Title: Rob Roy
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Author: Walter Scott
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Rob Roy
Walter Scott
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Table of Contents
Rob Roy ................................................................................................................................................................1
Walter Scott.............................................................................................................................................1
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION ...................................................................................2
INTRODUCTION(1829) .................................................................................................................2
CHAPTER FIRST................................................................................................................................32
CHAPTER SECOND...........................................................................................................................37
CHAPTER THIRD...............................................................................................................................44
CHAPTER FOURTH...........................................................................................................................47
CHAPTER FIFTH................................................................................................................................52
CHAPTER SIXTH...............................................................................................................................57
CHAPTER SEVENTH.........................................................................................................................64
CHAPTER EIGHTH............................................................................................................................70
CHAPTER NINTH. ..............................................................................................................................77
CHAPTER TENTH..............................................................................................................................86
CHAPTER ELEVENTH......................................................................................................................93
CHAPTER TWELFTH. ........................................................................................................................98
CHAPTER THIRTEENTH................................................................................................................102
CHAPTER FOURTEENTH...............................................................................................................109
CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. ...................................................................................................................115
CHAPTER SIXTEENTH...................................................................................................................118
CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH. ............................................................................................................122
CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH................................................................................................................128
CHAPTER NINETEENTH................................................................................................................134
CHAPTER TWENTIETH..................................................................................................................138
CHAPTER TWENTYFIRST...........................................................................................................142
CHAPTER TWENTYSECOND......................................................................................................147
CHAPTER TWENTYTHIRD. .........................................................................................................154
CHAPTER TWENTYFOURTH......................................................................................................160
CHAPTER TWENTYFIFTH...........................................................................................................164
CHAPTER TWENTYSIXTH..........................................................................................................169
CHAPTER TWENTYSEVENTH. ...................................................................................................179
CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHTH.......................................................................................................184
CHAPTER TWENTYNINTH. .........................................................................................................191
CHAPTER THIRTIETH....................................................................................................................197
CHAPTER THIRTYFIRST.............................................................................................................205
CHAPTER THIRTYSECOND........................................................................................................212
CHAPTER THIRTYTHIRD............................................................................................................219
CHAPTER THIRTYFOURTH........................................................................................................225
CHAPTER THIRTYFIFTH.............................................................................................................233
CHAPTER THIRTYSIXTH. ............................................................................................................241
CHAPTER THIRTYSEVENTH......................................................................................................245
CHAPTER THIRTYEIGHTH.........................................................................................................251
CHAPTER THIRTYNINTH. ...........................................................................................................257
Rob Roy
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Rob Roy
Walter Scott
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Introduction
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
Chapter XXXII
Chapter XXXIII
Chapter XXXIV
Chapter XXXV
Chapter XXXVI
Chapter XXXVII
Chapter XXXVIII
Chapter XXXIX
For why? Because the good old rule
Rob Roy 1
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Sufficeth them; the simple plan,
That they should take who have the power,
And they should keep who can.
Rob Roy's GraveWordsworth
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION
When the Editor of the following volumes published, about two years since, the work called the ``Antiquary,''
he announced that he was, for the last time, intruding upon the public in his present capacity. He might
shelter himself under the plea that every anonymous writer is, like the celebrated Junius, only a phantom, and
that therefore, although an apparition, of a more benign, as well as much meaner description, he cannot be
bound to plead to a charge of inconsistency. A better apology may be found in the imitating the confession of
honest Benedict, that, when he said he would die a bachelor, he did not think he should live to be married.
The best of all would be, if, as has eminently happened in the case of some distinguished contemporaries, the
merit of the work should, in the reader's estimation, form an excuse for the Author's breach of promise.
Without presuming to hope that this may prove the case, it is only further necessary to mention, that his
resolution, like that of Benedict, fell a sacrifice, to temptation at least, if not to stratagem.
It is now about six months since the Author, through the medium of his respectable Publishers, received a
parcel of Papers, containing the Outlines of this narrative, with a permission, or rather with a request,
couched in highly flattering terms, that they might be given to the Public, with such alterations as should be
found suitable.*
* As it maybe necessary, in the present Edition(1829), to speak upon the square, * the Author thinks it proper
to own, that the communication alluded to is entirely * imaginary.
These were of course so numerous, that, besides the suppression of names, and of incidents approaching too
much to reality, the work may in a great measure be, said to be new written. Several anachronisms have
probably crept in during the course of these changes; and the mottoes for the Chapters have been selected
without any reference to the supposed date of the incidents. For these, of course, the Editor is responsible.
Some others occurred in the original materials, but they are of little consequence. In point of minute
accuracy, it may be stated, that the bridge over the Forth, or rather the Avondhu (or Black River), near the
hamlet of Aberfoil, had not an existence thirty years ago. It does not, however, become the Editor to be the
first to point out these errors; and he takes this public opportunity to thank the unknown and nameless
correspondent, to whom the reader will owe the principal share of any amusement which he may derive from
the following pages.
1st December 1817.
INTRODUCTION(1829)
When the author projected this further encroachment on the patience of an indulgent public, he was at some
loss for a title; a good name being very nearly of as much consequence in literature as in life. The title of Rob
Roy was suggested by the late Mr. Constable, whose sagacity and experience foresaw the germ of popularity
which it included.
No introduction can be more appropriate to the work than some account of the singular character whose name
is given to the titlepage, and who, through good report and bad report, has maintained a wonderful degree of
importance in popular recollection. This cannot be ascribed to the distinction of his birth, which, though that
of a gentleman, had in it nothing of high destination, and gave him little right to command in his clan.
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 2
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Neither, though he lived a busy, restless, and enterprising life, were his feats equal to those of other
freebooters, who have been less distinguished. He owed his fame in a great measure to his residing on the
very verge of the Highlands, and playing such pranks in the beginning of the 18th century, as are usually
ascribed to Robin Hood in the middle ages, and that within forty miles of Glasgow, a great commercial
city, the seat of a learned university. Thus a character like his, blending the wild virtues, the subtle policy,
and unrestrained license of an American Indian, was flourishing in Scotland during the Augustan age of
Queen Anne and George I. Addison, it is probable, or Pope, would have been considerably surprised if they
had known that there, existed in the same island with them a personage of Rob Roy's peculiar habits and
profession. It is this strong contrast betwixt the civilised and cultivated mode of life on the one side of the
Highland line, and the wild and lawless adventures which were habitually undertaken and achieved by one
who dwelt on the opposite side of that ideal boundary, which creates the interest attached to his name. Hence
it is that even yet,
Far and near, through vale and hill,
Are faces that attest the same,
And kindle like a fire new stirr'd,
At sound of Rob Roy's name.
There were several advantages which Rob Roy enjoyed for sustaining to advantage the character which he
assumed.
The most prominent of these was his descent from, and connection with, the clan MacGregor, so famous for
their misfortunes, and the indomitable spirit with which they maintained themselves as a clan, linked and
banded together in spite of the most severe laws, executed with unheardof rigour against those who bore this
forbidden surname. Their history was that of several others of the original Highland clans, who were
suppressed by more powerful neighbours, and either extirpated, or forced to secure themselves by renouncing
their own family appellation, and assuming that of the conquerors. The peculiarity in the story of the
MacGregors, is their retaining, with such tenacity, their separate existence and union as a clan under
circumstances of the utmost urgency. The history of the tribe is briefly as followsBut we must
premise that the tale depends in some degree on tradition; therefore, excepting when written documents are,
quoted, it must be considered as in some degree dubious.
The sept of MacGregor claimed a descent from Gregor, or Gregorius, third son, it is said, of Alpin King of
Scots, who flourished about 787. Hence their original patronymic is MacAlpine, and they are usually termed
the Clan Alpine. An individual tribe of them retains the same name. They are accounted one of the most
ancient clans in the Highlands, and it is certain they were a people of original Celtic descent, and occupied at
one period very extensive possessions in Perthshire and Argyleshire, which they imprudently continued to
hold by the coir a glaive, that is, the right of the sword. Their neighbours, the Earls of Argyle and
Breadalbane, in the meanwhile, managed to leave the lands occupied by the MacGregors engrossed in those
charters which they easily obtained from the Crown; and thus constituted a legal right in their own favour,
without much regard to its justice. As opportunity occurred of annoying or extirpating their neighbours, they
gradually extended their own domains, by usurping, under the pretext of such royal grants, those of their
more uncivilised neighbours. A Sir Duncan Campbell of Lochow, known in the Highlands by the name of
Donacha Dhu nan Churraichd, that is, Black Duncan with the Cowl, it being his pleasure to wear such a
headgear, is said to have been peculiarly successful in those acts of spoliation upon the clan MacGregor.
The devoted sept, ever finding themselves iniquitously driven from their possessions, defended themselves
by force, and occasionally gained advantages, which they used cruelly enough. This conduct, though natural,
considering the country and time, was studiously represented at the capital as arising from an untameable and
innate ferocity, which nothing, it was said, could remedy, save cutting off the tribe of MacGregor root and
branch.
Rob Roy
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In an act of Privy Council at Stirling, 22d September 1563, in the reign of Queen Mary, commission is
granted to the most powerful nobles, and chiefs of the clans, to pursue the clan Gregor with fire and sword. A
similar warrant in 1563, not only grants the like powers to Sir John Campbell of Glenorchy, the descendant of
Duncan with the Cowl, but discharges the lieges to receive or assist any of the clan Gregor, or afford them,
under any colour whatever, meat, drink, or clothes.
An atrocity which the clan Gregor committed in 1589, by the murder of John Drummond of
Drummondernoch, a forester of the royal forest of Glenartney, is elsewhere given, with all its horrid
circumstances. The clan swore upon the severed head of the murdered man, that they would make common
cause in avowing the deed. This led to an act of the Privy Council, directing another crusade against the
``wicked clan Gregor, so long continuing in blood, slaughter, theft, and robbery,'' in which letters of fire and
sword are denounced against them for the space of three years. The reader will find this particular fact
illustrated in the Introduction to the Legend of Montrose in the present edition of these Novels.
Other occasions frequently occurred, in which the MacGregors testified contempt for the laws, from which
they had often experienced severity, but never protection. Though they were gradually deprived of their
possessions, and of all ordinary means of procuring subsistence, they could not, nevertheless, be supposed
likely to starve for famine, while they had the means of taking from strangers what they considered as
rightfully their own. Hence they became versed in predatory forays, and accustomed to bloodshed. Their
passions were eager, and, with a little management on the part of some of their most powerful neighbours,
they could easily be hounded out, to use an expressive Scottish phrase, to commit violence, of which the wily
instigators took the advantage, and left the ignorant MacGregors an undivided portion of blame and
punishment. This policy of pushing on the fierce clans of the Highlands and Borders to break the peace of the
country, is accounted by the historian one of the most dangerous practices of his own period, in which the
MacGregors were considered as ready agents.
Notwithstanding these severe denunciations,which were acted upon in the same spirit in which they were
conceived, some of the clan still possessed property, and the chief of the name in 1592 is designed Allaster
MacGregor of Glenstrae. He is said to have been a brave and active man; but, from the tenor of his
confession at his death, appears to have been engaged in many and desperate feuds, one of which finally
proved fatal to himself and many of his followers. This was the celebrated conflict at Glenfruin, near the
southwestern extremity of Loch Lomond, in the vicinity of which the MacGregors continued to exercise
much authority by the coir a glaive, or right of the strongest, which we have already mentioned.
There had been a long and bloody feud betwixt the MacGregors and the Laird of Luss, head of the family of
Colquhoun, a powerful race on the lower part of Loch Lomond. The MacGregors' tradition affirms that the
quarrel began on a very trifling subject. Two of the MacGregors being benighted, asked shelter in a house
belonging to a dependant of the Colquhouns, and were refused. They then retreated to an outhouse, took a
wedder from the fold, killed it, and supped off the carcass, for which (it is said) they offered payment to the
proprietor. The Laird of Luss seized on the offenders, and, by the summary process which feudal barons had
at their command, had them both condemned and executed. The MacGregors verify this account of the feud
by appealing to a proverb current amongst them, execrating the hour (Mult dhu an Carbail ghil) that the black
wedder. with the white tail was ever lambed. To avenge this quarrel, the Laird of MacGregor assembled his
clan, to the number of three or four hundred men, and marched towards Luss from the banks of Loch Long,
by a pass called Raid na Gael, or the Highlandman's Pass.
Sir Humphrey Colquhoun received early notice of this incursion, and collected a strong force, more than
twice the number of that of the invaders. He had with him the gentlemen of the name of Buchanan, with the
Grahams, and other gentry of the Lennox, and a party of the citizens of Dumbarton, under command of
Tobias Smollett, a magistrate, or bailie, of that town, and ancestor of the celebrated author.
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 4
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The parties met in the valley of Glenfruin, which signifies the Glen of Sorrowa name that seemed to
anticipate the event of the day, which, fatal to the conquered party, was at least equally so to the victors, the
``babe unborn'' of Clan Alpine having reason to repent it. The MacGregors, somewhat discouraged by the
appearance of a force much superior to their own, were cheered on to the attack by a Seer, or secondsighted
person, who professed that he saw the shrouds of the dead wrapt around their principal opponents. The clan
charged with great fury on the front of the enemy, while John MacGregor, with a strong party, made an
unexpected attack on the flank. A great part of the Colquhouns' force consisted in cavalry, which could not
act in the boggy ground. They were said to have disputed the field manfully, but were at length completely
routed, and a merciless slaughter was exercised on the fugitives, of whom betwixt two and three hundred fell
on the field and in the pursuit. If the MacGregors lost, as is averred, only two men slain in the action, they
had slight provocation for an indiscriminate massacre. It is said that their fury extended itself to a party of
students for clerical orders, who had imprudently come to see the battle. Some doubt is thrown on this fact,
from the indictment against the chief of the clan Gregor being silent on the subject, as is the historian
Johnston, and a Professor Ross, who wrote an account of the battle twentynine years after it was fought. It
is, however, constantly averred by the tradition of the country, and a stone where the deed was done is called
LeckaMhinisteir, the Minister or Clerk's Flagstone. The MacGregors, by a tradition which is now found to
be inaccurate, impute this cruel action to the ferocity of a single man of their tribe, renowned for size and
strength, called Dugald, Ciar Mhor, or the great Mousecoloured Man. He was MacGregor's fosterbrother,
and the chief committed the youths to his charge, with directions to keep them safely till the affray was over.
Whether fearful of their escape, or incensed by some sarcasms which they threw on his tribe, or whether out
of mere thirst of blood, this savage, while the other MacGregors were engaged in the pursuit, poniarded his
helpless and defenceless prisoners. When the chieftain, on his return, demanded where the youths were, the
Ciar (pronounced Kiar) Mhor drew out his bloody dirk, saying in Gaelic, ``Ask that, and God save me!'' The
latter words allude. to the exclamation which his victims used when he was murdering them. It would seem,
therefore, that this horrible part of the story is founded on fact, though the number of the youths so slain is
probably exaggerated in the Lowland accounts. The common people say that the blood of the Ciar Mhor's
victims can never be washed off the stone. When MacGregor learnt their fate, he expressed the utmost horror
at the deed, and upbraided his fosterbrother with having done that which would occasion the destruction of
him and his clan. This supposed homicide was the ancestor of Rob Roy, and the tribe from which he was
descended. He lies buried at the church of Fortingal, where his sepulchre, covered with a large stone,* is still
* Note A. The Grey Stone of MacGregor.
shown, and where his great strength and courage are the theme of many traditions.*
* Note B. Dugald Ciar Mhor.
MacGregor's brother was one of the very few of the tribe who was slain. He was buried near the field of
battle, and the place is marked by a rude stone, called the Grey Stone of MacGregor.
Sir Humphrey Colquhoun, being well mounted, escaped for the time to the castle of Banochar, or Benechra.
It proved no sure defence, however, for he was shortly after murdered in a vault of the castle,the family
annals say by the MacGregors, though other accounts charge the deed upon the MacFarlanes.
This battle of Glenfruin, and the severity which the victors exercised in the pursuit, was reported to King
James VI. in a manner the most unfavourable to the clan Gregor, whose general character, being that of
lawless though brave men, could not much avail them in such a case. That James might fully understand the
extent of the slaughter, the widows of the slain, to the number of eleven score, in deep mourning, riding upon
white palfreys, and each bearing her husband's bloody shirt on a spear, appeared at Stirling, in presence of a
monarch peculiarly accessible to such sights of fear and sorrow, to demand vengeance for the death of their
husbands, upon those by whom they had been made desolate.
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 5
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The remedy resorted to was at least as severe as the cruelties which it was designed to punish. By an Act of
the Privy Council, dated 3d April 1603, the name of MacGregor was expressly abolished, and those who had
hitherto borne it were commanded to change it for other surnames, the pain of death being denounced against
those who should call themselves Gregor or MacGregor, the names of their fathers. Under the same penalty,
all who had been at the conflict of Glenfruin, or accessory to other marauding parties charged in the act, were
prohibited from carrying weapons, except a pointless knife to eat their victuals. By a subsequent act of
Council, 24th June 1613, death was denounced against any persons of the tribe formerly called MacGregor,
who should presume to assemble in greater numbers than four. Again, by an Act of Parliament, 1617, chap.
26, these laws were continued, and extended to the rising generation, in respect that great numbers of the
children of those against whom the acts of Privy Council had been directed, were stated to be then
approaching to maturity, who, if permitted to resume the name of their parents, would render the clan as
strong as it was before.
The execution of those severe acts was chiefly intrusted in the west to the Earl of Argyle and the powerful
clan of Campbell, and to the Earl of Athole and his followers in the more eastern Highlands of Perthshire.
The MacGregors failed not to resist with the most determined courage; and many a valley in the West and
North Highlands retains memory of the severe conflicts, in which the proscribed clan sometimes obtained
transient advantages, and always sold their lives dearly. At length the pride of Allaster MacGregor, the chief
of the clan, was so much lowered by the sufferings of his people, that he resolved to surrender himself to the
Earl of Argyle, with his principal followers, on condition that they should be sent out of Scotland. If the
unfortunate chief's own account be true, he had more reasons than one for expecting some favour from the
Earl, who had in secret advised and encouraged him to many of the desperate actions for which he was now
called to so severe a reckoning. But Argyle, as old Birrell expresses himself, kept a Highlandman's promise
with them, fulfilling it to the ear, and breaking it to the sense. MacGregor was sent under a strong guard to
the frontier of England, and being thus, in the literal sense, sent out of Scotland, Argyle was judged to have
kept faith with him, though the same party which took him there brought him back to Edinburgh in custody.
MacGregor of Glenstrae was tried before the Court of Justiciary, 20th January 1604, and found guilty. He
appears to have been instantly conveyed from the bar to the gallows; for Birrell, of the same date, reports that
he was hanged at the Cross, and, for distinction sake, was suspended higher by his own height than two of his
kindred and friends.
On the 18th of February following, more men of the MacGregors were executed, after a long imprisonment,
and several others in the beginning of March.
The Earl of Argyle's service, in conducting to the surrender of the insolent and wicked race and name of
MacGregor, notorious common malefactors, and in the inbringing of MacGregor, with a great many of the
leading men of the clan, worthily executed to death for their offences, is thankfully acknowledged by an Act
of Parliament, 1607, chap. 16, and rewarded with a grant of twenty chalders of victual out of the lands of
Kintire.
The MacGregors, notwithstanding the letters of fire and sword, and orders for military execution repeatedly
directed against them by the Scottish legislature, who apparently lost all the calmness of conscious dignity
and security, and could not even name the outlawed clan without vituperation, showed no inclination to be
blotted out of the roll of clanship. They submitted to the law, indeed, so far as to take the names of the
neighbouring families amongst whom they happened to live, nominally becoming, as the case might render it
most convenient, Drummonds, Campbells, Grahams, Buchanans, Stewarts, and the like; but to all intents and
purposes of combination and mutual attachment, they remained the clan Gregor, united together for right or
wrong, and menacing with the general vengeance of their race, all who committed aggressions against any
individual of their number.
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 6
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They continued to take and give offence with as little hesitation as before the legislative dispersion which had
been attempted, as appears from the preamble to statute 1633, chapter 30, setting forth, that the clan Gregor,
which had been suppressed and reduced to quietness by the great care of the late King James of eternal
memory, had nevertheless broken out again, in the counties of Perth, Stirling, Clackmannan, Monteith,
Lennox, Angus, and Mearns; for which reason the statute reestablishes the disabilities attached to the clan,
and, grants a new commission for enforcing the laws against that wicked and rebellious race.
Notwithstanding the extreme severities of King James I. and Charles I. against this unfortunate people, who
were rendered furious by proscription, and then punished for yielding to the passions which had been wilfully
irritated, the MacGregors to a man attached themselves during the civil war to the cause of the latter
monarch. Their bards have ascribed this to the native respect of the MacGregors for the crown of Scotland,
which their ancestors once wore, and have appealed to their armorial bearings, which display a pinetree
crossed saltire wise with a naked sword, the point of which supports a royal crown. But, without denying that
such motives may have had their weight, we are disposed to think, that a war which opened the low country
to the raids of the clan Gregor would have more charms for them than any inducement to espouse the cause
of the Covenanters, which would have brought them into contact with Highlanders as fierce as themselves,
and having as little to lose. Patrick MacGregor, their leader, was the son of a distinguished chief, named
Duncan Abbarach, to whom Montrose wrote letters as to his trusty and special friend, expressing his reliance
on his devoted loyalty, with an assurance, that when once his Majesty's affairs were placed upon a permanent
footing, the grievances of the clan MacGregor should be redressed.
At a subsequent period of these melancholy times, we find the clan Gregor claiming the immunities of other
tribes, when summoned by the Scottish Parliament to resist the invasion of the Commonwealth's army, in
1651. On the last day of March in that year, a supplication to the King and Parliament, from Calum
MacCondachie Vich Euen, and Euen MacCondachie Euen, in their own name, and that of the whole name of
MacGregor, set forth, that while, in obedience to the orders of Parliament, enjoining all clans to come out in
the present service under their chieftains, for the defence of religion, king, and kingdoms, the petitioners were
drawing their men to guard the passes at the head of the river Forth, they were interfered with by the Earl of
Athole and the Laird of Buchanan, who had required the attendance of many of the clan Gregor upon their
arrays. This interference was, doubtless, owing to the change of name, which seems to have given rise to the
claim of the Earl of Athole and the Laird of Buchanan to muster the MacGregors under their banners, as
Murrays or Buchanans. It does not appear that the petition of the MacGregors, to be permitted to come out in
a body, as other clans, received any answer. But upon the Restoration, King Charles, in the first Scottish
Parliament of his reign (statute 1661, chap. 195), annulled the various acts against the clan Gregor, and
restored them to the full use of their family name, and the other privileges of liege subjects, setting forth, as a
reason for this lenity, that those who were formerly designed MacGregors had, during the late troubles,
conducted themselves with such loyalty and affection to his Majesty, as might justly wipe off all memory of
former miscarriages, and take away all marks of reproach for the same.
It is singular enough, that it seems to have aggravated the feelings of the nonconforming Presbyterians,
when the penalties which were most unjustly imposed upon themselves were relaxed towards the poor
MacGregors;so little are the best men, any more than the worst, able to judge with impartiality of the
same measures, as applied to themselves, or to others. Upon the Restoration, an influence inimical to this
unfortunate clan, said to be the same with that which afterwards dictated the massacre of Glencoe, occasioned
the reenaction of the penal statutes against the MacGregors. There are no reasons given why these highly
penal acts should have been renewed; nor is it alleged that the clan had been guilty of late irregularities.
Indeed, there is some reason to think that the clause was formed of set purpose, in a shape which should elude
observation; for, though containing conclusions fatal to the rights of so many Scottish subjects, it is neither
mentioned in the title nor the rubric of the Act of Parliament in which it occurs, and is thrown briefly in at the
close of the statute 1693, chap. 61, entitled, an Act for the Justiciary in the Highlands.
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 7
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It does not, however, appear that after the Revolution the acts against the clan were severely enforced; and in
the latter half of the eighteenth century, they were not enforced at all. Commissioners of supply were named
in Parliament by the proscribed title of MacGregor, and decrees of courts of justice were pronounced, and
legal deeds entered into, under the same appellative. The MacGregors, however, while the laws continued in
the statutebook, still suffered under the deprivation of the name which was their birthright, and some
attempts were made for the purpose of adopting another, MacAlpine or Grant being proposed as the title of
the whole clan in future. No agreement, however, could be entered into; and the evil was submitted to as a
matter of necessity, until full redress was obtained from the British Parliament, by an act abolishing for ever
the penal statutes which had been so long imposed upon this ancient race. This statute, well merited by the
services of many a gentleman of the clan in behalf of their King and country, was passed, and the clan
proceeded to act upon it with the same spirit of ancient times, which had made them suffer severely under a
deprivation that would have been deemed of little consequence by a great part of their fellowsubjects.
They entered into a deed recognising John Murray of Lanrick, Esq. (afterwards Sir John MacGregor,
Baronet), representative of the family of Glencarnock, as lawfully descended from the ancient stock and
blood of the Lairds and Lords of MacGregor, and therefore acknowledged him as their chief on all lawful
occasions and causes whatsoever. The deed was subscribed by eight hundred and twentysix persons of the
name of MacGregor, capable of bearing arms. A great many of the clan during the last war formed
themselves into what was called the Clan Alpine Regiment, raised in 1799, under the command of their Chief
and his brother Colonel MacGregor.
Having briefly noticed the history of this clan, which presents a rare and interesting example of the indelible
character of the patriarchal system, the author must now offer some notices of the individual who gives name
to these volumes.
In giving an account of a Highlander, his pedigree is first to be considered. That of Rob Roy was deduced
from Ciar Mhor, the great mousecoloured man, who is accused by tradition of having slain the young
students at the battle of Glenfruin.
Without puzzling ourselves and our readers with the intricacies of Highland genealogy, it is enough to say,
that after the death of Allaster MacGregor of Glenstrae, the clan, discouraged by the unremitting persecution
of their enemies, seem not to have had the means of placing themselves under the command of a single chief.
According to their places of residence and immediate descent, the several families were led and directed by
Chieftains, which, in the Highland acceptation, signifies the head of a particular branch of a tribe, in
opposition to Chief, who is the leader and commander of the whole name.
The family and descendants of Dugald Ciar Mhor lived chiefly in the mountains between Loch Lomond and
Loch Katrine, and occupied a good deal of property therewhether by sufferance, by the right of the
sword, which it was never safe to dispute with them, or by legal titles of various kinds, it would be useless to
inquire and unnecessary to detail. Enough;there they certainly werea people whom their most
powerful neighbours were desirous to conciliate, their friendship in peace being very necessary to the quiet of
the vicinage, and their assistance in war equally prompt and effectual.
Rob Roy MacGregor Campbell, which last name he bore in consequence of the Acts of Parliament abolishing
his own, was the younger son of Donald MacGregor of Glengyle, said to have been a LieutenantColonel
(probably in the service of James II.), by his wife, a daughter of Campbell of Glenfalloch. Rob's own
designation was of Inversnaid; but he appears to have acquired a right of some kind or other to the property
or possession of Craig Royston, a domain of rock and forest, lying on the east side of Loch Lomond, where
that beautiful lake stretches into the dusky mountains of Glenfalloch.
Rob Roy
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The time of his birth is uncertain. But he is said to have been active in the scenes of war and plunder which
succeeded the Revolution; and tradition affirms him to have been the leader in a predatory incursion into the
parish of Kippen, in the Lennox, which took place in the year 1691. It was of almost a bloodless character,
only one person losing his life; but from the extent of the depredation, it was long distinguished by the name
of the Her'ship, or devastation, of Kippen.* The time of his death is also uncertain, but as he is said to have
survived the year 1733, and died an aged man, it is
* See Statistcal Account of Scotland, 1st edition, vol. xviii. p. 332. Parish of * Kippen.
probable he may have been twentyfive about the time of the Her'ship of Kippen, which would assign his
birth to the middle of the 17th century.
In the more quiet times which succeeded the Revolution, Rob Roy, or Red Robert, seems to have exerted his
active talents, which were of no mean order, as a drover, or trader in cattle, to a great extent. It may well be
supposed that in those days no Lowland, much less English drovers, ventured to enter the Highlands. The
cattle, which were the staple commodity of the mountains, were escorted down to fairs, on the borders of the
Lowlands, by a party of Highlanders, with their arms rattling around them; and who dealt, however, in all
honour and good faith with their Southern customers. A fray, indeed, would sometimes arise, when the
Lowlandmen, chiefly Borderers, who had to supply the English market, used to dip their bonnets in the next
brook, and wrapping them round their hands, oppose their cudgels to the naked broadswords, which had not
always the superiority. I have heard from aged persons who had been engaged in such affrays, that the
Highlanders used remarkably fair play, never using the point of the sword, far less their pistols or daggers; so
that
With many a stiff thwack and many a bang,
Hard crabtree and cold iron rang.
A slash or two, or a broken head, was easily accommodated, and as the trade was of benefit to both parties,
trifling skirmishes were not allowed to interrupt its harmony. Indeed it was of vital interest to the
Highlanders, whose income, so far as derived from their estates, depended entirely on the sale of black cattle;
and a sagacious and experienced dealer benefited not only himself, but his friends and neighbours, by his
speculations. Those of Rob Roy were for several years so successful as to inspire general confidence, and
raise him in the estimation of the country in which he resided.
His importance was increased by the death of his father, in consequence of which he succeeded to the
management of his nephew Gregor MacGregor of Glengyle's property, and, as his tutor, to such influence
with the clan and following as was due to the representative of Dugald Ciar. Such influence was the more
uncontrolled, that this family of the MacGregors seemed to have refused adherence to MacGregor of
Glencarnock, the ancestor of the present Sir Ewan MacGregor, and asserted a kind of independence.
It was at this time that Rob Roy acquired an interest by purchase, wadset, or otherwise, to the property of
Craig Royston already mentioned. He was in particular favour, during this prosperous period of his life, with
his nearest and most powerful neighbour, James, first Duke of Montrose, from whom he received many
marks of regard. His Grace consented to give his nephew and himself a right of property on the estates of
Glengyle and Inversnaid, which they had till then only held as kindly tenants. The Duke also, with a view to
the interest of the country and his own estate, supported our adventurer by loans of money to a considerable
amount, to enable him to carry on his speculations in the cattle trade.
Unfortunately that species of commerce was and is liable to sudden fluctuations; and Rob Roy was, by a
sudden depression of markets, and, as a friendly tradition adds, by the bad faith of a partner named
MacDonald, whom he had imprudently received into his confidence, and intrusted with a considerable sum of
Rob Roy
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money, rendered totally insolvent. He absconded, of coursenot emptyhanded, if it be true, as stated in an
advertisement for his apprehension, that he had in his possession sums to the amount of L1000 sterling,
obtained from several noblemen and gentlemen under pretence of purchasing cows for them in the Highlands.
This advertisement appeared in June 1712, and was several times repeated. It fixes the period when Rob Roy
exchanged his commercial adventures for speculations of a very different complexion.*
* See Appendix, No. I.
He appears at this period first to have removed from his ordinary dwelling at Inversnaid, ten or twelve Scots
miles (which is double the number of English) farther into the Highlands, and commenced the lawless sort of
life which he afterwards followed. The Duke of Montrose, who conceived himself deceived and cheated by
MacGregor's conduct, employed legal means to recover the money lent to him. Rob Roy's landed property
was attached by the regular form of legal procedure, and his stock and furniture made the subject of arrest
and sale.
It is said that this diligence of the law, as it is called in Scotland, which the English more bluntly term
distress, was used in this case with uncommon severity, and that the legal satellites, not usually the gentlest
persons in the world, had insulted MacGregor's wife, in a manner which would have aroused a milder man
than he to thoughts of unbounded vengeance. She was a woman of fierce and haughty temper, and is not
unlikely to have disturbed the officers in the execution of their duty, and thus to have incurred ill treatment,
though, for the sake of humanity, it is to be hoped that the story sometimes told is a popular exaggeration. It
is certain that she felt extreme anguish at being expelled from the banks of Loch Lomond, and gave vent to
her feelings in a fine piece of pipemusic, still well known to amateurs by the name of ``Rob Roy's Lament.''
The fugitive is thought to have found his first place of refuge in Glen Dochart, under the Earl of
Breadalbane's protection; for, though that family had been active agents in the destruction of the MacGregors
in former times, they had of late years sheltered a great many of the name in their old possessions. The Duke
of Argyle was also one of Rob Roy's protectors, so far as to afford him, according to the Highland phrase,
wood and waterthe shelter, namely, that is afforded by the forests and lakes of an inaccessible country.
The great men of the Highlands in that time, besides being anxiously ambitious to keep up what was called
their Following, or military retainers, were also desirous to have at their disposal men of resolute character, to
whom the world and the world's law were no friends, and who might at times ravage the lands or destroy the
tenants of a feudal enemy, without bringing responsibility on their patrons. The strife between the names of
Campbell and Graham, during the civil wars of the seventeenth century, had been stamped with mutual loss
and inveterate enmity. The death of the great Marquis of Montrose on the one side, the defeat at Inverlochy,
and cruel plundering of Lorn, on the other, were reciprocal injuries not likely to be forgotten. Rob Roy was,
therefore, sure of refuge in the country of the Campbells, both as having assumed their name, as connected by
his mother with the family of Glenfalloch, and as an enemy to the rival house of Montrose. The extent of
Argyle's possessions, and the power of retreating thither in any emergency, gave great encouragement to the
bold schemes of revenge which he had adopted.
This was nothing short of the maintenance of a predatory war against the Duke of Montrose, whom he
considered as the author of his exclusion from civil society, and of the outlawry to which he had been
sentenced by letters of horning and caption (legal writs so called), as well as the seizure of his goods, and
adjudication of his landed property. Against his Grace, therefore, his tenants, friends, allies, and relatives, he
disposed himself to employ every means of annoyance in his power; and though this was a circle sufficiently
extensive for active depredation, Rob, who professed himself a Jacobite, took the liberty of extending his
sphere of operations against all whom he chose to consider as friendly to the revolutionary government, or to
that most obnoxious of measuresthe Union of the Kingdoms. Under one or other of these pretexts, all his
neighbours of the Lowlands who had anything to lose, or were unwilling to compound for security by paying
Rob Roy
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him an annual sum for protection or forbearance, were exposed to his ravages.
The country in which this private warfare, or system of depredation, was to be carried on, was, until opened
up by roads, in the highest degree favourable for his purpose. It was broken up into narrow valleys, the
habitable part of which bore no proportion to the huge wildernesses of forest, rocks, and precipices by which
they were encircled, and which was, moreover, full of inextricable passes, morasses, and natural strengths,
unknown to any but the inhabitants themselves, where a few men acquainted with the ground were capable,
with ordinary address, of baffling the pursuit of numbers.
The opinions and habits of the nearest neighbours to the Highland line were also highly favourable to Rob
Roy's purpose. A large proportion of them were of his own clan of MacGregor, who claimed the property of
Balquhidder, and other Highland districts, as having been part of the ancient possessions of their tribe; though
the harsh laws, under the severity of which they had suffered so deeply, had assigned the ownership to other
families. The civil wars of the seventeenth century had accustomed these men to the use of arms, and they
were peculiarly brave and fierce from remembrance of their sufferings. The vicinity of a comparatively rich
Lowland district gave also great temptations to incursion. Many belonging to other clans, habituated to
contempt of industry, and to the use of arms, drew towards an unprotected frontier which promised facility of
plunder; and the state of the country, now so peaceable and quiet, verified at that time the opinion which Dr.
Johnson heard with doubt and suspicion, that the most disorderly and lawless districts of the Highlands were
those which lay nearest to the Lowland line. There was, therefore, no difficulty in Rob Roy, descended of a
tribe which was widely dispersed in the country we have described, collecting any number of followers
whom he might be able to keep in action, and to maintain by his proposed operations.
He himself appears to have been singularly adapted for the profession which he proposed to exercise. His
stature was not of the tallest, but his person was uncommonly strong and compact. The greatest peculiarities
of his frame were the breadth of his shoulders, and the great and almost disproportionate length of his arms;
so remarkable, indeed, that it was said he could, without stooping, tie the garters of his Highland hose, which
are placed two inches below the knee. His countenance was open, manly, stern at periods of danger, but frank
and cheerful in his hours of festivity. His hair was dark red, thick, and frizzled, and curled short around the
face. His fashion of dress showed, of course, the knees and upper part of the leg, which was described to me,
as resembling that of a Highland bull, hirsute, with red hair, and evincing muscular strength similar to that
animal. To these personal qualifications must be added a masterly use of the Highland sword, in which his
length of arm gave him great advantageand a perfect and intimate knowledge of all the recesses of the
wild country in which he harboured, and the character of the various individuals, whether friendly or hostile,
with whom he might come in contact.
His mental qualities seem to have been no less adapted to the circumstances in which he was placed. Though
the descendant of the bloodthirsty Ciar Mhor, he inherited none of his ancestor's ferocity. On the contrary,
Rob Roy avoided every appearance of cruelty, and it is not averred that he was ever the means of unnecessary
bloodshed, or the actor in any deed which could lead the way to it. His schemes of plunder were contrived
and executed with equal boldness and sagacity, and were almost universally successful, from the skill with
which they were laid, and the secrecy and rapidity with which they were executed. Like Robin Hood of
England, he was a kind and gentle robber,and, while he took from the rich, was liberal in relieving the
poor. This might in part be policy; but the universal tradition of the country speaks it to have arisen from a
better motive. All whom I have conversed with, and I have in my youth seen some who knew Rob Roy
personally, give him the character of a benevolent and humane man ``in his way.''
His ideas of morality were those of an Arab chief, being such as naturally arose out of his wild education.
Supposing Rob Roy to have argued on the tendency of the life which he pursued, whether from choice or
from necessity, he would doubtless have assumed to himself the character of a brave man, who, deprived of
his natural rights by the partiality of laws, endeavoured to assert them by the strong hand of natural power;
Rob Roy
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and he is most felicitously described as reasoning thus, in the hightoned poetry of my gifted friend
Wordsworth:
Say, then, that he was wise as brave,
As wise in thought as bold in deed;
For in the principles of things
He sought his moral creed.
Said generous Rob, ``What need of Books?
Burn all the statutes and their shelves!
They stir us up against our kind,
And worse, against ourselves.
``We have a passion, make a law,
Too false to guide us or control;
And for the law itself we fight
In bitterness of soul.
``And puzzled, blinded, then we lose
Distinctions that are plain and few;
These find I graven on my heart,
That tells me what to do.
``The creatures see of flood and field,
And those that travel on the wind
With them no strife can last; they live
In peace, and peace of mind.
``For why? Because the good old rule
Sufficeth them; the simple plan,
That they should take who have the power,
And they should keep who can.
``A lesson which is quickly learn'd,
A signal through which all can see;
Thus, nothing here provokes the strong
To wanton cruelty.
``And freakishness of mind is check'd,
He tamed who foolishly aspires,
While to the measure of his might
Each fashions his desires.
``All kinds and creatures stand and fall
By strength of prowess or of wit;
'Tis God's appointment who must sway,
And who is to submit.
``Since then,'' said Robin, ``right is plain,
And longest life is but a day,
To have my ends, maintain my rights,
I'll take the shortest way.''
And thus among these rocks he lived,
Through summer's heat and winter's snow
The eagle, he was lord above,
And Rob was lord below.
We are not, however, to suppose the character of this distinguished outlaw to be that of an actual hero, acting
uniformly and consistently on such moral principles as the illustrious bard who, standing by his grave, has
vindicated his fame. On the contrary, as is common with barbarous chiefs, Rob Roy appears to have mixed
Rob Roy
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his professions of principle with a large alloy of craft and dissimulation, of which his conduct during the civil
war is sufficient proof. It is also said, and truly, that although his courtesy was one of his strongest
characteristics, yet sometimes he assumed an arrogance of manner which was not easily endured by the
highspirited men to whom it was addressed, and drew the daring outlaw into frequent disputes, from which
he did not always come off with credit. From this it has been inferred, that Rob Roy w as more of a bully than
a hero, or at least that he had, according to the common phrase, his fighting days. Some aged men who knew
him well, have described him also as better at a taichtulzie, or scuffle within doors, than in mortal combat.
The tenor of his life may be quoted to repel this charge; while, at the same time, it must be allowed, that the
situation in which he was placed rendered him prudently averse to maintaining quarrels, where nothing was
to be had save blows, and where success would have raised up against him new and powerful enemies, in a
country where revenge was still considered as a duty rather than a crime. The power of commanding his
passions on such occasions, far from being inconsistent with the part which MacGregor had to perform, was
essentially necessary, at the period when he lived, to prevent his career from being cut short.
I may here mention one or two occasions on which Rob Roy appears to have given way in the manner
alluded to. My late venerable friend, John Ramsay of Ochtertyre, alike eminent as a classical scholar and as
an authentic register of the ancient history and manners of Scotland, informed me, that on occasion of a
public meeting at a bonfire in the town of Doune, Rob Roy gave some offence to James Edmondstone of
Newton, the same gentleman who was unfortunately concerned in the slaughter of Lord Rollo (see
Maclaurin's Criminal Trials, No. IX.), when Edmondstone compelled MacGregor to quit the town on pain of
being thrown by him into the bonfire. ``I broke one off your ribs on a former occasion,'' said he, ``and now,
Rob, if you provoke me farther, I will break your neck.'' But it must be remembered that Edmondstone was a
man of consequence in the Jacobite party, as he carried the royal standard of James VII. at the battle of
Sheriffmuir, and also, that he was near the door of his own mansionhouse, and probably surrounded by his
friends and adherents. Rob Roy, however, suffered in reputation for retiring under such a threat.
Another wellvouched case is that of Cunningham of Boquhan.
Henry Cunningham, Esq. of Boquhan, was a gentleman of Stirlingshire, who, like many exquisites of our
own time, united a natural high spirit and daring character with an affectation of delicacy of address and
manners amounting to foppery.* He
* His courage and affectation of foppery were united, which is less frequently the
* case, with a spirit of innate modesty. He is thus described in Lord Binning's
* satirical verses, entitled ``Argyle's Levee:''
*
* ``Six times had Harry bowed unseen,
* Before he dared advance;
* The Duke then, turning round well pleased,
* Said, `Sure you've been in France!
* A more polite and jaunty man
* I never saw before:'
* Then Harry bowed, and blushed, and bowed,
* And strutted to the door.''
*
* See a Collection of original Poems, by Scotch Gentlemen, vol. ii. p. 125.
chanced to be in company with Rob Roy, who, either in contempt of Boquhan's supposed effeminacy, or
because he thought him a safe person to fix a quarrel on (a point which Rob's enemies alleged he was wont to
consider), insulted him so grossly that a challenge passed between them. The goodwife of the clachan had
hidden Cunningham's sword, and while he rummaged the house in quest of his own or some other, Rob Roy
went to the Shieling Hill, the appointed place of combat, and paraded there with great majesty, waiting for his
antagonist. In the meantime, Cunningham had rummaged out an old sword, and, entering the ground of
Rob Roy
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contest in all haste, rushed on the outlaw with such unexpected fury that he fairly drove him off the field, nor
did he show himself in the village again for some time. Mr. MacGregor Stirling has a softened account of this
anecdote in his new edition of Nimmo's Stirlingshire; still he records Rob Roy's discomfiture.
