury, flung from him, saying, 'You shall not keep it
long;' and surely, had not Felton prevented him, he had made good his
word."--WELDON'S _Court of King James and Charles._
Note IX. p. 134.--PAGES IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
About this time the ancient customs arising from the long prevalence
of chivalry, began to be grossly varied from the original purposes of
the institution. None was more remarkable than the change which took
place in the breeding and occupation of pages. This peculiar species
of menial originally consisted of youths of noble birth, who, that
they might be trained to the exercise of arms, were early removed from
their paternal homes, where too much indulgence might have been
expected, to be placed in the family of some prince or man of rank and
military renown, where they served, as it were, an apprenticeship to
the duties of chivalry and courtesy. Their education was severely
moral, and pursued with great strictness in respect to useful
exercises, and what were deemed elegant accomplishments. From being
pages, they were advanced to the next gradation of squires; from
squires, these candidates for the honours of knighthood were
frequently made knights.
But in the sixteenth century the page had become, in many instances, a
mere domestic, who sometimes, by the splendour of his address and
appearance, was expected to make up in show for the absence of a whole
band of retainers with swords and bucklers. We have Sir John's
authority when he cashiers part of his train.
"Falstaff will learn the humour of the age,
French thrift, you rogues, myself and skirted page."
Jonson, in a high tone of moral indignation, thus reprobated the
change. The Host of the New Inn replies to Lord Lovel, who asks to
have his son for a page, that he would, with his own hands hang him,
sooner
"Than damn him to this desperate course of life.
_LOVEL._ Call you that desperate, which, by a line
Of institution, from our ancestors
Hath been derived down to us, and received
In a succession, for the noblest way
Of brushing up our youth, in letters, arms,
Fair mien, discourses civil, exercise,
And all the blazon of a gentleman?
Where can he learn to vault, to ride, to fence,
To move his body gracefully, to speak
The language pure, or to turn his mind
Or manners more to the harmony of nature,
Than in these nurseries of nobility?
_HOST._ Ay, that was when the nursery's self was noble,
And only virtue made it, not the market,
That titles were not vended at the drum
And common outcry; goodness gave the greatness,
And greatness worship; every house became
An academy, and those parts
We see departed in the practice now
Quite from the institution.
_LOVEL._ Why do you say so,
Or think so enviously? do they not still
Learn us the Centaur's skill, the art of Thrace,
To ride? or Pollux' mystery, to fence?
The Pyrrhick gestures, both to stand and spring
In armour; to be active for the wars;
To study figures, numbers and proportions,
May yield them great in counsels and the art;
To make their English sweet upon their tongue?
As reverend Chaucer says.
_HOST._ Sir, you mistake;
To play Sir Pandarus, my copy hath it,
And carry messages to Madam Cressid;
Instead of backing the brave steed o'mornings.
To kiss the chambermaid, and for a leap
O' the vaulting horse, to ply the vaulting house;
For exercise of arms a bale of dice,
And two or three packs of cards to show the cheat
And nimbleness of hand; mistake a cloak
From my lord's back, and pawn it; ease his pockets
Of a superfluous watch, or geld a jewel
Of an odd stone or so; twinge three or four buttons
From off my lady's gown: These are the arts,
Or seven liberal deadly sciences,
Of pagery, or rather paganism,
As the tides run; to which, if he apply him,
He may, perhaps, take a degree at Tyburn,
A year the earlier come to read a lecture
Upon Aquinas, at Saint Thomas-a-Watering's
And so go forth a laureate in hemp-circle."
The New Inn, Act I.
Note X. p. 135.--LORD HENRY HOWARD
Lord Henry Howard was the second son of the poetical Earl of Surrey,
and possessed considerable parts and learning. He wrote, in the year
1583, a book called, _A Defensative against the Poison of supposed
Prophecies._ He gained the favour of Queen Elizabeth, by having, he
says, directed his battery against a sect of prophets and pretended
soothsayers, whom he accounted _infesti regibus,_ as he expresses it.
In the last years of the Queen, he became James's most ardent
partisan, and conducted with great pedantry, but much intrigue, the
correspondence betwixt the Scottish King and the younger Cecil. Upon
James's accession, he was created Earl of Northampton, and Lord Privy
Seal. According to De Beaumont the French Ambassador, Lord Henry
Howard, was one of the greatest flatterers and calumniators that ever
lived.