Occasionally Rob Roy suffered disasters, and incurred great personal danger. On one remarkable occasion he
was saved by the coolness of his lieutenant, Macanaleister or Fletcher, the Little John of his banda fine
active fellow, of course, and celebrated as a marksman. It happened that MacGregor and his party had been
surprised and dispersed by a superior force of horse and foot, and the word was given to ``split and
squander.'' Each shifted for himself, but a bold dragoon attached himself to pursuit of Rob, and overtaking
him, struck at him with his broadsword. A plate of iron in his bonnet saved the MacGregor from being cut
down to the teeth; but the blow was heavy enough to bear him to the ground, crying as he fell, ``Oh,
Macanaleister, is there naething in her?'' (i.e. in the gun). The trooper, at the same time, exclaiming, ``Dn
ye, your mother never wrought your nightcap!'' had his arm raised for a second blow, when Macanaleister
fired, and the ball pierced the dragoon's heart.
Such as he was, Rob Roy's progress in his occupation is thus described by a gentleman of sense and talent,
who resided within the circle of his predatory wars, had probably felt their effects, and speaks of them, as
might be expected, with little of the forbearance with which, from their peculiar and romantic character, they
are now regarded.
``This man (Rob Roy MacGregor) was a person of sagacity, and neither wanted stratagem nor address; and
having abandoned himself to all licentiousness, set himself at the head of all the loose, vagrant, and desperate
people of that clan, in the west end of Perth and Stirling shires, and infested those whole countries with thefts,
robberies, and depredations. Very few who lived within his reach (that is, within the distance of a nocturnal
expedition) could promise to themselves security, either for their persons or effects, without subjecting
themselves to pay him a heavy and shameful tax of blackmail. He at last proceeded to such a degree of
audaciousness that he committed robberies, raised contributions, and resented quarrels, at the head of a very
considerable body of armed men, in open day, and in the face of the government.''*
* Mr. Grahame of Gartmore's Causes of the Disturbances in the Highlands. See * Jamieson's edition of Burt's
Letters from the North of Scotland, Appendix, vol. * ii. p. 348.
The extent and success of these depredations cannot be surprising, when we consider that the scene of them
was laid in a country where the general law was neither enforced nor respected.
Having recorded that the general habit of cattlestealing had blinded even those of the better classes to the
infamy of the practice, and that as men's property consisted entirely in herds, it was rendered in the highest
degree precarious, Mr. Grahame adds
``On these accounts there is no culture of ground, no improvement of pastures, and from the same reasons, no
manufactures, no trade; in short, no industry. The people are extremely prolific, and therefore so numerous,
that there is not business in that country, according to its present order and economy, for the onehalf of
them. Every place is full of idle people, accustomed to arms, and lazy in everything but rapines and
depredations. As buddel or aquavitae houses are to be found everywhere through the country, so in these they
saunter away their time, and frequently consume there the returns of their illegal purchases. Here the laws
have never been executed, nor the authority of the magistrate ever established. Here the officer of the law
neither dare nor can execute his duty, and several places are about thirty miles from lawful persons. In short,
here is no order, no authority, no government.''
The period of the rebellion, 1715, approached soon after Rob Roy had attained celebrity. His Jacobite
partialities were now placed in opposition to his sense of the obligations which he owed to the indirect
Rob Roy
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protection of the Duke of Argyle. But the desire of ``drowning his sounding steps amid the din of general
war'' induced him to join the forces of the Earl of Mar, although his patron the Duke of Argyle was at the
head of the army opposed to the Highland insurgents.
The MacGregors, a large sept of them at least, that of Ciar Mhor, on this occasion were not commanded by
Rob Roy, but by his nephew already mentioned, Gregor MacGregor, otherwise called James Grahame of
Glengyle, and still better remembered by the Gaelic epithet of Ghlune Dhu, i.e. Black Knee, from a black
spot on one of his knees, which his Highland garb rendered visible. There can be no question, however, that
being then very young, Glengyle must have acted on most occasions by the advice and direction of so
experienced a leader as his uncle.
The MacGregors assembled in numbers at that period, and began even to threaten the Lowlands towards the
lower extremity of Loch Lomond. They suddenly seized all the boats which were upon the lake, and,
probably with a view to some enterprise of their own, drew them overland to Inversnaid, in order to intercept
the progress of a large body of westcountry whigs who were in arms for the government, and moving in that
direction.
The whigs made an excursion for the recovery of the boats. Their forces consisted of volunteers from Paisley,
Kilpatrick, and elsewhere, who, with the assistance of a body of seamen, were towed up the river Leven in
longboats belonging to the ships of war then lying in the Clyde. At Luss they were joined by the forces of
Sir Humphrey Colquhoun, and James Grant, his soninlaw, with their followers, attired in the Highland
dress of the period, which is picturesquely described.* The whole party crossed to CraigRoyston, but the
MacGregors
* ``At night they arrived at Luss, where they were joined by Sir Humphrey * Colquhoun of Luss, and James
Grant of Plascander, his soninlaw, followed by * forty or fifty stately fellows in their short hose and belted
plaids, armed each of * them with a wellfixed gun on his shoulder, a strong handsome target, with a *
sharppointed steel of above half an ell in length screwed into the navel of it, on * his left arm, a sturdy
claymore by his side, and a pistol or two, with a dirk and * knife, in his belt.''Rae's History of the
Rebellion, 4to, p. 287.
did not offer combat. If we are to believe the account of the expedition given by the historian Rae, they leapt
on shore at CraigRoyston with the utmost intrepidity, no enemy appearing to oppose them, and by the noise
of their drums, which they beat incessantly, and the discharge of their artillery and small arms, terrified the
MacGregors, whom they appear never to have seen, out of their fastnesses, and caused them to fly in a panic
to the general camp of the Highlanders at StrathFillan.* The lowcountry men succeeded in
* Note C. The Loch Lomond Expedition.
getting possession of the boats at a great expenditure of noise and courage, and little risk of danger.
After this temporary removal from his old haunts, Rob Roy was sent by the Earl of Mar to Aberdeen, to raise,
it is believed, a part of the clan Gregor, which is settled in that country. These men were of his own family
(the race of the Ciar Mhor). They were the descendants of about three hundred MacGregors whom the Earl of
Murray, about the year 1624, transported from his estates in Menteith to oppose against his enemies the
MacIntoshes, a race as hardy and restless as they were themselves.
But while in the city of Aberdeen, Rob Roy met a relation of a very different class and character from those
whom he was sent to summon to arms. This was Dr. James Gregory (by descent a MacGregor), the patriarch
of a dynasty of professors distinguished for literary and scientific talent, and the grandfather of the late
eminent physician and accomplished scholar, Professor Gregory of Edinburgh. This gentleman was at the
Rob Roy
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time Professor of Medicine in King's College, Aberdeen, and son of Dr. James Gregory, distinguished in
science as the inventor of the reflecting telescope. With such a family it may seem our friend Rob could have
had little communion. But civil war is a species of misery which introduces men to strange bedfellows. Dr.
Gregory thought it a point of prudence to claim kindred, at so critical a period, with a man so formidable and
influential. He invited Rob Roy to his house, and treated him with so much kindness, that he produced in his
generous bosom a degree of gratitude which seemed likely to occasion very inconvenient effects.
The Professor had a son about eight or nine years old,a lively, stout boy of his age,with whose
appearance our Highland Robin Hood was much taken. On the day before his departure from the house of his
learned relative, Rob Roy, who had pondered deeply how he might requite his cousin's kindness, took Dr.
Gregory aside, and addressed him to this purport:``My dear kinsman, I have been thinking what I could
do to show my sense of your hospitality. Now, here you have a fine spirited boy of a son, whom you are
ruining by cramming him with your useless booklearning, and I am determined, by way of manifesting my
great goodwill to you and yours, to take him with me and make a man of him.'' The learned Professor was
utterly overwhelmed when his warlike kinsman announced his kind purpose in language which implied no
doubt of its being a proposal which, would be, and ought to be, accepted with the utmost gratitude. The task
of apology or explanation was of a most delicate description; and there might have been considerable danger
in suffering Rob Roy to perceive that the promotion with which he threatened the son was, in the father's
eyes, the ready road to the gallows. Indeed, every excuse which he could at first think of such as regret
for putting his friend to trouble with a youth who had been educated in the Lowlands, and so ononly
strengthened the chieftain's inclination to patronise his young kinsman, as he supposed they arose entirely
from the modesty of the father. He would for a long time take no apology, and even spoke of carrying off the
youth by a certain degree of kindly violence, whether his father consented, or not. At length the perplexed
Professor pleaded that his son was very young, and in an infirm state of health, and not yet able to endure the
hardships of a mountain life; but that in another year or two he hoped his health would be firmly established,
and he would be in a fitting condition to attend on his brave kinsman, and follow out the splendid destinies to
which he opened the way. This agreement being made, the cousins parted,Rob Roy pledging his honour
to carry his young relation to the hills with him on his next return to Aberdeenshire, and Dr. Gregory,
doubtless, praying in his secret soul that he might never see Rob's Highland face again.
James Gregory, who thus escaped being his kinsman's recruit, and in all probability his henchman, was
afterwards Professor of Medicine in the College, and, like most of his family, distinguished by his scientific
acquirements. He was rather of an irritable and pertinacious disposition; and his friends were wont to remark,
when he showed any symptom of these foibles, ``Ah! this comes of not having been educated by Rob Roy.''
The connection between Rob Roy and his classical kinsman did not end with the period of Rob's transient
power. At a period considerably subsequent to the year 1715, he was walking in the Castle Street of
Aberdeen, arm in arm with his host, Dr. James Gregory, when the drums in the barracks suddenly beat to
arms, and soldiers were seen issuing from the barracks. ``If these lads are turning out,'' said Rob, taking leave
of his cousin with great composure, ``it is time for me to look after my safety.'' So saying, he dived down a
close, and, as John Bunyan says, ``went upon his way and was seen no more.''*
* The first of these anecdotes, which brings the highest pitch of civilisation so * closely in contact with the
halfsavage state of society, I have heard told by the * late distinguished Dr. Gregory; and the members of
his family have had the kindness * to collate the story with their recollections and family documents, and
furnish * the authentic particulars. The second rests on the recollection of an old man, who * was present
when Rob took French leave of his literary cousin on hearing the * drums beat, and communicated the
circumstance to Mr. Alexander Forbes, a connection * of Dr. Gregory by marriage, who is still alive.
We have already stated that Rob Roy's conduct during the insurrection of 1715 was very equivocal. His
person and followers were in the Highland army, but his heart seems to have been with the Duke of Argyle's.
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 16
Page No 19
Yet the insurgents were constrained to trust to him as their only guide, when they marched from Perth
towards Dunblane, with the view of crossing the Forth at what are called the Fords of Frew, and when they
themselves said he could not be relied upon.
This movement to the westward, on the part of the insurgents, brought on the battle of
Sheriffmuirindecisive, indeed, in its immediate results, but of which the Duke of Argyle reaped the whole
advantage. In this action, it will be recollected that the right wing of the Highlanders broke and cut to pieces
Argyle's left wing, while the clans on the left of Mar's army, though consisting of Stewarts, Mackenzies, and
Camerons, were completely routed. During this medley of flight and pursuit, Rob Roy retained his station on
a hill in the centre of the Highland position; and though it is said his attack might have decided the day, he
could not be prevailed upon to charge. This was the more unfortunate for the insurgents, as the leading of a
party of the Macphersons had been committed to MacGregor. This, it is said, was owing to the age and
infirmity of the chief of that name, who, unable to lead his clan in person, objected to his heirapparent,
Macpherson of Nord, discharging his duty on that occasion; so that the tribe, or a part of them, were brigaded
with their allies the MacGregors. While the favourable moment for action was gliding away unemployed,
Mar's positive orders reached Rob Roy that he should presently attack. To which he coolly replied, ``No, no!
if they cannot do it without me, they cannot do it with me.'' One of the Macphersons, named Alexander, one
of Rob's original profession, videlicet, a drover, but a man of great strength and spirit, was so incensed at the
inactivity of this temporary leader, that he threw off his plaid, drew his sword, and called out to his clansmen,
``Let us endure this no longer! if he will not lead you I will.'' Rob Roy replied, with great coolness, ``Were
the question about driving Highland stots or kyloes, Sandie, I would yield to your superior skill; but as it
respects the leading of men, I must be allowed to be the better judge.''``Did the matter respect driving
GlenEigas stots,'' answered the Macpherson, ``the question with Rob would not be, which was to be last, but
which was to be foremost.'' Incensed at this sarcasm, MacGregor drew his sword, and they would have fought
upon the spot if their friends on both sides had not interfered. But the moment of attack was completely lost.
Rob did not, however, neglect his own private interest on the occasion. In the confusion of an undecided field
of battle, he enriched his followers by plundering the baggage and the dead on both sides.
The fine old satirical ballad on the battle of Sheriffmuir does not forget to stigmatise our hero's conduct on
this memorable occasion
Rob Roy he stood watch
On a hill for to catch
The booty for aught that I saw, man;
For he ne'er advanced
From the place where he stanced,
Till nae mair was to do there at a', man.
Notwithstanding the sort of neutrality which Rob Roy had continued to observe during the progress of the
Rebellion, he did not escape some of its penalties. He was included in the act of attainder, and the house in
Breadalbane, which was his place of retreat, was burned by General Lord Cadogan, when, after the
conclusion of the insurrection, he marched through the Highlands to disarm and punish the offending clans.
But upon going to Inverary with about forty or fifty of his followers, Rob obtained favour, by an apparent
surrender of their arms to Colonel Patrick Campbell of Finnah, who furnished them and their leader with
protections under his hand. Being thus in a great measure secured from the resentment of government, Rob
Roy established his residence at CraigRoyston, near Loch Lomond, in the midst of his own kinsmen, and
lost no time in resuming his private quarrel with the Duke of Montrose. For this purpose he soon got on foot
as many men, and well armed too, as he had yet commanded. He never stirred without a bodyguard of ten or
twelve picked followers, and without much effort could increase them to fifty or sixty.
The Duke was not wanting in efforts to destroy this troublesome adversary. His Grace applied to General
Carpenter, commanding the forces in Scotland, and by his orders three parties of soldiers were directed from
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 17
Page No 20
the three different points of Glasgow, Stirling, and Finlarig near Killin. Mr. Graham of Killearn, the Duke of
Montrose's relation and factor, Sheriffdepute also of Dumbartonshire, accompanied the troops, that they
might act under the civil authority, and have the assistance of a trusty guide well acquainted with the hills. It
was the object of these several columns to arrive about the same time in the neighbourhood of Rob Roy's
residence, and surprise him and his followers. But heavy rains, the difficulties of the country, and the good
intelligence which the Outlaw was always supplied with, disappointed their wellconcerted combination. The
troops, finding the birds were flown, avenged themselves by destroying the nest. They burned Rob Roy's
house,though not with impunity; for the MacGregors, concealed among the thickets and cliffs, fired on
them, and killed a grenadier.
Rob Roy avenged himself for the loss which he sustained on this occasion by an act of singular audacity.
About the middle of November 1716, John Graham of Killearn, already mentioned as factor of the Montrose
family, went to a place called Chapel Errock, where the tenants of the Duke were summoned to appear with
their termly rents. They appeared accordingly, and the factor had received ready money to the amount of
about L300, when Rob Roy entered the room at the head of an armed party. The Steward endeavoured to
protect the Duke's property by throwing the books of accounts and money into a garret, trusting they might
escape notice. But the experienced freebooter was not to be baffled where such a prize was at stake. He
recovered the books and cash, placed himself calmly in the receipt of custom, examined the accounts,
pocketed the money, and gave receipts on the Duke's part, saying he would hold reckoning with the Duke of
Montrose out of the damages which he had sustained by his Grace's means, in which he included the losses
he had suffered, as well by the burning of his house by General Cadogan, as by the later expedition against
CraigRoyston. He then requested Mr. Graham to attend him; nor does it appear that he treated him with any
personal violence, or even rudeness, although he informed him he regarded him as a hostage, and menaced
rough usage in case he should be pursued, or in danger of being overtaken. Few more audacious feats have
been performed. After some rapid changes of place (the fatigue attending which was the only annoyance that
Mr. Graham seems to have complained of), he carried his prisoner to an island on Loch Katrine, and caused
him to write to the Duke, to state that his ransom was fixed at L3400 merks, being the balance which
MacGregor pretended remained due to him, after deducting all that he owed to the Duke of Montrose.
However, after detaining Mr. Graham five or six days in custody on the island, which is still called Rob Roy's
Prison, and could be no comfortable dwelling for November nights, the Outlaw seems to have despaired of
attaining further advantage from his bold attempt, and suffered his prisoner to depart uninjured, with the
accountbooks, and bills granted by the tenants, taking especial care to retain the cash.*
* The reader will find two original letters of the Duke of Montrose, with that * which Mr. Graham of Killearn
despatched from his prisonhouse by the Outlaw's * command, in the Appendix, No. II.
About 1717, our Chieftain had the dangerous adventure of falling into the hands of the Duke of Athole,
almost as much his enemy as the Duke of Montrose himself; but his cunning and dexterity again freed him
from certain death. See a contemporary account of this curious affair in the Appendix, No. V.
Other pranks are told of Rob, which argue the same boldness and sagacity as the seizure of Killearn. The
Duke of Montrose, weary of his insolence, procured a quantity of arms, and distributed them among his
tenantry, in order that they might defend themselves against future violences. But they fell into different
hands from those they were intended for. The MacGregors made separate attacks on the houses of the tenants,
and disarmed them all one after another, not, as was supposed, without the consent of many of the persons so
disarmed.
As a great part of the Duke's rents were payable in kind, there were girnels (granaries) established for storing
up the corn at Moulin, and elsewhere on the Buchanan estate. To these storehouses Rob Roy used to repair
with a sufficient force, and of course when he was least expected, and insist upon the delivery of quantities of
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 18
Page No 21
grain sometimes for his own use, and sometimes for the assistance of the country people; always giving
regular receipts in his own name, and pretending to reckon with the Duke for what sums he received.
In the meanwhile a garrison was established by Government, the ruins of which may be still seen about
halfway betwixt Loch Lomond and Loch Katrine, upon Rob Roy's original property of Inversnaid. Even this
military establishment could not bridle the restless MacGregor. He contrived to surprise the little fort, disarm
the soldiers, and destroy the fortification. It was afterwards reestablished, and again taken by the
MacGregors under Rob Roy's nephew Ghlune Dhu, previous to the insurrection of 17456. Finally, the fort
of Inversnaid was a third time repaired after the extinction of civil discord; and when we find the celebrated
General Wolfe commanding in it, the imagination is strongly affected by the variety of time and events which
the circumstance brings simultaneously to recollection. It is now totally dismantled.*
* About 1792, when the author chanced to pass that way while on a tour through * the Highlands, a garrison,
consisting of a single veteran, was still maintained at * Inversnaid. The venerable warder was reaping his
barley croft in all peace and * tranquillity and when we asked admittance to repose ourselves, he told us we *
would find the key of the Fort under the door.
It was not, strictly speaking, as a professed depredator that Rob Roy now conducted his operations, but as a
sort of contractor for the police; in Scottish phrase, a lifter of blackmail. The nature of this contract has been
described in the Novel of Waverley, and in the notes on that work. Mr. Grahame of Gartmore's description of
the character may be here transcribed:
``The confusion and disorders of the country were so great, and the Government go absolutely neglected it,
that the sober people were obliged to purchase some security to their effects by shameful and ignominious
contracts of blackmail. A person who had the greatest correspondence with the thieves was agreed with to
preserve the lands contracted for from thefts, for certain sums to be paid yearly. Upon this fund he employed
one half of the thieves to recover stolen cattle, and the other half of them to steal, in order to make this
agreement and blackmail contract necessary. The estates of those gentlemen who refused to contract, or
give countenance to that pernicious practice, are plundered by the thieving part of the watch, in order to force
them to purchase their protection. Their leader calls himself the Captain of the Watch, and his banditti go by
that name. And as this gives them a kind of authority to traverse the country, so it makes them capable of
doing any mischief. These corps through the Highlands make altogether a very considerable body of men,
inured from their infancy to the greatest fatigues, and very capable, to act in a military way when occasion
offers.
``People who are ignorant and enthusiastic, who are in absolute dependence upon their chief or landlord, who
are directed in their consciences by Roman Catholic priests, or nonjuring clergymen, and who are not masters
of any property, may easily be formed into any mould. They fear no dangers, as they have nothing to lose,
and so can with ease be induced to attempt anything. Nothing can make their condition worse: confusions and
troubles do commonly indulge them in such licentiousness, that by these they better it.''*
* Letters from the North of Scotland, vol. ii. pp. 344, 345.
As the practice of contracting for blackmail was an obvious encouragement to rapine, and a great obstacle to
the course of justice, it was, by the statute 1567, chap. 21, declared a capital crime both on the part of him
who levied and him who paid this sort of tax. But the necessity of the case prevented the execution of this
severe law, I believe, in any one instance; and men went on submitting to a certain unlawful imposition rather
than run the risk of utter ruin just as it is now found difficult or impossible to prevent those who have lost
a very large sum of money by robbery, from compounding with the felons for restoration of a part of their
booty.
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 19
Page No 22
At what rate Rob Roy levied blackmail I never heard stated; but there is a formal contract by which his
nephew, in 1741, agreed with various landholders of estates in the counties of Perth, Stirling, and Dumbarton,
to recover cattle stolen from them, or to pay the value within six months of the loss being intimated, if such
intimation were made to him with sufficient despatch, in consideration of a payment of L5 on each L100 of
valued rent, which was not a very heavy insurance. Petty thefts were not included in the contract; but the theft
of one horse, or one head of black cattle, or of sheep exceeding the number of six, fell under the agreement.
Rob Roy's profits upon such contracts brought him in a considerable revenue in money or cattle, of which he
made a popular use; for he was publicly liberal as well as privately beneficent. The minister of the parish of
Balquhidder, whose name was Robertson, was at one time threatening to pursue the parish for an
augmentation of his stipend. Rob Roy took an opportunity to assure him that he would do well to abstain
from this new exactiona hint which the minister did not fail to understand. But to make him some
indemnification, MacGregor presented him every year with a cow and a fat sheep; and no scruples as to the
mode in which the donor came by them are said to have affected the reverend gentleman's conscience.
The following amount of the proceedings of Rob Roy, on an application to him from one of his contractors,
had in it something very interesting to me, as told by an old countryman in the Lennox who was present on
the expedition. But as there is no point or marked incident in the story, and as it must necessarily be without
the halffrightened, halfbewildered look with which the narrator accompanied his recollections, it may
possibly lose, its effect when transferred to paper.
My informant stated himself to have been a lad of fifteen, living with his father on the estate of a gentleman
in the Lennox, whose name I have forgotten, in the capacity of herd. On a fine morning in the end of October,
the period when such calamities were almost always to be apprehended, they found the Highland thieves had
been down upon them, and swept away ten or twelve head of cattle. Rob Roy was sent for, and came with a
party of seven or eight armed men. He heard with great gravity all that could be told him of the circumstances
of the creagh, and expressed his confidence that the herdwiddiefows* could not have carried their booty far,
and that
* Mad herdsmena name given to cattlestealers [properly one who deserves * to fill a widdie, or halter].
he should be able to recover them. He desired that two Lowlanders should be sent on the party, as it was not
to be expected that any of his gentlemen would take the trouble of driving the cattle when he should recover
possession of them. My informant and his father were despatched on the expedition. They had no good will
to the journey; nevertheless, provided with a little food, and with a dog to help them to manage the cattle,
they set off with MacGregor. They travelled a long day's journey in the direction of the mountain
Benvoirlich, and slept for the night in a ruinous hut or bothy. The next morning they resumed their journey
among the hills, Rob Roy directing their course by signs and marks on the heath which my informant did not
understand.
About noon Rob commanded the armed party to halt, and to lie couched in the heather where it was thickest.
``Do you and your son,'' he said to the oldest Lowlander, ``go boldly over the hill; you will see beneath
you, in a glen on the other side, your master's cattle, feeding, it may be, with others; gather your own
together, taking care to disturb no one else, and drive them to this place. If any one speak to or threaten you,
tell them that I am here, at the head of twenty men.''``But what if they abuse us, or kill us?'' said the
Lowland, peasant, by no means delighted at finding the embassy imposed on him and his son. ``If they do
you any wrong,'' said Rob, ``I will never forgive them as long as I live.'' The Lowlander was by no means
content with this security, but did not think it safe to dispute Rob's injunctions.
He and his son climbed the hill therefore, found a deep valley, where there grazed, as Rob had predicted, a
large herd of cattle. They cautiously selected those which their master had lost, and took measures to drive
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 20
Page No 23
them over the hill. As soon as they began to remove them, they were surprised by hearing cries and screams;
and looking around in fear and trembling they saw a woman seeming to have started out of the earth, who
flyted at them, that is, scolded them, in Gaelic. When they contrived, however, in the best Gaelic they could
muster, to deliver the message Rob Roy told them, she became silent, and disappeared without offering them
any further annoyance. The chief heard their story on their return, and spoke with great complacency of the
art which he possessed of putting such things to rights without any unpleasant bustle. The party were now on
their road home, and the danger, though not the fatigue, of the expedition was at an end.
They drove on the cattle with little repose until it was nearly dark, when Rob proposed to halt for the night
upon a wide moor, across which a cold northeast wind, with frost on its wing, was whistling to the tune of
the Pipers of StrathDearn.* The Highlanders,
* The winds which sweep a wild glen in Badenoch are so called.
sheltered by their plaids, lay down on the heath comfortably enough, but the Lowlanders had no protection
whatever. Rob Roy observing this, directed one of his followers to afford the old man a portion of his plaid;
``for the callant (boy), he may,'' said the freebooter, ``keep himself warm by walking about and watching the
cattle.'' My informant heard this sentence with no small distress; and as the frost wind grew more and more
cutting, it seemed to freeze the very blood in his young veins. He had been exposed to weather all his life, he
said, but never could forget the cold of that night; insomuch that, in the bitterness of his heart, he cursed the
bright moon for giving no heat with so much light. At length the sense of cold and weariness became so
intolerable that he resolved to desert his watch to seek some repose and shelter. With that purpose he couched
himself down behind one of the most bulky of the Highlanders, who acted as lieutenant to the party. Not
satisfied with having secured the shelter of the man's large person, he coveted a share of his plaid, and by
imperceptible degrees drew a corner of it round him. He was now comparatively in paradise, and slept sound
till daybreak, when he awoke, and was terribly afraid on observing that his nocturnal operations had
altogether uncovered the dhuiniewassell's neck and shoulders, which, lacking the plaid which should have
protected them, were covered with cranreuch (i.e. hoar frost). The lad rose in great dread of a beating, at least,
when it should be found how luxuriously he had been accommodated at the expense of a principal person of
the party. Good Mr. Lieutenant, however, got up and shook himself, rubbing off the hoar frost with his plaid,
and muttering something of a cauld neight. They then drove on the cattle, which were restored to their owner
without farther adventureThe above can hardly be termed a tale, but yet it contains materials both for the
poet and artist.
It was perhaps about the same time that, by a rapid march into the Balquhidder hills at the head of a body of
his own tenantry, the Duke of Montrose actually surprised Rob Roy, and made him prisoner. He was
mounted behind one of the Duke's followers, named James Stewart, and made fast to him by a horsegirth.
The person who had him thus in charge was grandfather of the intelligent man of the same name, now
deceased, who lately kept the inn in the vicinity of Loch Katrine, and acted as a guide to visitors through that
beautiful scenery. From him I learned the story many years before he was either a publican, or a guide, except
to moorfowl shooters. It was evening (to resume the story), and the Duke was pressing on to lodge his
prisoner, so long sought after in vain, in some place of security, when, in crossing the Teith or Forth, I forget
which, MacGregor took an opportunity to conjure Stewart, by all the ties of old acquaintance and good
neighbourhood, to give him some chance of an escape from an assured doom. Stewart was moved with
compassion, perhaps with fear. He slipt the girthbuckle, and Rob, dropping down from behind the horse's
croupe, dived, swam, and escaped, pretty much as described in the Novel. When James Stewart came on
shore, the Duke hastily demanded where his prisoner was; and as no distinct answer was returned, instantly
suspected Stewart's connivance at the escape of the Outlaw; and, drawing a steel pistol from his belt, struck
him down with a blow on the head, from the effects of which, his descendant said, he never completely
recovered.
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 21
Page No 24
In the success of his repeated escapes from the pursuit of his powerful enemy, Rob Roy at length became
wanton and facetious. He wrote a mock challenge to the Duke, which he circulated among his friends to
amuse them over a bottle. The reader will find this document in the Appendix.* It is written in a good hand,
and not
* Appendix, No. III.
particularly deficient in grammar or spelling. Our Southern readers must be given to understand that it was a
piece of humour,a quiz, in short,on the part of the Outlaw, who was too sagacious to propose such a
rencontre in reality. This letter was written in the year 1719.
In the following year Rob Roy composed another epistle, very little to his own reputation, as he therein
confesses having played booty during the civil war of 1715. It is addressed to General Wade, at that time
engaged in disarming the Highland clans, and making military roads through the country. The letter is a
singular composition. It sets out the writer's real and unfeigned desire to have offered his service to King
George, but for his liability to be thrown into jail for a civil debt, at the instance of the Duke of Montrose.
Being thus debarred from taking the right side, he acknowledged he embraced the wrong one, upon Falstaff's
principle, that since the King wanted men and the rebels soldiers, it were worse shame to be idle in such a
stirring world, than to embrace the worst side, were it as black as rebellion could make it. The impossibility
of his being neutral in such a debate, Rob seems to lay down as an undeniable proposition. At the same time,
while he acknowledges having been forced into an unnatural rebellion against King George, he pleads that he
not only avoided acting offensively against his Majesty's forces on all occasions, but, on the contrary, sent to
them what intelligence he could collect from time to time; for the truth of which he refers to his Grace the
Duke of Argyle. What influence this plea had on General Wade, we have no means of knowing.
Rob Roy appears to have continued to live very much as usual. His fame, in the meanwhile, passed beyond
the narrow limits of the country in which he resided. A pretended history of him appeared in London during
his lifetime, under the title of the Highland Rogue. It is a catchpenny publication, bearing in front the effigy
of a species of ogre, with a beard of a foot in length; and his actions are as much exaggerated as his personal
appearance. Some few of the best known adventures of the hero are told, though with little accuracy; but the
greater part of the pamphlet is entirely fictitious. It is great pity so excellent a theme for a narrative of the
kind had not fallen into the hands of De Foe, who was engaged at the time on subjects somewhat similar,
though inferior in dignity and interest.
As Rob Roy advanced in years, he became more peaceable in his habits, and his nephew Ghlune Dhu, with
most of his tribe, renounced those peculiar quarrels with the Duke of Montrose, by which his uncle had been
distinguished. The policy of that great family had latterly been rather to attach this wild tribe by kindness
than to follow the mode of violence which had been hitherto ineffectually resorted to. Leases at a low rent
were granted to many of the MacGregors, who had heretofore held possessions in the Duke's Highland
property merely by occupancy; and Glengyle (or Blackknee), who continued to act as collector of
blackmail, managed his police, as a commander of the Highland watch arrayed at the charge of
Government. He is said to have strictly abstained from the open and lawless depredations which his kinsman
had practised,
It was probably after this state of temporary quiet had been obtained, that Rob Roy began to think of the
concerns of his future state. He had been bred, and long professed himself, a Protestant; but in his later years
he embraced the Roman Catholic faith, perhaps on Mrs. Cole's principle, that it was a comfortable
religion for one of his calling. He is said to have alleged as the cause of his conversion, a desire to gratify the
noble family of Perth, who were then strict Catholics. Having, as he observed, assumed the name of the Duke
of Argyle, his first protector, he could pay no compliment worth the Earl of Perth's acceptance save
complying with his mode of religion. Rob did not pretend, when pressed closely on the subject, to justify all
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 22
Page No 25
the tenets of Catholicism, and acknowledged that extreme unction always appeared to him a great waste of
ulzie, or oil.*
* Such an admission is ascribed to the robber Donald Bean Lean in Waverley, * chap. lxii,
In the last years of Rob Roy's life, his clan was involved in a dispute with one more powerful than
themselves. Stewart of Appin, a chief of the tribe so named, was proprietor of a hillfarm in the Braes of
Balquhidder, called Invernenty. The MacGregors of Rob Roy's tribe claimed a right to it by ancient
occupancy, and declared they would oppose to the uttermost the settlement of any person upon the farm not
being of their own name. The Stewarts came down with two hundred men, well armed, to do themselves
justice by main force. The MacGregors took the field, but were unable to muster an equal strength. Rob Roy,
fending himself the weaker party, asked a parley, in which he represented that both clans were friends to the
King, and, that he was unwilling they should be weakened by mutual conflict, and thus made a merit of
surrendering to Appin the disputed territory of Invernenty. Appin, accordingly, settled as tenants there, at an
easy quitrent, the MacLarens, a family dependent on the Stewarts, and from whose character for strength
and bravery, it was expected that they would make their right good if annoyed by the MacGregors. When all
this had been amicably adjusted, in presence of the two clans drawn up in arms near the Kirk of Balquhidder,
Rob Roy, apparently fearing his tribe might be thought to have conceded too much upon the occasion,
stepped forward and said, that where so many gallant men were met in arms, it would be shameful to part
without it trial of skill, and therefore he took the freedom to invite any gentleman of the Stewarts present to
exchange a few blows with him for the honour of their respective clans. The brotherinlaw of Appin, and
second chieftain of the clan, Alaster Stewart of Invernahyle, accepted the challenge, and they encountered
with broadsword and target before their respective kinsmen.* The combat
* Some accounts state that Appin himself was Rob Roy's antagonist on this * occasion. My recollection, from
the account of Invernahyle himself, was as stated * in the text. But the period when I received the information
is now so distant, * that it is possible I may be mistaken. Invernahyle was rather of low stature, but * very
well made, athletic, and an excellent swordsman.
lasted till Rob received a slight wound in the arm, which was the usual termination of such a combat when
fought for honour only, and not with a mortal purpose. Rob Roy dropped his point, and congratulated his
adversary on having been the first man who ever drew blood from him. The victor generously acknowledged,
that without the advantage of youth, and the agility accompanying it, he probably could not have come off
with advantage.
This was probably one of Rob Roy's last exploits in arms. The time of his death is not known with certainty,
but he is generally said to have survived 1738, and to have died an aged man. When he found himself
approaching his final change, he expressed some contrition for particular parts of his life. His wife laughed at
these scruples of conscience, and exhorted him to die like a man, as he had lived. In reply, he rebuked her for
her violent passions, and the counsels she had given him. ``You have put strife,'' he said, ``betwixt me and the
best men of the country, and now you would place enmity between me and my God.''
There is a tradition, no way inconsistent with the former, if the character of Rob Roy be justly considered,
that while on his deathbed, he learned that a person with whom he was at enmity proposed to visit him.
``Raise me from my bed,'' said the invalid; ``throw my plaid around me, and bring me my claymore, dirk, and
pistolsit shall never be said that a foeman saw Rob Roy MacGregor defenceless and unarmed.'' His
foeman, conjectured to be one of the MacLarens before and after mentioned, entered and paid his
compliments, inquiring after the health of his formidable neighbour. Rob Roy maintained a cold haughty
civility during their short conference, and so soon as he had left the house. ``Now,'' he said, ``all is
overlet the piper play, Ha til mi tulidh'' (we return no more); and he is said to have expired before the
dirge was finished.
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 23
Page No 26
This singular man died in bed in his own house, in the parish of Balquhidder. He was buried in the
churchyard of the same parish, where his tombstone is only distinguished by a rude attempt at the figure of a
broadsword.
The character of Rob Roy is, of course, a mixed one. His sagacity, boldness, and prudence, qualities so highly
necessary to success in war, became in some degree vices, from the manner in which they were employed.
The circumstances of his education, however, must be admitted as some extenuation of his habitual
transgressions against the law; and for his political tergiversations, he might in that distracted period plead
the example of men far more powerful, and less excusable in becoming the sport of circumstances, than the
poor and desperate outlaw. On the other hand, he was in the constant exercise of virtues, the more meritorious
as they seem inconsistent with his general character. Pursuing the occupation of a predatory chieftain,in
modern phrase a captain of banditti, Rob Roy was moderate in his revenge, and humane in his successes.
No charge of cruelty or bloodshed, unless in battle, is brought against his memory. In like manner, the
formidable outlaw was the friend of the poor, and, to the utmost of his ability, the support of the widow and
the orphankept his word when pledgedand died lamented in his own wild country, where there were
hearts grateful for his beneficence, though their minds were not sufficiently instructed to appreciate his errors.
The author perhaps ought to stop here; but the fate of a part of Rob Roy's family was so extraordinary, as to
call for a continuation of this somewhat prolix account, as affording an interesting chapter, not on Highland
manners alone, but on every stage of society in which the people of a primitive and halfcivilised tribe are
brought into close contact with a nation, in which civilisation and polity have attained a complete superiority.
Rob had five sons,Coll, Ronald, James, Duncan, and Robert. Nothing occurs worth notice concerning
three of them; but James, who was a very handsome man, seems to have had a good deal of his father's spirit,
and the mantle of Dougal Ciar Mhor had apparently descended on the shoulders of Robin Oig, that is, young
Robin. Shortly after Rob Roy's death, the illwill which the MacGregors entertained against the MacLarens
again broke out, at the instigation, it was said, of Rob's widow, who seems thus far to have deserved the
character given to her by her husband, as an Ate' stirring up to blood and strife. Robin Oig, under her
instigation, swore that as soon as he could get back a certain gun which had belonged to his father, and had
been lately at Doune to be repaired, he would shoot MacLaren, for having presumed to settle on his mother's
land.* He was as
* This fatal piece was taken from Robin Oig, when he was seized many years * afterwards. It remained in
possession of the magistrates before whom he was * brought for examination, and now makes part of a small
collection of arms belonging * to the Author. It is a Spanishbarrelled gun, marked with the letters R. M. C.,
for * Robert MacGregor Campbell.
good as his word, and shot MacLaren when between the stilts of his plough, wounding him mortally.
The aid of a Highland leech was procured, who probed the wound with a probe made out of a castock; i.e.,
the stalk of a colewort or cabbage. This learned gentleman declared he would not venture to prescribe, not
knowing with what shot the patient had been wounded. MacLaren died, and about the same time his cattle
were houghed, and his live stock destroyed in a barbarous manner.
Robin Oig, after this featwhich one of his biographers represents as the unhappy discharge of a
gunretired to his mother's house, to boast that he had drawn the first blood in the quarrel aforesaid. On
the approach of troops, and a body of the Stewarts, who were bound to take up the cause of their tenant,
Robin Oig absconded, and escaped all search.
The doctor already mentioned, by name Callam MacInleister, with James and Ronald, brothers to the actual
perpetrator of the murder, were brought to trial. But as they contrived to represent the action as a rash deed
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committed by ``the daft callant Rob,'' to which they were not accessory, the jury found their accession to the
crime was Not Proven. The alleged acts of spoil and violence on the MacLarens' cattle, were also found to be
unsupported by evidence. As it was proved, however, that the two brothers, Ronald and James, were held and
reputed thieves, they were appointed to find caution to the extent of L200, for their good behaviour for seven
years.*
* Note D. Author's expedition against the MacLarens.
The spirit of clanship was at that time, so strongto which must be added the wish to secure the adherence
of stout, ablebodied, and, as the Scotch phrase then went, pretty menthat the representative of the noble
family of Perth condescended to act openly as patron of the MacGregors, and appeared as such upon their
trial. So at least the author was informed by the late Robert MacIntosh, Esq., advocate. The circumstance
may, however, have occurred later than 1736the year in which this first trial took place.
Robin Oig served for a time in the 42d regiment, and was present at the battle of Fontenoy, where he was
made prisoner and wounded. He was exchanged, returned to Scotland, and obtained his discharge. He
afterwards appeared openly in the MacGregor's country; and, notwithstanding his outlawry, married a
daughter of Graham of Drunkie, a gentleman of some property. His wife died a few years afterwards.
The insurrection of 1745 soon afterwards called the MacGregors to arms. Robert MacGregor of Glencarnoch,
generally regarded as the chief of the whole name, and grandfather of Sir John, whom the clan received in
that character, raised a MacGregor regiment, with which he joined the standard of the Chevalier. The race of
Ciar Mhor, however, affecting independence, and commanded by Glengyle and his cousin James Roy
MacGregor, did not join this kindred corps, but united themselves to the levies of the titular Duke of Perth,
until William MacGregor Drummond of Bolhaldie, whom they regarded as head of their branch, of Clan
Alpine, should come over from France. To cement the union after the Highland fashion, James laid down the
name of Campbell, and assumed that of Drummond, in compliment to Lord Perth. He was also called James
Roy, after his father, and James Mhor, or Big James, from his height. His corps, the relics of his father Rob's
band, behaved with great activity; with only twelve men he succeeded in surprising and burning, for the
second time, the fort at Inversnaid, constructed for the express purpose of bridling the country of the
MacGregors.
What rank or command James MacGregor had, is uncertain. He calls himself Major; and Chevalier Johnstone
calls him Captain. He must have held rank under Ghlune Dhu, his kinsman, but his active and audacious
character placed him above the rest of his brethren. Many of his followers were unarmed; he supplied the.
want of guns and swords with scytheblades set straight upon their handles.
At the battle of Prestonpans, James Roy distinguished himself. ``His company,'' says Chevalier Johnstone,
``did great execution with their scythes.'' They cut the legs of the horses in twothe riders through the
middle of their bodies. MacGregor was brave and intrepid, but at the same time, somewhat whimsical and
singular. When advancing to the charge with his company, he received five wounds, two of them from balls
that pierced his body through and through. Stretched on the ground, with his head resting on his hand, he
called out loudly to the Highlanders of his company, ``My lads, I am not dead. By G, I shall see if any of
you does not do his duty.'' The victory, as is well known, was instantly obtained.
In some curious letters of James Roy,* it appears that his thighbone
* Published in Blackwood's Magazine, vol. ii. p. 228.
was broken on this occasion, and that he, nevertheless, rejoined the army with six companies, and was present
at the battle of Culloden. After that defeat, the clan MacGregor kept together in a body, and did not disperse
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till they had returned into their own country. They brought James Roy with them in a litter; and, without
being particularly molested, he was permitted to reside in the MacGregor's country along with his brothers.
James MacGregor Drummond was attainted for high treason with persons of more importance. But it appears
he had entered into some communication with Government, as, in the letters quoted, he mentions having
obtained a pass from the Lord JusticeClerk in 1747, which was a sufficient protection to him from the
military. The circumstance is obscurely stated in one of the letters already quoted, but may perhaps, joined to
subsequent incidents, authorise the suspicion that James, like his father, could look at both sides of the cards.
As the confusion of the country subsided, the MacGregors, like foxes which had baffled the hounds, drew
back to their old haunts, and lived unmolested. But an atrocious outrage, in which the sons of Rob Roy were
concerned, brought at length on the family the full vengeance of the law.
James Roy was a married man, and had fourteen children. But his brother, Robin Oig, was now a widower;
and it was resolved, if possible, that he should make his fortune by carrying off and marrying, by force if
necessary, some woman of fortune from the Lowlands.
The imagination of the halfcivilised Highlanders was less shocked at the idea of this particular species of
violence, than might be expected from their general kindness to the weaker sex when they make part of their
own families. But all their views were tinged with the idea that they lived in a state of war; and in such a
state, from the time of the siege of Troy to ``the moment when Previsa fell,''*
* Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto II.
the female captives are, to uncivilised victors, the most valuable part of the booty
``The wealthy are slaughtered, the lovely are spared.''
We need not refer to the rape of the Sabines, or to a similar instance in the Book of Judges, for evidence that
such deeds of violence have been committed upon a large scale. Indeed, this sort of enterprise was so
common along the Highland line as to give rise to a variety of songs and ballads.* The annals of Ireland, as
well
* See Appendix, No. VI.
as those of Scotland, prove the crime to have been common in the more lawless parts of both countries; and
any woman who happened to please a man of spirit who came of a good house, and possessed a few chosen
friends, and a retreat in the mountains, was not permitted the alternative of saying him nay. What is more, it
would seem that the women themselves, most interested in the immunities of their sex, were, among the
lower classes, accustomed to regard such marriages as that which is presently to be detailed as ``pretty
Fanny's way,'' or rather, the way of Donald with pretty Fanny. It is not a great many years since a respectable
woman, above the lower rank of life, expressed herself very warmly to the author on his taking the freedom
to censure the behaviour of the MacGregors on the occasion in question. She said ``that there was no use in
giving a bride too much choice upon such occasions; that the marriages were the happiest long syne which
had been done offhand.'' Finally, she averred that her ``own mother had never seen her father till the night he
brought her up from the Lennox, with ten head of black cattle, and there had not been a happier couple in the
country.''
James Drummond and his brethren having similar opinions with the author's old acquaintance, and debating
how they might raise the fallen fortunes of their clan, formed a resolution to settle their brother's fortune by
striking up an advantageous marriage betwixt Robin Oig and one Jean Key, or Wright, a young woman
scarce twenty years old, and who had been left about two months a widow by the death of her husband. Her
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property was estimated at only from 16,000 to 18,000 merks, but it seems to have been sufficient temptation
to these men to join in the commission of a great crime.
This poor young victim lived with her mother in her own house at Edinbilly, in the parish of Balfron and
shire of Stirling. At this place, in the night of 3d December 1750, the sons of Rob Roy, and particularly James
Mhor and Robin Oig, rushed into the house where the object of their attack was resident, presented guns,
swords, and pistols to the males of the family, and terrified the women by threatening to break open the doors
if Jean Key was not surrendered, as, said James Roy, ``his brother was a young fellow determined to make
his fortune.'' Having, at length, dragged the object of their lawless purpose from her place of concealment,
they tore her from her mother's arms, mounted her on a horse before one of the gang, and carried her off in
spite, of her screams and cries, which were long heard after the terrified spectators of the outrage could no
longer see the party retreat through the darkness. In her attempts to escape, the poor young woman threw
herself from the horse on which they had placed her, and in so doing wrenched her side. They then laid her
double over the pummel of the saddle, and transported her through the mosses and moors till the pain of the
injury she had suffered in her side, augmented by the uneasiness of her posture, made her consent to sit
upright. In the execution of this crime they stopped at more houses than one, but none of the inhabitants dared
interrupt their proceedings. Amongst others who saw them was that classical and accomplished scholar the
late Professor William Richardson of Glasgow, who used to describe as a terrible dream their violent and
noisy entrance into the house where he was then residing. The Highlanders filled the little kitchen,
brandishing their arms, demanding what they pleased, and receiving whatever they demanded. James Mhor,
he said, was a tall, stern, and soldierlike man. Robin Oig looked more gentle; dark, but yet ruddy in
complexion a goodlooking young savage. Their victim was so dishevelled in her dress, and forlorn in
her appearance and demeanour, that he could hardly tell whether she was alive or dead.
The gang carried the unfortunate woman to Rowardennan, where they had a priest unscrupulous enough to
read the marriage service, while James Mhor forcibly held the bride up before him; and the priest declared the
couple man and wife, even while she protested against the infamy of his conduct. Under the same threats of
violence, which had been all along used to enforce their scheme, the poor victim was compelled to reside
with the pretended husband who was thus forced upon her. They even dared to carry her to the public church
of Balquhidder, where the officiating clergyman (the same who had been Rob Roy's pensioner) only asked
them if they were married persons. Robert MacGregor answered in the affirmative; the terrified female was
silent.
The country was now too effectually subjected to the law for this vile outrage to be followed by the
advantages proposed by the actors, Military parties were sent out in every direction to seize the MacGregors,
who were for two or three weeks compelled to shift from one place to another in the mountains, bearing the
unfortunate Jean Key along with them. In the meanwhile, the Supreme Civil Court issued a warrant,
sequestrating the property of Jean Key, or Wright, which removed out of the reach of the actors in the
violence the prize which they expected. They had, however, adopted a belief of the poor woman's spirit being
so far broken that she would prefer submitting to her condition, and adhering to Robin Oig as her husband,
rather than incur the disgrace, of appearing in such a cause in an open court. It was, indeed, a delicate
experiment; but their kinsman Glengyle, chief of their immediate family, was of a temper averse to lawless
proceedings;* and the captive's friends having had recourse
* Such, at least, was his general character; for when James Mhor, while perpetrating * the violence at
Edinbilly, called out, in order to overawe opposition, that * Glengyle was lying in the moor with a hundred
men to patronise his enterprise, * Jean Key told him he lied, since she was confident Glengyle would never
countenance * so scoundrelly a business.
to his advice, they feared that he would withdraw his protection if they refused to place the prisoner at liberty.
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The brethren resolved, therefore, to liberate the unhappy woman, but previously had recourse to every
measure which should oblige her, either from fear or otherwise, to own her marriage with Robin Oig. The
cailliachs (old Highland hags) administered drugs, which were designed to have the effect of philtres, but
were probably deleterious. James Mhor at one time threatened, that if she did not acquiesce in the match she
would find that there were enough of men in the Highlands to bring the heads of two of her uncles who were
pursuing the civil lawsuit. At another time he fell down on his knees, and confessed he had been accessory to
wronging her, but begged she would not ruin his innocent wife and large family. She was made to swear she
would not prosecute the brethren for the offence they had committed; and she was obliged by threats to
subscribe papers which were tendered to her, intimating that she was carried off in consequence of her own
previous request.
James Mhor Drummond accordingly brought his pretended sisterinlaw to Edinburgh, where, for some little
time, she was carried about from one house to another, watched by those with whom she was lodged, and
never permitted to go out alone, or even to approach the window. The Court of Session, considering the
peculiarity of the case, and regarding Jean Key as being still under some forcible restraint, took her person
under their own special charge, and appointed her to reside in the family of Mr. Wightman of Mauldsley, a
gentleman of respectability, who was married to one of her near relatives. Two sentinels kept guard on the
house day and nighta precaution not deemed superfluous when the MacGregors were in question. She
was allowed to go out whenever she chose, and to see whomsoever she had a mind, as well as the men of law
employed in the civil suit on either side. When she first came to Mr. Wightman's house she seemed broken
down with affright and suffering, so changed in features that her mother hardly knew her, and so shaken in
mind that she scarce could recognise her parent. It was long before she could be assured that she was in
perfect safely. But when she at length received confidence in her situation, she made a judicial declaration, or
affidavit, telling the full history of her wrongs, imputing to fear her former silence on the subject, and
expressing her resolution not to prosecute those who had injured her, in respect of the oath she had been
compelled to take. From the possible breach of such an oath, though a compulsory one, she was relieved by
the forms of Scottish jurisprudence, in that respect more equitable than those of England, prosecutions for
crimes being always conducted at the expense and charge of the King, without inconvenience or cost to the
private party who has sustained the wrong. But the unhappy sufferer did not live to be either accuser or
witness against those who had so deeply injured her.
James Mhor Drummond had left Edinburgh so soon as his halfdead prey had been taken from his clutches.
Mrs. Key, or Wright, was released from her species of confinement there, and removed to Glasgow, under the
escort of Mr. Wightman. As they passed the Hill of Shotts, her escort chanced to say, ``this is a very wild
spot; what if the MacGregors should come upon us?''``God forbid!'' was her immediate answer, ``the very
sight of them would kill me.'' She continued to reside at Glasgow, without venturing to return to her own
house at Edinbilly. Her pretended husband made some attempts to obtain an interview with her, which she
steadily rejected. She died on the 4th October 1751. The information for the Crown hints that her decease
might be the consequence of the usage she received. But there is a general report that she died of the
smallpox. In the meantime, James Mhor, or Drummond, fell into the hands of justice. He was considered as
the instigator of the whole affair. Nay, the deceased had informed her friends that on the night of her being
carried off, Robin Oig, moved by her cries and tears, had partly consented to let her return, when James came
up with a pistol in his hand, and, asking whether he was such a coward as to relinquish an enterprise in which
he had risked everything to procure him a fortune, in a manner compelled his brother to persevere. James's
trial took place on 13th July 1752, and was conducted with the utmost fairness and impartiality. Several
witnesses, all of the MacGregor family, swore that the marriage was performed with every appearance of
acquiescence on the woman's part; and three or four witnesses, one of them sheriffsubstitute of the county,
swore she might have made her escape if she wished, and the magistrate stated that he offered her assistance
if she felt desirous to do so. But when asked why he, in his official capacity, did not arrest the MacGregors,
he could only answer, that he had not force sufficient to make the attempt.
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The judicial declarations of Jean Key, or Wright, stated the violent manner in which she had been carried off,
and they were confirmed by many of her friends, from her private communications with them, which the
event of her death rendered good evidence. Indeed, the fact of her abduction (to use a Scottish law term) was
completely proved by impartial witnesses. The unhappy woman admitted that she had pretended
acquiescence in her fate on several occasions, because she dared not trust such as offered to assist her to
escape, not even the sheriffsubstitute.
The jury brought in a special verdict, finding that Jean Key, or Wright, had been forcibly carried off from her
house, as charged in the indictment, and that the accused had failed to show that she was herself privy and
consenting to this act of outrage. But they found the forcible marriage, and subsequent violence, was not
proved; and also found, in alleviation of the panel's guilt in the premises, that Jean Key did afterwards
acquiesce in her condition. Eleven of the jury, using the names of other four who were absent, subscribed a
letter to the Court, stating it was their purpose and desire, by such special verdict, to take the panel's case out
of the class of capital crimes.
Learned informations (written arguments) on the import of the verdict, which must be allowed a very mild
one in the circumstances, were laid before the High Court of Justiciary. This point is very learnedly debated
in these pleadings by Mr. Grant, Solicitor for the Crown, and the celebrated Mr. Lockhart, on the part of the
prisoner; but James Mhor did not wait the event of the Court's decision.
He had been committed to the Castle of Edinburgh on some reports that an escape would be attempted. Yet
he contrived to achieve his liberty even from that fortress. His daughter had the address to enter the prison,
disguised as a cobbler, bringing home work, as she pretended. In this cobbler's dress her father quickly
arrayed himself. The wife and daughter of the prisoner were heard by the sentinels scolding the supposed
cobbler for having done his work ill, and the man came out with his hat slouched over his eyes, and
grumbling, as if at the manner in which they had treated him. In this way the prisoner passed all the guards
without suspicion, and made his escape to France. He was afterwards outlawed by the Court of Justiciary,
which proceeded to the trial of Duncan MacGregor, or Drummond, his brother, 15th January 1753. The
accused had unquestionably been with the party which carried off Jean Key; but no evidence being brought
which applied to him individually and directly, the jury found him not guiltyand nothing more is known
of his fate.
That of James MacGregor, who, from talent and activity, if not by seniority, may be considered as head of the
family, has been long misrepresented; as it has been generally averred in Law Reports, as well as elsewhere,
that his outlawry was reversed, and that he returned and died in Scotland. But the curious letters published in
Blackwood's Magazine for December 1817, show this to be an error. The first of these documents is a
petition to Charles Edward. It is dated 20th September 1753, and pleads his service to the cause of the
Stuarts, ascribing his exile to the persecution of the Hanoverian Government, without any allusion to the
affair of Jean Key, or the Court of Justiciary. It is stated to be forwarded by MacGregor Drummond of
Bohaldie, whom, as before mentioned, James Mhor acknowledged as his chief.
The effect which this petition produced does not appear. Some temporary relief was perhaps obtained. But,
soon after, this daring adventurer was engaged in a very dark intrigue against an exile of his own country, and
placed pretty nearly in his own circumstances. A remarkable Highland story must be here briefly alluded to.
Mr. Campbell of Glenure, who had been named factor for Government on the forfeited estates of Stewart of
Ardshiel, was shot dead by an assassin as he passed through the wood of Lettermore, after crossing the ferry
of Ballachulish. A gentleman, named James Stewart, a natural brother of Ardshiel, the forfeited person, was
tried as being accessory to the murder, and condemned and executed upon very doubtful evidence; the
heaviest part of which only amounted to the accused person having assisted a nephew of his own, called
Allan Breck Stewart, with money to escape after the deed was done. Not satisfied with this vengeance, which
was obtained in a manner little to the honour of the dispensation of justice at the time, the friends of the
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deceased Glenure were equally desirous to obtain possession of the person of Allan Breck Stewart, supposed
to be the actual homicide. James Mhor Drummond was secretly applied to to trepan Stewart to the seacoast,
and bring him over to Britain, to almost certain death. Drummond MacGregor had kindred connections with
the slain Glenure; and, besides, the MacGregors and Campbells had been friends of late, while the former
clan and the Stewarts had, as we have seen, been recently at feud; lastly, Robert Oig was now in custody at
Edinburgh, and James was desirous to do some service by which his brother might be saved. The joint force
of these motives may, in James's estimation of right and wrong, have been some vindication for engaging in
such an enterprise, although, as must be necessarily supposed, it could only be executed by treachery of a
gross description. MacGregor stipulated for a license to return to England, promising to bring Allan Breck
thither along with him. But the intended victim was put upon his guard by two countrymen, who suspected
James's intentions towards him. He escaped from his kidnapper, after, as MacGregor alleged, robbing his
portmanteau of some clothes and four snuffboxes. Such a charge, it may be observed, could scarce have
been made unless the parties had been living on a footing of intimacy, and had access to each other's
baggage.
Although James Drummond had thus missed his blow in the matter of Allan Breck Stewart, he used his
license to make a journey to London, and had an interview, as he avers, with Lord Holdernesse. His Lordship,
and the UnderSecretary, put many puzzling questions to him; and, as he says, offered him a situation, which
would bring him bread, in the Government's service. This office was advantageous as to emolument; but in
the opinion of James Drummond, his acceptance of it would have been a disgrace to his birth, and have
rendered him a scourge to his country. If such a tempting offer and sturdy rejection had any foundation in
fact, it probably relates to some plan of espionage on the Jacobites, which the Government might hope to
carry on by means of a man who, in the matter of Allan Breck Stewart, had shown no great nicety of feeling.
Drummond MacGregor was so far accommodating as to intimate his willingness to act in any station in
which other gentlemen of honour served, but not otherwise;an answer which, compared with some
passages of his past life, may remind the reader of Ancient Pistol standing upon his reputation.
Having thus proved intractable, as he tells the story, to the proposals of Lord Holdernesse, James Drummond
was ordered instantly to quit England.
On his return to France, his condition seems to have been utterly disastrous. He was seized with fever and
gravelill, consequently, in body, and weakened and dispirited in mind. Allan Breck Stewart threatened to
put him to death in revenge of the designs he had harboured against him.* The Stewart clan were in the
highest degree
* Note E. Allan Breck Stewart.
unfriendly to him: and his late expedition to London had been attended with many suspicious circumstances,
amongst which it was not the slightest that he had kept his purpose secret from his chief Bohaldie. His
intercourse with Lord Holdernesse was suspicious. The Jacobites were probably, like Don Bernard de Castel
Blaze, in Gil Blas, little disposed to like those who kept company with Alguazils. MacDonnell of
Lochgarry, a man of unquestioned honour, lodged an information against James Drummond before the High
Bailie of Dunkirk, accusing him of being a spy, so that he found himself obliged to leave that town and come
to Paris, with only the sum of thirteen livres for his immediate subsistence, and with absolute beggary staring
him in the face.
We do not offer the convicted common thief, the accomplice in MacLaren's assassination, or the manager of
the outrage against Jean Key, as an object of sympathy; but it is melancholy to look on the dying struggles
even of a wolf or a tiger, creatures of a species directly hostile to our own; and, in like manner, the utter
distress of this man, whose faults may have sprung from a wild system of education, working on a haughty
temper, will not be perused without some pity. In his last letter to Bohaldie, dated Paris, 25th September
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1754, he describes his state of destitution as absolute, and expresses himself willing to exercise his talents in
breaking or breeding horses, or as a hunter or fowler, if he could only procure employment in such an inferior
capacity till something better should occur. An Englishman may smile, but a Scotchman will sigh at the
postscript, in which the poor starving exile asks the loan of his patron's bagpipes that he might play over
some of the melancholy tunes of his own land. But the effect of music arises, in a great degree, from
association; and sounds which might jar the nerves of a Londoner or Parisian, bring back to the Highlander
his lofty mountain, wild lake, and the deeds of his fathers of the glen. To prove MacGregor's claim to our
reader's compassion, we here insert the last part of the letter alluded to.
``By all appearance I am born to suffer crosses, and it seems they're not at an end; for such is my wretched
case at present, that I do not know earthly where to go or what to do, as I have no subsistence to keep body
and soul together. All that I have carried here is about 13 livres, and have taken a room at my old quarters in
Hotel St. Pierre, Rue de Cordier. I send you the bearer, begging of you to let me know if you are to be in
town soon, that I may have the pleasure of seeing you, for I have none to make application to but you alone;
and all I want is, if it was possible you could contrive where I could be employed without going to entire
beggary. This probably is a difficult point, yet unless it's attended with some difficulty, you might think
nothing of it, as your long head can bring about matters of much more difficulty and consequence than this. If
you'd disclose this matter to your friend Mr. Butler, it's possible he might have some employ wherein I could
be of use, as I pretend to know as much of breiding and riding of horse as any in France, besides that I am a
good hunter either on horseback or by footing. You may judge my reduction, as I propose the meanest things
to lend a turn till better cast up. I am sorry that I am obliged to give you so much trouble, but I hope you are
very well assured that I am grateful for what you have done for me, and I leave you to judge of my present
wretched case. I am, and shall for ever continue, dear Chief, your own to command, Jas. MacGregor.
``P. S.If you'd send your pipes by the bearer, and all the other little trinkims belonging to it, I would put
them in order, and play some melancholy tunes, which I may now with safety, and in real truth. Forgive my
not going directly to you, for if I could have borne the seeing of yourself, I could not choose to be seen by my
friends in my wretchedness, nor by any of my acquaintance.''
While MacGregor wrote in this disconsolate manner, Death, the sad but sure remedy for mortal evils, and
decider of all doubts and uncertainties, was hovering near him. A memorandum on the back of the letter says
the writer died about a week after, in October 1754.
It now remains to mention the fate of Robin Oigfor the other sons of Rob Roy seem to have been no way
distinguished. Robin was apprehended by a party of military from the fort of Inversnaid, at the foot of
Gartmore, and was conveyed to Edinburgh 26th May 1753. After a delay, which may have been protracted by
the negotiations of James for delivering up Allan Breck Stewart upon promise of his brother's life, Robin Oig,
on the 24th of December 1753, was brought to the bar of the High Court of Justiciary, and indicted by the
name of Robert MacGregor, alias Campbell, alias Drummond, alias Robert Oig; and the evidence led against
him resembled exactly that which was brought by the Crown on the former trial. Robert's case was in some
degree more favourable than his brother's;for, though the principal in the forcible marriage, he had yet to
plead that he had shown symptoms of relenting while they were carrying Jean Key off, which were silenced
by the remonstrances and threats of his harder natured brother James. A considerable space of time had also
elapsed since the poor woman died, which is always a strong circumstance in favour of the accused; for there
is a sort of perspective in guilt, and crimes of an old date seem less odious than those of recent occurrence.
But notwithstanding these considerations, the jury, in Robert's case, did not express any solicitude to save his
life as they had done that of James. They found him guilty of being art and part in the forcible abduction of
Jean Key from her own dwelling.*
* The Trials of the Sons of Rob Roy, with anecdotes of Himself and his Family, * were published at
Edinburgh, 1818, in 12mo.
Rob Roy
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 31
Page No 34
Robin Oig was condemned to death, and executed on the 14th February 1754. At the place of execution he
behaved with great decency; and professing himself a Catholic, imputed all his misfortunes to his swerving
from the true church two or three years before. He confessed the violent methods he had used to gain Mrs.
Key, or Wright, and hoped his fate would stop further proceedings against his brother James.*
* James died near three months before, but his family might easily remain a * long time without the news of
that event.
The newspapers observed that his body, after hanging the usual time, was delivered to his friends to be
carried to the Highlands. To this the recollection of a venerable friend, recently taken from us in the fulness
of years, then a schoolboy at Linlithgow, enables the author to add, that a much larger body of MacGregors
than had cared to advance to Edinburgh received the corpse at that place with the coronach and other wild
emblems of Highland mourning, and so escorted it to Balquhidder. Thus we may conclude this long account
of Rob Roy and his family with the classic phrase,
Ite. Conclamatum est.
I have only to add, that I have selected the above from many anecdotes of Rob Roy which were, and may still
be, current among the mountains where he flourished; but I am far from warranting their exact authenticity.
Clannish partialities were very apt to guide the tongue and pen, as well as the pistol and claymore, and the
features of an anecdote are wonderfully softened or exaggerated as the story is told by a MacGregor or a
Campbell.
text
CHAPTER FIRST.
How have I sinn'd, that this affliction
Should light so heavy on me? I have no more sons,
And this no more mine own.My grand curse
Hang o'er his head that thus transformed thee!Travel?
I'll send my horse to travel next.
Monsieur Thomas.
You have requested me, my dear friend, to bestow some of that leisure, with which Providence has blessed
the decline of my life, in registering the hazards and difficulties which attended its commencement. The
recollection of those adventures, as you are pleased to term them, has indeed left upon my mind a chequered
and varied feeling of pleasure and of pain, mingled, I trust, with no slight gratitude and veneration to the
Disposer of human events, who guided my early course through much risk and labour, that the ease with
which he has blessed my prolonged life might seem softer from remembrance and contrast. Neither is it
possible for me to doubt, what you have often affirmed, that the incidents which befell me among a people
singularly primitive in their government and manners, have something interesting and attractive for those
who love to hear an old man's stories of a past age.
Still, however, you must remember, that the tale told by one friend, and listened to by another, loses half its
charms when committed to paper; and that the narratives to which you have attended with interest, as heard
from the voice of him to whom they occurred, will appear less deserving of attention when perused in the
seclusion of your study. But your greener age and robust constitution promise longer life than will, in all
human probability, be the lot of your friend. Throw, then, these sheets into some secret drawer of your
escritoire till we are separated from each other's society by an event which may happen at any moment, and
which must happen within the course of a few a very few years. When we are parted in this world, to
meet, I hope, in a better, you will, I am well aware, cherish more than it deserves the memory of your
Rob Roy
CHAPTER FIRST. 32
Page No 35
departed friend, and will find in those details which I am now to commit to paper, matter for melancholy, but
not unpleasing reflection. Others bequeath to the confidants of their bosom portraits of their external features
I put into your hands a faithful transcript of my thoughts and feelings, of my virtues and of my failings,
with the assured hope, that the follies and headstrong impetuosity of my youth will meet the same kind
construction and forgiveness which have so often attended the faults of my matured age.
One advantage, among the many, of addressing my Memoirs (if I may give these sheets a name so imposing)
to a dear and intimate friend, is, that I may spare some of the details, in this case unnecessary, with which I
must needs have detained a stranger from what I have to say of greater interest. Why should I bestow all my
tediousness upon you, because I have you in my power, and have ink, paper, and time before me? At the
same time, I dare not promise that I may not abuse the opportunity so temptingly offered me, to treat of
myself and my own concerns, even though I speak of circumstances as well known to you as to myself. The
seductive love of narrative, when we ourselves are the heroes of the events which we tell, often disregards the
attention due to the time and patience of the audience, and the best and wisest have yielded to its fascination.
I need only remind you of the singular instance evinced by the form of that rare and original edition of Sully's
Memoirs, which you (with the fond vanity of a bookcollector) insist upon preferring to that which is
reduced to the useful and ordinary form of Memoirs, but which I think curious, solely as illustrating how far
so great a man as the author was accessible to the foible of selfimportance. If I recollect rightly, that
venerable peer and great statesman had appointed no fewer than four gentlemen of his household to draw up
the events of his life, under the title of Memorials of the Sage and Royal Affairs of State, Domestic, Political,
and Military, transacted by Henry IV., and so forth. These grave recorders, having made their compilation,
reduced the Memoirs containing all the remarkable events of their master's life into a narrative, addressed to
himself in propria persona. And thus, instead of telling his own story, in the third person, like Julius Caesar,
or in the first person, like most who, in the hall, or the study, undertake to be the heroes of their own tale,
Sully enjoyed the refined, though whimsical pleasure, of having the events of his life told over to him by his
secretaries, being himself the auditor, as he was also the hero, and probably the author, of the whole book. It
must have been a great sight to have seen the exminister, as bolt upright as a starched ruff and laced cassock
could make him, seated in state beneath his canopy, and listening to the recitation of his compilers, while,
standing bare in his presence, they informed him gravely, ``Thus said the dukeso did the duke
infersuch were your grace's sentiments upon this important pointsuch were your secret counsels to
the king on that other emergency,'' circumstances, all of which must have been much better known to
their hearer than to themselves, and most of which could only be derived from his own special
communication.
My situation is not quite so ludicrous as that of the great Sully, and yet there would be something whimsical
in Frank Osbaldistone giving Will Tresham a formal account of his birth, education, and connections in the
world. I will, therefore, wrestle with the tempting spirit of P. P., Clerk of our Parish, as I best may, and
endeavour to tell you nothing that is familiar to you already. Some things, however, I must recall to your
memory, because, though formerly well known to you, they may have been forgotten through lapse of time,
and they afford the groundwork of my destiny.
You must remember my father well; for, as your own was a member of the mercantile house, you knew him
from infancy. Yet you hardly saw him in his best days, before age and infirmity had quenched his ardent
spirit of enterprise and speculation. He would have been a poorer man, indeed, but perhaps as happy, had he
devoted to the extension of science those active energies, and acute powers of observation, for which
commercial pursuits found occupation. Yet, in the fluctuations of mercantile speculation, there is something
captivating to the adventurer, even independent of the hope of gain. He who embarks on that fickle sea,
requires to possess the skill of the pilot and the fortitude of the navigator, and after all may be wrecked and
lost, unless the gales of fortune breathe in his favour. This mixture of necessary attention and inevitable
hazard,the frequent and awful uncertainty whether prudence shall overcome fortune, or fortune baffle the
schemes of prudence, affords full occupation for the powers, as well as for the feelings of the mind, and trade
Rob Roy
CHAPTER FIRST. 33
Page No 36
has all the fascination of gambling without its moral guilt.
Early in the 18th century, when I (Heaven help me) was a youth of some twenty years old, I was summoned
suddenly from Bourdeaux to attend my father on business of importance. I shall never forget our first
interview. You recollect the brief, abrupt, and somewhat stern mode in which he was wont to communicate
his pleasure to those around him. Methinks I see him even now in my mind's eye;the firm and upright
figure, the step, quick and determined,the eye, which shot so keen and so penetrating a
glance,the features, on which care had already planted wrinkles,and hear his language, in which he
never wasted word in vain, expressed in a voice which had sometimes an occasional harshness, far from the
intention of the speaker.
When I dismounted from my posthorse, I hastened to my father's apartment. He was traversing it with an air
of composed and steady deliberation, which even my arrival, although an only son unseen for four years, was
unable to discompose. I threw myself into his arms. He was a kind, though not a fond father, and the tear
twinkled in his dark eye, but it was only for a moment.
``Dubourg writes to me that he is satisfied with you, Frank.''
``I am happy, sir''
``But I have less reason to be so'' he added, sitting down at his bureau.
``I am sorry, sir''
``Sorry and happy, Frank, are words that, on most occasions, signify little or nothingHere is your last
letter.''
He took it out from a number of others tied up in a parcel of red tape, and curiously labelled and filed. There
lay my poor epistle, written on the subject the nearest to my heart at the time, and couched in words which I
had thought would work compassion if not conviction,there, I say, it lay, squeezed up among the letters
on miscellaneous business in which my father's daily affairs had engaged him. I cannot help smiling
internally when I recollect the mixture of hurt vanity, and wounded feeling, with which I regarded my
remonstrance, to the penning of which there had gone, I promise you, some trouble, as I beheld it extracted
from amongst letters of advice, of credit, and all the commonplace lumber, as I then thought them, of a
merchant's correspondence. Surely, thought I, a letter of such importance (I dared not say, even to myself, so
well written) deserved a separate place, as well as more anxious consideration, than those on the ordinary
business of the countinghouse.
But my father did not observe my dissatisfaction, and would not have minded it if he had. He proceeded, with
the letter in his hand. ``This, Frank, is yours of the 21st ultimo, in which you advise me (reading from my
letter), that in the most important business of forming a plan, and adopting a profession for life, you trust my
paternal goodness will hold you entitled to at least a negative voice; that you have insuperableay,
insuperable is the wordI wish, by the way, you would write a more distinct current handdraw a score
through the tops of your t's, and open the loops of your l'sinsuperable objections to the arrangements
which I have proposed to you. There is much more to the same effect, occupying four good pages of paper,
which a little attention to perspicuity and distinctness of expression might have comprised within as many
lines. For, after all, Frank, it amounts but to this, that you will not do as I would have you.''
``That I cannot, sir, in the present instance, not that I will not.''
Rob Roy
CHAPTER FIRST. 34
Page No 37
``Words avail very little with me, young man,'' said my father, whose inflexibility always possessed the air of
the most perfect calmness of selfpossession. ``Can not may be a more civil phrase than will not, but the
expressions are synonymous where there is no moral impossibility. But I am not a friend to doing business
hastily; we will talk this matter over after dinner.Owen!''
Owen appeared, not with the silver locks which you were used to venerate, for he was then little more than
fifty; but he had the same, or an exactly similar uniform suit of lightbrown clothes,the same pearlgrey
silk stockings,the same stock, with its silver buckle,the same plaited cambric ruffles, drawn down
over his knuckles in the parlour, but in the countinghouse carefully folded back under the sleeves, that they
might remain unstained by the ink which he daily consumed;in a word, the same grave, formal, yet
benevolent cast of features, which continued to his death to distinguish the head clerk of the great house of
Osbaldistone and Tresham.
``Owen,'' said my father, as the kind old man shook me affectionately by the hand, ``you must dine with us
today, and hear the news Frank has brought us from our friends in Bourdeaux.''
Owen made one of his stiff bows of respectful gratitude; for, in those days, when the distance between
superiors and inferiors was enforced in a manner to which the present times are strangers, such an invitation
was a favour of some little consequence.
I shall long remember that dinnerparty. Deeply affected by feelings of anxiety, not unmingled with
displeasure, I was unable to take that active share in the conversation which my father seemed to expect from
me; and I too frequently gave unsatisfactory answers to the questions with which he assailed me. Owen,
hovering betwixt his respect for his patron, and his love for the youth he had dandled on his knee in
childhood, like the timorous, yet anxious ally of an invaded nation, endeavoured at every blunder I made to
explain my nomeaning, and to cover my retreat; manoeuvres which added to my father's pettish displeasure,
and brought a share of it upon. my kind advocate, instead of protecting me. I had not, while residing in the
house of Dubourg, absolutely conducted myself like
A clerk condemn'd his father's soul to cross, Who penn'd a stanza when he should engross;
but, to say truth, I had frequented the countinghouse no more than I had thought absolutely necessary to
secure the good report of the Frenchman, long a correspondent of our firm, to whom my father had trusted for
initiating me into the mysteries of commerce. In fact, my principal attention had been dedicated to literature
and manly exercises. My father did not altogether discourage such acquirements, whether mental or personal.
He had too much good sense not to perceive, that they sate gracefully upon every man, and he was sensible
that they relieved and dignified the character to which he wished me to aspire. But his chief ambition was,
that I should succeed not merely to his fortune, but to the views and plans by which he imagined he could
extend and perpetuate the wealthy inheritance which he designed for me.
Love of his profession was the motive which he chose should be most ostensible, when he urged me to tread
the same path; but he had others with which I only became acquainted at a later period. Impetuous in his
schemes, as well as skilful and daring, each new adventure, when successful, became at once the incentive,
and furnished the means, for farther speculation. It seemed to be necessary to him, as to an ambitious
conqueror, to push on from achievement to achievement, without stopping to secure, far less to enjoy, the
acquisitions which he made. Accustomed to see his whole fortune trembling in the scales of chance, and
dexterous at adopting expedients for casting the balance in his favour, his health and spirits and activity
seemed ever to increase with the animating hazards on which he staked his wealth; and he resembled a sailor,
accustomed to brave the billows and the foe, whose confidence rises on the eve of tempest or of battle. He
was not, however, insensible to the changes which increasing age or supervening malady might make in his
own constitution; and was anxious in good time to secure in me an assistant, who might take the helm when
Rob Roy
CHAPTER FIRST. 35
Page No 38
his hand grew weary, and keep the vessel's way according to his counsel and instruction. Paternal affection,
as well as the furtherance of his own plans, determined him to the same conclusion. Your father, though his
fortune was vested in the house, was only a sleeping partner, as the commercial phrase goes; and Owen,
whose probity and skill in the details of arithmetic rendered his services invaluable as a head clerk, was not
possessed either of information or talents sufficient to conduct the mysteries of the principal management. If
my father were suddenly summoned from life, what would become of the world of schemes which he had
formed, unless his son were moulded into a commercial Hercules, fit to sustain the weight when relinquished
by the falling Atlas? and what would become of that son himself, if, a stranger to business of this description,
he found himself at once involved in the labyrinth of mercantile concerns, without the clew of knowledge
necessary for his extraction? For all these reasons, avowed and secret, my father was determined I should
embrace his profession; and when he was determined, the resolution of no man was more immovable. I,
however, was also a party to be consulted, and, with something of his own pertinacity, I had formed a
determination precisely contrary. It may, I hope, be some palliative for the resistance which, on this occasion,
I offered to my father's wishes, that I did not fully understand upon what they were founded, or how deeply
his happiness was involved in them. Imagining myself certain of a large succession in future, and ample
maintenance in the meanwhile, it never occurred to me that it might be necessary, in order to secure these
blessings, to submit to labour and limitations unpleasant to my taste and temper. I only saw in my father's
proposal for my engaging in business, a desire that I should add to those heaps of wealth which he had
himself acquired; and imagining myself the best judge of the path to my own happiness, I did not conceive
that I should increase that happiness by augmenting a fortune which I believed was already sufficient, and
more than sufficient, for every use, comfort, and elegant enjoyment.
Accordingly, I am compelled to repeat, that my time at Bourdeaux had not been spent as my father had
proposed to himself. What he considered as the chief end of my residence in that city, I had postponed for
every other, and would (had I dared) have neglected altogether. Dubourg, a favoured and benefited
correspondent of our mercantile house, was too much of a shrewd politician to make such reports to the head
of the firm concerning his only child, as would excite the displeasure of both; and he might also, as you will
presently hear, have views of selfish advantage in suffering me to neglect the purposes for which I was placed
under his charge. My conduct was regulated by the bounds of decency and good order, and thus far he had no
evil report to make, supposing him so disposed; but, perhaps, the crafty Frenchman would have been equally
complaisant, had I been in the habit of indulging worse feelings than those of indolence and aversion to
mercantile business. As it was, while I gave a decent portion of my time to the commercial studies he
recommended, he was by no means envious of the hours which I dedicated to other and more classical
attainments, nor did he ever find fault with me for dwelling upon Corneille and Boileau, in preference to
Postlethwayte (supposing his folio to have then existed, and Monsieur Dubourg able to have pronounced his
name), or Savary, or any other writer on commercial economy. He had picked up somewhere a convenient
expression, with which he rounded off every letter to his correspondent,``I was all,'' he said, ``that a
father could wish.''
My father never quarrelled with a phrase, however frequently repeated, provided it seemed to him distinct
and expressive; and Addison himself could not have found expressions so satisfactory to him as, ``Yours
received, and duly honoured the bills enclosed, as per margin.''
Knowing, therefore, very well what he desired me to, be, Mr. Osbaldistone made no doubt, from the frequent
repetition of Dubourg's favourite phrase, that I was the very thing he wished to see me; when, in an evil hour,
he received my letter, containing my eloquent and detailed apology for declining a place in the firm, and a
desk and stool in the corner of the dark countinghouse in Crane Alley, surmounting in height those of
Owen, and the other clerks, and only inferior to the tripod of my father himself. All was wrong from that
moment. Dubourg's reports became as suspicious as if his bills had been noted for dishonour. I was
summoned home in all haste, and received in the manner I have already communicated to you.
Rob Roy
CHAPTER FIRST. 36
Page No 39
CHAPTER SECOND.
I begin shrewdly to suspect the young man of a terrible taintPoetry;
with which idle disease if he be infected, there's no hope of him in a
state course. Actum est of him for a commonwealth's man, if he go
to't in rhyme once.
Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair.
My father had, generally speaking, his temper under complete selfcommand, and his anger rarely indicated
itself by words, except in a sort of dry testy manner, to those who had displeased him. He never used threats,
or expressions of loud resentment. All was arranged with him on system, and it was his practice to do ``the
needful'' on every occasion, without wasting words about it. It was, therefore, with a bitter smile that he
listened to my imperfect answers concerning the state of commerce in France, and unmercifully permitted me
to involve myself deeper and deeper in the mysteries of agio, tariffs, tare and tret; nor can I charge my
memory with his having looked positively angry, until he found me unable to explain the exact effect which
the depreciation of the louis d'or had produced on the negotiation of bills of exchange. ``The most remarkable
national occurrence in my time,'' said my father (who nevertheless had seen the Revolution) ``and he
knows no more of it than a post on the quay!''
``Mr. Francis,'' suggested Owen, in his timid and conciliatory manner, ``cannot have forgotten, that by an
arret of the King of France, dated 1st May 1700, it was provided that the porteur, within ten days after due,
must make demand''
``Mr. Francis,'' said my father, interrupting him, ``will, I dare say, recollect for the moment anything you are
so kind as hint to him. But, body o' me! how Dubourg could permit him! Hark ye, Owen, what sort of a youth
is Clement Dubourg, his nephew there, in the office, the blackhaired lad?''
``One of the cleverest clerks, sir, in the house; a prodigious young man for his time,'' answered Owen; for the
gaiety and civility of the young Frenchman had won his heart.
``Ay, ay, I suppose he knows something of the nature of exchange. Dubourg was determined I should have
one youngster at least about my hand who understood business. But I see his drift, and he shall find that I do
so when he looks at the balancesheet. Owen, let Clement's salary be paid up to next quarterday, and let
him ship himself back to Bourdeaux in his father's ship, which is clearing out yonder.''
``Dismiss Clement Dubourg, sir?'' said Owen, with a faltering voice.
``Yes, sir, dismiss him instantly; it is enough to have a stupid Englishman in the countinghouse to make
blunders, without keeping a sharp Frenchman there to profit by them.''
I had lived long enough in the territories of the Grand Monarque to contract a hearty aversion to arbitrary
exertion of authority, even if it had not been instilled into me with my earliest breeding; and I could not
refrain from interposing, to prevent an innocent and meritorious young man from paying the penalty of
having acquired that proficiency which my father had desired for me.
``I beg pardon, sir,'' when Mr. Osbaldistone had done speaking; ``but I think it but just, that if I have been
negligent of my studies, I should pay the forfeit myself. I have no reason to charge Monsieur Dubourg with
having neglected to give me opportunities of improvement, however little I may have profited by them; and
with respect to Monsieur Clement Dubourg''
``With respect to him, and to you, I shall take the measures which I see needful,'' replied my father; ``but it is
fair in you, Frank, to take your own blame on your own shouldersvery fair, that cannot be denied.I
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CHAPTER SECOND. 37
Page No 40
cannot acquit old Dubourg,'' he said, looking to Owen, ``for having merely afforded Frank the means of
useful knowledge, without either seeing that he took advantage of them or reporting to me if he did not. You
see, Owen, he has natural notions of equity becoming a British merchant.''
``Mr. Francis,'' said the headclerk, with his usual formal inclination of the head, and a slight elevation of his
right hand, which he had acquired by a habit of sticking his pen behind his ear before he spoke``Mr.
Francis seems to understand the fundamental principle of all moral accounting, the great ethic rule of three.
Let A do to B, as he would have B do to him; the product will give the rule of conduct required.''
My father smiled at this reduction of the golden rule to arithmetical form, but instantly proceeded.
``All this signifies nothing, Frank; you have been throwing away your time like a boy, and in future you must
learn to live like a man. I shall put you under Owen's care for a few months, to recover the lost ground.''
I was about to reply, but Owen looked at me with such a supplicatory and warning gesture, that I was
involuntarily silent.
``We will then,'' continued my father, ``resume the subject of mine of the 1st ultimo, to which you sent me an
answer which was unadvised and unsatisfactory. So now, fill your glass, and push the bottle to Owen.''
Want of courageof audacity if you willwas never my failing. I answered firmly, ``I was sorry that my
letter was unsatisfactory, unadvised it was not; for I had given the proposal his goodness had made me, my
instant and anxious attention, and it was with no small pain that I found myself obliged to decline it.''
My father bent his keen eye for a moment on me, and instantly withdrew it. As he made no answer, I thought
myself obliged to proceed, though with some hesitation, and he only interrupted me by monosyllables.``It
is impossible, sir, for me to have higher respect for any character than I have for the commercial, even were it
not yours.''
``Indeed!''
``It connects nation with nation, relieves the wants, and contributes to the wealth of all; and is to the general
commonwealth of the civilised world what the daily intercourse of ordinary life is to private society, or
rather, what air and food are to our bodies.''
``Well, sir?''
``And yet, sir, I find myself compelled to persist in declining to adopt a character which I am so ill qualified
to support.''
``I will take care that you acquire the qualifications necessary. You are no longer the guest and pupil of
Dubourg.''
``But, my dear sir, it is no defect of teaching which I plead, but my own inability to profit by instruction.''
``Nonsense.Have you kept your journal in the terms I desired?''
``Yes, sir.''
``Be pleased to bring it here.''