Note XI. p. 136.--SKIRMISHES IN THE PUBLIC STREETS
Edinburgh appears to have been one of the most disorderly towns in
Europe, during the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth century.
The Diary of the honest citizen Birrel, repeatedly records such
incidents as the following: "The 24 of November [1567], at two
afternoon, the Laird of Airth and the Laird of Weems met on the High
Gate of Edinburgh, and they and their followers fought a very bloody
skirmish, where there were many hurt on both sides with shot of
pistol." These skirmishes also took place in London itself. In
Shadwell's play of _The Scowrers,_ an old rake thus boasts of his
early exploits:--"I knew the Hectors, and before them the Muns, and
the Tityretu's; they were brave fellows indeed! In these days, a man
could not go from the Rose Garden to the Piazza once, but he must
venture his life twice, my dear Sir Willie." But it appears that the
affrays, which, in the Scottish capital, arose out of hereditary
quarrels and ancient feuds, were in London the growth of the
licentiousness and arrogance of young debauchees.
Note XII. p. 144.--FRENCH COOKERY
The exertion of French ingenuity mentioned in the text is noticed by
some authorities of the period; the siege of Leith was also
distinguished by the protracted obstinacy of the besieged, in which
was displayed all that the age possessed of defensive war, so that
Brantome records that those who witnessed this siege, had, from that
very circumstance, a degree of consequence yielded to their persons
and opinions. He tells a story of Strozzi himself, from which it
appears that his jests lay a good deal in the line of the cuisine. He
caused a mule to be stolen from one Brusquet, on whom he wished to
play a trick, and served up the flesh of that unclean animal so well
disguised, that it passed with Brusquet for venison.
Note XIII. p. 145.--CUCKOO'S NEST
The quarrel in this chapter between the pretended captain and the
citizen of London, is taken from a burlesque poem called The Counter
Scuffle, that is, the Scuffle in the Prison at Wood street, so called.
It is a piece of low humour, which had at the time very considerable
vogue. The prisoners, it seems, had fallen into a dispute amongst
themselves "which calling was of most repute," and a lawyer put in his
claim to be most highly considered. The man of war repelled his
pretence with much arrogance.
"'Wer't not for us, thou swad,' quoth he,
'Where wouldst thou fay to get a fee?
But to defend such things as thee
'Tis pity;
For such as you esteem us least,
Who ever have been ready prest
To guard you and your cuckoo's nest,
The City'"
The offence is no sooner given than it is caught up by a gallant
citizen, a goldsmith, named Ellis.
"'Of London city I am free,
And there I first my wife did see,
And for that very cause,' said he,
'I love it.
And he that calls it cuckoo's nest,
Except he say he speaks in jest,
He is a villain and a beast,--
'I'll prove it!
For though I am a man of trade,
And free of London city made,
Yet can I use gun, bill, and blade,
In battle.
And citizens, if need require,
Themselves can force the foe retire,
Whatever this low country squire
May prattle.'"
The dispute terminates in the scuffle, which is the subject of the
poem. The whole may be found in the second edition of Dryden's
_Miscellany,_ 12mo, vol. iii. 1716.
Note XIV. p. 150.--BURBAGE
Burbage, whom Camden terms another Roscius, was probably the original
representative of Richard III., and seems to have been early almost
identified with his prototype. Bishop Corbet, in his Iter Boreale,
tells us that mine host of Market Bosworth was full of ale and
history.
"Hear him, See you yon wood? there Richard lay
With his whole army; look the other way,
And lo, where Richmond, in a field of gorse,
Encamp'd himself in might and all his force.
Upon this hill they met. Why, he could tell
The inch where Richmond stood, where Richard fell;
Besides, what of his knowledge he could say,
He had authentic notice from the play,
Which I might guess by's mustering up the ghosts
And policies not incident to hosts;
But chiefly by that one perspicuous thing,
Where he mistook a player for a king,
For when he would have said, that Richard died,
And call'd, a horse! a horse! he Burbage cried."
RICHARD CORBET'S _Poems, Edition 1815,_ p. 193.
Note XV. p. 323.--MHIC-ALLASTAR-MORE
This is the Highland patronymic of the late gallant Chief of
Glengarry. The allusion in the text is to an unnecessary alarm taken
by some lady, at the ceremonial of the coronation of George IV., at
the sight of the pistols which the Chief wore as a part of his
Highland dress. The circumstance produced some confusion, which was
talked of at the time. All who knew Glengarry (and the author knew him
well) were aware that his principles were of devoted loyalty to the
person of his sovereign.