Rob Roy
CHAPTER SECOND. 38
Page No 41
The volume thus required was a sort of commonplace book, kept by my father's recommendation, in which I
had been directed to enter notes of the miscellaneous information which I had acquired in the course of my
studies. Foreseeing that he would demand inspection of this record, I had been attentive to transcribe such
particulars of information as he would most likely be pleased with, but too often the pen had discharged the
task without much correspondence with the head. And it had also happened, that, the book being the
receptacle nearest to my hand, I had occasionally jotted down memoranda which had little regard to traffic. I
now put it into my father's hand, devoutly hoping he might light on nothing that would increase his
displeasure against me. Owen's face, which had looked something blank when the question was put, cleared
up at my ready answer, and wore a smile of hope, when I brought from my apartment, and placed before my
father, a commerciallooking volume, rather broader than it was long, having brazen clasps and a binding of
rough calf. This looked businesslike, and was encouraging to my benevolent wellwisher. But he actually
smiled with pleasure as he heard my father run over some part of the contents, muttering his critical remarks
as he went on.
``BrandiesBarils and barricants, also tonneaux.At Nantz 29Velles to the barique at Cognac
and Rochelle 27At Bourdeaux 32Very right, FrankDuties on tonnage and customhouse, see
Saxby's TablesThat's not well; you should have transcribed the passage; it fixes the thing in the
memoryReports outward and inwardCorn debenturesOversea Cockets
LinensIsinghamGentishStockfishTitlingCropling Lubfish. You should have noted
that they are all, nevertheless to be entered as titlings.How many inches long is a titling?''
Owen, seeing me at fault, hazarded a whisper, of which I fortunately caught the import.
``Eighteen inches, sir.''
``And a lubfish is twentyfourvery right. It is important to remember this, on account of the Portuguese
tradeBut what have we here?Bourdeaux founded in the yearCastle of the TrompettePalace of
GallienusWell, well, that's very right too.This is a kind of wastebook, Owen, in which all the
transactions of the day,emptions, orders, payments, receipts, acceptances, draughts, commissions, and
advices,are entered miscellaneously.''
``That they may be regularly transferred to the daybook and ledger,'' answered Owen: ``I am glad Mr.
Francis is so methodical.''
I perceived myself getting so fast into favour, that I began to fear the consequence would be my father's more
obstinate perseverance in his resolution that I must become a merchant; and as I was determined on the
contrary, I began to wish I had not, to use my friend Mr. Owen's phrase, been so methodical. But I had no
reason for apprehension on that score; for a blotted piece of paper dropped out of the book, and, being taken
up by my father, he interrupted a hint from Owen, on the propriety of securing loose memoranda with a little
paste, by exclaiming, ``To the memory of Edward the Black PrinceWhat's all this? verses!By
Heaven, Frank, you are a greater blockhead than I supposed you!''
My father, you must recollect, as a man of business, looked upon the labour of poets with contempt; and as a
religious man, and of the dissenting persuasion, he considered all such pursuits as equally trivial and profane.
Before you condemn him, you must recall to remembrance how too many of the poets in the end of the
seventeenth century had led their lives and employed their talents. The sect also to which my father belonged,
felt, or perhaps affected, a puritanical aversion to the lighter exertions of literature. So that many causes
contributed to augment the unpleasant surprise occasioned by the illtimed discovery of this unfortunate copy
of verses. As for poor Owen, could the bobwig which he then wore have uncurled itself, and stood on end
with horror, I am convinced the morning's labour of the friseur would have been undone, merely by the
excess of his astonishment at this enormity. An inroad on the strongbox, or an erasure in the ledger, or a
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missummation in a fitted account, could hardly have surprised him more disagreeably. My father read the
lines sometimes with an affectation of not being able to understand the sensesometimes in a mouthing
tone of mock heroicalways with an emphasis of the most bitter irony, most irritating to the nerves of an
author.
``O for the voice of that wild horn, On Fontarabian echoes borne, The dying hero's call, That told imperial
Charlemagne, How Paynim sons of swarthy Spain Had wrought his champion's fall.
``Fontarabian echoes!'' continued my father, interrupting himself; ``the Fontarabian Fair would have been
more to the purpose Paynim!What's Paynim?Could you not say Pagan as well, and write English
at least, if you must needs write nonsense?
``Sad over earth and ocean sounding. And England's distant cliffs astounding. Such are the notes should say
How Britain's hope, and France's fear, Victor of Cressy and Poitier, In Bordeaux dying lay.''
``Poitiers, by the way, is always spelt with an s, and I know no reason why orthography should give place to
rhyme.
`` `Raise my faint head, my squires,' he said, `And let the casement be display'd, That I may see once more
The splendour of the setting sun Gleam on thy mirrored wave, Garonne, And Blaye's empurpled shore.
``Garonne and sun is a bad rhyme. Why, Frank, you do not even understand the beggarly trade you have
chosen.
`` `Like me, he sinks to Glory's sleep, His fall the dews of evening steep, As if in sorrow shed, So soft shall
fall the trickling tear, When England's maids and matrons hear Of their Black Edward dead.
`` `And though my sun of glory set, Nor France, nor England, shall forget The terror of my name; And oft
shall Britain's heroes rise, New planets in these southern skies, Through clouds of blood and flame.'
``A cloud of flame is something newGoodmorrow, my masters all, and a merry Christmas to
you!Why, the bellman writes better lines.'' He then tossed the paper from him with an air of superlative
contempt, and concluded``Upon my credit, Frank, you are a greater blockhead than I took you for.''
What could I say, my dear Tresham? There I stood, swelling with indignant mortification, while my father
regarded me with a calm but stern look of scorn and pity; and poor Owen, with uplifted hands and eyes,
looked as striking a picture of horror as if he had just read his patron's name in the Gazette. At length I took
courage to speak, endeavouring that my tone of voice should betray my feelings as little as possible.
``I am quite aware, sir, how ill qualified I am to play the conspicuous part in society you have destined for
me; and, luckily, I am not ambitious of the wealth I might acquire. Mr. Owen would be a much more
effective assistant.'' I said this in some malice, for I considered Owen as having deserted my cause a little too
soon.
``Owen!'' said my father``The boy is madactually insane. And, pray, sir, if I may presume to inquire,
having coolly turned me over to Mr. Owen (although I may expect more attention from any one than from my
son), what may your own sage projects be?''
``I should wish, sir,'' I replied, summoning up my courage, ``to travel for two or three years, should that
consist with your pleasure; otherwise, although late, I would willingly spend the same time at Oxford or
Cambridge.''
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``In the name of common sense! was the like ever heard? to put yourself to school among pedants and
Jacobites, when you might be pushing your fortune in the world! Why not go to Westminster or Eton at once,
man, and take to Lilly's Grammar and Accidence, and to the birch, too, if you like it?''
``Then, sir, if you think my plan of improvement too late, I would willingly return to the Continent.''
``You have already spent too much time there to little purpose, Mr. Francis.''
``Then I would choose the army, sir, in preference to any other active line of life.''
``Choose the dl!'' answered my father, hastily, and then checking himself``I profess you make me as
great a fool as you are yourself. Is he not enough to drive one mad, Owen?'' Poor Owen shook his head,
and looked down. ``Hark ye, Frank,'' continued my father, ``I will cut all this matter very short. I was at your
age when my father turned me out of doors, and settled my legal inheritance on my younger brother. I left
Osbaldistone Hall on the back of a brokendown hunter, with ten guineas in my purse. I have never crossed
the threshold again, and I never will. I know not, and I care not, if my foxhunting brother is alive, or has
broken his neck; but he has children, Frank, and one of them shall be my son if you cross me farther in this
matter.''
``You will do your pleasure,'' I answeredrather, I fear, with more sullen indifference than respect, ``with
what is your own.''
``Yes, Frank, what I have is my own, if labour in getting, and care in augmenting, can make a right of
property; and no drone shall feed on my honeycomb. Think on it well: what I have said is not without
reflection, and what I resolve upon I will execute.''
``Honoured sir!dear sir!'' exclaimed Owen, tears rushing into his eyes, ``you are not wont to be in such a
hurry in transacting business of importance. Let Mr. Francis run up the balance before you shut the account;
he loves you, I am sure; and when he puts down his filial obedience to the per contra, I am sure his objections
will disappear.''
``Do you think I will ask him twice,'' said my father, sternly, ``to be my friend, my assistant, and my
confidant?to be a partner of my cares and of my fortune?Owen, I thought you had known me better.''
He looked at me as if he meant to add something more, but turned instantly away, and left the room abruptly.
I was, I own, affected by this view of the case, which had not occurred to me; and my father would probably
have had little reason to complain of me, had he commenced the discussion with this argument.
But it was too late. I had much of his own obduracy of resolution, and Heaven had decreed that my sin should
be my punishment, though not to the extent which my transgression merited. Owen, when we were left alone,
continued to look at me with eyes which tears from time to time moistened, as if to discover, before
attempting the task of intercessor, upon what point my obstinacy was most assailable. At length he began,
with broken and disconcerted accents,``O Ld, Mr. Francis!Good Heavens, sir!My stars, Mr.
Osbaldistone!that I should ever have seen this dayand you so young a gentleman, sir!For the love
of Heaven! look at both sides of the accountthink what you are going to losea noble fortune,
sirone of the finest houses in the City, even under the old firm of Tresham and Trent, and now
Osbaldistone and TreshamYou might roll in gold, Mr. FrancisAnd, my dear young Mr. Frank, if
there was any particular thing in the business of the house which you disliked, I would'' (sinking his voice to
a whisper) ``put it in order for you termly, or weekly, or daily, if you willDo, my dear Mr. Francis, think
of the honour due to your father, that your days may be long in the land.''
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``I am much obliged to you, Mr. Owen,'' said I``very much obliged indeed; but my father is best judge
how to bestow his money. He talks of one of my cousins: let him dispose of his wealth as he pleasesI will
never sell my liberty for gold.''
``Gold, sir?I wish you saw the balancesheet of profits at last termIt was in five figuresfive
figures to each partner's sum total, Mr. FrankAnd all this is to go to a Papist, and a northcountry booby,
and a disaffected person besidesIt will break my heart, Mr. Francis, that have been toiling more like a
dog than a man, and all for love of the firm. Think how it will sound, Osbaldistone, Tresham, and
Osbaldistoneor perhaps, who knows'' (again lowering his voice), ``Osbaldistone, Osbaldistone, and
Tresham, for our Mr. Osbaldistone can buy them all out.''
``But, Mr. Owen, my cousin's name being also Osbaldistone, the name of the company will sound every bit
as well in your ears.''
``O fie upon you, Mr. Francis, when you know how well I love youYour cousin, indeed!a Papist, no
doubt, like his father, and a disaffected person to the Protestant succession that's another item, doubtless.''
``There are many very good men Catholics, Mr. Owen,'' rejoined I.
As Owen was about to answer with unusual animation, my father reentered the apartment.
``You were right,'' he said, ``Owen, and I was wrong; we will take more time to think over this
matter.Young man, you will prepare to give me an answer on this important subject this day month.''
I bowed in silence, sufficiently glad of a reprieve, and trusting it might indicate some relaxation in my father's
determination.
The time of probation passed slowly, unmarked by any accident whatever. I went and came, and disposed of
my time as I pleased, without question or criticism on the part of my father. Indeed, I rarely saw him, save at
mealtimes, when he studiously avoided a discussion which you may well suppose I was in no hurry to press
onward. Our conversation was of the news of the day, or on such general topics as strangers discourse upon
to each other; nor could any one have guessed, from its tenor, that there remained undecided betwixt us a
dispute of such importance. It haunted me, however, more than once, like the nightmare. Was it possible he
would keep his word, and disinherit his only son in favour of a nephew whose very existence he was not
perhaps quite certain of? My grandfather's conduct, in similar circumstances, boded me no good, had I
considered the matter rightly. But I had formed an erroneous idea of my father's character, from the
importance which I recollected I maintained with him and his whole family before I went to France. I was not
aware that there are men who indulge their children at an early age, because to do so interests and amuses
them, and who can yet be sufficiently severe when the same children cross their expectations at a more
advanced period. On the contrary, I persuaded myself, that all I had to apprehend was some temporary
alienation of affectionperhaps a rustication of a few weeks, which I thought would rather please me than
otherwise, since it would give me an opportunity of setting about my unfinished version of Orlando Furioso,
a poem which I longed to render into English verse. I suffered this belief to get such absolute possession of
my mind, that I had resumed my blotted papers, and was busy in meditation on the oftrecurring rhymes of
the Spenserian stanza, when I heard a low and cautious tap at the door of my apartment. ``Come in,'' I said,
and Mr. Owen entered. So regular were the motions and habits of this worthy man, that in all probability this
was the first time he had ever been in the second story of his patron's house, however conversant with the
first; and I am still at a loss to know in what manner he discovered my apartment.
``Mr. Francis,'' he said, interrupting my expression of surprise and pleasure at seeing, him, ``I do not know if
I am doing well in what I am about to sayit is not right to speak of what passes in the comptinghouse
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out of doorsone should not tell, as they say, to the post in the warehouse, how many lines there are in the
ledger. But young Twineall has been absent from the house for a fortnight and more, until two days since.''
``Very well, my dear sir, and how does that concern us?''
``Stay, Mr. Francis;your father gave him a private commission; and I am sure he did not go down to
Falmouth about the pilchard affair; and the Exeter business with Blackwell and Company has been settled;
and the mining people in Cornwall, Trevanion and Treguilliam, have paid all they are likely to pay; and any
other matter of business must have been put through my books:in short, it's my faithful belief that
Twineall has been down in the north.''
``Do you really suppose?'' so said I, somewhat startled.
``He has spoken about nothing, sir, since he returned, but his new boots, and his Ripon spurs, and a cockfight
at York it's as true as the multiplicationtable. Do, Heaven bless you, my dear child, make up your mind
to please your father, and to be a man and a merchant at once.''
I felt at that instant a strong inclination to submit, and to make Owen happy by requesting him to tell my
father that I resigned myself to his disposal. But pridepride, the source of so much that is good and so
much that is evil in our course of life, prevented me. My acquiescence stuck in my throat; and while I was
coughing to get it up, my father's voice summoned Owen. He hastily left the room, and the opportunity was
lost.
My father was methodical in everything. At the very same time of the day, in the same apartment, and with
the same tone and manner which he had employed an exact month before, he recapitulated the proposal he
had made for taking me into partnership, and assigning me a department in the countinghouse, and
requested to have my final decision. I thought at the time there was something unkind in this; and I still think
that my father's conduct was injudicious. A more conciliatory treatment would, in all probability, have gained
his purpose. As it was, I stood fast, and, as respectfully as I could, declined the proposal he made to me.
Perhapsfor who can judge of their own heart?I felt it unmanly to yield on the first summons, and
expected farther solicitation, as at least a pretext for changing my mind. If so, I was disappointed; for my
father turned coolly to Owen, and only said, `` You see it is as I told you.Well, Frank'' (addressing me),
``you are nearly of age, and as well qualified to judge of what will constitute your own happiness as you ever
are like to be; therefore, I say no more. But as I am not bound to give in to your plans, any more than you are
compelled to submit to mine, may I ask to know if you have formed any which depend on my assistance?''
I answered, not a little abashed, ``That being bred to no profession, and having no funds of my own, it was
obviously impossible for me to subsist without some allowance from my father; that my wishes were very
moderate; and that I hoped my aversion for the profession to which he had designed me, would not occasion
his altogether withdrawing his paternal support and protection.''
``That is to say, you wish to lean on my arm, and yet to walk your own way? That can hardly be,
Frank;however, I suppose you mean to obey my directions, so far as they do not cross your own
humour?''
I was about to speak``Silence, if you please,'' he continued. ``Supposing this to be the case, you will
instantly set out for the north of England, to pay your uncle a visit, and see the state of his family. I have
chosen from among his sons (he has six, I believe) one who, I understand, is most worthy to fill the place I
intended for you in the countinghouse. But some farther arrangements may be necessary, and for these your
presence may be requisite. You shall have farther instructions at Osbaldistone Hall, where you will please to
remain until you hear from me. Everything will be ready for your departure tomorrow morning.''
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With these words my father left the apartment.
``What does all this mean, Mr. Owen?'' said I to my sympathetic friend, whose countenance wore a cast of the
deepest dejection.
``You have ruined yourself, Mr. Frank, that's all. When your father talks in that quiet determined manner,
there will be no more change in him than in a fitted account.''
And so it proved; for the next morning, at five o'clock, I found myself on the road to York, mounted on a
reasonably good horse, and with fifty guineas in my pocket; travelling, as it would seem, for the purpose of
assisting in the adoption of a successor to myself in my father's house and favour, and, for aught I knew,
eventually in his fortune also.
CHAPTER THIRD.
The slack sail shifts from side to side,
The boat, untrimm'd, admits the tide,
Borne down, adrift, at random tost,
The oar breaks short, the rudder's lost.
Gay's Fables.
I have tagged with rhyme and blank verse the subdivisions of this important narrative, in order to seduce your
continued attention by powers of composition of stronger attraction than my own. The preceding lines refer to
an unfortunate navigator, who daringly unloosed from its moorings a boat, which he was unable to manage,
and thrust it off into the full tide of a navigable river. No schoolboy, who, betwixt frolic and defiance, has
executed a similar rash attempt, could feel himself, when adrift in a strong current, in a situation more
awkward than mine, when I found myself driving, without a compass, on the ocean of human life. There had
been such unexpected ease in the manner in which my father slipt a knot, usually esteemed the strongest
which binds society together, and suffered me to depart as a sort of outcast from his family, that it strangely
lessened the confidence in my own personal accomplishments, which had hitherto sustained me. Prince
Prettyman, now a prince, and now a fisher's son, had not a more awkward sense of his degradation. We are so
apt, in our engrossing egotism, to consider all those accessories which are drawn around us by prosperity, as
pertaining and belonging to our own persons, that the discovery of our unimportance, when left to our own
proper resources, becomes inexpressibly mortifying. As the hum of London died away on my ear, the distant
peal of her steeples more than once sounded to my ears the admonitory ``Turn again,'' erst heard by her future
Lord Mayor; and when I looked back from Highgate on her dusky magnificence, I felt as if I were leaving
behind me comfort, opulence, the charms of society, and all the pleasures of cultivated life.
But the die was cast. It was, indeed, by no means probable that a late and ungracious compliance with my
father's wishes would have reinstated me in the situation which I had lost. On the contrary, firm and strong of
purpose as he himself was, he might rather have been disgusted than conciliated by my tardy and compulsory
acquiescence in his desire that I should engage in commerce. My constitutional obstinacy came also to my
aid, and pride whispered how poor a figure I should make, when an airing of four miles from London had
blown away resolutions formed during a month's serious deliberation. Hope, too, that never forsakes the
young and hardy, lent her lustre to my future prospects. My father could not be serious in the sentence of
forisfamiliation, which he had so unhesitatingly pronounced. It must be but a trial of my disposition, which,
endured with patience and steadiness on my part, would raise me in his estimation, and lead to an amicable
accommodation of the point in dispute between us. I even settled in my own mind how far I would concede to
him, and on what articles of our supposed treaty I would make a firm stand; and the result was, according to
my computation, that I was to be reinstated in my full rights of filiation, paying the easy penalty of some
ostensible compliances to atone for my past rebellion.
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In the meanwhile, I was lord of my person, and experienced that feeling of independence which the youthful
bosom receives with a thrilling mixture of pleasure and apprehension. My purse, though by no means amply
replenished, was in a situation to supply all the wants and wishes of a traveller. I had been accustomed, while
at Bourdeaux, to act as my own valet; my horse was fresh, young, and active, and the buoyancy of my spirits
soon surmounted the melancholy reflections with which my journey commenced.
I should have been glad to have journeyed upon a line of road better calculated to afford reasonable objects of
curiosity, or a more interesting country, to the traveller. But the north road was then, and perhaps still is,
singularly deficient in these respects; nor do I believe you can travel so far through Britain in any other
direction without meeting more of what is worthy to engage the attention. My mental ruminations,
notwithstanding my assumed confidence, were not always of an unchequered nature. The Muse too,the
very coquette who had led me into this wilderness,like others of her sex, deserted me in my utmost need,
and I should have been reduced to rather an uncomfortable state of dulness, had it not been for the occasional
conversation of strangers who chanced to pass the same way. But the characters whom I met with were of a
uniform and uninteresting description. Country parsons, jogging homewards after a visitation; farmers, or
graziers, returning from a distant market; clerks of traders, travelling to collect what was due to their masters,
in provincial towns; with now and then an officer going down into the country upon the recruiting service,
were, at this period, the persons by whom the turnpikes and tapsters were kept in exercise. Our speech,
therefore, was of tithes and creeds, of beeves and grain, of commodities wet and dry, and the solvency of the
retail dealers, occasionally varied by the description of a siege, or battle, in Flanders, which, perhaps, the
narrator only gave me at second hand. Robbers, a fertile and alarming theme, filled up every vacancy; and the
names of the Golden Farmer, the Flying Highwayman, Jack Needham, and other Beggars' Opera heroes, were
familiar in our mouths as household words. At such tales, like children closing their circle round the fire
when the ghost story draws to its climax, the riders drew near to each other, looked before and behind them,
examined the priming of their pistols, and vowed to stand by each other in case of danger; an engagement
which, like other offensive and defensive alliances, sometimes glided out of remembrance when there was an
appearance of actual peril.
Of all the fellows whom I ever saw haunted by terrors of this nature, one poor man, with whom I travelled a
day and a half, afforded me most amusement. He had upon his pillion a very small, but apparently a very
weighty portmanteau, about the safety of which he seemed particularly solicitous; never trusting it out of his
own immediate care, and uniformly repressing the officious zeal of the waiters and ostlers, who offered their
services to carry it into the house. With the same precaution he laboured to conceal, not only the purpose of
his journey, and his ultimate place of destination, but even the direction of each day's route. Nothing
embarrassed him more than to be asked by any one, whether be was travelling upwards or downwards, or at
what stage he intended to bait. His place of rest for the night he scrutinised with the most anxious care, alike
avoiding solitude, and what he considered as bad neighbourhood; and at Grantham, I believe, he sate up all
night to avoid sleeping in the next room to a thickset squinting fellow, in a black wig, and a tarnished
goldlaced waistcoat. With all these cares on his mind, my fellow traveller, to judge by his thews and sinews,
was a man who might have set danger at defiance with as much impunity as most men. He was strong and
well built; and, judging from his goldlaced hat and cockade, seemed to have served in the army, or, at least,
to belong to the military profession in one capacity or other. His conversation also, though always sufficiently
vulgar, was that of a man of sense, when the terrible bugbears which haunted his imagination for a moment
ceased to occupy his attention. But every accidental association recalled them. An open heath, a close
plantation, were alike subjects of apprehension; and the whistle of a shepherd lad was instantly converted into
the signal of a depredator. Even the sight of a gibbet, if it assured him that one robber was safely disposed of
by justice, never failed to remind him how many remained still unhanged.
I should have wearied of this fellow's company, had I not been still more tired of my own thoughts. Some of
the marvellous stories, however, which he related, had in themselves a cast of interest, and another whimsical
point of his peculiarities afforded me the occasional opportunity of amusing myself at his expense. Among
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his tales, several of the unfortunate travellers who fell among thieves, incurred that calamity from associating
themselves on the road with a welldressed and entertaining stranger, in whose company they trusted to find
protection as well as amusement; who cheered their journey with tale and song, protected them against the
evils of overcharges and false reckonings, until at length, under pretext of showing a near path over a
desolate common, he seduced his unsuspicious victims from the public road into some dismal glen, where,
suddenly blowing his whistle, he assembled his comrades from their lurkingplace, and displayed himself in
his true colours the captain, namely, of the band of robbers to whom his unwary fellowtravellers had
forfeited their purses, and perhaps their lives. Towards the conclusion of such a tale, and when my
companion had wrought himself into a fever of apprehension by the progress of his own narrative, I observed
that he usually eyed me with a glance of doubt and suspicion, as if the possibility occurred to him, that he
might, at that very moment, be in company with a character as dangerous as that which his tale described.
And ever and anon, when such suggestions pressed themselves on the mind of this ingenious selftormentor,
he drew off from me to the opposite side of the highroad, looked before, behind, and around him, examined
his arms, and seemed to prepare himself for flight or defence, as circumstances might require.
The suspicion implied on such occasions seemed to me only momentary, and too ludicrous to be offensive.
There was, in fact, no particular reflection on my dress or address, although I was thus mistaken for a robber.
A man in those days might have all the external appearance of a gentleman, and yet turn out to be a
highwayman. For the division of labour in every department not having then taken place so fully as since that
period, the profession of the polite and accomplished adventurer, who nicked you out of your money at
White's, or bowled you out of it at Marylebone, was often united with that of the professed ruffian, who on
Bagshot Heath, or Finchley Common, commanded his brother beau to stand and deliver. There was also a
touch of coarseness and hardness about the manners of the times, which has since, in a great degree, been
softened and shaded away. It seems to me, on recollection, as if desperate men had less reluctance then than
now to embrace the most desperate means of retrieving their fortune. The times were indeed past, when
AnthonyaWood mourned over the execution of two men, goodly in person, and of undisputed courage and
honour, who were hanged without mercy at Oxford, merely because their distress had driven them to raise
contributions on the highway. We were still farther removed from the days of ``the mad Prince and Poins.''
And yet, from the number of unenclosed and extensive heaths in the vicinity of the metropolis, and from the
less populous state of remote districts, both were frequented by that species of mounted highwaymen, that
may possibly become one day unknown, who carried on their trade with something like courtesy; and, like
Gibbet in the Beaux Stratagem, piqued themselves on being the best behaved men on the road, and on
conducting themselves with all appropriate civility in the exercise of their vocation. A young man, therefore,
in my circumstances was not entitled to be highly indignant at the mistake which confounded him with this
worshipful class of depredators.
Neither was I offended. On the contrary, I found amusement in alternately exciting, and lulling to sleep, the
suspicions of my timorous companion, and in purposely so acting as still farther to puzzle a brain which
nature and apprehension had combined to render none of the clearest. When my free conversation had lulled
him into complete security, it required only a passing inquiry concerning the direction of his journey, or the
nature of the business which occasioned it, to put his suspicions once more in arms. For example, a
conversation on the comparative strength and activity of our horses, took such a turn as follows:
``O sir,'' said my companion, ``for the gallop I grant you; but allow me to say, your horse (although he is a
very handsome geldingthat must be owned,) has too little bone to be a good roadster. The trot, sir''
(striking his Bucephalus with his spurs),``the trot is the true pace for a hackney; and, were we near a
town, I should like to try that daisycutter of yours upon a piece of level road (barring canter) for a quart of
claret at the next inn.''
``Content, sir,'' replied I; ``and here is a stretch of ground very favourable.''
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``Hem, ahem,'' answered my friend with hesitation; ``I make it a rule of travelling never to blow my horse
between stages; one never knows what occasion he may have to put him to his mettle: and besides, sir, when
I said I would match you, I meant with even weight; you ride four stone lighter than I.''
``Very well; but I am content to carry weight. Pray, what may that portmanteau of yours weigh?''
``My ppportmanteau?'' replied he, hesitating``O very littlea featherjust a few shirts and
stockings.''
``I should think it heavier, from its appearance. I'll hold you the quart of claret it makes the odds betwixt our
weight.''
``You're mistaken, sir, I assure youquite mistaken,'' replied my friend, edging off to the side of the road,
as was his wont on these alarming occasions.
``Well, I am willing to venture the wine; or, I will bet you ten pieces to five, that I carry your portmanteau on
my croupe, and outtrot you into the bargain.''
This proposal raised my friend's alarm to the uttermost. His nose changed from the natural copper hue which
it had acquired from many a comfortable cup of claret or sack, into a palish brassy tint, and his teeth chattered
with apprehension at the unveiled audacity of my proposal, which seemed to place the barefaced plunderer
before him in full atrocity. As he faltered for an answer, I relieved him in some degree by a question
concerning a steeple, which now became visible, and an observation that we were now so near the village as
to run no risk from interruption on the road. At this his countenance cleared up: but I easily perceived that it
was long ere he forgot a proposal which seemed to him so fraught with suspicion as that which I had now
hazarded. I trouble you with this detail of the man's disposition, and the manner in which I practised upon it,
because, however trivial in themselves, these particulars were attended by an important influence on future
incidents which will occur in this narrative. At the time, this person's conduct only inspired me with
contempt, and confirmed me in an opinion which I already entertained, that of all the propensities which
teach mankind to torment themselves, that of causeless fear is the most irritating, busy, painful, and pitiable.
CHAPTER FOURTH.
The Scots are poor, cries surly English pride.
True is the charge; nor by themselves denied.
Are they not, then, in strictest reason clear,
Who wisely come to mend their fortunes here?
Churchill.
There was, in the days of which I write, an oldfashioned custom on the English road, which I suspect is now
obsolete, or practised only by the vulgar. Journeys of length being made on horseback, and, of course, by
brief stages, it was usual always to make a halt on the Sunday in some town where the traveller might attend
divine service, and his horse have the benefit of the day of rest, the institution of which is as humane to our
brute labourers as profitable to ourselves. A counterpart to this decent practice, and a remnant of old English
hospitality, was, that the landlord of a principal inn laid aside his character of a publican on the seventh day,
and invited the guests who chanced to be within his walls to take a part of his family beef and pudding. This
invitation was usually complied with by all whose distinguished rank did not induce them to think
compliance a derogation; and the proposal of a bottle of wine after dinner, to drink the landlord's health, was
the only recompense ever offered or accepted.
I was born a citizen of the world, and my inclination led me into all scenes where my knowledge of mankind
could be enlarged; I had, besides, no pretensions to sequester myself on the score of superior dignity, and
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therefore seldom failed to accept of the Sunday's hospitality of mine host, whether of the Garter, Lion, or
Bear. The honest publican, dilated into additional consequence by a sense of his own importance, while
presiding among the guests on whom it was his ordinary duty to attend, was in himself an entertaining,
spectacle; and around his genial orbit, other planets of inferior consequence performed their revolutions. The
wits and humorists, the distinguished worthies of the town or village, the apothecary, the attorney, even the
curate himself, did not disdain to partake of this hebdomadal festivity. The guests, assembled from different
quarters, and following different professions, formed, in language, manners, and sentiments, a curious
contrast to each other, not indifferent to those who desired to possess a knowledge of mankind in its varieties.
It was on such a day, and such an occasion, that my timorous acquaintance and I were about to grace the
board of the ruddyfaced host of the Black Bear, in the town of Darlington, and bishopric of Durham, when
our landlord informed us, with a sort of apologetic tone, that there was a Scotch gentleman to dine with us.
``A gentleman!what sort of a gentleman?'' said my companion somewhat hastilyhis mind, I suppose,
running on gentlemen of the pad, as they were then termed.
``Why, a Scotch sort of a gentleman, as I said before,'' returned mine host; ``they are all gentle, ye mun know,
though they ha' narra shirt to back; but this is a decentish hallion a canny North Briton as e'er cross'd
Berwick BridgeI trow he's a dealer in cattle.''
``Let us have his company, by all means,'' answered my companion; and then, turning to me, he gave vent to
the tenor of his own reflections. ``I respect the Scotch, sir; I love and honour the nation for their sense of
morality. Men talk of their filth and their poverty: but commend me to sterling honesty, though clad in rags,
as the poet saith. I have been credibly assured, sir, by men on whom I can depend, that there was never
known such a thing in Scotland as a highway robbery.''
``That's because they have nothing to lose,'' said mine host, with the chuckle of a selfapplauding wit.
``No, no, landlord,'' answered a strong deep voice behind him, ``it's e'en because your English gaugers and
supervisors,*
* The introduction of gaugers, supervisors, and examiners, was one of * the great complaints of the Scottish
nation, though a natural consequence * of the Union.
that you have sent down benorth the Tweed, have taen up the trade of thievery over the heads of the native
professors.''
``Well said, Mr. Campbell,'' answered the landlord; ``I did not think thoud'st been sae near us, mon. But thou
kens I'm an outspoken Yorkshire tyke. And how go markets in the south?''
``Even in the ordinar,'' replied Mr. Campbell; ``wise folks buy and sell, and fools are bought and sold.''
``But wise men and fools both eat their dinner,'' answered our jolly entertainer; ``and here a comesas
prime a buttock of beef as e'er hungry men stuck fork in.''
So saying, he eagerly whetted his knife, assumed his seat of empire at the head of the board, and loaded the
plates of his sundry guests with his good cheer.
This was the first time I had heard the Scottish accent, or, indeed, that I had familiarly met with an individual
of the ancient nation by whom it was spoken. Yet, from an early period, they had occupied and interested my
imagination. My father, as is well known to you, was of an ancient family in Northumberland, from whose
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seat I was, while eating the aforesaid dinner, not very many miles distant. The quarrel betwixt him and his
relatives was such, that he scarcely ever mentioned the race from which he sprung, and held as the most
contemptible species of vanity, the weakness which is commonly termed family pride. His ambition was only
to be distinguished as William Osbaldistone, the first, at least one of the first, merchants on Change; and to
have proved him the lineal representative of William the Conqueror would have far less flattered his vanity
than the hum and bustle which his approach was wont to produce among the bulls, bears, and brokers of
Stockalley. He wished, no doubt, that I should remain in such ignorance of my relatives and descent as
might insure a correspondence between my feelings and his own on this subject. But his designs, as will
happen occasionally to the wisest, were, in some degree at least, counteracted by a being whom his pride
would never have supposed of importance adequate to influence them in any way. His nurse, an old
Northumbrian woman, attached to him from his infancy, was the only person connected with his native
province for whom he retained any regard; and when fortune dawned upon him, one of the first uses which he
made of her favours, was to give Mabel Rickets a place of residence within his household. After the death of
my mother, the care of nursing me during my childish illnesses, and of rendering all those tender attentions
which infancy exacts from female affection, devolved on old Mabel. Interdicted by her master from speaking
to him on the subject of the heaths, glades, and dales of her beloved Northumberland, she poured herself forth
to my infant ear in descriptions of the scenes of her youth, and long narratives of the events which tradition
declared to have passed amongst them. To these I inclined my ear much more seriously than to graver, but
less animated instructors. Even yet, methinks I see old Mabel, her head slightly agitated by the palsy of age,
and shaded by a close cap, as white as the driven snow,her face wrinkled, but still retaining the healthy
tinge which it had acquired in rural labourI think I see her look around on the brick walls and narrow
street which presented themselves before our windows, as she concluded with a sigh the favourite old ditty,
which I then preferred, andwhy should I not tell the truth?which I still prefer to all the opera airs ever
minted by the capricious brain of an Italian Mus. D.
Oh, the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, They flourish best at home in the North Countrie!
Now, in the legends of Mabel, the Scottish nation was ever freshly remembered, with all the embittered
declamation of which the narrator was capable. The inhabitants of the opposite frontier served in her
narratives to fill up the parts which ogres and giants with sevenleagued boots occupy in the ordinary nursery
tales. And how could it be otherwise? Was it not the Black Douglas who slew with his own hand the heir of
the Osbaldistone family the day after he took possession of his estate, surprising him and his vassals while
solemnizing a feast suited to the occasion? Was it not Wat the Devil, who drove all the yearold hogs off the
braes of Lanthornside, in the very recent days of my grandfather's father? And had we not many a trophy,
but, according to old Mabel's version of history, far more honourably gained, to mark our revenge of these
wrongs? Did not Sir Henry Osbaldistone, fifth baron of the name, carry off the fair maid of Fairnington, as
Achilles did his Chryseis and Briseis of old, and detain her in his fortress against all the power of her friends,
supported by the most mighty Scottish chiefs of warlike fame? And had not our swords shone foremost at
most of those fields in which England was victorious over her rival? All our family renown was
acquiredall our family misfortunes were occasionedby the northern wars.
Warmed by such tales, I looked upon the Scottish people during my childhood, as a race hostile by nature to
the more southern inhabitants of this realm; and this view of the matter was not much corrected by the
language which my father sometimes held with respect to them. He had engaged in some large speculations
concerning oakwoods, the property of Highland proprietors, and alleged, that he found them much more
ready to make bargains, and extort earnest of the purchasemoney, than punctual in complying on their side
with the terms of the engagements. The Scottish mercantile men, whom he was under the necessity of
employing as a sort of middlemen on these occasions, were also suspected by my father of having secured,
by one means or other, more than their own share of the profit which ought to have accrued. In short, if
Mabel complained of the Scottish arms in ancient times, Mr. Osbaldistone inveighed no less against the arts
of these modern Sinons; and between them, though without any fixed purpose of doing so, they impressed
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my youthful mind with a sincere aversion to the northern inhabitants of Britain, as a people bloodthirsty in
time of war, treacherous during truce, interested, selfish, avaricious, and tricky in the business of peaceful
life, and having few good qualities, unless there should be accounted such, a ferocity which resembled
courage in martial affairs, and a sort of wily craft which supplied the place of wisdom in the ordinary
commerce of mankind. In justification, or apology, for those who entertained such prejudices, I must remark,
that the Scotch of that period were guilty of similar injustice to the English, whom they branded universally
as a race of purseproud arrogant epicures. Such seeds of national dislike remained between the two
countries, the natural consequences of their existence as separate and rival states. We have seen recently the
breath of a demagogue blow these sparks into a temporary flame, which I sincerely hope is now extinguished
in its own ashes. *
* This seems to have been written about the time of Wilkes and * Liberty.
It was, then, with an impression of dislike, that I contemplated the first Scotchman I chanced to meet in
society. There was much about him that coincided with my previous conceptions. He had the hard features
and athletic form said to be peculiar to his country, together with the national intonation and slow pedantic
mode of expression, arising from a desire to avoid peculiarities of idiom or dialect. I could also observe the
caution and shrewdness of his country in many of the observations which he made, and the answers which he
returned. But I was not prepared for the air of easy selfpossession and superiority with which he seemed to
predominate over the company into which he was thrown, as it were by accident. His dress was as coarse as it
could be, being still decent; and, at a time when great expense was lavished upon the wardrobe, even of the
lowest who pretended to the character of gentleman, this indicated mediocrity of circumstances, if not
poverty. His conversation intimated that he was engaged in the cattle trade, no very dignified professional
pursuit. And yet, under these disadvantages, he seemed, as a matter of course, to treat the rest of the company
with the cool and condescending politeness which implies a real, or imagined, superiority over those towards
whom it is used. When he gave his opinion on any point, it was with that easy tone of confidence used by
those superior to their society in rank or information, as if what he said could not be doubted, and was not to
be questioned. Mine host and his Sunday guests, after an effort or two to support their consequence by noise
and bold averment, sunk gradually under the authority of Mr. Campbell, who thus fairly possessed himself of
the lead in the conversation. I was tempted, from curiosity, to dispute the ground with him myself, confiding
in my knowledge of the world, extended as it was by my residence abroad, and in the stores with which a
tolerable education had possessed my mind. In the latter respect he offered no competition, and it was easy to
see that his natural powers had never been cultivated by education. But I found him much better acquainted
than I was myself with the present state of France, the character of the Duke of Orleans, who had just
succeeded to the regency of that kingdom, and that of the statesmen by whom he was surrounded; and his
shrewd, caustic, and somewhat satirical remarks, were those of a man who had been a close observer of the
affairs of that country.
On the subject of politics, Campbell observed a silence and moderation which might arise from caution. The
divisions of Whig and Tory then shook England to her very centre, and a powerful party, engaged in the
Jacobite interest, menaced the dynasty of Hanover, which had been just established on the throne. Every
alehouse resounded with the brawls of contending politicians, and as mine host's politics were of that liberal
description which quarrelled with no good customer, his hebdomadal visitants were often divided in their
opinion as irreconcilably as if he had feasted the Common Council. The curate and the apothecary, with a
little man, who made no boast of his vocation, but who, from the flourish and snap of his fingers, I believe to
have been the barber, strongly espoused the cause of high church and the Stuart line. The exciseman, as in
duty bound, and the attorney, who looked to some petty office under the Crown, together with my
fellowtraveller, who seemed to enter keenly into the contest, staunchly supported the cause of King George
and the Protestant succession. Dire was the screamingdeep the oaths! Each party appealed to Mr.
Campbell, anxious, it seemed, to elicit his approbation.
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``You are a Scotchman, sir; a gentleman of your country must stand up for hereditary right,'' cried one party.
``You are a Presbyterian,'' assumed the other class of disputants; ``you cannot be a friend to arbitrary power.''
``Gentlemen,'' said our Scotch oracle, after having gained, with some difficulty, a moment's pause, ``I havena
much dubitation that King George weel deserves the predilection of his friends; and if he can haud the grip he
has gotten, why, doubtless, he may made the gauger, here, a commissioner of the revenue, and confer on our
friend, Mr. Quitam, the preferment of solicitorgeneral; and he may also grant some good deed or reward to
this honest gentleman who is sitting upon his portmanteau, which he prefers to a chair: And, questionless,
King James is also a grateful person, and when he gets his hand in play, he may, if he be so minded, make
this reverend gentleman archprelate of Canterbury, and Dr. Mixit chief physician to his household, and
commit his royal beard to the care of my friend Latherum. But as I doubt mickle whether any of the
competing sovereigns would give Rob Campbell a tass of aquavitae, if he lacked it, I give my vote and
interest to Jonathan Brown, our landlord, to be the King and Prince of Skinkers, conditionally that he fetches
us another bottle as good as the last.''
This sally was received with general applause, in which the landlord cordially joined; and when he had given
orders for fulfilling the condition on which his preferment was to depend, he failed not to acquaint them,
``that, for as peaceable a gentleman as Mr. Campbell was, he was, moreover, as bold as a lion seven
highwaymen had he defeated with his single arm, that beset him as he came from WhitsonTryste.''
``Thou art deceived, friend Jonathan,'' said Campbell, interrupting him; ``they were but barely two, and two
cowardly loons as man could wish to meet withal.''
``And did you, sir, really,'' said my fellowtraveller, edging his chair (I should have said his portmanteau)
nearer to Mr. Campbell, ``really and actually beat two highwaymen yourself alone?''
``In troth did I, sir,'' replied Campbell; ``and I think it nae great thing to make a sang about.''
``Upon my word, sir,'' replied my acquaintance, ``I should be happy to have the pleasure of your company on
my journey I go northward, sir.''
This piece of gratuitous information concerning the route he proposed to himself, the first I had heard my
companion bestow upon any one, failed to excite the corresponding confidence of the Scotchman.
``We can scarce travel together,'' he replied, drily. ``You, sir, doubtless, are well mounted, and I for the
present travel on foot, or on a Highland shelty, that does not help me much faster forward.''
So saying, he called for a reckoning for the wine, and throwing down the price of the additional bottle which
he had himself introduced, rose as if to take leave of us. My companion made up to him, and taking him by
the button, drew him aside into one of the windows. I could not help overhearing him pressing
somethingI supposed his company upon the journey, which Mr. Campbell seemed to decline.
``I will pay your charges, sir,'' said the traveller, in a tone as if he thought the argument should bear down all
opposition.