Note XVI. p. 323.--KING JAMES'S HUNTING BOTTLE
Roger Coke, in his Detection of the Court and State of England,
London, 1697, p.70, observes of James I., "The king was excessively
addicted to hunting, and drinking, not ordinary French and Spanish
wines, but strong Greek wines, and thought he would compound his
hunting with these wines; and to that purpose, he was attended by a
special officer, who was, as much as he could be, always at hand to
fill the King's cup in hunting when he called for it. I have heard my
father say, that, hunting with the King, after the King had drank of
the wine, he also drank of it; and though he was young, and of a
healthful disposition, it so deranged his head that it spoiled his
pleasure and disordered him for three days after. Whether it was from
drinking these wines, or from some other cause, the King became so
lazy and so unwieldy, that he was trussed on horseback, and as he was
set, so would he ride, without stirring himself in the saddle; nay,
when his hat was set upon his head he would not take the trouble to
alter it, but it sate as it was put on."
The trussing, for which the demipique saddle of the day afforded
particular facility, is alluded to in the text; and the author, among
other nickcnacks of antiquity, possesses a leathern flask, like those
carried by sportsmen, which is labelled, "King James's Hunting
Bottle," with what authenticity is uncertain. Coke seems to have
exaggerated the King's taste for the bottle. Welldon says James was
not intemperate in his drinking; "However, in his old age,
Buckingham's jovial suppers, when he had any turn to do with him, made
him sometimes overtaken, which he would the next day remember, and
repent with tears. It is true he drank very often, which was rather
out of a custom than any delight; and his drinks were of that kind for
strength, as Frontiniack, Canary, high country wine, tent wine, and
Scottish ale, that had he not had a very strong brain, he might have
been daily overtaken, though he seldom drank at any one time above
four spoonfuls, many times not above one or two."--_Secret History of
King James,_ vol. ii., p. 3. Edin. 1811.
Note XVII. p. 325.--SCENE IN GREENWICH PARK
I cannot here omit mentioning, that a painting of the old school is in
existence, having a remarkable resemblance to the scene described in
the foregoing chapter, although it be nevertheless true that the
similarity is in all respects casual, and that the author knew not of
the existence of the painting till it was sold, amongst others, with
the following description attached to it in a well-drawn-up catalogue:
"FREDERIGO ZUCCHERO
_"Scene as represented in the Fortunes of Nigel, by Frederigo
Zucchero, the King's painter._
"This extraordinary picture, which, independent of its pictorial
merit, has been esteemed a great literary curiosity, represents most
faithfully the meeting, in Greenwich Park, between King James and
Nigel Oliphaunt, as described in the Fortunes of Nigel, showing that
the author must have taken the anecdote from authenticated facts. In
the centre of the picture sits King James on horseback, very erect and
stiffly. Between the King and Prince Charles, who is on the left of
the picture, the Duke of Buckingham is represented riding a black
horse, and pointing eagerly towards the culprit, Nigel Olifaunt, who
is standing on the right side of the picture. He grasps with his right
hand a gun, or crossbow, and looks angrily towards the King, who seems
somewhat confused and alarmed. Behind Nigel, his servant is
restraining two dogs which are barking fiercely. Nigel and his servant
are both clothed in red, the livery of the Oliphaunt family in which,
to this day, the town-officers of Perth are clothed, there being an
old charter, granting to the Oliphaunt family, the privilege of
dressing the public officers of Perth in their livery. The Duke of
Buckingham is in all respects equal in magnificence of dress to the
King or the Prince. The only difference that is marked between him and
royalty is, that his head is uncovered. The King and the Prince wear
their hats. In Letitia Aikin's Memoirs of the Reign of King James,
will be found a letter from Sir Thomas Howard to Lord L. Harrington,
in which he recommends the latter to come to court, mentioning that
his Majesty has spoken favourably of him. He then proceeds to give him
some advice, by which he is likely to find favour in the King's eyes.
He tells him to wear a bushy ruff, well starched; and after various
other directions as to his dress, he concludes, 'but above all things
fail not to praise the roan jennet whereon the King doth daily ride.'
In this picture King James is represented on the identical roan
jennet. In the background of the picture are seen two or three
suspicious-looking figures, as if watching the success of some plot.
These may have been put in by the painter, to flatter the King, by
making it be supposed that he had actually escaped, or successfully
combated, some serious plot. The King is attended by a numerous band
of courtiers and attendants, all of whom seem moving forward to arrest
the defaulter. The painting of this picture is extremely good, but the
drawing is very Gothic, and there is no attempt at the keeping of
perspective. The picture is very dark and obscure, which considerably
adds to the interest of the scene."
Note XVIII. p. 325.--KING JAMES'S TIMIDITY
The fears of James for his personal safety were often excited without
serious grounds. On one occasion, having been induced to visit a coal-
pit on the coast of Fife, he was conducted a little way under the sea,
and brought to daylight again on a small island, or what was such at
full tide, down which a shaft had been sunk. James, who conceived his
life or liberty aimed at, when he found himself on an islet surrounded
by the sea, instead of admiring, as his cicerone hoped, the unexpected
change of scene, cried TREASON with all his might, and could not be
pacified till he was rowed ashore. At Lockmaben he took an equally
causeless alarm from a still slighter circumstance. Some vendisses, a
fish peculiar to the Loch, were presented to the royal table as a
delicacy; but the King, who was not familiar with their appearance,
concluded they were poisoned, and broke up the banquet "with most
admired disorder."
Note XIX. p. 328.--TRAITOR'S GATE
Traitor's Gate, which opens from the Tower of London to the Thames,
was, as its name implies, that by which persons accused of state
offences were conveyed to their prison. When the tide is making, and
the ancient gate is beheld from within the buildings, it used to be a
most striking part of the old fortress; but it is now much injured in
appearance, being half built up with masonry to support a steam-
engine, or something of that sort.
Note XX. p. 361.--PUNISHMENT OF STUBBS BY MUTILATION
This execution, which so captivated the imagination of Sir Mungo
Malagrowther, was really a striking one. The criminal, a furious and
bigoted Puritan, had published a book in very violent terms against
the match of Elizabeth with the Duke of Alencon, which he termed an
union of a daughter of God with a son of antichrist. Queen Elizabeth
was greatly incensed at the freedom assumed in this work, and caused
the author Stubbs, with Page the publisher, and one Singleton the
printer, to be tried on an act passed by Philip and Mary against the
writers and dispersers of seditious publications. They were convicted,
and although there was an opinion strongly entertained by the lawyers,
that the act was only temporary, and expired with Queen Mary, Stubbs
and Page received sentence to have their right hands struck off. They
accordingly suffered the punishment, the wrist being divided by a
cleaver driven through the joint by force of a mallet. The printer was
pardoned. "I remember," says the historian Camden, "being then
present, that Stubbs, when his right hand was cut off, plucked off his
hat with the left, and said, with a loud voice, 'God save the Queen!'
The multitude standing about was deeply silent, either out of horror
of this new and unwonted kind of punishment, or out of commiseration
towards the man, as being of an honest and unblamable repute, or else
out of hatred to the marriage, which most men presaged would be the
overthrow of religion."-CAMDBN'S _Annals for the Year_ 1581.
Note XXI. p. 375.--RlCHIE MONIPLIES BEHIND THE ARRAS
The practical jest of Richie Moniplies going behind the arras to get
an opportunity of teasing Heriot, was a pleasantry such as James might
be supposed to approve of. It was customary for those who knew his
humour to contrive jests of this kind for his amusement. The
celebrated Archie Armstrong, and another jester called Drummond,
mounted on other people's backs, used to charge each other like
knights in the tilt-yard, to the monarch's great amusement. The
following is an instance of the same kind, taken from Webster upon
Witchcraft. The author is speaking of the faculty called
ventriloquism.