``It is quite impossible,'' said Campbell, somewhat contemptuously; ``I have business at Rothbury.''
``But I am in no great hurry; I can ride out of the way, and never miss a day or so for good company.''
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``Upon my faith, sir,'' said Campbell, ``I cannot render you the service you seem to desiderate. I am,'' he
added, drawing himself up haughtily, ``travelling on my own private affairs, and if ye will act by my
advisement, sir, ye will neither unite yourself with an absolute stranger on the road, nor communicate your
line of journey to those who are asking ye no questions about it.'' He then extricated his button, not very
ceremoniously, from the hold which detained him, and coming up to me as the company were dispersing,
observed, ``Your friend, sir, is too communicative, considering the nature of his trust.''
``That gentleman,'' I replied, looking towards the traveller, ``is no friend of mine, but an acquaintance whom I
picked up on the road. I know neither his name nor business, and you seem to be deeper in his confidence
than I am.''
``I only meant,'' he replied hastily, ``that he seems a thought rash in conferring the honour of his company on
those who desire it not.''
``The gentleman,'' replied I, ``knows his own affairs best, and I should be sorry to constitute myself a judge of
them in any respect.''
Mr. Campbell made no farther observation, but merely wished me a good journey, and the party dispersed for
the evening.
Next day I parted company with my timid companion, as I left the great northern road to turn more westerly
in the direction of Osbaldistone Manor, my uncle's seat. I cannot tell whether he felt relieved or embarrassed
by my departure, considering the dubious light in which he seemed to regard me. For my own part, his
tremors ceased to amuse me, and, to say the truth, I was heartily glad to get rid of him.
CHAPTER FIFTH.
How melts my beating heart as I behold
Each lovely nymph, our island's boast and pride,
Push on the generous steed, that sweeps along
O'er rough, o'er smooth, nor heeds the steepy hill,
Nor falters in the extended vale below!
The Chase.
I approached my native north, for such I esteemed it, with that enthusiasm which romantic and wild scenery
inspires in the lovers of nature. No longer interrupted by the babble of my companion, I could now remark
the difference which the country exhibited from that through which I had hitherto travelled. The streams now
more properly deserved the name, for, instead of slumbering stagnant among reeds and willows, they brawled
along beneath the shade of natural copsewood; were now hurried down declivities, and now purled more
leisurely, but still in active motion, through little lonely valleys, which, opening on the road from time to
time, seemed to invite the traveller to explore their recesses. The Cheviots rose before me in frowning
majesty; not, indeed, with the sublime variety of rock and cliff which characterizes mountains of the primary
class but huge, roundheaded, and clothed with a dark robe of russet, gaining, by their extent and desolate
appearance, an influence upon the imagination, as a desert district possessing a character of its own.
The abode of my fathers, which I was now approaching, was situated in a glen, or narrow valley, which ran
up among those hills. Extensive estates, which once belonged to the family of Osbaldistone, had been long
dissipated by the misfortunes or misconduct of my ancestors; but enough was still attached to the old
mansion, to give my uncle the title of a man of large property. This he employed (as I was given to
understand by some inquiries which I made on the road) in maintaining the prodigal hospitality of a northern
squire of the period, which he deemed essential to his family dignity.
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From the summit of an eminence I had already had a distant view of Osbaldistone Hall, a large and
antiquated edifice, peeping out from a Druidical grove of huge oaks; and I was directing my course towards
it, as straightly and as speedily as the windings of a very indifferent road would permit, when my horse, tired
as he was, pricked up his ears at the enlivening notes of a pack of hounds in full cry, cheered by the
occasional bursts of a French horn, which in those days was a constant accompaniment to the chase. I made
no doubt that the pack was my uncle's, and drew up my horse with the purpose of suffering the hunters to
pass without notice, aware that a huntingfield was not the proper scene to introduce myself to a keen
sportsman, and determined when they had passed on, to proceed to the mansionhouse at my own pace, and
there to await the return of the proprietor from his sport. I paused, therefore, on a rising ground, and, not
unmoved by the sense of interest which that species of silvan sport is so much calculated to inspire (although
my mind was not at the moment very accessible to impressions of this nature), I expected with some
eagerness the appearance of the huntsmen.
The fox, hard run, and nearly spent, first made his appearance from the copse which clothed the righthand
side of the valley. His drooping brush, his soiled appearance, and jaded trot, proclaimed his fate impending;
and the carrion crow, which hovered over him, already considered poor Reynard as soon to be his prey. He
crossed the stream which divides the little valley, and was dragging himself up a ravine on the other side of
its wild banks, when the headmost hounds, followed by the rest of the pack in full cry, burst from the
coppice, followed by the huntsman and three or four riders. The dogs pursued the trace of Reynard with
unerring instinct; and the hunters followed with reckless haste, regardless of the broken and difficult nature of
the ground. They were tall, stout young men, well mounted, and dressed in green and red, the uniform of a
sporting association, formed under the auspices of old Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone.``My cousins!''
thought I, as they swept past me. The next reflection was, what is my reception likely to be among these
worthy successors of Nimrod? and how improbable is it that I, knowing little or nothing of rural sports, shall
find myself at ease, or happy, in my uncle's family. A vision that passed me interrupted these reflections.
It was a young lady, the loveliness of whose very striking features was enhanced by the animation of the
chase and the glow of the exercise, mounted on a beautiful horse, jet black, unless where he was flecked by
spots of the snowwhite foam which embossed his bridle. She wore, what was then somewhat unusual, a
coat, vest, and hat, resembling those of a man, which fashion has since called a riding habit. The mode had
been introduced while I was in France, and was perfectly new to me. Her long black hair streamed on the
breeze, having in the hurry of the chase escaped from the ribbon which bound it. Some very broken ground,
through which she guided her horse with the most admirable address and presence of mind, retarded her
course, and brought her closer to me than any of the other riders had passed. I had, therefore, a full view of
her uncommonly fine face and person, to which an inexpressible charm was added by the wild gaiety of the
scene, and the romance of her singular dress and unexpected appearance. As she passed me, her horse made,
in his impetuosity, an irregular movement, just while, coming once more upon open ground, she was again
putting him to his speed. It served as an apology for me to ride close up to her, as if to her assistance. There
was, however, no cause for alarm; it was not a stumble, nor a false step; and, if it had, the fair Amazon had
too much selfpossession to have been deranged by it. She thanked my good intentions, however, by a smile,
and I felt encouraged to put my horse to the same pace, and to keep in her immediate neighbourhood. The
clamour of ``Whoop! dead! dead!'' and the corresponding flourish of the French horn, soon announced to
us that there was no more occasion for haste, since the chase was at a close. One of the young men whom we
had seen approached us, waving the brush of the fox in triumph, as if to upbraid my fair companion,
``I see,'' she replied,``I see; but make no noise about it: if Phoebe,'' she said, patting the neck of the
beautiful animal on which she rode, ``had not got among the cliffs, you would have had little cause for
boasting.''
They met as she spoke, and I observed them both look at me, and converse a moment in an undertone, the
young lady apparently pressing the sportsman to do something which he declined shyly, and with a sort of
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sheepish sullenness. She instantly turned her horse's head towards me, saying,``Well, well, Thornie, if
you won't, I must, that's all.Sir,'' she continued, addressing me, ``I have been endeavouring to persuade
this cultivated young gentleman to make inquiry of you whether, in the course of your travels in these parts,
you have heard anything of a friend of ours, one Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, who has been for some days
expected at Osbaldistone Hall?''
I was too happy to acknowledge myself to be the party inquired after, and to express my thanks for the
obliging inquiries of the young lady.
``In that case, sir,'' she rejoined, ``as my kinsman's politeness seems to be still slumbering, you will permit me
(though I suppose it is highly improper) to stand mistress of ceremonies, and to present to you young Squire
Thorncliff Osbaldistone, your cousin, and Die Vernon, who has also the honour to be your accomplished
cousin's poor kinswoman.''
There was a mixture of boldness, satire, and simplicity in the manner in which Miss Vernon pronounced
these words. My knowledge of life was sufficient to enable me to take up a corresponding tone as I expressed
my gratitude to her for her condescension, and my extreme pleasure at having met with them. To say the
truth, the compliment was so expressed, that the lady might easily appropriate the greater share of it, for
Thorncliff seemed an arrant country bumpkin, awkward, shy, and somewhat sulky withal. He shook hands
with me, however, and then intimated his intention of leaving me that he might help the huntsman and his
brothers to couple up the hounds,a purpose which he rather communicated by way of information to Miss
Vernon than as apology to me.
``There he goes,'' said the young lady, following him with eyes in which disdain was admirably
painted``the prince of grooms and cockfighters, and blackguard horsecoursers. But there is not one of
them to mend another.Have you read Markham?'' said Miss Vernon.
``Read whom, ma'am?I do not even remember the author's name.''
``O lud! on what a strand are you wrecked!'' replied the young lady. ``A poor forlorn and ignorant stranger,
unacquainted with the very Alcoran of the savage tribe whom you are come to reside amongNever to
have heard of Markham, the most celebrated author on farriery! then I fear you are equally a stranger to the
more modern names of Gibson and Bartlett?''
``I am, indeed, Miss Vernon.''
``And do you not blush to own it?'' said Miss Vernon. ``Why, we must forswear your alliance. Then, I
suppose, you can neither give a ball, nor a mash, nor a horn!''
``I confess I trust all these matters to an ostler, or to my groom.''
``Incredible carelessness!And you cannot shoe a horse, or cut his mane and tail; or worm a dog, or crop
his ears, or cut his dewclaws; or reclaim a hawk, or give him his castingstones, or direct his diet when he is
sealed; or''
``To sum up my insignificance in one word,'' replied I, ``I am profoundly ignorant in all these rural
accomplishments.''
``Then, in the name of Heaven, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, what can you do?''
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``Very little to the purpose, Miss Vernon; something, however, I can pretend toWhen my groom has
dressed my horse I can ride him, and when my hawk is in the field, I can fly him.''
``Can you do this?'' said the young lady, putting her horse to a canter.
There was a sort of rude overgrown fence crossed the path before us, with a gate composed of pieces of wood
rough from the forest; I was about to move forward to open it, when Miss Vernon cleared the obstruction at a
flying leap. I was bound in point of honour to follow, and was in a moment again at her side. ``There are
hopes of you yet,'' she said. ``I was afraid you had been a very degenerate Osbaldistone. But what on earth
brings you to CubCastle?for so the neighbours have christened this huntinghall of ours. You might
have stayed away, I suppose, if you would?''
I felt I was by this time on a very intimate footing with my beautiful apparition, and therefore replied, in a
confidential undertone``Indeed, my dear Miss Vernon, I might have considered it as a sacrifice to be a
temporary resident in Osbaldistone Hall, the inmates being such as you describe them; but I am convinced
there is one exception that will make amends for all deficiencies.''
``O, you mean Rashleigh?'' said Miss Vernon.
``Indeed I do not; I was thinkingforgive meof some person much nearer me.''
``I suppose it would be proper not to understand your civility?But that is not my wayI don't make a
courtesy for it because I am sitting on horseback. But, seriously, I deserve your exception, for I am the only
conversable being about the Hall, except the old priest and Rashleigh.''
``And who is Rashleigh, for Heaven's sake?''
``Rashleigh is one who would fain have every one like him for his own sake. He is Sir Hildebrand's youngest
sonabout your own age, but not sonot well looking, in short. But nature has given him a mouthful of
common sense, and the priest has added a bushelful of learning; he is what we call a very clever man in this
country, where clever men are scarce. Bred to the church, but in no hurry to take orders.''
``To the Catholic Church?''
``The Catholic Church? what Church else?'' said the young lady. ``But I forgotthey told me you are a
heretic. Is that true, Mr. Osbaldistone?''
``I must not deny the charge.''
``And yet you have been abroad, and in Catholic countries?''
``For nearly four years.''
``You have seen convents?''
``Often; but I have not seen much in them which recommended the Catholic religion.''
``Are not the inhabitants happy?''
``Some are unquestionably so, whom either a profound sense of devotion, or an experience of the
persecutions and misfortunes of the world, or a natural apathy of temper, has led into retirement. Those who
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have adopted a life of seclusion from sudden and overstrained enthusiasm, or in hasty resentment of some
disappointment or mortification, are very miserable. The quickness of sensation soon returns, and like the
wilder animals in a menagerie, they are restless under confinement, while others muse or fatten in cells of no
larger dimensions than theirs.''
``And what,'' continued Miss Vernon, ``becomes of those victims who are condemned to a convent by the
will of others? what do they resemble? especially, what do they resemble, if they are born to enjoy life, and
feel its blessings?''
``They are like imprisoned singingbirds,'' replied I, ``condemned to wear out their lives in confinement,
which they try to beguile by the exercise of accomplishments which would have adorned society had they
been left at large.''
``I shall be,'' returned Miss Vernon``that is,'' said she, correcting herself``I should be rather like the
wild hawk, who, barred the free exercise of his soar through heaven, will dash himself to pieces against the
bars of his cage. But to return to Rashleigh,'' said she, in a more lively tone, ``you will think him the
pleasantest man you ever saw in your life, Mr. Osbaldistone,that is, for a week at least. If he could find
out a blind mistress, never man would be so secure of conquest; but the eye breaks the spell that enchants the
ear.But here we are in the court of the old hall, which looks as wild and oldfashioned as any of its
inmates. There is no great toilette kept at Osbaldistone Hall, you must know; but I must take off these things,
they are so unpleasantly warm,and the hat hurts my forehead, too,'' continued the lively girl, taking it off,
and shaking down a profusion of sable ringlets, which, half laughing, half blushing, she separated with her
white slender fingers, in order to clear them away from her beautiful face and piercing hazel eyes. If there
was any coquetry in the action, it was well disguised by the careless indifference of her manner. I could not
help saying, ``that, judging of the family from what I saw, I should suppose the toilette a very unnecessary
care.''
``That's very politely saidthough, perhaps, I ought not to understand in what sense it was meant,'' replied
Miss Vernon; ``but you will see a better apology for a little negligence when you meet the Orsons you are to
live amongst, whose forms no toilette could improve. But, as I said before, the old dinnerbell will clang, or
rather clank, in a few minutesit cracked of its own accord on the day of the landing of King Willie, and
my uncle, respecting its prophetic talent, would never permit it to be mended. So do you hold my palfrey, like
a duteous knight, until I send some more humble squire to relieve you of the charge.''
She threw me the rein as if we had been acquainted from our childhood, jumped from her saddle, tripped
across the courtyard, and entered at a sidedoor, leaving me in admiration of her beauty, and astonished with
the overfrankness of her manners, which seemed the more extraordinary at a time when the dictates of
politeness, flowing from the court of the Grand Monarque Louis XIV., prescribed to the fair sex an unusual
severity of decorum. I was left awkwardly enough stationed in the centre of the court of the old hall, mounted
on one horse, and holding another in my hand.
The building afforded little to interest a stranger, had I been disposed to consider it attentively; the sides of
the quadrangle were of various architecture, and with their stoneshafted latticed windows, projecting turrets,
and massive architraves, resembled the inside of a convent, or of one of the older and less splendid colleges
of Oxford. I called for a domestic, but was for some time totally unattended to; which was the more
provoking, as I could perceive I was the object of curiosity to several servants, both male and female, from
different parts of the building, who popped out their heads and withdrew them, like rabbits in a warren,
before I could make a direct appeal to the attention of any individual. The return of the huntsmen and hounds
relieved me from my embarrassment, and with some difficulty I got one down to relieve me of the charge of
the horses, and another stupid boor to guide me to the presence of Sir Hildebrand. This service he performed
with much such grace and goodwill, as a peasant who is compelled to act as guide to a hostile patrol; and in
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the same manner I was obliged to guard against his deserting me in the labyrinth of low vaulted passages
which conducted to ``Stun Hall,'' as he called it, where I was to be introduced to the gracious presence of my
uncle.
We did, however, at length reach a long vaulted room, floored with stone, where a range of oaken tables, of a
weight and size too massive ever to be moved aside, were already covered for dinner. This venerable
apartment, which had witnessed the feasts of several generations of the Osbaldistone family, bore also
evidence of their success in field sports. Huge antlers of deer, which might have been trophies of the hunting
of Chevy Chace, were ranged around the walls, interspersed with the stuffed skins of badgers, otters, martins,
and other animals of the chase. Amidst some remnants of old armour, which had, perhaps, served against the
Scotch, hung the more valued weapons of silvan war, crossbows, guns of various device and construction,
nets, fishingrods, otterspears, huntingpoles, with many other singular devices, and engines for taking or
killing game. A few old pictures, dimmed with smoke, and stained with March beer, hung on the walls,
representing knights and ladies, honoured, doubtless, and renowned in their day; those frowning fearfully
from huge bushes of wig and of beard; and these looking delightfully with all their might at the roses which
they brandished in their hands.
I had just time to give a glance at these matters, when about twelve bluecoated servants burst into the hall
with much tumult and talk, each rather employed in directing his comrades than in discharging his own duty.
Some brought blocks and billets to the fire, which roared, blazed, and ascended, half in smoke, half in flame,
up a huge tunnel, with an opening wide enough to accommodate a stone seat within its ample vault, and
which was fronted, by way of chimneypiece, with a huge piece of heavy architecture, where the monsters of
heraldry, embodied by the art of some Northumbrian chisel, grinned and ramped in red freestone, now
japanned by the smoke of centuries. Others of these oldfashioned servingmen bore huge smoking dishes,
loaded with substantial fare; others brought in cups, flagons, bottles, yea barrels of liquor. All tramped,
kicked, plunged, shouldered, and jostled, doing as little service with as much tumult as could well be
imagined. At length, while the dinner was, after various efforts, in the act of being arranged upon the board,
``the clamour much of men and dogs,'' the cracking of whips, calculated for the intimidation of the latter,
voices loud and high, steps which, impressed by the heavyheeled boots of the period, clattered like those in
the statue of the Festin de Pierre,* announced the arrival
* Now called Don Juan.
of those for whose benefit the preparations were made. The hubbub among the servants rather increased than
diminished as this crisis approached. Some called to make haste,others to take time,some exhorted to
stand out of the way, and make room for Sir Hildebrand and the young squires,some to close round the
table and be in the way,some bawled to open, some to shut, a pair of foldingdoors which divided the
hall from a sort of gallery, as I afterwards learned, or withdrawingroom, fitted up with black wainscot.
Opened the doors were at length, and in rushed curs and men,eight dogs, the domestic chaplain, the
village doctor, my six cousins, and my uncle.
CHAPTER SIXTH.
The rude hall rocksthey come, they come,
The din of voices shakes the dome;
In stalk the various forms, and, drest
In varying morion, varying vest,
All march with haughty stepall proudly shake the crest.
Penrose.
If Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone was in no hurry to greet his nephew, of whose arrival he must have been
informed for some time, he had important avocations to allege in excuse. ``Had seen thee sooner, lad,'' he
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exclaimed, after a rough shake of the hand, and a hearty welcome to Osbaldistone Hall, ``but had to see the
hounds kennelled first. Thou art welcome to the Hall, ladhere is thy cousin Percie, thy cousin Thornie,
and thy cousin Johnyour cousin Dick, your cousin Wilfred, andstay, where's Rashleigh?ay, here's
Rashleightake thy long body aside Thornie, and let's see thy brother a bityour cousin Rashleigh. So,
thy father has thought on the old Hall, and old Sir Hildebrand at lastbetter late than neverThou art
welcome, lad, and there's enough. Where's my little Die? ay, here she comesthis is my niece Die, my
wife's brother's daughterthe prettiest girl in our dales, be the other who she mayand so now let's to
the sirloin.''
To gain some idea of the person who held this language, you must suppose, my dear Tresham, a man aged
about sixty, in a hunting suit which had once been richly laced, but whose splendour had been tarnished by
many a November and December storm. Sir Hildebrand, notwithstanding the abruptness of his present
manner, had, at one period of his life, known courts and camps; had held a commission in the army which
encamped on Hounslow Heath previous to the Revolutionand, recommended perhaps by his religion, had
been knighted about the same period by the unfortunate and illadvised James II. But the Knight's dreams of
further preferment, if he ever entertained any, had died away at the crisis which drove his patron from the
throne, and since that period he had spent a sequestered life upon his native domains. Notwithstanding his
rusticity, however, Sir Hildebrand retained much of the exterior of a gentleman, and appeared among his sons
as the remains of a Corinthian pillar, defaced and overgrown with moss and lichen, might have looked, if
contrasted with the rough unhewn masses of upright stones in Stonhenge, or any other Druidical temple. The
sons were, indeed, heavy unadorned blocks as the eye would desire to look upon. Tall, stout, and comely, all
and each of the five eldest seemed to want alike the Promethean fire of intellect, and the exterior grace and
manner, which, in the polished world, sometimes supply mental deficiency. Their most valuable moral
quality seemed to be the goodhumour and content which was expressed in their heavy features, and their
only pretence to accomplishment was their dexterity in field sports, for which alone they lived. The strong
Gyas, and the strong Cloanthus, are not less distinguished by the poet, than the strong Percival, the strong
Thorncliff, the strong John, Richard, and Wilfred Osbaldistones, were by outward appearance.
But, as if to indemnify herself for a uniformity so uncommon in her productions, Dame Nature had rendered
Rashleigh Osbaldistone a striking contrast in person and manner, and, as I afterwards learned, in temper and
talents, not only to his brothers, but to most men whom I had hitherto met with. When Percie, Thornie, and
Co. had respectively nodded, grinned, and presented their shoulder rather than their hand, as their father
named them to their new kinsman, Rashleigh stepped forward, and welcomed me to Osbaldistone Hall, with
the air and manner of a man of the world. His appearance was not in itself prepossessing. He was of low
stature, whereas all his brethren seemed to be descendants of Anak; and while they were handsomely formed,
Rashleigh, though strong in person, was bullnecked and crossmade, and from some early injury in his
youth had an imperfection in his gait, so much resembling an absolute halt, that many alleged that it formed
the obstacle to his taking orders; the Church of Rome, as is well known, admitting none to the clerical
profession who labours under any personal deformity. Others, however, ascribed this unsightly defect to a
mere awkward habit, and contended that it did not amount to a personal disqualification from holy orders.
The features of Rashleigh were such, as, having looked upon, we in vain wish to banish from our memory, to
which they recur as objects of painful curiosity, although we dwell upon them with a feeling of dislike, and
even of disgust. It was not the actual plainness of his face, taken separately from the meaning, which made
this strong impression. His features were, indeed, irregular, but they were by no means vulgar; and his keen
dark eyes, and shaggy eyebrows, redeemed his face from the charge of commonplace ugliness. But there was
in these eyes an expression of art and design, and, on provocation, a ferocity tempered by caution, which
nature had made obvious to the most ordinary physiognomist, perhaps with the same intention that she has
given the rattle to the poisonous snake. As if to compensate him for these disadvantages of exterior,
Rashleigh Osbaldistone was possessed of a voice the most soft, mellow, and rich in its tones that I ever heard,
and was at no loss for language of every sort suited to so fine an organ. His first sentence of welcome was
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hardly ended, ere I internally agreed with Miss Vernon, that my new kinsman would make an instant
conquest of a mistress whose ears alone were to judge his cause. He was about to place himself beside me at
dinner, but Miss Vernon, who, as the only female in the family, arranged all such matters according to her
own pleasure, contrived that I should sit betwixt Thorncliff and herself; and it can scarce be doubted that I
favoured this more advantageous arrangement.
``I want to speak with you,'' she said, ``and I have placed honest Thornie betwixt Rashleigh and you on
purpose. He will be like
Featherbed 'twixt castle wall And heavy brunt of cannon ball,
while I, your earliest acquaintance in this intellectual family, ask of you how you like us all?''
``A very comprehensive question, Miss Vernon, considering how short while I have been at Osbaldistone
Hall.''
``Oh, the philosophy of our family lies on the surfacethere are minute shades distinguishing the
individuals, which require the eye of an intelligent observer; but the species, as naturalists I believe call it,
may be distinguished and characterized at once.''
``My five elder cousins, then, are I presume of pretty nearly the same character.''
``Yes, they form a happy compound of sot, gamekeeper, bully, horsejockey, and fool; but as they say there
cannot be found two leaves on the same tree exactly alike, so these happy ingredients, being mingled in
somewhat various proportions in each individual, make an agreeable variety for those who like to study
character.''
``Give me a sketch, if you please, Miss Vernon.''
``You shall have them all in a familypiece, at full length the favour is too easily granted to be refused.
Percie, the son and heir, has more of the sot than of the gamekeeper, bully, horsejockey, or foolMy
precious Thornie is more of the bully than the sot, gamekeeper, jockey, or foolJohn, who sleeps whole
weeks amongst the hills, has most of the gamekeeper The jockey is powerful with Dickon, who rides two
hundred miles by day and night to be bought and sold at a horserace And the fool predominates so
much over Wilfred's other qualities, that he may be termed a fool positive.''
``A goodly collection, Miss Vernon, and the individual varieties belong to a most interesting species. But is
there no room on the canvas for Sir Hildebrand?''
``I love my uncle,'' was her reply: ``I owe him some kindness (such it was meant for at least), and I will leave
you to draw his picture yourself, when you know him better.''
``Come,'' thought I to myself, ``I am glad there is some forbearance. After all, who would have looked for
such bitter satire from a creature so young, and so exquisitely beautiful?''
``You are thinking of me,'' she said, bending her dark eyes on me, as if she meant to pierce through my very
soul.
``I certainly was,'' I replied, with some embarrassment at the determined suddenness of the question, and
then, endeavouring to give a complimentary turn to my frank avowal``How is it possible I should think of
anything else, seated as I have the happiness to be?''
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She smiled with such an expression of concentrated haughtiness as she alone could have thrown into her
countenance. ``I must inform you at once, Mr. Osbaldistone, that compliments are entirely lost upon me; do
not, therefore, throw away your pretty sayingsthey serve fine gentlemen who travel in the country,
instead of the toys, beads, and bracelets, which navigators carry to propitiate the savage inhabitants of
newlydiscovered lands. Do not exhaust your stock in trade;you will find natives in Northumberland to
whom your fine things will recommend youon me they would be utterly thrown away, for I happen to
know their real value.''
I was silenced and confounded.
``You remind me at this moment,'' said the young lady, resuming her lively and indifferent manner, ``of the
fairy tale, where the man finds all the money which he had carried to market suddenly changed into pieces of
slate. I have cried down and ruined your whole stock of complimentary discourse by one unlucky
observation. But come, never mind itYou are belied, Mr. Osbaldistone, unless you have much better
conversation than these fadeurs, which every gentleman with a toupet thinks himself obliged to recite to an
unfortunate girl, merely because she is dressed in silk and gauze, while he wears superfine cloth with
embroidery. Your natural paces, as any of my five cousins might say, are far preferable to your
complimentary amble. Endeavour to forget my unlucky sex; call me Tom Vernon, if you have a mind, but
speak to me as you would to a friend and companion; you have no idea how much I shall like you.''
``That would be a bribe indeed,'' returned I.
``Again!'' replied Miss Vernon, holding up her finger; ``I told you I would not bear the shadow of a
compliment. And now, when you have pledged my uncle, who threatens you with what he calls a brimmer, I
will tell you what you think of me.''
The bumper being pledged by me, as a dutiful nephew, and some other general intercourse of the table having
taken place, the continued and businesslike clang of knives and forks, and the devotion of cousin Thorncliff
on my right hand, and cousin Dickon, who sate on Miss Vernon's left, to the huge quantities of meat with
which they heaped their plates, made them serve as two occasional partitions, separating us from the rest of
the company, and leaving us to our te^tea`te^te. ``And now,'' said I, ``give me leave to ask you frankly,
Miss Vernon, what you suppose I am thinking of you!I could tell you what I really do think, but you have
interdicted praise.''
``I do not want your assistance. I am conjuror enough to tell your thoughts without it. You need not open the
casement of your bosom; I see through it. You think me a strange bold girl, half coquette, half romp; desirous
of attracting attention by the freedom of her manners and loudness of her conversation, because she is
ignorant of what the Spectator calls the softer graces of the sex; and perhaps you think I have some particular
plan of storming you into admiration. I should be sorry to shock your selfopinion, but you were never more
mistaken. All the confidence I have reposed in you, I would have given as readily to your father, if I thought
he could have understood me. I am in this happy family as much secluded from intelligent listeners as Sancho
in the Sierra Morena, and when opportunity offers, I must speak or die. I assure you I would not have told
you a word of all this curious intelligence, had I cared a pin who knew it or knew it not.''
``It is very cruel in you, Miss Vernon, to take away all particular marks of favour from your communications,
but I must receive them on your own terms.You have not included Mr. Rashleigh Osbaldistone in your
domestic sketches.''
She shrunk, I thought, at this remark, and hastily answered, in a much lower tone, ``Not a word of Rashleigh!
His ears are so acute when his selfishness is interested, that the sounds would reach him even through the
mass of Thorncliff's person, stuffed as it is with beef, venisonpasty, and pudding.''
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``Yes,'' I replied; ``but peeping past the living screen which divides us, before I put the question, I perceived
that Mr. Rashleigh's chair was emptyhe has left the table.''
``I would not have you be too sure of that,'' Miss Vernon replied. ``Take my advice, and when you speak of
Rashleigh, get up to the top of Otterscopehill, where you can see for twenty miles round you in every
directionstand on the very peak, and speak in whispers; and, after all, don't be too sure that the bird of the
air will not carry the matter, Rashleigh has been my tutor for four years; we are mutually tired of each other,
and we shall heartily rejoice at our approaching separation.''
``Mr. Rashleigh leaves Osbaldistone Hall, then?''
``Yes, in a few days;did you not know that?your father must keep his resolutions much more secret
than Sir Hildebrand. Why, when my uncle was informed that you were to be his guest for some time, and that
your father desired to have one of his hopeful sons to fill up the lucrative situation in his countinghouse
which was vacant by your obstinacy, Mr. Francis, the good knight held a cour ple'nie`re of all his family,
including the butler, housekeeper, and gamekeeper. This reverend assembly of the peers and household
officers of Osbaldistone Hall was not convoked, as you may suppose, to elect your substitute, because, as
Rashleigh alone possessed more arithmetic than was necessary to calculate the odds on a fighting cock, none
but he could be supposed qualified for the situation. But some solemn sanction was necessary for
transforming Rashleigh's destination from starving as a Catholic priest to thriving as a wealthy banker; and it
was not without some reluctance that the acquiescence of the assembly was obtained to such an act of
degradation.''
``I can conceive the scruplesbut how were they got over?''
``By the general wish, I believe, to get Rashleigh out of the house,'' replied Miss Vernon. ``Although
youngest of the family, he has somehow or other got the entire management of all the others; and every one is
sensible of the subjection, though they cannot shake it off. If any one opposes him, he is sure to rue having
done so before the year goes about; and if you do him a very important service, you may rue it still more.''
``At that rate,'' answered I, smiling, ``I should look about me; for I have been the cause, however
unintentionally, of his change of situation.''
``Yes; and whether he regards it as an advantage or disadvantage, he will owe you a grudge for itBut here
comes cheese, radishes, and a bumper to church and king, the hint for chaplains and ladies to disappear; and
I, the sole representative of womanhood at Osbaldistone Hall, retreat, as in duty bound.''
She vanished as she spoke, leaving me in astonishment at the mingled character of shrewdness, audacity, and
frankness, which her conversation displayed. I despair conveying to you the least idea of her manner,
although I have, as nearly as I can remember, imitated her language. In fact, there was a mixture of untaught
simplicity, as well as native shrewdness and haughty boldness, in her manner, and all were modified and
recommended by the play of the most beautiful features I had ever beheld. It is not to be thought that,
however strange and uncommon I might think her liberal and unreserved communications, a young man of
twoandtwenty was likely to be severely critical on a beautiful girl of eighteen, for not observing a proper
distance towards him. On the contrary, I was equally diverted and flattered by Miss Vernon's confidence, and
that notwithstanding her declaration of its being conferred on me solely because I was the first auditor who
occurred, of intelligence enough to comprehend it. With the presumption of my age, certainly not diminished
by my residence in France, I imagined that wellformed features, and a handsome person, both which I
conceived myself to possess, were not unsuitable qualifications for the confidant of a young beauty. My
vanity thus enlisted in Miss Vernon's behalf, I was far from judging her with severity, merely for a frankness
which I supposed was in some degree justified by my own personal merit; and the feelings of partiality,
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which her beauty, and the singularity of her situation, were of themselves calculated to excite, were enhanced
by my opinion of her penetration and judgment in her choice of a friend.
After Miss Vernon quitted the apartment, the bottle circulated, or rather flew, around the table in unceasing
revolution. My foreign education had given me a distaste to intemperance, then and yet too common a vice
among my countrymen. The conversation which seasoned such orgies was as little to my taste, and if
anything could render it more disgusting, it was the relationship of the company. I therefore seized a lucky
opportunity, and made my escape through a side door, leading I knew not whither, rather than endure any
longer the sight of father and sons practising the same degrading intemperance, and holding the same coarse
and disgusting conversation. I was pursued, of course, as I had expected, to be reclaimed by force, as a
deserter from the shrine of Bacchus. When I heard the whoop and hollo, and the tramp of the heavy boots of
my pursuers on the winding stair which I was descending, I plainly foresaw I should be overtaken unless I
could get into the open air. I therefore threw open a casement in the staircase, which looked into an
oldfashioned garden, and as the height did not exceed six feet, I jumped out without hesitation, and soon
heard far behind the ``hey whoop! stole away! stole away!'' of my baffled pursuers. I ran down one alley,
walked fast up another; and then, conceiving myself out of all danger of pursuit, I slackened my pace into a
quiet stroll, enjoying the cool air which the heat of the wine I had been obliged to swallow, as well as that of
my rapid retreat, rendered doubly grateful.
As I sauntered on, I found the gardener hard at his evening employment, and saluted him, as I paused to look
at his work.
``Good even, my friend.''
``Gude e'engude e'en t'ye,'' answered the man, without looking up, and in a tone which at once indicated
his northern extraction.
``Fine weather for your work, my friend.''
``It's no that muckle to be compleened o','' answered the man, with that limited degree of praise which
gardeners and farmers usually bestow on the very best weather. Then raising his head, as if to see who spoke
to him, he touched his Scotch bonnet with an air of respect, as he observed, ``Eh, gude safe us!it's a sight
for sair een, to see a goldlaced jeistiecor in the Ha'garden sae late at e'en.''
``A goldlaced what, my good friend?''
``Ou, a jeistiecor*that's a jacket like your ain, there. They
* Perhaps from the French Justeaucorps.
hae other things to do wi' them up yonderunbuttoning them to make room for the beef and the
bagpuddings, and the claretwine, nae doubtthat's the ordinary for evening lecture on this side the
border.''
``There's no such plenty of good cheer in your country, my good friend,'' I replied, ``as to tempt you to sit so
late at it.''
``Hout, sir, ye ken little about Scotland; it's no for want of gude viversthe best of fish, flesh, and fowl hae
we, by sybos, ingans, turneeps, and other garden fruit. But we hae mense and discretion, and are moderate of
our mouths;but here, frae the kitchen to the ha', it's fill and fetch mair, frae the tae end of the
fourandtwenty till the tother. Even their fast days they ca' it fasting when they hae the best o' seafish
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frae Hartlepool and Sunderland by land carriage, forbye trouts, grilses, salmon, and a' the lave o't, and so they
make their very fasting a kind of luxury and abomination; and then the awfu' masses and matins of the puir
deceived soulsBut I shouldna speak about them, for your honour will be a Roman, I'se warrant, like the
lave.''
``Not I, my friend; I was bred an English presbyterian, or dissenter.''
``The right hand of fellowship to your honour, then,'' quoth the gardener, with as much alacrity as his hard
features were capable of expressing, and, as if to show that his goodwill did not rest on words, he plucked
forth a huge horn snuffbox, or mull, as he called it, and proffered a pinch with a most fraternal grin.
Having accepted his courtesy, I asked him if he had been long a domestic at Osbaldistone Hall.
``I have been fighting with wild beasts at Ephesus,'' said he, looking towards the building, ``for the best part
of these fourandtwenty years, as sure as my name's Andrew Fairservice.''
``But, my excellent friend, Andrew Fairservice, if your religion and your temperance are so much offended
by Roman rituals and southern hospitality, it seems to me that you must have been putting yourself to an
unnecessary penance all this while, and that you might have found a service where they eat less, and are more
orthodox in their worship. I dare say it cannot be want of skill which prevented your being placed more to
your satisfaction.''
``It disna become me to speak to the point of my qualifications,'' said Andrew, looking round him with great
complacency; ``but nae doubt I should understand my trade of horticulture, seeing I was bred in the parish of
Dreepdaily, where they raise langkale under glass, and force the early nettles for their spring kale. And, to
speak truth, I hae been flitting every term these fourandtwenty years; but when the time comes, there's aye
something to saw that I would like to see sawn,or something to maw that I would like to see mawn,or
something to ripe that I would like to see ripen,and sae I e'en daiker on wi' the family frae year's end to
year's end. And I wad say for certain, that I am gaun to quit at Cannlemas, only I was just as positive on it
twenty years syne, and I find mysell still turning up the mouls here, for a' that. Forbye that, to tell your
honour the evendown truth, there's nae better place ever offered to Andrew. But if your honour wad wush me
to ony place where I wad hear pure doctrine, and hae a free cow's grass, and a cot, and a yard, and mair than
ten punds of annual fee, and where there's nae leddy about the town to count the apples, I'se hold mysell
muckle indebted t'ye.''
``Bravo, Andrew! I perceive you'll lose no preferment for want of asking patronage.''
``I canna see what for I should,'' replied Andrew; ``it's no a generation to wait till ane's worth's discovered, I
trow.''
``But you are no friend, I observe, to the ladies.''
``Na, by my troth, I keep up the first gardener's quarrel to them. They're fasheous bargainsaye crying for
apricocks, pears, plums, and apples, summer and winter, without distinction o' seasons; but we hae nae slices
o' the spare rib here, be praised for't! except auld Martha, and she's weel eneugh pleased wi' the freedom o'
the berrybushes to her sister's weans, when they come to drink tea in a holiday in the housekeeper's room,
and wi' a wheen codlings now and then for her ain private supper.''
``You forget your young mistress.''
``What mistress do I forget?whae's that?''
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``Your young mistress, Miss Vernon.''
``What! the lassie Vernon?She's nae mistress o' mine, man. I wish she was her ain mistress; and I wish
she mayna be some other body's mistress or it's langShe's a wild slip that.''
``Indeed!'' said I, more interested than I cared to own to myself, or to show to the fellow``why, Andrew,
you know all the secrets of this family.''
``If I ken them, I can keep them,'' said Andrew; ``they winna work in my wame like harm in a barrel, I'se
warrant ye. Miss Die isbut it's neither beef nor brose o' mine.''
And he began to dig with a great semblance of assiduity.
``What is Miss Vernon, Andrew? I am a friend of the family, and should like to know.''
``Other than a gude ane, I'm fearing,'' said Andrew, closing one eye hard, and shaking his head with a grave
and mysterious look``something glee'dyour honour understands me?''
``I cannot say I do,'' said I, ``Andrew; but I should like to hear you explain yourself;'' and therewithal I
slipped a crownpiece into Andrew's hornhard hand. The touch of the silver made him grin a ghastly smile,
as he nodded slowly, and thrust it into his breeches pocket; and then, like a man who well understood that
there was value to be returned, stood up, and rested his arms on his spade, with his features composed into the
most important gravity, as for some serious communication.
``Ye maun ken, then, young gentleman, since it imports you to know, that Miss Vernon is''
Here breaking off, he sucked in both his cheeks, till his lantern jaws and long chin assumed the appearance of
a pair of nutcrackers; winked hard once more, frowned, shook his head, and seemed to think his
physiognomy had completed the information which his tongue had not fully told.
``Good God!'' said I``so young, so beautiful, so early lost!''
``Troth ye may say saeshe's in a manner lost, body and saul; forby being a Papist, I'se uphaud her
for''and his northern caution prevailed, and he was again silent.
``For what, sir?'' said I sternly. ``I insist on knowing the plain meaning of all this.''
``On, just for the bitterest Jacobite in the haill shire.''
``Pshaw! a Jacobite?is that all?''
Andrew looked at me with some astonishment, at hearing his information treated so lightly; and then
muttering, ``Aweel, it's the warst thing I ken aboot the lassie, howsoe'er,'' he resumed his spade, like the king
of the Vandals, in Marmontel's late novel.
CHAPTER SEVENTH.
Bardolph.The sheriff, with a monstrous watch, is at the door.
Henry IV. First Part.
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I found out with some difficulty the apartment which was destined for my accommodation; and having
secured myself the necessary goodwill and attention from my uncle's domestics, by using the means they
were most capable of comprehending, I secluded myself there for the remainder of the evening, conjecturing,
from the fair way in which I had left my new relatives, as well as from the distant noise which continued to
echo from the stonehall (as their banquetingroom was called), that they were not likely to be fitting
company for a sober man.
``What could my father mean by sending me to be an inmate in this strange family?'' was my first and most
natural reflection. My uncle, it was plain, received me as one who was to make some stay with him, and his
rude hospitality rendered him as indifferent as King Hal to the number of those who fed at his cost. But it was
plain my presence or absence would be of as little importance in his eyes as that of one of his bluecoated
servingmen. My cousins were mere cubs, in whose company I might, if I liked it, unlearn whatever decent
manners, or elegant accomplishments, I had acquired, but where I could attain no information beyond what
regarded worming dogs, rowelling horses, and following foxes. I could only imagine one reason, which was
probably the true one. My father considered the life which was led at Osbaldistone Hall as the natural and
inevitable pursuits of all country gentlemen, and he was desirous, by giving me an opportunity of seeing that
with which he knew I should be disgusted, to reconcile me, if possible, to take an active share in his own
business. In the meantime, he would take Rashleigh Osbaldistone into the countinghouse. But he had an
hundred modes of providing for him, and that advantageously, whenever he chose to get rid of him. So that,
although I did feel a certain qualm of conscience at having been the means of introducing Rashleigh, being
such as he was described by Miss Vernon, into my father's businessperhaps into his confidenceI
subdued it by the reflection that my father was complete master of his own affairsa man not to be
imposed upon, or influenced by any one and that all I knew to the young gentleman's prejudice was
through the medium of a singular and giddy girl, whose communications were made with an injudicious
frankness, which might warrant me in supposing her conclusions had been hastily or inaccurately formed.
Then my mind naturally turned to Miss Vernon herself; her extreme beauty; her very peculiar situation,
relying solely upon her reflections, and her own spirit, for guidance and protection; and her whole character
offering that variety and spirit which piques our curiosity, and engages our attention in spite of ourselves. I
had sense enough to consider the neighbourhood of this singular young lady, and the chance of our being
thrown into very close and frequent intercourse, as adding to the dangers, while it relieved the dulness, of
Osbaldistone Hall; but I could not, with the fullest exertion of my prudence, prevail upon myself to regret
excessively this new and particular hazard to which I was to be exposed. This scruple I also settled as young
men settle most difficulties of the kind I would be very cautious, always on my guard, consider Miss
Vernon rather as a companion than an intimate; and all would do well enough. With these reflections I fell
asleep, Miss Vernon, of course, forming the last subject of my contemplation.