But to make this more plain and certain, we shall add a story of a
notable impostor, or ventriloquist, from the testimony of Mr. Ady,
which we have had confirmed from the mouth of some courtiers, that
both saw and knew him, and is this:--It hath been (saith he) credibly
reported, that there was a man in the court of King James his days,
that could act this imposture so lively, that he could call the King
by name, and cause the King to look round about him, wondering who it
was that called him, whereas he that called him stood before him in
his presence, with his face towards him. But after this imposture was
known, the King, in his merriment, would sometimes take occasionally
this impostor to make sport upon some of his courtiers, as, for
instance:--
"There was a knight belonging to the court, whom the King caused to
come before him in his private room, (where no man was but the King,
and this knight and the impostor,) and feigned some occasion of
serious discourse with the knight; but when the King began to speak
and the knight bending his attention to the King, suddenly there came
a voice as out of another room, calling the knight by name, 'Sir John,
Sir John; come away, Sir John;' at which the knight began to frown
that any man should be unmannerly as to molest the King and him; and
still listening to the King's discourse, the voice came again, 'Sir
John, Sir John; come away and drink off your sack.' At that Sir John
began to swell with anger, and looked into the next room to see who it
was that dared to call him so importunately, and could not find out
who it was, and having chid with whomsoever he found, he returned
again to the King. The King had no sooner begun to speak as formerly,
but the voice came again, 'Sir John, come away, your sack stayeth for
you.' At that Sir John began to stamp with madness, and looked out and
returned several times to the King, but could not be quiet in his
discourse with the King, because of the voice that so often troubled
him, till the king had sported enough."--WEBSTER _on Witchcraft_, p.
124.
Note XXII. p. 393.--LADY LAKE.
Whether out of a meddling propensity common to all who have a
gossiping disposition, or from the love of justice, which ought to
make part of a prince's character, James was very fond of enquiring
personally into the causes _celebres_ which occurred during his reign.
In the imposture of the Boy of Bilson, who pretended to be possessed,
and of one Richard Haydock, a poor scholar, who pretended to preach
during his sleep, the King, to use the historian Wilson's expression,
took delight in sounding with the line of his understanding, the
depths of these brutish impositions, and in doing so, showed the
acuteness with which he was endowed by Nature. Lady Lake's story
consisted in a clamorous complaint against the Countess of Exeter,
whom she accused of a purpose to put to death Lady Lake herself, and
her daughter, Lady Ross, the wife of the Countess's own son-in-law,
Lord Ross; and a forged letter was produced, in which Lady Exeter was
made to acknowledge such a purpose. The account given of the occasion
of obtaining this letter, was, that it had been written by the
Countess at Wimbledon, in presence of Lady Lake and her daughter, Lady
Ross, being designed to procure their forgiveness for her mischievous
intention. The King remained still unsatisfied, the writing, in his
opinion, bearing some marks of forgery. Lady Lake and her daughter
then alleged, that, besides their own attestation, and that of a
confidential domestic, named Diego, in whose presence Lady Exeter had
written the confession, their story might also be supported by the
oath of their waiting-maid, who had been placed behind the hangings at
the time the letter was written, and heard the Countess of Exeter read
over the confession after she had signed it. Determined to be at the
bottom of this accusation, James, while hunting one day near
Wimbledon, the scene of the alleged confession, suddenly left his
sport, and, galloping hastily to Wimbledon, in order to examine
personally the room, discovered, from the size of the apartment, that
the alleged conversation could not have taken place in the manner
sworn to; and that the tapestry of the chamber, which had remained in
the same state for thirty years, was too short by two feet, and,
therefore, could not have concealed any one behind it. This matter was
accounted an exclusive discovery of the King by his own spirit of
shrewd investigation. The parties were punished in the Star Chamber by
fine and imprisonment.
_A,' all. BELDAM, ugly old woman.
ABYE, suffer for. BELIVE, by-and-by, presently.
ACCIDENS, grammar. BENEVOLENCES, taxes illegally
AIGRE, sour, ill-natured. exacted by the Kings of
AIN GATE, own way. England.
A' LEEVING, all living. BIDE, keep, remain.
AMBLE, a peculiar gait of a BIELDY BIT, sheltered spot.
horse, in which both legs on BIGGING, building.
one side are moved forward BILBOE, sword, rapier.
at the same time. BILLIES, brothers.
ANCE, once. BIRKIE, lively young fellow.
ANENT, concerning. BLACK-JACK, leathern drinking-
ANGEL, an ancient English gold cup.
coin, worth about 10s., and BLADES, dashing fellows, rakes.
bearing the figure of an angel. BLATE, modest, bashful.
ARRAS, tapestry. BLETHERING, foolish, silly.
AUGHT, owe. BLITHE, BLYTHE, glad.
AULD, old. BLUE-COATS, lackeys.
AULD REEKIE, Edinburgh, in BODDLE, a copper coin, value
allusion to its smoke. the sixth part of an English
AVISEMENT, counsel. penny.
AW, all. BODE, bid, offer.
AWMOUS, alms, a gift. BOOKIE, book.
BRAE, hill, hill-side. BANGED,
sprang, bounded.
BRAVE PIECE, fine thing.
BARNACLES, spectacles. BRAW, fine, handsome.
BARNS-BREAKING, idle frolics. BREAKING, kneading.
BAWBEE, halfpenny. BREEKS, breeches, trousers.
BAXTER, baker. BROCHES, kitchen spits.
BEAR-BANNOCKS, barley cakes. BROSE, pottage of mean and
BECKING, curtseying. water.
BECKS, nods. BROWNIE, domestic goblin.
BEECHEN BICKERS, dishes of BUCKET, cheat.
beechwood. BUNEMOST, uppermost.
BURROWS-TOWN, borough-town.
BUSS, kiss.
CALF-WARD, place where calves are kept in the field.
CALLAN, CALLANT, lad.
CANNILY, cautiously, skilfully.
CANNY, quiet.
CANTLE, crown of the head.
CARCANET, necklace.
CARLE, fellow.
CARLE-HEMPIE, the strongest stalk of hemp.
CARNIFEX, executioner.
CAUFF, chaff.
CAULDRIFE, chilly.
CA'T, call it.
CAUP, cup.
CAUSEY, pavement.
CERTIE, faith, in truth.
CHALMER, chamber.
CHANGE-HOUSE, roadside inn where horses are changed on a journey.
CHALK, slash.
CHAPPIT, struck.
CHEEK-BY-JOWL, CHEEK-BY-CHOWL, side by side.
CHEERY, dagger.
CHENZIE-MAIL, chain-mail.
CHIELD, fellow.
CHOPINES, high shoes or clogs.
CHUCKS, chuck-stones, as played by children.
CHUFFS, clowns, simpletons.
CLAITHING, clothing.
CLAPPED LOOFS, crossed palms.
CLATTER-TRAPS, rattle-traps.
CLAUGHT, snatched.
CLAVERING, idle talking.
CLEEK, hook.
CLEW, clue.
CLOOT, hoof.
CLOUR, blow.
CLOUTING, mending.
COCK-A-LEEKIE, COCK-A-LEEKY, leek soup in which a cock has been
boiled.
COIF, linen covering for the head.
COMPLOTS, plots, intrigues.
COMPT, list, account, particulars.
COMPTING-ROOM, counting-house.
COSHERING, being familiar and intimate.
COUP, barter.
COUP THE CRANS, go to wreck and ruin.
COUPIT, tumbled.
CRAIG, rock; also neck.
CRAP, creep.
CRAW'D SAE CROUSE, crowed so proudly.
CULLY, one easily deceived, a dupe.
CURN, grain.
CUSSER, stallion.
CUTTY-QUEAN, a loose woman.
DAFT, silly, mad.
DAIKERING, jogging or toiling along.
DANG, driven, knocked.
DEIL, devil.
DEUTEROSCOPY, a meaning beyond the original sense.
DIDNA, did not.
DIKE-LOUPER, a debauchee.
DIRDUM, uproar, tumult. DIRKED, stabbed with a dirk.
DONNERIT, stupefied.
DOOMS, very, absolutely.
DOUCE, quiet, respectable, sober.
DOVER, neither asleep nor awake.
DOWCOT, dove-cote.
DRAB, illicit sexual intercourse.
DRAFF, drains given to cows; also the wash given to pigs.
DRAFF-POKE, bag of grains.
DREDGING-BOX, a box with holes for sprinkling flour in cookery.
DROUTHY, thirsty.
DUD, rag.
DUKE OF EXETER'S DAUGHTER, a species of rack in the Tower of London.
DULE-WEEDS, mourning.
DUMMALAFONG, a common prey to all comers.
DUNTS, blows.
EARD, earth.
EEN, eyes.
ELRITCH, hideous.
ENOW, just now.
ENSAMPLE, example.
EVITED, avoided.
EXIES, hysterics.
FALCHION, a short broadsword with a slightly curved point.
FALSET, falsehood.
FAUSE, false.
FASH, trouble.
FASHIOUS, troublesome, annoying.
FENCE-LOUPER, rakish fellow.