Whether I dreamed of her or not, I cannot satisfy you, for I was tired and slept soundly. But she was the first
person I thought of in the morning, when waked at dawn by the cheerful notes of the hunting horn. To start
up, and direct my horse to be saddled, was my first movement; and in a few minutes I was in the courtyard,
where men, dogs, and horses, were in full preparation. My uncle, who, perhaps, was not entitled to expect a
very alert sportsman in his nephew, bred as he had been in foreign parts, seemed rather surprised to see me,
and I thought his morning salutation wanted something of the hearty and hospitable tone which distinguished
his first welcome. ``Art there, lad?ay, youth's aye rathebut look to thysellmind the old song,
lad
He that gallops his horse on Blackstone edge May chance to catch a fall.''
I believe there are few young men, and those very sturdy moralists, who would not rather be taxed with some
moral peccadillo than with want of knowledge in horsemanship. As I was by no means deficient either in skill
or courage, I resented my uncle's insinuation accordingly, and assured him he would find me up with the
hounds.
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``I doubtna, lad,'' was his reply; ``thou'rt a rank rider, I'se warrant theebut take heed. Thy father sent thee
here to me to be bitted, and I doubt I must ride thee on the curb, or we'll hae some one to ride thee on the
halter, if I takena the better heed.''
As this speech was totally unintelligible to meas, besides, it did not seem to be delivered for my use, or
benefit, but was spoken as it were aside, and as if expressing aloud something which was passing through the
mind of my muchhonoured uncle, I concluded it must either refer to my desertion of the bottle on the
preceding evening, or that my uncle's morning hours being a little discomposed by the revels of the night
before, his temper had suffered in proportion. I only made the passing reflection, that if he played the
ungracious landlord, I would remain the shorter while his guest, and then hastened to salute Miss Vernon,
who advanced cordially to meet me. Some show of greeting also passed between my cousins and me; but as I
saw them maliciously bent upon criticising my dress and accoutrements, from the cap to the stirrupirons,
and sneering at whatever had a new or foreign appearance, I exempted myself from the task of paying them
much attention; and assuming, in requital of their grins and whispers, an air of the utmost indifference and
contempt, I attached myself to Miss Vernon, as the only person in the party whom I could regard as a suitable
companion. By her side, therefore, we sallied forth to the destined cover, which was a dingle or copse on the
side of an extensive common. As we rode thither, I observed to Diana, ``that I did not see my cousin
Rashleigh in the field;'' to which she replied,``O nohe's a mighty hunter, but it's after the fashion of
Nimrod, and his game is man.''
The dogs now brushed into the cover, with the appropriate encouragement from the huntersall was
business, bustle, and activity. My cousins were soon too much interested in the business of the morning to
take any further notice of me, unless that I overheard Dickon the horsejockey whisper to Wilfred the
fool``Look thou, an our French cousin be nat off a' first burst.''
To which Wilfred answered, ``Like enow, for he has a queer outlandish binding on's castor.''
Thorncliff, however, who in his rude way seemed not absolutely insensible to the beauty of his kinswoman,
appeared determined to keep us company more closely than his brothers, perhaps to watch what passed
betwixt Miss Vernon and me perhaps to enjoy my expected mishaps in the chase. In the last particular he
was disappointed. After beating in vain for the greater part of the morning, a fox was at length found, who led
us a chase of two hours, in the course of which, notwithstanding the illomened French binding upon my hat,
I sustained my character as a horseman to the admiration of my uncle and Miss Vernon, and the secret
disappointment of those who expected me to disgrace it. Reynard, however, proved too wily for his pursuers,
and the hounds were at fault. I could at this time observe in Miss Vernon's manner an impatience of the close
attendance which we received from Thorncliff Osbaldistone; and, as that activespirited young lady never
hesitated at taking the readiest means to gratify any wish of the moment, she said to him, in a tone of
reproach``I wonder, Thornie, what keeps you dangling at my horse's crupper all this morning, when you
know the earths above Woolvertonmill are not stopt.''
``I know no such an thing then, Miss Die, for the miller swore himself as black as night, that he stopt them at
twelve o'clock midnight that was.''
``O fie upon you, Thornie! would you trust to a miller's word?and these earths, too, where we lost the fox
three times this season! and you on your grey mare, that can gallop there and back in ten minutes!''
``Well, Miss Die, I'se go to Woolverton then, and if the earths are not stopt, I'se raddle Dick the miller's
bones for him.''
``Do, my dear Thornie; horsewhip the rascal to purpose viafly away, and about it;''Thorncliff
went off at the gallop``or get horsewhipt yourself, which will serve my purpose just as well.I must
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teach them all discipline and obedience to the word of command. I am raising a regiment, you must know.
Thornie shall be my sergeantmajor, Dickon my ridingmaster, and Wilfred, with his deep dubadub tones,
that speak but three syllables at a time, my kettledrummer.''
``And Rashleigh?''
``Rashleigh shall be my scoutmaster.'' ``And will you find no employment for me, most lovely colonel?''
``You shall have the choice of being paymaster, or plundermaster, to the corps. But see how the dogs
puzzle about there. Come, Mr. Frank, the scent's cold; they won't recover it there this while; follow me, I
have a view to show you.''
And in fact, she cantered up to the top of a gentle hill, commanding an extensive prospect. Casting her eyes
around, to see that no one was near us, she drew up her horse beneath a few birchtrees, which screened us
from the rest of the huntingfield ``Do you see yon peaked, brown, heathy hill, having something like a
whitish speck upon the side?''
``Terminating that long ridge of broken moorish uplands? I see it distinctly.''
``That whitish speck is a rock called Hawkesmorecrag, and Hawkesmorecrag is in Scotland.''
``Indeed! I did not think we had been so near Scotland.''
``It is so, I assure you, and your horse will carry you there in two hours.''
``I shall hardly give him the trouble; why, the distance must be eighteen miles as the crow flies.''
``You may have my mare, if you think her less blownI say, that in two hours you may be in Scotland.''
``And I say, that I have so little desire to be there, that if my horse's head were over the Border, I would not
give his tail the trouble of following. What should I do in Scotland?''
``Provide for your safety, if I must speak plainly. Do you understand me now, Mr. Frank?''
``Not a whit; you are more and more oracular.''
``Then, on my word, you either mistrust me most unjustly, and are a better dissembler than Rashleigh
Osbaldistone himself, or you know nothing of what is imputed to you; and then no wonder you stare at me in
that grave manner, which I can scarce see without laughing.''
``Upon my word of honour, Miss Vernon,'' said I, with an impatient feeling of her childish disposition to
mirth, ``I have not the most distant conception of what you mean. I am happy to afford you any subject of
amusement, but I am quite ignorant in what it consists.''
``Nay, there's no sound jest after all,'' said the young lady, composing herself; ``only one looks so very
ridiculous when he is fairly perplexed. But the matter is serious enough. Do you know one Moray, or Morris,
or some such name?''
``Not that I can at present recollect.''
``Think a moment. Did you not lately travel with somebody of such a name?''
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``The only man with whom I travelled for any length of time was a fellow whose soul seemed to lie in his
portmanteau.''
``Then it was like the soul of the licentiate Pedro Garcias, which lay among the ducats in his leathern purse.
That man has been robbed, and he has lodged an information against you, as connected with the violence
done to him.''
``You jest, Miss Vernon!''
``I do not, I assure youthe thing is an absolute fact.''
``And do you,'' said I, with strong indignation, which I did not attempt to suppress, ``do you suppose me
capable of meriting such a charge?''
``You would call me out for it, I suppose, had I the advantage of being a manYou may do so as it is, if
you like itI can shoot flying, as well as leap a fivebarred gate.''
``And are colonel of a regiment of horse besides,'' replied I, reflecting how idle it was to be angry with
her``But do explain the present jest to me.''
``There's no jest whatever,'' said Diana; ``you are accused of robbing this man, and my uncle believes it as
well as I did.''
``Upon my honour, I am greatly obliged to my friends for their good opinion!''
``Now do not, if you can help it, snort, and stare, and snuff the wind, and look so exceedingly like a startled
horseThere's no such offence as you supposeyou are not charged with any petty larceny or vulgar
felonyby no means. This fellow was carrying money from Government, both specie and bills, to pay the
troops in the north; and it is said he has been also robbed of some despatches of great consequence.''
``And so it is high treason, then, and not simple robbery, of which I am accused!''
``Certainlywhich, you know, has been in all ages accounted the crime of a gentleman. You will find
plenty in this country, and one not far from your elbow, who think it a merit to distress the Hanoverian
government by every means possible.''
``Neither my politics nor my morals, Miss Vernon, are of a description so accommodating.''
``I really begin to believe that you are a Presbyterian and Hanoverian in good earnest. But what do you
propose to do?''
``Instantly to refute this atrocious calumny.Before whom,'' I asked, ``was this extraordinary accusation
laid.''
``Before old Squire Inglewood, who had sufficient unwillingness to receive it. He sent tidings to my uncle, I
suppose, that he might smuggle you away into Scotland, out of reach of the warrant. But my uncle is sensible
that his religion and old predilections render him obnoxious to Government, and that, were he caught playing
booty, he would be disarmed, and probably dismounted (which would be the worse evil of the two), as a
Jacobite, papist, and suspected person.''*
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* On occasions of public alarm, in the beginning of the eighteenth century, * the horses of the Catholics were
often seized upon, as they were * always supposed to be on the eve of rising in rebellion.
``I can conceive that, sooner than lose his hunters, he would give up his nephew.''
``His nephew, nieces, sonsdaughters, if he had them, and whole generation,'' said Diana;``therefore
trust not to him, even for a single moment, but make the best of your way before they can serve the warrant.''
``That I shall certainly do; but it shall be to the house of this Squire InglewoodWhich way does it lie?''
``About five miles off, in the low ground, behind yonder plantationsyou may see the tower of the
clockhouse.''
``I will be there in a few minutes,'' said I, putting my horse in motion.
``And I will go with you, and show you the way,'' said Diana, putting her palfrey also to the trot.
``Do not think of it, Miss Vernon,'' I replied. ``It is not permit me the freedom of a friendit is not
proper, scarcely even delicate, in you to go with me on such an errand as I am now upon.''
``I understand your meaning,'' said Miss Vernon, a slight blush crossing her haughty brow;``it is plainly
spoken;'' and after a moment's pause she added, ``and I believe kindly meant.''
``It is indeed, Miss Vernon. Can you think me insensible of the interest you show me, or ungrateful for it?''
said I, with even more earnestness than I could have wished to express. ``Yours is meant for true kindness,
shown best at the hour of need. But I must not, for your own sakefor the chance of
misconstructionsuffer you to pursue the dictates of your generosity; this is so public an occasionit is
almost like venturing into an open court of justice.''
``And if it were not almost, but altogether entering into an open court of justice, do you think I would not go
there if I thought it right, and wished to protect a friend? You have no one to stand by youyou are a
stranger; and here, in the outskirts of the kingdom, country justices do odd things. My uncle has no desire to
embroil himself in your affair; Rashleigh is absent, and were he here, there is no knowing which side he
might take; the rest are all more stupid and brutal one than another. I will go with you, and I do not fear being
able to serve you. I am no fine lady, to be terrified to death with lawbooks, hard words, or big wigs.''
``But my dear Miss Vernon''
``But my dear Mr. Francis, be patient and quiet, and let me take my own way; for when I take the bit between
my teeth, there is no bridle will stop me.''
Flattered with the interest so lovely a creature seemed to take in my fate, yet vexed at the ridiculous
appearance I should make, by carrying a girl of eighteen along with me as an advocate, and seriously
concerned for the misconstruction to which her motives might be exposed, I endeavoured to combat her
resolution to accompany me to Squire Inglewood's. The selfwilled girl told me roundly, that my dissuasions
were absolutely in vain; that she was a true Vernon, whom no consideration, not even that of being able to do
but little to assist him, should induce to abandon a friend in distress; and that all I could say on the subject
might be very well for pretty, welleducated, wellbehaved misses from a town boardingschool, but did not
apply to her, who was accustomed to mind nobody's opinion but her own.
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While she spoke thus, we were advancing hastily towards Inglewood Place, while, as if to divert me from the
task of further remonstrance, she drew a ludicrous picture of the magistrate and his clerk.Inglewood
wasaccording to her description a whitewashed Jacobite; that is, one who, having been long a
nonjuror, like most of the other gentlemen of the country, had lately qualified himself to act as a justice, by
taking the oaths to Government. ``He had done so,'' she said, ``in compliance with the urgent request of most
of his brother squires, who saw, with regret, that the palladium of silvan sport, the gamelaws, were likely to
fall into disuse for want of a magistrate who would enforce them; the nearest acting justice being the Mayor
of Newcastle, and he, as being rather inclined to the consumption of the game when properly dressed, than to
its preservation when alive, was more partial, of course, to the cause of the poacher than of the sportsman.
Resolving, therefore, that it was expedient some one of their number should sacrifice the scruples of
Jacobitical loyalty to the good of the community, the Northumbrian country gentlemen imposed the duty on
Inglewood, who, being very inert in most of his feelings and sentiments, might, they thought, comply with
any political creed without much repugnance. Having thus procured the body of justice, they proceeded,''
continued Miss Vernon, ``to attach to it a clerk, by way of soul, to direct and animate its movements.
Accordingly they got a sharp Newcastle attorney, called Jobson, who, to vary my metaphor, finds it a good
thing enough to retail justice at the sign of Squire Inglewood, and, as his own emoluments depend on the
quantity of business which he transacts, he hooks in his principal for a great deal more employment in the
justice line than the honest squire had ever bargained for; so that no applewife within the circuit of ten miles
can settle her account with a costermonger without an audience of the reluctant Justice and his alert clerk, Mr.
Joseph Jobson. But the most ridiculous scenes occur when affairs come before him, like our business of
today, having any colouring of politics. Mr. Joseph Jobson (for which, no doubt, he has his own very
sufficient reasons) is a prodigious zealot for the Protestant religion, and a great friend to the present
establishment in church and state. Now, his principal, retaining a sort of instinctive attachment to the
opinions which he professed openly until he relaxed his political creed with the patriotic view of enforcing
the law against unauthorized destroyers of blackgame, grouse, partridges, and hares, is peculiarly
embarrassed when the zeal of his assistant involves him in judicial proceedings connected with his earlier
faith; and, instead of seconding his zeal, he seldom fails to oppose to it a double dose of indolence and lack of
exertion. And this inactivity does not by any means arise from actual stupidity. On the contrary, for one
whose principal delight is in eating and drinking, he is an alert, joyous, and lively old soul, which makes his
assumed dulness the more diverting. So you may see Jobson on such occasions, like a bit of a broken down
bloodtit condemned to drag an overloaded cart, puffing, strutting, and spluttering, to get the Justice put in
motion, while, though the wheels groan, creak, and revolve slowly, the great and preponderating weight of
the vehicle fairly frustrates the efforts of the willing quadruped, and prevents its being brought into a state of
actual progression. Nay more, the unfortunate pony, I understand, has been heard to complain that this same
car of justice, which he finds it so hard to put in motion on some occasions, can on others run fast enough
down hill of its own accord, dragging his reluctant self backwards along with it, when anything can be done
of service to Squire Inglewood's quondam friends. And then Mr. Jobson talks big about reporting his
principal to the Secretary of State for the Home Department, if it were not for his particular regard and
friendship for Mr. Inglewood and his family.''
As Miss Vernon concluded this whimsical description, we found ourselves in front of Inglewood Place, a
handsome, though oldfashioned building. which showed the consequence of the family.
CHAPTER EIGHTH.
``Sir,'' quoth the Lawyer, ``not to flatter ye,
You have as good and fair a battery
As heart could wish, and need not shame
The proudest man alive to claim.''
Butler.
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Our horses were taken by a servant in Sir Hildebrand's livery, whom we found in the courtyard, and we
entered the house. In the entrancehall I was somewhat surprised, and my fair companion still more so, when
we met Rashleigh Osbaldistone, who could not help showing equal wonder at our rencontre.
``Rashleigh,'' said Miss Vernon, without giving him time to ask any question, ``you have heard of Mr. Francis
Osbaldistone's affair, and you have been talking to the Justice about it?''
``Certainly,'' said Rashleigh, composedly``it has been my business here.I have been endeavouring,''
he said, with a bow to me, ``to render my cousin what service I can. But I am sorry to meet him here.''
``As a friend and relation, Mr. Osbaldistone, you ought to have been sorry to have met me anywhere else, at a
time when the charge of my reputation required me to be on this spot as soon as possible.''
``True; but judging from what my father said, I should have supposed a short retreat into Scotlandjust till
matters should be smoothed over in a quiet way''
I answered with warmth, ``That I had no prudential measures to observe, and desired to have nothing
smoothed over; on the contrary, I was come to inquire into a rascally calumny, which I was determined to
probe to the bottom.''
``Mr. Francis Osbaldistone is an innocent man, Rashleigh,'' said Miss Vernon, ``and he demands an
investigation of the charge against him, and I intend to support him in it.''
``You do, my pretty cousin?I should think, now, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone was likely to be as effectually,
and rather more delicately, supported by my presence than by yours.''
``Oh, certainly; but two heads are better than one, you know.''
``Especially such a head as yours, my pretty Die,'' advancing and taking her hand with a familiar fondness,
which made me think him fifty times uglier than nature had made him. She led him, however, a few steps
aside; they conversed in an under voice, and she appeared to insist upon some request which he was
unwilling or unable to comply with. I never saw so strong a contrast betwixt the expression of two faces.
Miss Vernon's, from being earnest, became angry; her eyes and cheeks became more animated, her colour
mounted, she clenched her little hand, and stamping on the ground with her tiny foot, seemed to listen with a
mixture of contempt and indignation to the apologies, which, from his look of civil deference, his composed
and respectful smile, his body rather drawing back than advanced, and other signs of look and person, I
concluded him to be pouring out at her feet. At length she flung away from him, with ``I will have it so.''
``It is not in my powerthere is no possibility of it.Would you think it, Mr. Osbaldistone?'' said he,
addressing me
``You are not mad?'' said she, interrupting him.
``Would you think it?'' said he, without attending to her hint``Miss Vernon insists, not only that I know
your innocence (of which, indeed, it is impossible for any one to be more convinced), but that I must also be
acquainted with the real perpetrators of the outrage on this fellowif indeed such an outrage has been
committed. Is this reasonable, Mr. Osbaldistone?''
``I will not allow any appeal to Mr. Osbaldistone, Rashleigh,'' said the young lady; ``he does not know, as I
do, the incredible extent and accuracy of your information on all points.''
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``As I am a gentleman, you do me more honour than I deserve.''
``Justice, Rashleighonly justice:and it is only justice which I expect at your hands.''
``You are a tyrant, Diana,'' he answered, with a sort of sigh ``a capricious tyrant, and rule your friends
with a rod of iron. Still, however, it shall be as you desire. But you ought not to be hereyou know you
ought not;you must return with me.''
Then turning from Diana, who seemed to stand undecided, he came up to me in the most friendly manner,
and said, ``Do not doubt my interest in what regards you, Mr. Osbaldistone. If I leave you just at this
moment, it is only to act for your advantage. But you must use your influence with your cousin to return; her
presence cannot serve you, and must prejudice herself.''
``I assure you, sir,'' I replied, ``you cannot be more convinced of this than I; I have urged Miss Vernon's
return as anxiously as she would permit me to do.''
``I have thought on it,'' said Miss Vernon after a pause, ``and I will not go till I see you safe out of the hands
of the Philistines. Cousin Rashleigh, I dare say, means well; but he and I know each other well. Rashleigh, I
will not go;I know,'' she added, in a more soothing tone, ``my being here will give you more motive for
speed and exertion.''
``Stay then, rash, obstinate girl,'' said Rashleigh; ``you know but too well to whom you trust;'' and hastening
out of the hall, we heard his horse's feet a minute afterwards in rapid motion.
``Thank Heaven he is gone!'' said Diana. ``And now let us seek out the Justice.''
``Had we not better call a servant?''
``Oh, by no means; I know the way to his denwe must burst on him suddenlyfollow me.''
I did follow her accordingly, as she tripped up a few gloomy steps, traversed a twilight passage, and entered a
sort of anteroom, hung round with old maps, architectural elevations, and genealogical trees. A pair of
foldingdoors opened from this into Mr. Inglewood's sitting apartment, from which was heard the fagend of
an old ditty, chanted by a voice which had been in its day fit for a jolly bottlesong.
``O, in SkiptoninCraven Is never a haven, But many a day foul weather; And he that would say A pretty
girl nay, I wish for his cravat a tether.''
``Heyday!'' said Miss Vernon, ``the genial Justice must have dined alreadyI did not think it had been so
late.''
It was even so. Mr. Inglewood's appetite having been sharpened by his official investigations, he had
antedated his meridian repast, having dined at twelve instead of one o'clock, then the general dining hour in
England. The various occurrences of the morning occasioned our arriving some time after this hour, to the
Justice the most important of the fourandtwenty, and he had not neglected the interval.
``Stay you here,'' said Diana. ``I know the house, and I will call a servant; your sudden appearance might
startle the old gentleman even to choking;'' and she escaped from me, leaving me uncertain whether I ought to
advance or retreat. It was impossible for me not to hear some part of what passed within the dinner apartment,
and particularly several apologies for declining to sing, expressed in a dejected croaking voice, the tones of
which, I conceived, were not entirely new to me.
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``Not sing, sir? by our Lady! but you mustWhat! you have cracked my silvermounted cocoanut of
sack, and tell me that you cannot sing!Sir, sack will make a cat sing, and speak too; so up with a merry
stave, or trundle yourself out of my doors!Do you think you are to take up all my valuable time with your
dd declarations, and then tell me you cannot sing?''
``Your worship is perfectly in rule,'' said another voice, which, from its pert conceited accent, might be that of
the cleric, ``and the party must be conformable; he hath canet written on his face in court hand.''
``Up with it then,'' said the Justice, ``or by St. Christopher, you shall crack the cocoanut full of
saltandwater, according to the statute for such effect made and provided.''
Thus exhorted and threatened, my quondam fellowtraveller, for I could no longer doubt that he was the
recusant in question, uplifted, with a voice similar to that of a criminal singing his last psalm on the scaffold,
a most doleful stave to the following effect:
``Good people all, I pray give ear, A woeful story you shall hear, 'Tis of a robber as stout as ever Bade a true
man stand and deliver. With his foodle doo fa loodle loo.
``This knave, most worthy of a cord, Being armed with pistol and with sword, 'Twixt Kensington and
Brentford then Did boldly stop six honest men. With his foodle doo, etc.
``These honest men did at Brentford dine, Having drank each man his pint of wine, When this bold thief, with
many curses, Did say, You dogs, your lives or purses. With his foodle doo,'' etc.
I question if the honest men, whose misfortune is commemorated in this pathetic ditty, were more startled at
the appearance of the bold thief than the songster was at mine; for, tired of waiting for some one to announce
me, and finding my situation as a listener rather awkward, I presented myself to the company just as my
friend Mr. Morris, for such, it seems, was his name, was uplifting the fifth stave of his doleful ballad. The
high tone with which the tune started died away in a quaver of consternation on finding himself so near one
whose character he supposed to be little less suspicious than that of the hero of his madrigal, and he remained
silent, with a mouth gaping as if I had brought the Gorgon's head in my hand.
The Justice, whose eyes had closed under the influence of the somniferous lullaby of the song, started up in
his chair as it suddenly ceased, and stared with wonder at the unexpected addition which the company had
received while his organs of sight were in abeyance. The clerk, as I conjectured him to be from his
appearance, was also commoved; for, sitting opposite to Mr. Morris, that honest gentleman's terror
communicated itself to him, though he wotted not why.
I broke the silence of surprise occasioned by my abrupt entrance.``My name, Mr. Inglewood, is Francis
Osbaldistone; I understand that some scoundrel has brought a complaint before you, charging me with being
concerned in a loss which he says he has sustained.''
``Sir,'' said the Justice, somewhat peevishly, ``these are matters I never enter upon after dinner;there is a
time for everything, and a justice of peace must eat as well as other folks.''
The goodly person of Mr. Inglewood, by the way, seemed by no means to have suffered by any fasts, whether
in the service of the law or of religion.
``I beg pardon for an illtimed visit, sir; but as my reputation is concerned, and as the dinner appears to be
concluded''
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``It is not concluded, sir,'' replied the magistrate; ``man requires digestion as well as food, and I protest I
cannot have benefit from my victuals unless I am allowed two hours of quiet leisure, intermixed with
harmless mirth, and a moderate circulation of the bottle.''
``If your honour will forgive me,'' said Mr. Jobson, who had produced and arranged his writing implements in
the brief space that our conversation afforded; ``as this is a case of felony, and the gentleman seems
something impatient, the charge is contra pacem domini regis''
``Dn dominie regis!'' said the impatient Justice``I hope it's no treason to say so; but it's enough to
made one mad to be worried in this way. Have I a moment of my life quiet for warrants, orders, directions,
acts, bails, bonds, and recognisances? I pronounce to you, Mr. Jobson, that I shall send you and the
justiceship to the devil one of these days.''
``Your honour will consider the dignity of the office one of the quorum and custos rotulorum, an office of
which Sir Edward Coke wisely saith, The whole Christian world hath not the like of it, so it be duly
executed.''
``Well,'' said the Justice, partly reconciled by this eulogium on the dignity of his situation, and gulping down
the rest of his dissatisfaction in a huge bumper of claret, ``let us to this gear then, and get rid of it as fast as
we can.Here you, sir you, Morrisyou, knight of the sorrowful countenanceis this Mr. Francis
Osbaldistone the gentleman whom you charge with being art and part of felony?''
``I, sir?'' replied Morris, whose scattered wits had hardly yet reassembled themselves; ``I charge nothingI
say nothing against the gentleman,''
``Then we dismiss your complaint, sir, that's all, and a good riddancePush about the bottleMr.
Osbaldistone, help yourself.''
Jobson, however, was determined that Morris should not back out of the scrape so easily. ``What do you
mean, Mr. Morris?Here is your own declarationthe ink scarce dried and you would retract it in
this scandalous manner!''
``How do I know,'' whispered the other in a tremulous tone, ``how many rogues are in the house to back him?
I have read of such things in Johnson's Lives of the Highwaymen. I protest the door opens''
And it did open, and Diana Vernon entered``You keep fine order here, Justicenot a servant to be seen
or heard of.''
``Ah!'' said the Justice, starting up with an alacrity which showed that he was not so engrossed by his
devotions to Themis or Comus, as to forget what was due to beauty``Ah, ha! Die Vernon, the heathbell
of Cheviot, and the blossom of the Border, come to see how the old bachelor keeps house? Art welcome, girl,
as flowers in May.''
``A fine, open, hospitable house you do keep, Justice, that must be allowednot a soul to answer a visitor.''
``Ah, the knaves! they reckoned themselves secure of me for a couple of hoursBut why did you not come
earlier? Your cousin Rashleigh dined here, and ran away like a poltroon after the first bottle was
outBut you have not dinedwe'll have something nice and ladylikesweet and pretty like yourself,
tossed up in a trice.''
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``I may eat a crust in the anteroom before I set out,'' answered Miss Vernon``I have had a long ride this
morning; but I can't stay long, JusticeI came with my cousin, Frank Osbaldistone, there, and I must show
him the way back again to the Hall, or he'll lose himself in the wolds.''
``Whew! sits the wind in that quarter?'' inquired the Justice
``She showed him the way, she showed him the way, She showed him the way to woo.
What! no luck for old fellows, then, my sweet bud of the wilderness?''
``None whatever, Squire Inglewood; but if you will be a good kind Justice, and despatch young Frank's
business, and let us canter home again, I'll bring my uncle to dine with you next week, and we'll expect merry
doings.''
``And you shall find them, my pearl of the TyneZookers, lass, I never envy these young fellows their
rides and scampers, unless when you come across me. But I must not keep you just now, I suppose?I am
quite satisfied with Mr. Francis Osbaldistone's explanationhere has been some mistake, which can be
cleared at greater leisure.''
``Pardon me, sir,'' said I; ``but I have not heard the nature of the accusation yet.''
``Yes, sir,'' said the clerk, who, at the appearance of Miss Vernon, had given up the matter in despair, but who
picked up courage to press farther investigation on finding himself supported from a quarter whence
assuredly he expected no backing``Yes, sir, and Dalton saith, That he who is apprehended as a felon shall
not be discharged upon any man's discretion, but shall be held either to bail or commitment, paying to the
clerk of the peace the usual fees for recognisance or commitment.''
The Justice, thus goaded on, gave me at length a few words of explanation.
It seems the tricks which I had played to this man Morris had made a strong impression on his imagination;
for I found they had been arrayed against me in his evidence, with all the exaggerations which a timorous and
heated imagination could suggest. It appeared also, that on the day he parted from me, he had been stopped
on a solitary spot and eased of his beloved travellingcompanion, the portmanteau, by two men, well
mounted and armed, having their faces covered with vizards.
One of them, he conceived, had much of my shape and air, and in a whispering conversation which took
place betwixt the freebooters, he heard the other apply to him the name of Osbaldistone. The declaration
farther set forth, that upon inquiring into the principles of the family so named, he, the said declarant, was
informed that they were of the worst description, the family, in all its members, having been Papists and
Jacobites, as he was given to understand by the dissenting clergyman at whose house he stopped after his
rencontre, since the days of William the Conqueror.
Upon all and each of these weighty reasons, he charged me with being accessory to the felony committed
upon his person; he, the said declarant, then travelling in the special employment of Government, and having
charge of certain important papers, and also a large sum in specie, to be paid over, according to his
instructions, to certain persons of official trust and importance in Scotland.
Having heard this extraordinary accusation, I replied to it, that the circumstances on which it was founded
were such as could warrant no justice, or magistrate, in any attempt on my personal liberty. I admitted that I
had practised a little upon the terrors of Mr. Morris, while we travelled together, but in such trifling
particulars as could have excited apprehension in no one who was one whit less timorous and jealous than
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himself. But I added, that I had never seen him since we parted, and if that which he feared had really come
upon him, I was in nowise accessory to an action so unworthy of my character and station in life. That one of
the robbers was called Osbaldistone, or that such a name was mentioned in the course of the conversation
betwixt them, was a trifling circumstance, to which no weight was due. And concerning the disaffection
alleged against me, I was willing to prove, to the satisfaction of the Justice, the clerk, and even the witness
himself, that I was of the same persuasion as his friend the dissenting clergyman; had been educated as a
good subject in the principles of the Revolution, and as such now demanded the personal protection of the
laws which had been assured by that great event.
The Justice fidgeted, took snuff, and seemed considerably embarrassed, while Mr. Attorney Jobson, with all
the volubility of his profession, ran over the statute of the 34 Edward III., by which justices of the peace are
allowed to arrest all those whom they find by indictment or suspicion, and to put them into prison. The rogue
even turned my own admissions against me, alleging, ``that since I had confessedly, upon my own showing,
assumed the bearing or deportment of a robber or malefactor, I had voluntarily subjected myself to the
suspicions of which I complained, and brought myself within the compass of the act, having wilfully clothed
my conduct with all the colour and livery of guilt.''
I combated both his arguments and his jargon with much indignation and scorn, and observed, ``That I
should, if necessary, produce the bail of my relations, which I conceived could not be refused, without
subjecting the magistrate in a misdemeanour.''
``Pardon me, my good sirpardon me,'' said the insatiable clerk; ``this is a case in which neither bail nor
mainprize can be received, the felon who is liable to be committed on heavy grounds of suspicion, not being
replevisable under the statute of the 3d of King Edward, there being in that act an express exception of such
as be charged of commandment, or force, and aid of felony done;'' and he hinted that his worship would do
well to remember that such were no way replevisable by common writ, nor without writ.
At this period of the conversation a servant entered, and delivered a letter to Mr. Jobson. He had no sooner
run it hastily over, than he exclaimed, with the air of one who wished to appear much vexed at the
interruption, and felt the consequence attached to a man of multifarious avocations``Good God!why,
at this rate, I shall have neither time to attend to the public concerns nor my ownno restno quietI
wish to Heaven another gentleman in our line would settle here!''
``God forbid!'' said the Justice in a tone of sottovoce deprecation; ``some of us have enough of one of the
tribe.''
``This is a matter of life and death, if your worship pleases.''
``In God's name! no more justice business, I hope,'' said the alarmed magistrate.
``Nono,'' replied Mr. Jobson, very consequentially; ``old Gaffer Rutledge of Grime'shill is subpoenaed
for the next world; he has sent an express for Dr. Killdown to put in bailanother for me to arrange his
worldly affairs.''
``Away with you, then,'' said Mr. Inglewood, hastily; ``his may not be a replevisable case under the statute,
you know, or Mr. Justice Death may not like the doctor for a main pernor, or bailsman.''
``And yet,'' said Jobson, lingering as he moved towards the door, ``if my presence here be necessaryI
could make out the warrant for committal in a moment, and the constable is below And you have heard,''
he said, lowering his voice, ``Mr. Rashleigh's opinion''the rest was lost in a whisper.
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The Justice replied aloud, ``I tell thee no, man, nowe'll do nought till thou return, man; 'tis but a
fourmile rideCome, push the bottle, Mr. MorrisDon't be cast down, Mr. Osbaldistone And you,
my rose of the wildernessone cup of claret to refresh the bloom of your cheeks.''
Diana started, as if from a reverie, in which she appeared to have been plunged while we held this discussion.
``No, Justice I should be afraid of transferring the bloom to a part of my face where it would show to
little advantage; but I will pledge you in a cooler beverage;'' and filling a glass with water, she drank it
hastily, while her hurried manner belied her assumed gaiety.
I had not much leisure to make remarks upon her demeanour, however, being full of vexation at the
interference of fresh obstacles to an instant examination of the disgraceful and impertinent charge which was
brought against me. But there was no moving the Justice to take the matter up in absence of his clerk, an
incident which gave him apparently as much pleasure as a holiday to a schoolboy. He persisted in his
endeavours to inspire jollity into a company, the individuals of which, whether considered with reference to
each other, or to their respective situations, were by no means inclined to mirth. ``Come, Master Morris,
you're not the first man that's been robbed, I trowgrieving ne'er brought back loss, man. And you, Mr.
Frank Osbaldistone, are not the first bullyboy that has said stand to a true man. There was Jack Winterfield,
in my young days, kept the best company in the landat horseraces and cockfights who but hehand
and glove was I with Jack. Push the bottle, Mr. Morris, it's dry talkingMany quart bumpers have I
cracked, and thrown many a merry main with poor Jackgood familyready witquick eyeas
honest a fellow, barring the deed he died forwe'll drink to his memory, gentlemenPoor Jack
WinterfieldAnd since we talk of him, and of those sort of things, and since that dd clerk of mine has
taken his gibberish elsewhere, and since we're snug among ourselves, Mr. Osbaldistone, if you will have my
best advice, I would take up this matterthe law's hardvery severe hanged poor Jack Winterfield at
York, despite family connections and great interest, all for easing a fat westcountry grazier of the price of a
few beastsNow, here is honest Mr. Morris, has been frightened, and so forthDn it, man, let the
poor fellow have back his portmanteau, and end the frolic at once.''
Morris's eyes brightened up at this suggestion, and he began to hesitate forth an assurance that he thirsted for
no man's blood, when I cut the proposed accommodation short, by resenting the Justice's suggestion as an
insult, that went directly to suppose me guilty of the very crime which I had come to his house with the
express intention of disavowing. We were in this awkward predicament when a servant, opening the door,
announced, ``A strange gentleman to wait upon his honour;'' and the party whom he thus described entered
the room without farther ceremony.
CHAPTER NINTH.
One of the thieves come back again! I'll stand close,
He dares not wrong me now, so near the house,
And call in vain 'tis, till I see him offer it.
The Widow.
``A stranger!'' echoed the Justice``not upon business, I trust, for I'll be''
His protestation was cut short by the answer of the man himself. ``My business is of a nature somewhat
onerous and particular,'' said my acquaintance, Mr. Campbellfor it was he, the very Scotchman whom I
had seen at Northallerton ``and I must solicit your honour to give instant and heedful consideration to
it.I believe, Mr. Morris,'' he added, fixing his eye on that person with a look of peculiar firmness and
almost ferocity``I believe ye ken brawly what I amI believe ye cannot have forgotten what passed at
our last meeting on the road?'' Morris's jaw droppedhis countenance became the colour of tallowhis
teeth chattered, and he gave visible signs of the utmost consternation. ``Take heart of grace, man,'' said
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Campbell, ``and dinna sit clattering your jaws there like a pair of castanets! I think there can be nae difficulty
in your telling Mr. Justice, that ye have seen me of yore, and ken me to be a cavalier of fortune, and a man of
honour. Ye ken fu' weel ye will be some time resident in my vicinity, when I may have the power, as I will
possess the inclination, to do you as good a turn.''
``SirsirI believe you to be a man of honour, and, as you say, a man of fortune. Yes, Mr. Inglewood,''
he added, clearing his voice, ``I really believe this gentleman to be so.''
``And what are this gentleman's commands with me?'' said the Justice, somewhat peevishly. ``One man
introduces another, like the rhymes in the `house that Jack built,' and I get company without either peace or
conversation!''
``Both shall be yours, sir,'' answered Campbell, ``in a brief period of time. I come to release your mind from a
piece of troublesome duty, not to make increment to it.''
``Body o' me! then you are welcome as ever Scot was to England, and that's not saying much. But get on,
manlet's hear what you have got to say at once.''
``I presume, this gentleman,'' continued the North Briton, ``told you there was a person of the name of
Campbell with him, when he had the mischance to lose his valise?''
``He has not mentioned such a name, from beginning to end of the matter,'' said the Justice.
``Ah! I conceiveI conceive,'' replied Mr. Campbell; ``Mr. Morris was kindly afeared of committing a
stranger into collision wi' the judicial forms of the country; but as I understand my evidence is necessary to
the compurgation of one honest gentleman here, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, wha has been most unjustly
suspected, I will dispense with the precaution. Ye will therefore'' (he added addressing Morris with the same
determined look and accent) ``please tell Mr. Justice Inglewood, whether we did not travel several miles
together on the road, in consequence of your own anxious request and suggestion, reiterated ance and again,
baith on the evening that we were at Northallerton, and there declined by me, but afterwards accepted, when I
overtook ye on the road near Cloberry Allers, and was prevailed on by you to resign my ain intentions of
proceeding to Rothbury; and, for my misfortune, to accompany you on your proposed route.''
``It's a melancholy truth,'' answered Morris, holding down his head, as he gave this general assent to the long
and leading question which Campbell put to him, and seemed to acquiesce in the statement it contained with
rueful docility.
``And I presume you can also asseverate to his worship, that no man is better qualified than I am to bear
testimony in this case, seeing that I was by you, and near you, constantly during the whole occurrence.''
``No man better qualified, certainly,'' said Morris, with a deep and embarrassed sigh.
``And why the devil did you not assist him, then,'' said the Justice, ``since, by Mr. Morris's account, there
were but two robbers; so you were two to two, and you are both stout likely men?''
``Sir, if it please your worship,'' said Campbell, ``I have been all my life a man of peace and quietness,
noways given to broils or batteries. Mr. Morris, who belongs, as I understand, or hath belonged, to his
Majesty's army, might have used his pleasure in resistance, he travelling, as I also understand, with a great
charge of treasure; but, for me, who had but my own small peculiar to defend, and who am, moreover, a man
of a pacific occupation, I was unwilling to commit myself to hazard in the matter.''
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I looked at Campbell as he muttered these words, and never recollect to have seen a more singular contrast
than that between the strong daring sternness expressed in his harsh features, and the air of composed
meekness and simplicity which his language assumed. There was even a slight ironical smile lurking about
the corners of his mouth, which seemed, involuntarily as it were, to intimate his disdain of the quiet and
peaceful character which he thought proper to assume, and which led me to entertain strange suspicions that
his concern in the violence done to Morris had been something very different from that of a fellowsufferer,
or even of a mere spectator.
Perhaps some suspicious crossed the Justice's mind at the moment, for he exclaimed, as if by way of
ejaculation, ``Body o' me! but this is a strange story.''
The North Briton seemed to guess at what was passing in his mind; for he went on, with a change of manner
and tone, dismissing from his countenance some part of the hypocritical affectation of humility which had
made him obnoxious to suspicion, and saying, with a more frank and unconstrained air, ``To say the truth, I
am just ane o' those canny folks wha care not to fight but when they hae gotten something to fight for, which
did not chance to be my predicament when I fell in wi' these loons. But that your worship may know that I
am a person of good fame and character, please to cast your eye over that billet.''
Mr. Inglewood took the paper from his hand, and read, half aloud, ``These are to certify, that the bearer,
Robert Campbell ofof some place which I cannot pronounce,'' interjected the Justice``is a person of
good lineage, and peaceable demeanour, travelling towards England on his own proper affairs, Given under
our hand, at our Castle of InverInvera raraArgyle.''
``A slight testimonial, sir, which I thought fit to impetrate from that worthy nobleman'' (here he raised his
hand to his head, as if to touch his hat), ``MacCallum More.''
``MacCallum who, sir?'' said the Justice.
``Whom the Southern call the Duke of Argyle.''
``I know the Duke of Argyle very well to be a nobleman of great worth and distinction, and a true lover of his
country. I was one of those that stood by him in 1714, when he unhorsed the Duke of Marlborough out of his
command. I wish we had more noblemen like him. He was an honest Tory in those days, and hand and glove
with Ormond. And he has acceded to the present Government, as I have done myself, for the peace and quiet
of his country; for I cannot presume that great man to have been actuated, as violent folks pretend, with the
fear of losing his places and regiment. His testimonial, as you call it, Mr. Campbell, is perfectly satisfactory;
and now, what have you got to say to this matter of the robbery?''
``Briefly this, if it please your worship,that Mr. Morris might as weel charge it against the babe yet to be
born, or against myself even, as against this young gentleman, Mr. Osbaldistone; for I am not only free to
depone that the person whom he took for him was a shorter man, and a thicker man, but also, for I chanced to
obtain a glisk of his visage, as his fauseface slipped aside, that he was a man of other features and
complexion than those of this young gentleman, Mr. Osbaldistone. And I believe,'' he added, turning round
with a natural, yet somewhat sterner air, to Mr. Morris, ``that the gentleman will allow I had better
opportunity to take cognisance wha were present on that occasion than he, being, I believe, much the cooler
o' the twa.''
``I agree to it, sirI agree to it perfectly,'' said Morris, shrinking back as Campbell moved his chair towards
him to fortify his appeal``And I incline, sir,'' he added, addressing Mr. Inglewood, ``to retract my
information as to Mr. Osbaldistone; and I request, sir, you will permit him, sir, to go about his business, and
me to go about mine also; your worship may have business to settle with Mr. Campbell, and I am rather in
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haste to be gone.''