FEBRIFUGE, a medicine to subdue a fever.
FIDUCIARY, trustee.
FLATCAPS, citizens, civilians.
FLEECHING, flattering.
FOOD FOR FAGGOTS, martyrs for their religious opinions.
FOOT-CLOTH, horse-cloth reaching almost to the ground.
FOUARTS, house-leeks.
FOULWART, pole-cat.
FRAE, from.
FRESCO, half-naked.
FULE, fool.
FULHAM, loaded dice.
GAGE, pledge, trust.
GANG A' AE GATE, go all one way.
GAR, make, force.
GARR'D, made, compelled.
GATE, way, road; also kind of.
GEAR, property.
GIFF-GAFF, give and take, tit for tat.
GIE THE GLAIKS, to befool, deceive.
GILLIE-WHITE-FOOT, running footman.
GILLRAVAGER, plunderer.
GIRNED, grinned.
GLAIKS, deception.
GLEED, awry, all wrong.
GOUD-COUK, fool.
GRAFFS, graves.
GRAMERCY, great thanks.
GRANDAM, old woman, grandmother.
GRAT, cried.
GREEN GEESE, parrots.
GREET, cry.
GREW, shudder.
GRIPS, handshakings, greetings.
GROSART, GROSSART, goose-berry.
GULL, one easily befooled,
GULLEY, large knife.
GUTTERBLOOD, one meanly bred.
GYNOCRACY, petticoat government.
HAET, thing.
HAFFITS, sides of the head.
HAFT, handle.
HAIRBOURED, resided, sojourned.
HAMESUCKEN, assaulting a man on his own premises.
HANKED, coiled.
HARLE, drag, trail.
HARMAN BECK, constable.
HEART-SCALD, disgust.
HEAD-TIRE, head-dress.
HECK AND MANGER, in comfortable quarters.
HEUGHS, glens.
HIRDIE-GIRDIE, topsy-turvy.
HIRPLING, limping, walking lame.
HIRSEL, flock.
HORSE-GRAITH, harness.
HOUGHS, hollows.
HOWFF, rendezvous, place of resort.
ILK ANE, each one.
ILL, bad.
ILL REDD-UP, very untidy.
ILL-WILLY, ill-natured.
INGINE, ingenuity.
INGOTS, masses of unwrought metal.
INGRATE, an ungrateful person.
IRON CARLES, iron figures of men.
JAW, wave.
JEDDART-STAFF, a species of battle-axe peculiar to Jedburgh.
JENNET, a small Spanish horse.
JINGLE, dance.
JOUP, dip, stoop down.
KEMPING, strife.
KENNING, knowledge.
KIMMER, gossip, neighbour.
KIRK, church.
KITTLE, ticklish, difficult, precarious.
KYTHED, seemed, appeared.
LAIGH, low.
LAIR, learning.
LAMB'S-WOOL, a beverage made of the pulp of roasted apples.
LANDLOUPER, adventurer, runagate.
LANG SYNE, long ago.
LATTEN, plated iron or brass.
LAVROCK, lark.
LEASING-MAKING, uttering treasonable language.
LEASINGS, falsehoods, treason.
LEGLIN-GIRTH, the lowest hoop on a leglin, or milk-pail.
LICK, a beating.
LIEFEST, most beloved.
LIFT, steal.
LIGHT O' LOVE, mistress, wanton woman.
LINKBOYS, juvenile torch-bearers.
LIST, like.
LITHER, soft.
LOOF, palm of the hand.
LOON, LOUN, rascal.
LOUPING, leaping.
LUG, LUGG, ear.
LUVE, love.
MAIR THAN ANCE, more than once.
MARLE, wonder, marvel.
MAGGOT, whim, fancy.
MELL, intermeddle.
MENSEFUL, modest, mannerly.
MERK, a Scottish coin, value 13s 4d.
MESS-BOOK, mass-book, Catholic prayer-book.
MICKLE, MUCKLE, much, great, large.
MINT, attempt.
MIRK, dark.
MISLEARD, unmannerly.
MORT-CLOTH, shroud.
MOTION, puppet-show.
MUCKLE v. MICKLE.
MUFFLED, disguised.
MUSKETOON, a species of musket.
MY GERTIE, my goodness! gracious!
NEB, nose, point.
NEEDSNA, need not.
NICHER, snigger.
NICKS, notches.