``Then, there go the declarations,'' said the Justice, throwing them into the fire``And now you are at
perfect liberty, Mr Osbaldistone. And you, Mr. Morris, are set quite at your ease.''
``Ay,'' said Campbell, eyeing Morris as he assented with a rueful grin to the Justice's observations, ``much
like the ease of a tod under a pair of harrowsBut fear nothing, Mr. Morris; you and I maun leave the
house thegither. I will see you safeI hope you will not doubt my honour, when I say saeto the next
highway, and then we part company; and if we do not meet as friends in Scotland, it will be your ain fault.''
With such a lingering look of terror as the condemned criminal throws, when he is informed that the cart
awaits him, Morris arose; but when on his legs, appeared to hesitate. ``I tell thee, man, fear nothing,''
reiterated Campbell; ``I will keep my word with youWhy, thou sheep's heart, how do ye ken but we may
can pick up some speerings of your valise, if ye will be amenable to gude counsel?Our horses are ready.
Bid the Justice fareweel, man, and show your Southern breeding.''
Morris, thus exhorted and encouraged, took his leave, under the escort of Mr. Campbell; but, apparently, new
scruples and terrors had struck him before they left the house, for I heard Campbell reiterating assurances of
safety and protection as they left the anteroom``By the soul of my body, man, thou'rt as safe as in thy
father's kailyardZounds! that a chield wi' sic a black beard should hae nae mair heart than a
henpartridge! Come on wi' ye, like a frank fallow, anes and for aye.''
The voices died away, and the subsequent trampling of their horses announced to us that they had left the
mansion of Justice Inglewood.
The joy which that worthy magistrate received at this easy conclusion of a matter which threatened him with
some trouble in his judicial capacity, was somewhat damped by reflection on what his clerk's views of the
transaction might be at his return. ``Now, I shall have Jobson on my shoulders about these dd papersI
doubt I should not have destroyed them, after all But hang it! it is only paying his fees, and that will
make all smoothAnd now, Miss Die Vernon, though I have liberated all the others, I intend to sign a writ
for committing you to the custody of Mother Blakes, my old housekeeper, for the evening, and we will send
for my neighbour Mrs. Musgrave, and the Miss Dawkins, and your cousins, and have old Cobs the fiddler,
and be as merry as the maids; and Frank Osbaldistone and I will have a carouse that will make us fit company
for you in halfanhour.''
``Thanks, most worshipful,'' returned Miss Vernon; ``but, as matters stand, we must return instantly to
Osbaldistone Hall, where they do not know what has become of us, and relieve my uncle of his anxiety on
my cousin's account, which is just the same as if one of his own sons were concerned.''
``I believe it truly,'' said the Justice; ``for when his eldest son, Archie, came to a bad end, in that unlucky
affair of Sir John Fenwick's, old Hildebrand used to hollo out his name as readily as any of the remaining six,
and then complain that he could not recollect which of his sons had been hanged. So, pray hasten home, and
relieve his paternal solicitude, since go you must. But hark thee hither, heathblossom,'' he said, pulling her
towards him by the hand, and in a goodhumoured tone of admonition, ``another time let the law take its
course, without putting your pretty finger into her old musty pie, all full of fragments of law
gibberishFrench and dogLatinAnd, Die, my beauty, let young fellows show each other the way
through the moors, in case you should lose your own road, while you are pointing out theirs, my pretty Will
o' the Wisp.''
With this admonition, he saluted and dismissed Miss Vernon, and took an equally kind farewell of me.
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``Thou seems to be a good tight lad, Mr. Frank, and I remember thy father toohe was my playfellow at
school. Hark thee, lad,ride early at night, and don't swagger with chance passengers on the king's
highway. What, man! all the king's liege subjects are not bound to understand joking, and it's ill cracking jests
on matters of felony. And here's poor Die Vernon tooin a manner alone and deserted on the face of this
wide earth, and left to ride, and run, and scamper, at her own silly pleasure. Thou must be careful of Die, or,
egad, I will turn a young fellow again on purpose, and fight thee myself, although I must own it would be a
great deal of trouble. And now, get ye both gone, and leave me to my pipe of tobacco, and my meditations;
for what says the song
The Indian leaf doth briefly burn; So doth man's strength to weakness turn The fire of youth extinguished
quite, Comes age, like embers, dry and white. Think of this as you take tobacco.''*
* [The lines here quoted belong to or were altered from a set of verses at one * time very popular in England,
beginning, Tobacco that is withered quite. In Scotland, * the celebrated Ralph Erskine, author of the Gospel
Sonnets, published what * he called ``Smoking Spiritualized, in two parts. The first part being an Old
Meditation * upon Smoking Tobacco.'' It begins * * This Indian weed now withered quite, * Tho' green
at noon, cut down at night, * Shows thy decay; * All flesh is hay. * Thus thank, and smoke tobacco.]
I was much pleased with the gleams of sense and feeling which escaped from the Justice through the vapours
of sloth and selfindulgence, assured him of my respect to his admonitions, and took a friendly farewell of
the honest magistrate and his hospitable mansion.
We found a repast prepared for us in the anteroom, which we partook of slightly, and rejoined the same
servant of Sir Hildebrand who had taken our horses at our entrance, and who had been directed, as he
informed Miss Vernon, by Mr. Rashleigh, to wait and attend upon us home. We rode a little way in silence,
for, to say truth, my mind was too much bewildered with the events of the morning, to permit me to be the
first to break it. At length Miss Vernon exclaimed, as if giving vent to her own reflections, ``Well, Rashleigh
is a man to be feared and wondered at, and all but loved; he does whatever he pleases, and makes all others
his puppetshas a player ready to perform every part which he imagines, and an invention and readiness
which supply expedients for every emergency.''
``You think, then,'' said I, answering rather to her meaning, than to the express words she made use of, ``that
this Mr. Campbell, whose appearance was so opportune, and who trussed up and carried off my accuser as a
falcon trusses a partridge, was an agent of Mr. Rashleigh Osbaldistone's?''
``I do guess as much,'' replied Diana; ``and shrewdly suspect, moreover, that he would hardly have appeared
so very much in the nick of time, if I had not happened to meet Rashleigh in the hall at the Justice's.''
``In that case, my thanks are chiefly due to you, my fair preserver.''
``To be sure they are,'' returned Diana; ``and pray, suppose them paid, and accepted with a gracious smile, for
I do not care to be troubled with hearing them in good earnest, and am much more likely to yawn than to
behave becoming. In short, Mr. Frank, I wished to serve you, and I have fortunately been able to do so, and
have only one favour to ask in return, and that is, that you will say no more about it.But who comes here
to meet us, `bloody with spurring, fieryred with haste?' It is the subordinate man of law, I thinkno less
than Mr. Joseph Jobson.''
And Mr. Joseph Jobson it proved to be, in great haste, and, as it speedily appeared, in most extreme bad
humour. He came up to us, and stopped his horse, as we were about to pass with a slight salutation.
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``So, sirso, Miss Vernonay, I see well enough how it is bail put in during my absence, I
supposeI should like to know who drew the recognisance, that's all. If his worship uses this form of
procedure often, I advise him to get another clerk, that's all, for I shall certainly demit.''
``Or suppose he get this present clerk stitched to his sleeve, Mr. Jobson,'' said Diana; ``would not that do as
well? And pray, how does Farmer Rutledge, Mr. Jobson? I hope you found him able to sign, seal, and
deliver?''
This question seemed greatly to increase the wrath of the man of law. He looked at Miss Vernon with such an
air of spite and resentment, as laid me under a strong temptation to knock him off his horse with the buttend
of my whip, which I only suppressed in consideration of his insignificance.
``Farmer Rutledge, ma'am?'' said the clerk, as soon as his indignation permitted him to articulate, ``Farmer
Rutledge is in as handsome enjoyment of his health as you areit's all a bam, ma'amall a bamboozle
and a bite, that affair of his illness; and if you did not know as much before, you know it now, ma'am.''
``La you there now!'' replied Miss Vernon, with an affectation of extreme and simple wonder, ``sure you
don't say so, Mr. Jobson?''
``But I do say so, ma'am,'' rejoined the incensed scribe; ``and moreover I say, that the old miserly
clodbreaker called me pettifoggerpettifogger, ma'amand said I came to hunt for a job,
ma'amwhich I have no more right to have said to me than any other gentleman of my profession,
ma'am especially as I am clerk to the peace, having and holding said office under Trigesimo Septimo
Henrici Octavi and Primo Gulielmi, the first of King William, ma'am, of glorious and immortal
memoryour immortal deliverer from papists and pretenders, and wooden shoes and warming pans, Miss
Vernon.''
``Sad things, these wooden shoes and warming pans,'' retorted the young lady, who seemed to take pleasure
in augmenting his wrath;``and it is a comfort you don't seem to want a warming pan at present, Mr.
Jobson. I am afraid Gaffer Rutledge has not confined his incivility to languageAre you sure he did not
give you a beating?''
``Beating, ma'am!no''(very shortly)``no man alive shall beat me, I promise you, ma'am.''
``That is according as you happen to merit, sir,'' said I: ``for your mode of speaking to this young lady is so
unbecoming, that, if you do not change your tone, I shall think it worth while to chastise you myself.''
``Chastise, sir? andme, sir?Do you know whom you speak to, sir?''
``Yes, sir,'' I replied; ``you say yourself you are clerk of peace to the county; and Gaffer Rutledge says you
are a pettifogger; and in neither capacity are you entitled to be impertinent to a young lady of fashion.''
Miss Vernon laid her hand on my arm, and exclaimed, ``Come, Mr. Osbaldistone, I will have no assaults and
battery on Mr. Jobson; I am not in sufficient charity with him to permit a single touch of your whipwhy,
he would live on it for a term at least. Besides, you have already hurt his feelings sufficientlyyou have
called him impertinent.''
``I don't value his language, Miss,'' said the clerk, somewhat crestfallen: ``besides, impertinent is not an
actionable word; but pettifogger is slander in the highest degree, and that I will make Gaffer Rutledge know
to his cost, and all who maliciously repeat the same, to the breach of the public peace, and the taking away of
my private good name.''
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``Never mind that, Mr. Jobson,'' said Miss Vernon; ``you know, where there is nothing, your own law allows
that the king himself must lose his rights; and for the taking away of your good name, I pity the poor fellow
who gets it, and wish you joy of losing it with all my heart.''
``Very well, ma'amgood evening, ma'amI have no more to sayonly there are laws against papists,
which it would be well for the land were they better executed. There's third and fourth Edward VI., of
antiphoners, missals, grailes, professionals, manuals, legends, pies, portuasses, and those that have such
trinkets in their possession, Miss Vernonand there's summoning of papists to take the oathsand there
are popish recusant convicts under the first of his present Majestyay, and there are penalties for hearing
massSee twentythird of Queen Elizabeth, and third James First, chapter twentyfifth. And there are
estates to be registered, and deeds and wills to be enrolled, and double taxes to be made, according to the acts
in that case made and provided''
``See the new edition of the Statutes at Large, published under the careful revision of Joseph Jobson, Gent.,
Clerk of the Peace,'' said Miss Vernon.
``Also, and above all,'' continued Jobson,``for I speak to your warningyou, Diana Vernon, spinstress,
not being a femme couverte, and being a convict popish recusant, are bound to repair to your own dwelling,
and that by the nearest way, under penalty of being held felon to the kingand diligently to seek for
passage at common ferries, and to tarry there but one ebb and flood; and unless you can have it in such
places, to walk every day into the water up to the knees, assaying to pass over.''
``A sort of Protestant penance for my Catholic errors, I suppose,'' said Miss Vernon, laughing.``Well, I
thank you for the information, Mr. Jobson, and will hie me home as fast as I can, and be a better housekeeper
in time coming. Goodnight, my dear Mr. Jobson, thou mirror of clerical courtesy.''
``Goodnight, ma'am, and remember the law is not to be trifled with.''
And we rode on our separate ways.
``There he goes for a troublesome mischiefmaking tool,'' said Miss Vernon, as she gave a glance after him;
it is hard that persons of birth and rank and estate should be subjected to the official impertinence of such a
paltry pickthank as that, merely for believing as the whole world believed not much above a hundred years
agofor certainly our Catholic Faith has the advantage of antiquity at least.''
``I was much tempted to have broken the rascal's head,'' I replied.
``You would have acted very like a hasty young man,'' said Miss Vernon; ``and yet, had my own hand been
an ounce heavier than it is, I think I should have laid its weight upon him. Well, it does not signify
complaining, but there are three things for which I am much to be pitied, if any one thought it worth while to
waste any compassion upon me.''
``And what are these three things, Miss Vernon, may I ask?''
``Will you promise me your deepest sympathy, if I tell you?''
``Certainly;can you doubt it?'' I replied, closing my horse nearer to hers as I spoke, with an expression of
interest which I did not attempt to disguise.
``Well, it is very seducing to be pitied, after all; so here are my three grievances: In the first place, I am a girl,
and not a young fellow, and would be shut up in a madhouse if I did half the things that I have a mind
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to;and that, if I had your happy prerogative of acting as you list, would make all the world mad with
imitating and applauding me.''
``I can't quite afford you the sympathy you expect upon this score,'' I replied; ``the misfortune is so general,
that it belongs to one half of the species; and the other half''
``Are so much better cared for, that they are jealous of their prerogatives,'' interrupted Miss Vernon``I
forgot you were a party interested. Nay,'' she said, as I was going to speak, ``that soft smile is intended to be
the preface of a very pretty compliment respecting the peculiar advantages which Die Vernon's friends and
kinsmen enjoy, by her being born one of their Helots; but spare me the utterance, my good friend, and let us
try whether we shall agree better on the second count of my indictment against fortune, as that quilldriving
puppy would call it. I belong to an oppressed sect and antiquated religion, and, instead of getting credit for
my devotion, as is due to all good girls beside, my kind friend, Justice Inglewood, may send me to the house
of correction, merely for worshipping God in the way of my ancestors, and say, as old Pembroke did to the
Abbess of Wilton,* when he usurped her convent and
* Note F. The Abbess of Wilton.
establishment, `Go spin, you jade,Go spin.' ''
``This is not a cureless evil,'' said I gravely. ``Consult some of our learned divines, or consult your own
excellent understanding, Miss Vernon; and surely the particulars in which our religious creed differs from
that in which you have been educated''
``Hush!'' said Diana, placing her forefinger on her mouth, ``Hush! no more of that. Forsake the faith of
my gallant fathers! I would as soon, were I a man, forsake their banner when the tide of battle pressed hardest
against it, and turn, like a hireling recreant, to join the victorious enemy.''
``I honour your spirit, Miss Vernon; and as to the inconveniences to which it exposes you, I can only say, that
wounds sustained for the sake of conscience carry their own balsam with the blow.''
``Ay; but they are fretful and irritating, for all that. But I see, hard of heart as you are, my chance of beating
hemp, or drawing out flax into marvellous coarse thread, affects you as little as my condemnation to coif and
pinners, instead of beaver and cockade; so I will spare myself the fruitless pains of telling my third cause of
vexation.''
``Nay, my dear Miss Vernon, do not withdraw your confidence, and I will promise you, that the threefold
sympathy due to your very unusual causes of distress shall be all duly and truly paid to account of the third,
providing you assure me, that it is one which you neither share with all womankind, nor even with every
Catholic in England, who, God bless you, are still a sect more numerous than we Protestants, in our zeal for
church and state, would desire them to be.''
``It is indeed,'' said Diana, with a manner greatly altered, and more serious than I had yet seen her assume, ``a
misfortune that well merits compassion. I am by nature, as you may easily observe, of a frank and unreserved
dispositiona plain truehearted girl, who would willingly act openly and honestly by the whole world,
and yet fate has involved me in such a series of nets and toils, and entanglements, that I dare hardly speak a
word for fear of consequencesnot to myself, but to others.''
``That is indeed a misfortune, Miss Vernon, which I do most sincerely compassionate, but which I should
hardly have anticipated. ''
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``O, Mr. Osbaldistone, if you but knewif any one knew, what difficulty I sometimes find in hiding an
aching heart with a smooth brow, you would indeed pity me. I do wrong, perhaps, in speaking to you even
thus far on my own situation; but you are a young man of sense and penetrationyou cannot but long to
ask me a hundred questions on the events of this day on the share which Rashleigh has in your
deliverance from this petty scrapeupon many other points which cannot but excite your attention; and I
cannot bring myself to answer with the necessary falsehood and finesseI should do it awkwardly, and
lose your good opinion, if I have any share of it, as well as my own. It is best to say at once, Ask me no
questions,I have it not in my power to reply to them.''
Miss Vernon spoke these words with a tone of feeling which could not but make a corresponding impression
upon me. I assured her she had neither to fear my urging her with impertinent questions, nor my
misconstruing her declining to answer those which might in themselves be reasonable, or at least natural.
``I was too much obliged,'' I said, ``by the interest she had taken in my affairs, to misuse the opportunity her
goodness had afforded me of prying into hersI only trusted and entreated, that if my services could at any
time be useful, she would command them without doubt or hesitation.''
``Thank youthank you,'' she replied; ``your voice does not ring the cuckoo chime of compliment, but
speaks like that of one who knows to what he pledges himself. Ifbut it is impossiblebut yet, if an
opportunity should occur, I will ask you if you remember this promise; and I assure you, I shall not be angry
if I find you have forgotten it, for it is enough that you are sincere in your intentions just nowmuch may
occur to alter them ere I call upon you, should that moment ever come, to assist Die Vernon, as if you were
Die Vernon's brother.''
``And if I were Die Vernon's brother,'' said I, ``there could not be less chance that I should refuse my
assistanceAnd now I am afraid I must not ask whether Rashleigh was willingly accessory to my
deliverance?''
``Not of me; but you may ask it of himself, and depend upon it, he will say yes; for rather than any good
action should walk through the world like an unappropriated adjective in an illarranged sentence, he is
always willing to stand noun substantive to it himself.''
``And I must not ask whether this Campbell be himself the party who eased Mr. Morris of his
portmanteau,or whether the letter, which our friend the attorney received, was not a finesse to withdraw
him from the scene of action, lest he should have marred the happy event of my deliverance? And I must not
ask''
``You must ask nothing of me,'' said Miss Vernon; ``so it is quite in vain to go on putting cases. You are to
think just as well of me as if I had answered all these queries, and twenty others besides, as glibly as
Rashleigh could have done; and observe, whenever I touch my chin just so, it is a sign that I cannot speak
upon the topic which happens to occupy your attention. I must settle signals of correspondence with you,
because you are to be my confidant and my counsellor, only you are to know nothing whatever of my
affairs.''
``Nothing can be more reasonable,'' I replied, laughing; ``and the extent of your confidence will, you may rely
upon it, only be equalled by the sagacity of my counsels.''
This sort of conversation brought us, in the highest goodhumour with each other, to Osbaldistone Hall,
where we found the family far advanced in the revels of the evening.
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``Get some dinner for Mr. Osbaldistone and me in the library,'' said Miss Vernon to a servant.``I must
have some compassion upon you,'' she added, turning to me, ``and provide against your starving in this
mansion of brutal abundance; otherwise I am not sure that I should show you my private haunts. This same
library is my denthe only corner of the Hallhouse where I am safe from the OurangOutangs, my
cousins. They never venture there, I suppose for fear the folios should fall down and crack their skulls; for
they will never affect their heads in any other waySo follow me.''
And I followed through hall and bower, vaulted passage and winding stair, until we reached the room where
she had ordered our refreshments.
CHAPTER TENTH.
In the wide pile, by others heeded not,
Hers was one sacred solitary spot,
Whose gloomy aisles and bending shelves contain
For moral hunger food, and cures for moral pain.
Anonymous.
The library at Osbaldistone Hall was a gloomy room, whose antique oaken shelves bent beneath the weight of
the ponderous folios so dear to the seventeenth century, from which, under favour be it spoken, we have
distilled matter for our quartos and octavos, and which, once more subjected to the alembic, may, should our
sons be yet more frivolous than ourselves, be still farther reduced into duodecimos and pamphlets. The
collection was chiefly of the classics, as well foreign as ancient history, and, above all, divinity. It was in
wretched order. The priests, who in succession had acted as chaplains at the Hall, were, for many years, the
only persons who entered its precincts, until Rashleigh's thirst for reading had led him to disturb the
venerable spiders, who had muffled the fronts of the presses with their tapestry. His destination for the church
rendered his conduct less absurd in his father's eyes, than if any of his other descendants had betrayed so
strange a propensity, and Sir Hildebrand acquiesced in the library receiving some repairs, so as to fit it for a
sittingroom. Still an air of dilapidation, as obvious as it was uncomfortable, pervaded the large apartment,
and announced the neglect from which the knowledge which its walls contained had not been able to exempt
it. The tattered tapestry, the wormeaten shelves, the huge and clumsy, yet tottering, tables, desks, and chairs,
the rusty grate, seldom gladdened by either seacoal or faggots, intimated the contempt of the lords of
Osbaldistone Hall for learning, and for the volumes which record its treasures.
``You think this place somewhat disconsolate, I suppose?'' said Diana, as I glanced my eye round the forlorn
apartment; ``but to me it seems like a little paradise, for I call it my own, and fear no intrusion. Rashleigh was
joint proprietor with me, while we were friends.''
``And are you no longer so?'' was my natural question. Her forefinger immediately touched her dimpled
chin, with an arch look of prohibition.
``We are still allies,'' she continued, ``bound, like other confederate powers, by circumstances of mutual
interest; but I am afraid, as will happen in other cases, the treaty of alliance has survived the amicable
dispositions in which it had its origin. At any rate, we live less together; and when he comes through that
door there, I vanish through this door here; and so, having made the discovery that we two were one too
many for this apartment, as large as it seems, Rashleigh, whose occasions frequently call him elsewhere, has
generously made a cession of his rights in my favour; so that I now endeavour to prosecute alone the studies
in which he used formerly to be my guide.''
``And what are those studies, if I may presume to ask?''
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``Indeed you may, without the least fear of seeing my forefinger raised to my chin. Science and history are
my principal favourites; but I also study poetry and the classics.''
``And the classics? Do you read them in the original?''
``Unquestionably. Rashleigh, who is no contemptible scholar, taught me Greek and Latin, as well as most of
the languages of modern Europe. I assure you there has been some pains taken in my education, although I
can neither sew a tucker, nor work crossstitch, nor make a pudding, noras the vicar's fat wife, with as
much truth as elegance, goodwill, and politeness, was pleased to say in my behalfdo any other useful
thing in the varsal world.''
``And was this selection of studies Rashleigh's choice, or your own, Miss Vernon?'' I asked.
``Um!'' said she, as if hesitating to answer my question, ``It's not worth while lifting my finger about,
after all. Why, partly his and partly mine. As I learned out of doors to ride a horse, and bridle and saddle him
in cue of necessity, and to clear a fivebarred gate, and fire a gun without winking, and all other of those
masculine accomplishments that my brute cousins run mad after, I wanted, like my rational cousin, to read
Greek and Latin within doors, and make my complete approach to the tree of knowledge, which you
menscholars would engross to yourselves, in revenge, I suppose, for our common mother's share in the great
original transgression.''
``And Rashleigh indulged your propensity to learning?''
``Why, he wished to have me for his scholar, and he could but teach me that which he knew himselfhe
was not likely to instruct me in the mysteries of washing laceruffles, or hemming cambric handkerchiefs, I
suppose.''
``I admit the temptation of getting such a scholar, and have no doubt that it made a weighty consideration on
the tutor's part.''
``Oh, if you begin to investigate Rashleigh's motives, my finger touches my chin once more. I can only be
frank where my own are inquired into. But to resumehe has resigned the library in my favour, and never
enters without leave had and obtained; and so I have taken the liberty to make it the place of deposit for some
of my own goods and chattels, as you may see by looking round you.''
``I beg pardon, Miss Vernon, but I really see nothing around these walls which I can distinguish as likely to
claim you as mistress.''
``That is, I suppose, because you neither see a shepherd or shepherdess wrought in worsted, and handsomely
framed in black ebony, or a stuffed parrot,or a breedingcage, full of canary birds,or a
housewifecase, broidered with tarnished silver,or a toilettable with a nest of japanned boxes, with as
many angles as Christmas mincedpies,or a brokenbacked spinet,or a lute with three strings,or
rockwork,or shellwork, or needlework, or work of any kind,or a lapdog with a litter of
blind puppiesNone of these treasures do I possess,'' she continued, after a pause, in order to recover the
breath she had lost in enumerating them``But there stands the sword of my ancestor Sir Richard Vernon,
slain at Shrewsbury, and sorely slandered by a sad fellow called Will Shakspeare, whose Lancastrian
partialities, and a certain knack at embodying them, has turned history upside down, or rather inside
out;and by that redoubted weapon hangs the mail of the still older Vernon, squire to the Black Prince,
whose fate is the reverse of his descendant's, since he is more indebted to the bard who took the trouble to
celebrate him, for goodwill than for talents,
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Amiddes the route you may discern one Brave knight, with pipes on shield, ycleped Vernon Like a borne
fiend along the plain he thundered, Prest to be carving throtes, while others plundered.
Then there is a model of a new martingale, which I invented myselfa great improvement on the Duke of
Newcastle's; and there are the hood and bells of my falcon Cheviot, who spitted himself on a heron's bill at
Horselymosspoor Cheviot, there is not a bird on the perches below, but are kites and riflers compared to
him; and there is my own light fowlingpiece, with an improved firelock; with twenty other treasures, each
more valuable than anotherAnd there, that speaks for itself.''
She pointed to the carved oak frame of a fulllength portrait by Vandyke, on which were inscribed, in Gothic
letters, the words Vernon semper viret. I looked at her for explanation. ``Do you not know,'' said she, with
some surprise, ``our motto the Vernon motto, where,
Like the solemn vice iniquity, We moralise two meanings in one word
And do you not know our cognisance, the pipes?'' pointing to the armorial bearings sculptured on the oaken
scutcheon, around which the legend was displayed.
``Pipes!they look more like pennywhistlesBut, pray, do not be angry with my ignorance,'' I
continued, observing the colour mount to her cheeks, ``I can mean no affront to your armorial bearings, for I
do not even know my own.''
``You an Osbaldistone, and confess so much!'' she exclaimed. ``Why, Percie, Thornie, John,
DickonWilfred himself, might be your instructor. Even ignorance itself is a plummet over you.''
``With shame I confess it, my dear Miss Vernon, the mysteries couched under the grim hieroglyphics of
heraldry are to me as unintelligible as those of the pyramids of Egypt.''
``What! is it possible?Why, even my uncle reads Gwillym sometimes of a winter nightNot know the
figures of heraldry! of what could your father be thinking?''
``Of the figures of arithmetic,'' I answered; ``the most insignificant unit of which he holds more highly than
all the blazonry of chivalry. But, though I am ignorant to this inexpressible degree, I have knowledge and
taste enough to admire that splendid picture, in which I think I can discover a family likeness to you. What
ease and dignity in the attitude!what richness of colouringwhat breadth and depth of shade!''
``Is it really a fine painting?'' she asked.
``I have seen many works of the renowned artist,'' I replied, ``but never beheld one more to my liking!''
``Well, I know as little of pictures as you do of heraldry,'' replied Miss Vernon; ``yet I have the advantage of
you, because I have always admired the painting without understanding its value.''
``While I have neglected pipes and tabors, and all the whimsical combinations of chivalry, still I am informed
that they floated in the fields of ancient fame. But you will allow their exterior appearance is not so peculiarly
interesting to the uninformed spectator as that of a fine painting.Who is the person here represented?''
``My grandfather. He shared the misfortunes of Charles I., and, I am sorry to add, the excesses of his son. Our
patrimonial estate was greatly impaired by his prodigality, and was altogether lost by his successor, my
unfortunate father. But peace be with them who have got it!it was lost in the cause of loyalty.''
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``Your father, I presume, suffered in the political dissensions of the period?''
``He did indeed;he lost his all. And hence is his child a dependent orphaneating the bread of
otherssubjected to their caprices, and compelled to study their inclinations; yet prouder of having had
such a father, than if, playing a more prudent but less upright part, he had left me possessor of all the rich and
fair baronies which his family once possessed.''
As she thus spoke, the entrance of the servants with dinner cut off all conversation but that of a general
nature.
When our hasty meal was concluded, and the wine placed on the table, the domestic informed us, ``that Mr.
Rashleigh had desired to be told when our dinner was removed.''
``Tell him,'' said Miss Vernon, ``we shall be happy to see him if he will step this wayplace another
wineglass and chair, and leave the room.You must retire with him when he goes away, she continued,
addressing herself to me; ``even my liberality cannot spare a gentleman above eight hours out of the
twentyfour; and I think we have been together for at least that length of time.''
``The old scytheman has moved so rapidly,'' I answered, ``that I could not count his strides.''
``Hush!'' said Miss Vernon, ``here comes Rashleigh;'' and she drew off her chair, to which I had approached
mine rather closely, so as to place a greater distance between us. A modest tap at the door,a gentle
manner of opening when invited to enter,a studied softness and humility of step and deportment,
announced that the education of Rashleigh Osbaldistone at the College of St. Omers accorded well with the
ideas I entertained of the manners of an accomplished Jesuit. I need not add, that, as a sound Protestant, these
ideas were not the most favourable. ``Why should you use the ceremony of knocking,'' said Miss Vernon,
``when you knew that I was not alone?''
This was spoken with a burst of impatience, as if she had felt that Rashleigh's air of caution and reserve
covered some insinuation of impertinent suspicion. ``You have taught me the form of knocking at this door
so perfectly, my fair cousin,'' answered Rashleigh, without change of voice or manner, ``that habit has
become a second nature.''
``I prize sincerity more than courtesy, sir, and you know I do,'' was Miss Vernon's reply.
``Courtesy is a gallant gay, a courtier by name and by profession,'' replied Rashleigh, ``and therefore most fit
for a lady's bower.''
``But Sincerity is the true knight,'' retorted Miss Vernon, ``and therefore much more welcome, cousin. But to
end a debate not over amusing to your stranger kinsman, sit down, Rashleigh, and give Mr. Francis
Osbaldistone your countenance to his glass of wine. I have done the honours of the dinner, for the credit of
Osbaldistone Hall.''
Rashleigh sate down, and filled his glass, glancing his eye from Diana to me, with an embarrassment which
his utmost efforts could not entirely disguise. I thought he appeared to be uncertain concerning the extent of
confidence she might have reposed in me, and hastened to lead the conversation into a channel which should
sweep away his suspicion that Diana might have betrayed any secrets which rested between them. ``Miss
Vernon,'' I said, ``Mr. Rashleigh, has recommended me to return my thanks to you for my speedy
disengagement from the ridiculous accusation of Morris; and, unjustly fearing my gratitude might not be
warm enough to remind me of this duty, she has put my curiosity on its side, by referring me to you for an
account, or rather explanation, of the events of the day.''
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``Indeed?'' answered Rashleigh; ``I should have thought'' (looking keenly at Miss Vernon) ``that the lady
herself might have stood interpreter;'' and his eye, reverting from her face, sought mine, as if to search, from
the expression of my features, whether Diana's communication had been as narrowly limited as my words
had intimated. Miss Vernon retorted his inquisitorial glance with one of decided scorn; while I, uncertain
whether to deprecate or resent his obvious suspicion, replied, ``If it is your pleasure, Mr. Rashleigh, as it has
been Miss Vernon's, to leave me in ignorance, I must necessarily submit; but, pray, do not withhold your
information from me on the ground of imagining that I have already obtained any on the subject. For I tell
you, as a man of honour, I am as ignorant as that picture of anything relating to the events I have witnessed
today, excepting that I understand from Miss Vernon, that you have been kindly active in my favour.''
``Miss Vernon has overrated my humble efforts,'' said Rashleigh, ``though I claim full credit for my zeal. The
truth is, that as I galloped back to get some one of our family to join me. in becoming your bail, which was
the most obvious, or, indeed, I may say, the only way of serving you which occurred to my stupidity, I met
the man CawmilColvilleCampbell, or whatsoever they call him. I had understood from Morris that
he was present when the robbery took place, and had the good fortune to prevail on him (with some
difficulty, I confess) to tender his evidence in your exculpationwhich I presume was the means of your
being released from an unpleasant situation.''
``Indeed?I am much your debtor for procuring such a seasonable evidence in my behalf. But I cannot see
why (having been, as he said, a fellowsufferer with Morris) it should have required much trouble to
persuade him to step forth and bear evidence, whether to convict the actual robber, or free an innocent
person.''
``You do not know the genius of that man's country, sir,'' answered Rashleigh;``discretion, prudence, and
foresight, are their leading qualities; these are only modified by a narrowspirited, but yet ardent patriotism,
which forms as it were the outmost of the concentric bulwarks with which a Scotchman fortifies himself
against all the attacks of a generous philanthropical principle. Surmount this mound, you find an inner and
still dearer barrierthe love of his province, his village, or, most probably, his clan; storm this second
obstacle, you have a third his attachment to his own familyhis father, mother, sons, daughters, uncles,
aunts, and cousins, to the ninth generation. It is within these limits that a Scotchman's social affection
expands itself, never reaching those which are outermost, till all means of discharging itself in the interior
circles have been exhausted. It is within these circles that his heart throbs, each pulsation being fainter and
fainter, till, beyond the widest boundary, it is almost unfelt. And what is worst of all, could you surmount all
these concentric outworks, you have an inner citadel, deeper, higher, and more efficient than them alla
Scotchman's love for himself.''
``All this is extremely eloquent and metaphorical, Rashleigh,'' said Miss Vernon, who listened with
unrepressed impatience; ``there are only two objections to it: first, it is not true; secondly, if true, it is nothing
to the purpose.''
``It is true, my fairest Diana,'' returned Rashleigh; ``and moreover, it is most instantly to the purpose. It is
true, because you cannot deny that I know the country and people intimately, and the character is drawn from
deep and accurate consideration and it is to the purpose, because it answers Mr. Francis Osbaldistone's
question, and shows why this same wary Scotchman, considering our kinsman to be neither his countryman,
nor a Campbell, nor his cousin in any of the inextricable combinations by which they extend their pedigree;
and, above all, seeing no prospect of personal advantage, but, on the contrary, much hazard of loss of time
and delay of business''
``With other inconveniences, perhaps, of a nature yet more formidable,'' interrupted Miss Vernon.
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``Of which, doubtless, there might be many,'' said Rashleigh, continuing in the same tone``In short, my
theory shows why this man, hoping for no advantage, and afraid of some inconvenience, might require a
degree of persuasion ere he could be prevailed on to give his testimony in favour of Mr. Osbaldistone.''
``It seems surprising to me,'' I observed, ``that during the glance I cast over the declaration, or whatever it is
termed, of Mr. Morris, he should never have mentioned that Campbell was in his company when he met the
marauders.''
``I understood from Campbell, that he had taken his solemn promise not to mention that circumstance,''
replied Rashleigh: ``his reason for exacting such an engagement you may guess from what I have
hintedhe wished to get back to his own country, undelayed and unembarrassed by any of the judicial
inquiries which he would have been under the necessity of attending, had the fact of his being present at the
robbery taken air while he was on this side of the Border. But let him once be as distant as the Forth, Morris
will, I warrant you, come forth with all he knows about him, and, it may be, a good deal more. Besides,
Campbell is a very extensive dealer in cattle, and has often occasion to send great droves into
Northumberland; and, when driving such a trade, he would be a great fool to embroil himself with our
Northumbrian thieves, than whom no men who live are more vindictive.''
``I dare be sworn of that,'' said Miss Vernon, with a tone which implied something more than a simple
acquiescence in the proposition.
``Still,'' said I, resuming the subject, ``allowing the force of the reasons which Campbell might have for
desiring that Morris should be silent with regard to his promise when the robbery was committed, I cannot
yet see how he could attain such an influence over the man, as to make him suppress his evidence in that
particular, at the manifest risk of subjecting his story to discredit.''
Rashleigh agreed with me, that it was very extraordinary, and seemed to regret that he had not questioned the
Scotchman more closely on that subject, which he allowed looked extremely mysterious. ``But,'' he asked,
immediately after this acquiescence, ``are you very sure the circumstance of Morris's being accompanied by
Campbell is really not alluded to in his examination?''
``I read the paper over hastily,'' said I; ``but it is my strong impression that no such circumstance is
mentioned;at least, it must have been touched on very slightly, since it failed to catch my attention.''
``True, true,'' answered Rashleigh, forming his own inference while he adopted my words; ``I incline to think
with you, that the circumstance must in reality have been mentioned, but so slightly that it failed to attract
your attention. And then, as to Campbell's interest with Morris, I incline to suppose that it must have been
gained by playing upon his fears. This chickenhearted fellow, Morris, is bound, I understand, for Scotland,
destined for some little employment under Government; and, possessing the courage of the wrathful dove, or
most magnanimous mouse, he may have been afraid to encounter the illwill of such a killcow as Campbell,
whose very appearance would be enough to fright him out of his little wits. You observed that Mr. Campbell
has at times a keen and animated manner something of a martial cast in his tone and bearing.''
``I own,'' I replied, ``that his expression struck me as being occasionally fierce and sinister, and little adapted
to his peaceable professions. Has he served in the army?''
``Yesnonot, strictly speaking, served; but he has been, I believe, like most of his countrymen, trained
to arms. Indeed, among the hills, they carry them from boyhood to the grave. So, if you know anything of
your fellowtraveller, you will easily judge, that, going to such a country, he will take cue to avoid a quarrel,
if he can help it, with any of the natives. But, come, I see you decline your wineand I too am a degenerate
Osbaldistone, so far as respects the circulation of the bottle. If you will go to my room, I will hold you a hand
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at piquet.''
We rose to take leave of Miss Vernon, who had from time to time suppressed, apparently with difficulty, a
strong temptation to break in upon Rashleigh's details. As we were about to leave the room, the smothered
fire broke forth.
``Mr. Osbaldistone,'' she said, ``your own observation will enable you to verify the justice, or injustice, of
Rashleigh's suggestions concerning such individuals as Mr. Campbell and Mr. Morris. But, in slandering
Scotland, he has borne false witness against a whole country; and I request you will allow no weight to his
evidence.''
``Perhaps,'' I answered, ``I may find it somewhat difficult to obey your injunction, Miss Vernon; for I must
own I was bred up with no very favourable idea of our northern neighbours.''
``Distrust that part of your education, sir,'' she replied, ``and let the daughter of a Scotchwoman pray you to
respect the land which gave her parent birth, until your own observation has proved them to be unworthy of
your good opinion. Preserve your hatred and contempt for dissimulation, baseness, and falsehood,
wheresoever they are to be met with. You will find enough of all without leaving England.Adieu,
gentlemen, I wish you good evening.''
And she signed to the door, with the manner of a princess dismissing her train.
We retired to Rashleigh's apartment, where a servant brought us coffee and cards. I had formed my resolution
to press Rashleigh no farther on the events of the day. A mystery, and, as I thought, not of a favourable
complexion, appeared to hang over his conduct; but to ascertain if my suspicions were just, it was necessary
to throw him off his guard. We cut for the deal, and were soon earnestly engaged in our play. I thought I
perceived in this trifling for amusement (for the stake which Rashleigh proposed was a mere trifle) something
of a fierce and ambitious temper. He seemed perfectly to understand the beautiful game at which he played,
but preferred, as it were on principle, the risking bold and precarious strokes to the ordinary rules of play; and
neglecting the minor and betterbalanced chances of the game, he hazarded everything for the chance of
piqueing, repiqueing, or capoting his adversary. So soon as the intervention of a game or two at piquet, like
the music between the acts of a drama, had completely interrupted our previous course of conversation,
Rashleigh appeared to tire of the game, and the cards were superseded by discourse, in which he assumed the
lead.
More learned than soundly wisebetter acquainted with men's minds than with the moral principles that
ought to regulate them, he had still powers of conversation which I have rarely seen equalled, never excelled.
Of this his manner implied some consciousness; at least, it appeared to me that he had studied hard to
improve his natural advantages of a melodious voice, fluent and happy expression, apt language, and fervid
imagination. He was never loud, never overbearing, never so much occupied with his own thoughts as to
outrun either the patience or the comprehension of those he conversed with. His ideas succeeded each other
with the gentle but unintermitting flow of a plentiful and bounteous spring; while I have heard those of
others, who aimed at distinction in conversation, rush along like the turbid gush from the sluice of a
millpond, as hurried, and as easily exhausted. It was late at night ere I could part from a companion so
fascinating; and, when I gained my own apartment, it cost me no small effort to recall to my mind the
character of Rashleigh, such as I had pictured him previous to this te^tea`te^te.
So effectual, my dear Tresham, does the sense of being pleased and amused blunt our faculties of perception
and discrimination of character, that I can only compare it to the taste of certain fruits, at once luscious and
poignant, which renders our palate totally unfit for relishing or distinguishing the viands which are
subsequently subjected to its criticism.
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CHAPTER ELEVENTH.
What gars ye gaunt, my merrymen a'?
What gars ye look sae dreary?
What gars ye hing your head sae sair
In the castle of Balwearie?
Old Scotch Ballad.
The next morning chanced to be Sunday, a day peculiarly hard to be got rid of at Osbaldistone Hall; for after
the formal religious service of the morning had been performed, at which all the family regularly attended, it
was hard to say upon which individual, Rashleigh and Miss Vernon excepted, the fiend of ennui descended
with the most abundant outpouring of his spirit. To speak of my yesterday's embarrassment amused Sir
Hildebrand for several minutes, and he congratulated me on my deliverance from Morpeth or Hexham jail, as
he would have done if I had fallen in attempting to clear a fivebarred gate, and got up without hurting
myself.
``Hast had a lucky turn, lad; but do na be over venturous again. What, man! the king's road is free to all men,
be they Whigs, be they Tories.''
``On my word, sir, I am innocent of interrupting it; and it is the most provoking thing on earth, that every
person will take it for granted that I am accessory to a crime which I despise and detest, and which would,
moreover, deservedly forfeit my life to the laws of my country.''
``Well, well, lad; even so be it; I ask no questionsno man bound to tell on himsellthat's fair play, or
the devil's in't.''
Rashleigh here came to my assistance; but I could not help thinking that his arguments were calculated rather
as hints to his father to put on a show of acquiescence in my declaration of innocence, than fully to establish
it.
``In your own house, my dear sirand your own nephew you will not surely persist in hurting his
feelings by seeming to discredit what he is so strongly interested in affirming. No doubt, you are fully
deserving of all his confidence, and I am sure, were there anything you could do to assist him in this strange
affair, he would have recourse to your goodness. But my cousin Frank has been dismissed as an innocent
man, and no one is entitled to suppose him otherwise. For my part, I have not the least doubt of his
innocence; and our family honour, I conceive, requires that we should maintain it with tongue and sword
against the whole country.''
``Rashleigh,'' said his father, looking fixedly at him, ``thou art a sly loonthou hast ever been too cunning
for me, and too cunning for most folks. Have a care thou provena too cunning for thyselltwo faces under
one hood is no true heraldry. And since we talk of heraldry, I'll go and read Gwillym.''