NIFFER, exchange.
NOBLE, a gold coin, value 6s. 8d. sterling.
NOWTE, black cattle.
NUNCHION, luncheon, food taken between meals.
OR, before.
OTHER GATE, other kind of.
OWER SICKER, too careful.
PAIK, fight, chastise.
PANGED, crammed.
PAPISTRIE, Popery.
PEASE-BOGLE, scarecrow among the pease growing.
PENNY-WEDDING, a wedding where all who attend contribute a trifle
towards the
expenses of the merrymaking.
PICKTHANK, a parasitical informer.
PIG, earthen pot, vessel, or pitcher.
PINK, stab, pierce holes into.
PLACK, a copper coin, value the third part of an English
penny.
PLOY, trick.
POCK-END, empty pocket or purse.
POCK-PUDDING, bag pudding.
POORTITH, poverty.
PORK-GRISKINS, sucking-pigs; also broiled loin of pork.
POUCH, pocket.
PRIE, taste.
PULLET, a young hen.
QUEAN, wench, young woman.
RAMPALLIONS, low women.
RAVE, tore.
RAXING, stretching.
REDDING-KAME, hair-comb.
REDD-UP, tidy, put in order.
RED WUD, stark mad.
REIRD, shouting.
REMEID, resource, remedy.
ROOPIT, croupy, hoarse.
ROSE-NOBLE, a gold coin, value 6s. 8d., impressed with a rose.
ROUT, ROWT, to roar or bellow.
RUDAS, wild, forward, bold.
SAAM, same.
SACK, sherry or canary wine, warmed and spiced.
SACKLESS, innocent.
SCAT, tribute, tax.
SCAUDING, scalding.
SCAUR, scare, frighten.
SCLATE-STANE, slate-stone.
SCRIVENER, one who draws up contracts.
SHABBLE, cutlass,
SHOON, shoes.
SHOUTHER, shoulder.
SHULE, shovel.
SIB, related.
SIBYL, prophetess.
SICKER, careful.
SICLIKE, just so.
SILLER, money, silver.
SIRRAH, sir!
SKEIGH, skittish.
SKELDER, plunder, snatch.
SLEEVELESS, thriftless.
SMAIK, mean, paltry fellow.
SNAP-HAUNCHES, firelocks.
SPANG, spring.
SPEER, ask.
SPEERINGS, information, inquiries.
SPRAIKLE, to get on with difficulty.
SPUNK, slip.
SPUNKIES, will-o'-the-wisps.
STEEKING, closing.
STEEKIT, shut.
STONERN, stone.
STOT, a bullock between two and three years old.
STRAND-SCOURING, gutter-raking.
STURDIED, afflicted with the sturdy, a sheep disease.
STYPIC, astringent, something to arrest haemorrhage.
SUCCORY-WATER, sugar water.
SUNDOWN, sunset.
SUNER, sooner.
SUMPTER HORSE, pack-horse.
SWITH, begone! be off!
SYNE, ago.
TAIT, lock.
TANE, the one.
TAWSE, leather strap used for chastisement.
TEINDS, tithes.
THROUGH-STANES, gravestones.
TIKE v. TYKE.
TINT, lost.
TITHER, the other.
TOCHER, dowry.
TOOM, empty.
TOUR, see.
TOUT, blast on the horn.
TOYS, goods.
TREEN, wooden.
TROTH, truth.
TROW, believe, guess.
TRYSTE, appointment.
TURN-BROCHE, turn-spit.
TYKE, TIKE, dog, cur.
TWA, two.
TWIRING, coquetting, making eyes at.
UMQUHILE, late, deceased.
VIVERS, victuals.
WAD, pledge.
WADNA, would not.
WADSET, mortgage.
WANION, misfortune.
WARE, spend.
WARLOCKS, wizards.
WASTRIFE, waste, extravagance.
WAUR, worse.
WEEL KEND, well known.
WHA, who.
WHEEN, few, a number of.
WHIGMALEERY, trinkets, nicknacks.
WHILK, which.
WHINGER, cutlass, long knife.
WHINYARD, sword.
WHOMBLE, upset.
WIMPLED, wrapped up.
WINNA, will not.
WITHY, gallows rope.
WOO', wool.
WYLIE-COAT, under-petticoat.
WYND, street, alley.
WYTE, blame.
YESTREEN, last night.
_