This resolution he intimated with a yawn, resistless as that of the Goddess in the Dunciad, which was
responsively echoed by his giant sons, as they dispersed in quest of the pastimes to which their minds
severally inclined themPercie to discuss a pot of March beer with the steward in the
buttery,Thorncliff to cut a pair of cudgels, and fix them in their wicker hilts, John to dress
Mayflies,Dickon to play at pitch and toss by himself, his right hand against his left,and Wilfred to
bite his thumbs and hum himself into a slumber which should last till dinnertime, if possible. Miss Vernon
had retired to the library.
Rashleigh and I were left alone in the old hall, from which the servants, with their usual bustle and
awkwardness, had at length contrived to hurry the remains of our substantial breakfast. I took the opportunity
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to upbraid him with the manner in which he had spoken of my affair to his father, which I frankly stated was
highly offensive to me, as it seemed rather to exhort Sir Hildebrand to conceal his suspicions, than to root
them out.
``Why, what can I do, my dear friend?'' replied Rashleigh ``my father's disposition is so tenacious of
suspicions of all kinds, when once they take root (which, to do him justice, does not easily happen), that I
have always found it the best way to silence him upon such subjects, instead of arguing with him. Thus I get
the better of the weeds which I cannot eradicate, by cutting them over as often as they appear, until at length
they die away of themselves. There is neither wisdom nor profit in disputing with such a mind as Sir
Hildebrand's, which hardens itself against conviction, and believes in its own inspirations as firmly as we
good Catholics do in those of the Holy Father of Rome.''
``It is very hard, though, that I should live in the house of a man, and he a near relation too, who will persist
in believing me guilty of a highway robbery.''
``My father's foolish opinion, if one may give that epithet to any opinion of a father's, does not affect your
real innocence; and as to the disgrace of the fact, depend on it, that, considered in all its bearings, political as
well as moral, Sir Hildebrand regards it as a meritorious actiona weakening of the enemy a spoiling
of the Amalekites; and you will stand the higher in his regard for your supposed accession to it.''
``I desire no man's regard, Mr. Rashleigh, on such terms as must sink me in my own; and I think these
injurious suspicions will afford a very good reason for quitting Osbaldistone Hall, which I shall do whenever
I can communicate on the subject with my father.''
The dark countenance of Rashleigh, though little accustomed to betray its master's feelings, exhibited a
suppressed smile, which he instantly chastened by a sigh. ``You are a happy man, Frankyou go and
come, as the wind bloweth where it listeth. With your address, taste, and talents, you will soon find circles
where they will be more valued, than amid the dull inmates of this mansion; while I'' he paused.
``And what is there in your lot that can make you or any one envy mine,an outcast, as I may almost term
myself, from my father's house and favour?''
``Ay, but,'' answered Rashleigh, ``consider the gratified sense of independence which you must have attained
by a very temporary sacrifice,for such I am sure yours will prove to be; consider the power of acting as a
free agent, of cultivating your own talents in the way to which your taste determines you, and in which you
are well qualified to distinguish yourself. Fame and freedom are cheaply purchased by a few weeks' residence
in the North, even though your place of exile be Osbaldistone Hall. A second Ovid in Thrace, you have not
his reasons for writing Tristia.''
``I do not know,'' said I, blushing as became a young scribbler, ``how you should be so well acquainted with
my truant studies.''
``There was an emissary of your father's here some time since, a young coxcomb, one Twineall, who
informed me concerning your secret sacrifices to the muses, and added, that some of your verses had been
greatly admired by the best judges.''
Tresham, I believe you are guiltless of having ever essayed to build the lofty rhyme; but you must have
known in your day many an apprentice and fellowcraft, if not some of the mastermasons, in the temple of
Apollo. Vanity is their universal foible, from him who decorated the shades of Twickenham, to the veriest
scribbler whom he has lashed in his Dunciad. I had my own share of this common failing, and without
considering how little likely this young fellow Twineall was, by taste and habits, either to be acquainted with
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one or two little pieces of poetry, which I had at times insinuated into Button's coffeehouse, or to report the
opinion of the critics who frequented that resort of wit and literature, I almost instantly gorged the bait; which
Rashleigh perceiving, improved his opportunity by a diffident, yet apparently very anxious request to be
permitted to see some of my manuscript productions.
``You shall give me an evening in my own apartment,'' he continued; ``for I must soon lose the charms of
literary society for the drudgery of commerce, and the coarse everyday avocations of the world. I repeat it,
that my compliance with my father's wishes for the advantage of my family, is indeed a sacrifice, especially
considering the calm and peaceful profession to which my education destined me.''
I was vain, but not a fool, and this hypocrisy was too strong for me to swallow. ``You would not persuade
me,'' I replied, that you really regret to exchange the situation of an obscure Catholic priest, with all its
privations, for wealth and society, and the pleasures of the world?''
Rashleigh saw that he had coloured his affectation of moderation too highly, and, after a second's pause,
during which, I suppose, he calculated the degree of candour which it was necessary to use with me (that
being a quality of which he was never needlessly profuse), he answered, with a smile``At my age, to be
condemned, as you say, to wealth and the world, does not, indeed, sound so alarming as perhaps it ought to
do. But, with pardon be it spoken, you have mistaken my destinationa Catholic priest, if you will, but not
an obscure one. No, sir, Rashleigh Osbaldistone will be more obscure, should he rise to be the richest
citizen in London, than he might have been as a member of a church, whose ministers, as some one says, `set
their sandall'd feet on princes.' My family interest at a certain exiled court is high, and the weight which that
court ought to possess, and does possess, at Rome is yet highermy talents not altogether inferior to the
education I have received. In sober judgment, I might have looked forward to high eminence in the
churchin the dream of fancy, to the very highest. Why might not''(he added, laughing, for it was part
of his manner to keep much of his discourse apparently betwixt jest and earnest) ``why might not
Cardinal Osbaldistone have swayed the fortunes of empires, wellborn and wellconnected, as well as the
lowborn Mazarin, or Alberoni, the son of an Italian gardener?''
``Nay, I can give you no reason to the contrary; but in your place I should not much regret losing the chance
of such precarious and invidious elevation.''
``Neither would I,'' he replied, ``were I sure that my present establishment was more certain; but that must
depend upon circumstances which I can only learn by experiencethe disposition of your father, for
example.''
``Confess the truth without finesse, Rashleigh; you would willingly know something of him from me?''
``Since, like Die Vernon, you make a point of following the banner of the good knight Sincerity, I
replycertainly.''
``Well, then, you will find in my father a man who has followed the paths of thriving more for the exercise
they afforded to his talents, than for the love of the gold with which they are strewed. His active mind would
have been happy in any situation which gave it scope for exertion, though that exertion had been its sole
reward. But his wealth has accumulated, because, moderate and frugal in his habits, no new sources of
expense have occurred to dispose of his increasing income. He is a man who hates dissimulation in others;
never practises it himself; and is peculiarly alert in discovering motives through the colouring of language.
Himself silent by habit, he is readily disgusted by great talkers; the rather, that the circumstances by which he
is most interested, afford no great scope for conversation. He is severely strict in the duties of religion; but
you have no reason to fear his interference with yours, for he regards toleration as a sacred principle of
political economy. But if you have any Jacobitical partialities, as is naturally to be supposed, you will do well
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to suppress them in his presence, as well as the least tendency to the highflying or Tory principles; for he
holds both in utter detestation. For the rest, his word is his own bond, and must be the law of all who act
under him. He will fail in his duty to no one, and will permit no one to fail towards him; to cultivate his
favour, you must execute his commands, instead of echoing his sentiments. His greatest failings arise out of
prejudices connected with his own profession, or rather his exclusive devotion to it, which makes him see
little worthy of praise or attention, unless it be in some measure connected with commerce.''
``O rarepainted portrait!'' exclaimed Rashleigh, when I was silent``Vandyke was a dauber to you, Frank.
I see thy sire before me in all his strength and weakness; loving and honouring the King as a sort of lord
mayor of the empire, or chief of the board of tradevenerating the Commons, for the acts regulating the
export tradeand respecting the Peers, because the Lord Chancellor sits on a woolsack.''
``Mine was a likeness, Rashleigh; yours is a caricature. But in return for the carte du pays which I have
unfolded to you, give me some lights on the geography of the unknown lands''
``On which you are wrecked,'' said Rashleigh. ``It is not worth while; it is no Isle of Calypso, umbrageous
with shade and intricate with silvan labyrinthbut a bare ragged Northumbrian moor, with as little to
interest curiosity as to delight the eye; you may descry it in all its nakedness in half an hour's survey, as well
as if I were to lay it down before you by line and compass.''
``O, but something there is, worthy a more attentive survey What say you to Miss Vernon? Does not she
form an interesting object in the landscape, were all round as rude as Iceland's coast?''
I could plainly perceive that Rashleigh disliked the topic now presented to him; but my frank communication
had given me the advantageous title to make inquiries in my turn. Rashleigh felt this, and found himself
obliged to follow my lead, however difficult he might find it to play his cards successfully. ``I have known
less of Miss Vernon,'' he said, ``for some time, than I was wont to do formerly. In early age I was her tutor;
but as she advanced towards womanhood, my various avocations,the gravity of the profession to which I
was destined,the peculiar nature of her engagements,our mutual situation, in short, rendered a close
and constant intimacy dangerous and improper. I believe Miss Vernon might consider my reserve as
unkindness, but it was my duty; I felt as much as she seemed to do, when compelled to give way to prudence.
But where was the safety in cultivating an intimacy with a beautiful and susceptible girl, whose heart, you are
aware, must be given either to the cloister or to a betrothed husband?''
``The cloister or a betrothed husband?'' I echoed``Is that the alternative destined for Miss Vernon?''
``It is indeed,'' said Rashleigh, with a sigh. ``I need not, I suppose, caution you against the danger of
cultivating too closely the friendship of Miss Vernon;you are a man of the world, and know how far you
can indulge yourself in her society with safety to yourself, and justice to her. But I warn you, that,
considering her ardent temper, you must let your experience keep guard over her as well as yourself, for the
specimen of yesterday may serve to show her extreme thoughtlessness and neglect of decorum.''
There was something, I was sensible, of truth, as well as good sense, in all this; it seemed to be given as a
friendly warning, and I had no right to take it amiss; yet I felt I could with pleasure have run Rashleigh
Osbaldistone through the body all the time he was speaking.
``The deuce take his insolence!'' was my internal meditation. ``Would he wish me to infer that Miss Vernon
had fallen in love with that hatchetface of his, and become degraded so low as to require his shyness to cure
her of an imprudent passion? I will have his meaning from him,'' was my resolution, ``if I should drag it out
with cartropes.''
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For this purpose, I placed my temper under as accurate a guard as I could, and observed, ``That, for a lady of
her good sense and acquired accomplishments, it was to be regretted that Miss Vernon's manners were rather
blunt and rustic.''
``Frank and unreserved, at least, to the extreme,'' replied Rashleigh: ``yet, trust me, she has an excellent heart.
To tell you the truth, should she continue her extreme aversion to the cloister, and to her destined husband,
and should my own labours in the mine of Plutus promise to secure me a decent independence, I shall think
of reviewing our acquaintance and sharing it with Miss Vernon.''
``With all his fine voice, and wellturned periods,'' thought I, ``this same Rashleigh Osbaldistone is the
ugliest and most conceited coxcomb I ever met with!''
``But,'' continued Rashleigh, as if thinking aloud, ``I should not like to supplant Thorncliff.''
``Supplant Thorncliff!Is your brother Thorncliff,'' I inquired, with great surprise, ``the destined husband
of Diana Vernon?''
``Why, ay, her father's commands, and a certain familycontract, destined her to marry one of Sir
Hildebrand's sons. A dispensation has been obtained from Rome to Diana Vernon to marry Blank
Osbaldistone, Esq., son of Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone, of Osbaldistone Hall, Bart., and so forth; and it only
remains to pitch upon the happy man whose name shall fill the gap in the manuscript. Now, as Percie is
seldom sober, my father pitched on Thorncliff, as the second prop of the family, and therefore most proper to
carry on the line of the Osbaldistones.''
``The young lady,'' said I, forcing myself to assume an air of pleasantry, which, I believe, became me
extremely ill, ``would perhaps have been inclined to look a little lower on the familytree, for the branch to
which she was desirous of clinging.''
``I cannot say,'' he replied. ``There is room for little choice in our family; Dick is a gambler, John a boor, and
Wilfred an ass. I believe my father really made the best selection for poor Die, after all.''
``The present company,'' said I, ``being always excepted.''
``Oh, my destination to the church placed me out of the question; otherwise I will not affect to say, that,
qualified by my education both to instruct and guide Miss Vernon, I might not have been a more creditable
choice than any of my elders.''
``And so thought the young lady, doubtless?''
``You are not to suppose so,'' answered Rashleigh, with an affectation of denial which was contrived to
convey the strongest affirmation the case admitted of: ``friendshiponly friendship formed the tie
betwixt us, and the tender affection of an opening mind to its only instructorLove came not near us I
told you I was wise in time.''
I felt little inclination to pursue this conversation any farther, and shaking myself clear of Rashleigh,
withdrew to my own apartment, which I recollect I traversed with much vehemence of agitation, repeating
aloud the expressions which had most offended me.``Susceptibleardenttender
affectionLove Diana Vernon, the most beautiful creature I ever beheld, in love with him, the
bandylegged, bullnecked, limping scoundrel! Richard the Third in all but his humpback!And yet the
opportunities he must have had during his cursed course of lectures; and the fellow's flowing and easy strain
of sentiment; and her extreme seclusion from every one who spoke and acted with common sense; ay, and her
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obvious pique at him, mixed with admiration of his talents, which looked as like the result of neglected
attachment as anything elseWell, and what is it to me, that I should storm and rage at it? Is Diana Vernon
the first pretty girl that has loved and married an ugly fellow? And if she were free of every Osbaldistone of
them, what concern is it of mine?a Catholica Jacobitea termagant into the bootfor me to look
that way were utter madness.''
By throwing such reflections on the flame of my displeasure, I subdued it into a sort of smouldering
heartburning, and appeared at the dinnertable in as sulky a humour as could well be imagined.
CHAPTER TWELFTH.
Drunk?and speak parrot?and squabble?swagger?
Swear?and discourse fustian with one's own shadow?
Othello.
I have already told you, my dear Tresham, what probably was no news to you, that my principal fault was an
unconquerable pitch of pride, which exposed me to frequent mortification. I had not even whispered to
myself that I loved Diana Vernon; yet no sooner did I hear Rashleigh talk of her as a prize which he might
stoop to carry off, or neglect, at his pleasure, than every step which the poor girl had taken, in the innocence
and openness of her heart, to form a sort of friendship with me, seemed in my eyes the most insulting
coquetry.``Soh! she would secure me as a pis aller, I suppose, in case Mr. Rashleigh Osbaldistone should
not take compassion upon her! But I will satisfy her that I am not a person to be trepanned in that
mannerI will make her sensible that I see through her arts, and that I scorn them.''
I did not reflect for a moment, that all this indignation, which I had no right whatever to entertain, proved that
I was anything but indifferent to Miss Vernon's charms; and I sate down to table in high illhumour with her
and all the daughters of Eve.
Miss Vernon heard me, with surprise, return ungracious answers to one or two playful strokes of satire which
she threw out with her usual freedom of speech; but, having no suspicion that offence was meant, she only
replied to my rude repartees with jests somewhat similar, but polished by her good temper, though pointed by
her wit. At length she perceived I was really out of humour, and answered one of my rude speeches thus:
``They say, Mr. Frank, that one may gather sense from foolsI heard cousin Wilfred refuse to play any
longer at cudgels the other day with cousin Thornie, because cousin Thornie got angry, and struck harder than
the rules of amicable combat, it seems, permitted. `Were I to break your head in good earnest,' quoth honest
Wilfred, `I care not how angry you are, for I should do it so much the more easily but it's hard I should get
raps over the costard, and only pay you back in makebelieves'Do you understand the moral of this,
Frank?''
``I have never felt myself under the necessity, madam, of studying how to extract the slender portion of sense
with which this family season their conversation.''
``Necessity! and madam!You surprise me, Mr. Osbaldistone.''
``I am unfortunate in doing so.''
``Am I to suppose that this capricious tone is serious? or is it only assumed, to make your goodhumour more
valuable?''
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``You have a right to the attention of so many gentlemen in this family, Miss Vernon, that it cannot be worth
your while to inquire into the cause of my stupidity and bad spirits.''
``What!'' she said, ``am I to understand, then, that you have deserted my faction, and gone over to the
enemy?''
Then, looking across the table, and observing that Rashleigh, who was seated opposite, was watching us with
a singular expression of interest on his harsh features, she continued
``Horrible thought!Ay, now I see 'tis true, For the grimvisaged Rashleigh smiles on me, And points at
thee for his!
Well, thank Heaven, and the unprotected state which has taught me endurance, I do not take offence easily;
and that I may not be forced to quarrel, whether I like it or no, I have the honour, earlier than usual, to wish
you a happy digestion of your dinner and your bad humour.''
And she left the table accordingly.
Upon Miss Vernon's departure, I found myself very little satisfied with my own conduct. I had hurled back
offered kindness, of which circumstances had but lately pointed out the honest sincerity, and I had but just
stopped short of insulting the beautiful, and, as she had said with some emphasis, the unprotected being by
whom it was proffered. My conduct seemed brutal in my own eyes. To combat or drown these painful
reflections, I applied myself more frequently than usual to the wine which circulated on the table.
The agitated state of my feelings combined with my habits of temperance to give rapid effect to the beverage.
Habitual topers, I believe, acquire the power of soaking themselves with a quantity of liquor that does little
more than muddy those intellects which in their sober state are none of the clearest; but men who are
strangers to the vice of drunkenness as a habit, are more powerfully acted upon by intoxicating liquors. My
spirits, once aroused, became extravagant; I talked a great deal, argued upon what I knew nothing of, told
stories of which I forgot the point, then laughed immoderately at my own forgetfulness; I accepted several
bets without having the least judgment; I challenged the giant John to wrestle with me, although he had kept
the ring at Hexham for a year, and I never tried so much as a single fall.
My uncle had the goodness to interpose and prevent this consummation of drunken folly, which, I suppose,
would have otherwise ended in my neck being broken.
It has even been reported by maligners, that I sung a song while under this vinous influence; but, as I
remember nothing of it, and never attempted to turn a tune in all my life before or since, I would willingly
hope there is no actual foundation for the calumny. I was absurd enough without this exaggeration. Without
positively losing my senses, I speedily lost all command of my temper, and my impetuous passions whirled
me onward at their pleasure. I had sate down sulky and discontented, and disposed to be silentthe wine
rendered me loquacious, disputatious, and quarrelsome. I contradicted whatever was asserted, and attacked,
without any respect to my uncle's table, both his politics and his religion. The affected moderation of
Rashleigh, which he well knew how to qualify with irritating ingredients, was even more provoking to me
than the noisy and bullying language of his obstreperous brothers. My uncle, to do him justice, endeavoured
to bring us to order; but his authority was lost amidst the tumult of wine and passion. At length, frantic at
some real or supposed injurious insinuation, I actually struck Rashleigh with my fist. No Stoic philosopher,
superior to his own passion and that of others, could have received an insult with a higher degree of scorn.
What he himself did not think it apparently worth while to resent, Thorncliff resented for him. Swords were
drawn, and we exchanged one or two passes, when the other brothers separated us by main force; and I shall
never forget the diabolical sneer which writhed Rashleigh's wayward features, as I was forced from the
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apartment by the main strength of two of these youthful Titans. They secured me in my apartment by locking
the door, and I heard them, to my inexpressible rage, laugh heartily as they descended the stairs. I essayed in
my fury to break out; but the windowgrates, and the strength of a door clenched with iron, resisted my
efforts. At length I threw myself on my bed, and fell asleep amidst vows of dire revenge to be taken in the
ensuing day.
But with the morning cool repentance came. I felt, in the keenest manner, the violence and absurdity of my
conduct, and was obliged to confess that wine and passion had lowered my intellects even below those of
Wilfred Osbaldistone, whom I held in so much contempt. My uncomfortable reflections were by no means
soothed by meditating the necessity of an apology for my improper behaviour, and recollecting that Miss
Vernon must be a witness of my submission. The impropriety and unkindness of my conduct to her
personally, added not a little to these galling considerations, and for this I could not even plead the miserable
excuse of intoxication.
Under all these aggravating feelings of shame and degradation, I descended to the breakfast hall, like a
criminal to receive sentence. It chanced that a hard frost had rendered it impossible to take out the hounds, so
that I had the additional mortification to meet the family, excepting only Rashleigh and Miss Vernon, in full
divan, surrounding the cold venison pasty and chine of beef. They were in high glee as I entered, and I could
easily imagine that the jests were furnished at my expense. In fact, what I was disposed to consider with
serious pain, was regarded as an excellent good joke by my uncle, and the greater part of my cousins. Sir
Hildebrand, while he rallied me on the exploits of the preceding evening, swore he thought a young fellow
had better be thrice drunk in one day, than sneak sober to bed like a Presbyterian, and leave a batch of honest
fellows, and a double quart of claret. And to back this consolatory speech, he poured out a large bumper of
brandy, exhorting me to swallow ``a hair of the dog that had bit me.''
``Never mind these lads laughing, nevoy,'' he continued; ``they would have been all as great milksops as
yourself, had I not nursed them, as one may say, on the toast and tankard.''
Illnature was not the fault of my cousins in general; they saw I was vexed and hurt at the recollections of the
preceding evening, and endeavoured, with clumsy kindness, to remove the painful impression they had made
on me. Thorncliff alone looked sullen and unreconciled. This young man had never liked me from the
beginning; and in the marks of attention occasionally shown me by his brothers, awkward as they were, he
alone had never joined. If it was true, of which, however, I began to have my doubts, that he was considered
by the family, or regarded himself, as the destined husband of Miss Vernon, a sentiment of jealousy might
have sprung up in his mind from the marked predilection which it was that young lady's pleasure to show for
one whom Thorncliff might, perhaps, think likely to become a dangerous rival.
Rashleigh at last entered, his visage as dark as mourning weed brooding, I could not but doubt, over the
unjustifiable and disgraceful insult I had offered to him. I had already settled in my own mind how I was to
behave on the occasion, and had schooled myself to believe, that true honour consisted not in defending, but
in apologising for, an injury so much disproportioned to any provocation I might have to allege.
I therefore hastened to meet Rashleigh, and to express myself in the highest degree sorry for the violence with
which I had acted on the preceding evening. ``No circumstances,'' I said, ``could have wrung from me a
single word of apology, save my own consciousness of the impropriety of my behaviour. I hoped my cousin
would accept of my regrets so sincerely offered, and consider how much of my misconduct was owing to the
excessive hospitality of Osbaldistone Hall.''
``He shall be friends with thee, lad,'' cried the honest knight, in the full effusion of his heart; ``or dn me,
if I call him son more!Why, Rashie, dost stand there like a log? Sorry for it is all a gentleman can say, if
he happens to do anything awry, especially over his claret. I served in Hounslow, and should know
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something, I think, of affairs of honour. Let me hear no more of this, and we'll go in a body and rummage out
the badger in Birkenwoodbank.''
Rashleigh's face resembled, as I have already noticed, no other countenance that I ever saw. But this
singularity lay not only in the features, but in the mode of changing their expression. Other countenances, in
altering from grief to joy, or from anger to satisfaction, pass through some brief interval, ere the expression of
the predominant passion supersedes entirely that of its predecessor. There is a sort of twilight, like that
between the clearing up of the darkness and the rising of the sun, while the swollen muscles subside, the dark
eye clears, the forehead relaxes and expands itself, and the whole countenance loses its sterner shades, and
becomes serene and placid. Rashleigh's face exhibited none of these gradations, but changed almost
instantaneously from the expression of one passion to that of the contrary. I can compare it to nothing but the
sudden shifting of a scene in the theatre, where, at the whistle of the prompter, a cavern disappears, and a
grove arises.
My attention was strongly arrested by this peculiarity on the present occasion. At Rashleigh's first entrance,
``black he stood as night!'' With the same inflexible countenance he heard my excuse and his father's
exhortation; and it was not until Sir Hildebrand had done speaking, that the cloud cleared away at once, and
he expressed, in the kindest and most civil terms, his perfect satisfaction with the very handsome apology I
had offered.
``Indeed,'' he said, ``I have so poor a brain myself, when I impose on it the least burden beyond my usual
three glasses, that I have only, like honest Cassio, a very vague recollection of the confusion of last
nightremember a mass of things, but nothing distinctlya quarrel, but nothing whereforeSo, my
dear Cousin,'' he continued, shaking me kindly by the hand, ``conceive how much I am relieved by finding
that I have to receive an apology, instead of having to make oneI will not have a word said upon the
subject more; I should be very foolish to institute any scrutiny into an account, when the balance, which I
expected to be against me, has been so unexpectedly and agreeably struck in my favour. You see, Mr.
Osbaldistone, I am practising the language of Lombard Street, and qualifying myself for my new calling.''
As I was about to answer, and raised my eyes for the purpose, they encountered those of Miss Vernon, who,
having entered the room unobserved during the conversation, had given it her close attention. Abashed and
confounded, I fixed my eyes on the ground, and made my escape to the breakfasttable, where I herded
among my busy cousins.
My uncle, that the events of the preceding day might not pass out of our memory without a practical moral
lesson, took occasion to give Rashleigh and me his serious advice to correct our milksop habits, as he termed
them, and gradually to inure our brains to bear a gentlemanlike quantity of liquor, without brawls or breaking
of heads. He recommended that we should begin piddling with a regular quart of claret per day, which, with
the aid of March beer and brandy, made a handsome competence for a beginner in the art of toping. And for
our encouragement, he assured us that he had known many a man who had lived to our years without having
drunk a pint of wine at a sitting, who yet, by falling into honest company, and following hearty example, had
afterwards been numbered among the best good fellows of the time, and could carry off their six bottles under
their belt quietly and comfortably, without brawling or babbling, and be neither sick nor sorry the next
morning.
Sage as this advice was, and comfortable as was the prospect it held out to me, I profited but little by the
exhortation partly, perhaps, because, as often as I raised my eyes from the table, I observed Miss
Vernon's looks fixed on me, in which I thought I could read grave compassion blended with regret and
displeasure. I began to consider how I should seek a scene of explanation and apology with her also, when
she gave me to understand she was determined to save me the trouble of soliciting an interview. ``Cousin
Francis,'' she said, addressing me by the same title she used to give to the other Osbaldistones, although I had,
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properly speaking, no title to be called her kinsman, ``I have encountered this morning a difficult passage in
the Divina Comme'dia of Dante; will you have the goodness to step to the library and give me your
assistance? and when you have unearthed for me the meaning of the obscure Florentine, we will join the rest
at Birkenwoodbank, and see their luck at unearthing the badger.''
I signified, of course, my readiness to wait upon her. Rashleigh made an offer to accompany us. ``I am
something better skilled,'' he said, ``at tracking the sense of Dante through the metaphors and elisions of his
wild and gloomy poem, than at hunting the poor inoffensive hermit yonder out of his cave.''
``Pardon me, Rashleigh,'' said Miss Vernon, ``but as you are to occupy Mr. Francis's place in the
countinghouse, you must surrender to him the charge of your pupil's education at Osbaldistone Hall. We
shall call you in, however, if there is any occasion; so pray do not look so grave upon it. Besides, it is a
shame to you not to understand fieldsportsWhat will you do should our uncle in CraneAlley ask you
the signs by which you track a badger?''
``Ay, true, Die,true,'' said Sir Hildebrand, with a sigh, ``I misdoubt Rashleigh will be found short at the
leap when he is put to the trial. An he would ha' learned useful knowledge like his brothers, he was bred up
where it grew, I wuss; but French antics, and booklearning, with the new turnips, and the rats, and the
Hanoverians, ha' changed the world that I ha' known in Old EnglandBut come along with us, Rashie, and
carry my huntingstaff, man; thy cousin lacks none of thy company as now, and I wonna ha' Die
crossedIt's ne'er be said there was but one woman in Osbaldistone Hall, and she died for lack of her will.''
Rashleigh followed his father, as he commanded, not, however, ere he had whispered to Diana, ``I suppose I
must in discretion bring the courtier, Ceremony, in my company, and knock when I approach the door of the
library?''
``No, no, Rashleigh,'' said Miss Vernon; ``dismiss from your company the false archimage Dissimulation, and
it will better ensure your free access to our classical consultations.''
So saying, she led the way to the library, and I followed like a criminal, I was going to say, to execution;
but, as I bethink me, I have used the simile once, if not twice before. Without any simile at all, then, I
followed, with a sense of awkward and conscious embarrassment, which I would have given a great deal to
shake off. I thought it a degrading and unworthy feeling to attend one on such an occasion, having breathed
the air of the Continent long enough to have imbibed the notion that lightness, gallantry, and something
approaching to wellbred selfassurance, should distinguish the gentleman whom a fair lady selects for her
companion in a te^tea`te^te.
My English feelings, however, were too many for my French education, and I made, I believe, a very pitiful
figure, when Miss Vernon, seating herself majestically in a huge elbowchair in the library, like a judge
about to hear a cause of importance, signed to me to take a chair opposite to her (which I did, much like the
poor fellow who is going to be tried), and entered upon conversation in a tone of bitter irony.
CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.
Dire was his thought, who first in poison steeped
The weapon formed for slaughterdirer his,
And worthier of damnation, who instilled
The mortal venom in the social cup,
To fill the veins with death instead of life.
Anonymous.
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``Upon my Word, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone,'' said Miss Vernon, with the air of one who thought herself fully
entitled to assume the privilege of ironical reproach, which she was pleased to exert, ``your character
improves upon us, sirI could not have thought that it was in you. Yesterday might be considered as your
assaypiece, to prove yourself entitled to be free of the corporation of Osbaldistone Hall. But it was a
masterpiece.''
``I am quite sensible of my illbreeding, Miss Vernon, and I can only say for myself that I had received some
communications by which my spirits were unusually agitated. I am conscious I was impertinent and absurd.''
``You do yourself great injustice,'' said the merciless monitor ``you have contrived, by what I saw and
have since heard, to exhibit in the course of one evening a happy display of all the various masterly
qualifications which distinguish your several cousins;the gentle and generous temper of the benevolent
Rashleigh,the temperance of Percie,the cool courage of Thorncliff,John's skill in
dogbreaking,Dickon's aptitude to betting,all exhibited by the single individual, Mr. Francis, and that
with a selection of time, place, and circumstance, worthy the taste and sagacity of the sapient Wilfred.''
``Have a little mercy, Miss Vernon,'' said I; for I confess I thought the schooling as severe as the case
merited, especially considering from what quarter it came, ``and forgive me if I suggest, as an excuse for
follies I am not usually guilty of, the custom of this house and country. I am far from approving of it; but we
have Shakspeare's authority for saying, that good wine is a good familiar creature, and that any man living
may be overtaken at some time.''
``Ay, Mr. Francis, but he places the panegyric and the apology in the mouth of the greatest villain his pencil
has drawn. I will not, however, abuse the advantage your quotation has given me, by overwhelming you with
the refutation with which the victim Cassio replies to the tempter Iago. I only wish you to know, that there is
one person at least sorry to see a youth of talents and expectations sink into the slough in which the
inhabitants of this house are nightly wallowing.''
``I have but wet my shoe, I assure you, Miss Vernon, and am too sensible of the filth of the puddle to step
farther in.''
``If such be your resolution,'' she replied, ``it is a wise one. But I was so much vexed at what I heard, that
your concerns have pressed before my own,You behaved to me yesterday, during dinner, as if something
had been told you which lessened or lowered me in your opinionI beg leave to ask you what it was?''
I was stupified. The direct bluntness of the demand was much in the style one gentleman uses to another,
when requesting explanation of any part of his conduct in a goodhumoured yet determined manner, and was
totally devoid of the circumlocutions, shadings, softenings, and periphrasis, which usually accompany
explanations betwixt persons of different sexes in the higher orders of society.
I remained completely embarrassed; for it pressed on my recollection, that Rashleigh's communications,
supposing them to be correct, ought to have rendered Miss Vernon rather an object of my compassion than of
my pettish resentment; and had they furnished the best apology possible for my own conduct, still I must
have had the utmost difficulty in detailing what inferred such necessary and natural offence to Miss Vernon's
feelings. She observed my hesitation, and proceeded, in a tone somewhat more peremptory, but still
temperate and civil``I hope Mr. Osbaldistone does not dispute my title to request this explanation. I have
no relative who can protect me; it is, therefore, just that I be permitted to protect myself.''
I endeavoured with hesitation to throw the blame of my rude behaviour upon indispositionupon
disagreeable letters from London. She suffered me to exhaust my apologies, and fairly to run myself aground,
listening all the while with a smile of absolute incredulity.
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``And now, Mr. Francis, having gone through your prologue of excuses, with the same bad grace with which
all prologues are delivered, please to draw the curtain, and show me that which I desire to see. In a word, let
me know what Rashleigh says of me; for he is the grand engineer and first mover of all the machinery of
Osbaldistone Hall.''
``But, supposing there was anything to tell, Miss Vernon, what does he deserve that betrays the secrets of one
ally to another?Rashleigh, you yourself told me, remained your ally, though no longer your friend.''
``I have neither patience for evasion, nor inclination for jesting, on the present subject. Rashleigh
cannotought not dare not, hold any language respecting me, Diana Vernon, but what I may demand
to hear repeated. That there are subjects of secrecy and confidence between us, is most certain; but to such,
his communications to you could have no relation; and with such, I, as an individual, have no concern.''
I had by this time recovered my presence of mind, and hastily determined to avoid making any disclosure of
what Rashleigh had told me in a sort of confidence. There was something unworthy in retailing private
conversation; it could, I thought, do no good, and must necessarily give Miss Vernon great pain. I therefore
replied, gravely, ``that nothing but frivolous talk had passed between Mr. Rashleigh Osbaldistone and me on
the state of the family at the Hall; and I protested, that nothing had been said which left a serious impression
to her disadvantage. As a gentleman,'' I said, ``I could not be more explicit in reporting private conversation.''
She started up with the animation of a Camilla about to advance into battle. ``This shall not serve your turn,
sir,I must have another answer from you.'' Her features kindled her brow became flushedher eye
glanced wildfire as she proceeded``I demand such an explanation, as a woman basely slandered has a
right to demand from every man who calls himself a gentlemanas a creature, motherless, friendless, alone
in the world, left to her own guidance and protection, has a right to require from every being having a happier
lot, in the name of that God who sent them into the world to enjoy, and her to suffer. You shall not deny
meor,'' she added, looking solemnly upwards, ``you will rue your denial, if there is justice for wrong
either on earth or in heaven.''
I was utterly astonished at her vehemence, but felt, thus conjured, that it became my duty to lay aside
scrupulous delicacy, and gave her briefly, but distinctly, the heads of the information which Rashleigh had
conveyed to me.
She sate down and resumed her composure, as soon as I entered upon the subject, and when I stopped to seek
for the most delicate turn of expression, she repeatedly interrupted me with ``Go onpray, go on; the first
word which occurs to you is the plainest, and must be the best. Do not think of my feelings, but speak as you
would to an unconcerned third party.''
Thus urged and encouraged, I stammered through all the account which Rashleigh had given of her early
contract to marry an Osbaldistone, and of the uncertainty and difficulty of her choice; and there I would
willingly have paused. But her penetration discovered that there was still something behind, and even guessed
to what it related.
``Well, it was illnatured of Rashleigh to tell this tale on me. I am like the poor girl in the fairy tale, who was
betrothed in her cradle to the Black Bear of Norway, but complained chiefly of being called Bruin's bride by
her companions at school. But besides all this, Rashleigh said something of himself with relation to
meDid he not?''
``He certainly hinted, that were it not for the idea of supplanting his brother, he would now, in consequence
of his change of profession, be desirous that the word Rashleigh should fill up the blank in the dispensation,
instead of the word Thorncliff.''
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``Ay? indeed?'' she replied``was he so very condescending? Too much honour for his humble
handmaid, Diana Vernon And she, I suppose, was to be enraptured with joy could such a substitute be
effected?''
``To confess the truth, he intimated as much, and even farther insinuated''
``What?Let me hear it all!'' she exclaimed, hastily.
``That he had broken off your mutual intimacy, lest it should have given rise to an affection by which his
destination to the church would not permit him to profit.''
``I am obliged to him for his consideration,'' replied Miss Vernon, every feature of her fine countenance taxed
to express the most supreme degree of scorn and contempt. She paused a moment, and then said, with her
usual composure, ``There is but little I have heard from you which I did not expect to hear, and which I ought
not to have expected; because, bating one circumstance, it is all very true. But as there are some poisons so
active, that a few drops, it is said, will infect a whole fountain, so there is one falsehood in Rashleigh's
communication, powerful enough to corrupt the whole well in which Truth herself is said to have dwelt. It is
the leading and foul falsehood, that, knowing Rashleigh as I have reason too well to know him, any
circumstance on earth could make me think of sharing my lot with him. No,'' she continued with a sort of
inward shuddering that seemed to express involuntary horror, ``any lot rather than thatthe sot, the
gambler, the bully, the jockey, the insensate fool, were a thousand times preferable to Rashleigh:the
conventthe jailthe grave, shall be welcome before them all.''
There was a sad and melancholy cadence in her voice, corresponding with the strange and interesting
romance of her situation. So young, so beautiful, so untaught, so much abandoned to herself, and deprived of
all the support which her sex derives from the countenance and protection of female friends, and even of that
degree of defence which arises from the forms with which the sex are approached in civilised life, it is
scarce metaphorical to say, that my heart bled for her. Yet there was an expression of dignity in her contempt
of ceremonyof upright feeling in her disdain of falsehoodof firm resolution in the manner in which
she contemplated the dangers by which she was surrounded, which blended my pity with the warmest
admiration. She seemed a princess deserted by her subjects, and deprived of her power, yet still scorning
those formal regulations of society which are created for persons of an inferior rank; and, amid her
difficulties, relying boldly and confidently on the justice of Heaven, and the unshaken constancy of her own
mind.
I offered to express the mingled feelings of sympathy and admiration with which her unfortunate situation
and her high spirit combined to impress me, but she imposed silence on me at once.
``I told you in jest,'' she said, ``that I disliked compliments I now tell you in earnest, that I do not ask
sympathy, and that I despise consolation. What I have borne, I have borne What I am to bear I will
sustain as I may; no word of commiseration can make a burden feel one feather's weight lighter to the slave
who must carry it. There is only one human being who could have assisted me, and that is he who has rather
chosen to add to my embarrassmentRashleigh Osbaldistone.Yes! the time once was that I might have
learned to love that manBut, great God! the purpose for which he insinuated himself into the confidence
of one already so forlornthe undeviating and continued assiduity with which he pursued that purpose
from year to year, without one single momentary pause of remorse or compassionthe purpose for which
he would have converted into poison the food he administered to my mindGracious Providence! what
should I have been in this world, and the next, in body and soul, had I fallen under the arts of this
accomplished villain!''
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I was so much struck with the scene of perfidious treachery which these words disclosed, that I rose from my
chair hardly knowing what I did, laid my hand on the hilt of my sword, and was about to leave the apartment
in search of him on whom I might discharge my just indignation. Almost breathless, and with eyes and looks
in which scorn and indignation had given way to the most lively alarm, Miss Vernon threw herself between
me and the door of the apartment.
``Stay!'' she said``stay!however just your resentment, you do not know half the secrets of this fearful
prisonhouse.'' She then glanced her eyes anxiously round the room, and sunk her voice almost to a
whisper``He bears a charmed life; you cannot assail him without endangering other lives, and wider
destruction. Had it been otherwise, in some hour of justice he had hardly been safe, even from this weak
hand. I told you,'' she said, motioning me back to my seat, ``that I needed no comforter. I now tell you I need
no avenger.''
I resumed my seat mechanically, musing on what she said, and recollecting also, what had escaped me in my
first glow of resentment, that I had no title whatever to constitute myself Miss Vernon's champion. She
paused to let her own emotions and mine subside, and then addressed me with more composure.
``I have already said that there is a mystery connected with Rashleigh, of a dangerous and fatal nature. Villain
as he is. and as he knows he stands convicted in my eyes, I cannot dare not, openly break with or defy
him. You also, Mr. Osbaldistone, must bear with him with patience, foil his artifices by opposing to them
prudence, not violence; and, above all, you must avoid such scenes as that of last night, which cannot but give
him perilous advantages over you. This caution I designed to give you, and it was the object with which I
desired this interview; but I have extended my confidence farther than I proposed.''
I assured her it was not misplaced.
``I do not believe that it is,'' she replied. ``You have that in your face and manners which authorises trust. Let
us continue to be friends. You need not fear,'' she said, laughing, while she blushed a little, yet speaking with
a free and unembarrassed voice, ``that friendship with us should prove only a specious name, as the poet says,
for another feeling. I belong, in habits of thinking and acting, rather to your sex, with which I have always
been brought up, than to my own. Besides, the fatal veil was wrapt round me in my cradle; for you may easily
believe I have never thought of the detestable condition under which I may remove it. The time,'' she added,
``for expressing my final determination is not arrived, and I would fain have the freedom of wild heath and
open air with the other commoners of nature, as long as I can be permitted to enjoy them. And now that the
passage in Dante is made so clear, pray go and see what has become of the badgerbaiters. My head aches so
much that I cannot join the party.''
I left the library, but not to join the hunters. I felt that a solitary walk was necessary to compose my spirits
before I again trusted myself in Rashleigh's company, whose depth of calculating villany had been so
strikingly exposed to me. In Dubourg's family (as he was of the reformed persuasion) I had heard many a tale
of Romish priests who gratified, at the expense of friendship, hospitality, and the most sacred ties of social
life, those passions, the blameless indulgence of which is denied by the rules of their order. But the deliberate
system of undertaking the education of a deserted orphan of noble birth, and so intimately allied to his own
family, with the perfidious purpose of ultimately seducing her, detailed as it was by the intended victim with
all the glow of virtuous resentment, seemed more atrocious to me than the worst of the tales I had heard at
Bourdeaux, and I felt it would be extremely difficult for me to meet Rashleigh, and yet to suppress the
abhorrence with which he impressed me. Yet this was absolutely necessary, not only on account of the
mysterious charge which Diana had given me, but because I had, in reality, no ostensible ground for
quarrelling with him.
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I therefore resolved, as far as possible, to meet Rashleigh's dissimulation with equal caution on my part
during our residence in the same family; and when he should depart for London, I resolved to give Owen at
least such a hint of his character as might keep him on his guard over my father's interests. Avarice or
ambition, I thought, might have as great, or greater charms, for a mind constituted like Rashleigh's, than
unlawful pleasure; the energy of his character, and his power of assuming all seeming good qualities, were
likely to procure him a high degree of confidence, and it was not to be hoped that either good faith or
gratitude would prevent him from abusing it. The task was somewhat difficult, especially in my
circumstances, since the caution which I threw out might be imputed to jealousy of my rival, or rather my
successor, in my father's favour. Yet I thought it absolutely necessary to frame such a letter, leaving it to
Owen, who, in his own line, was wary, prudent, and circumspect, to make the necessary use of his knowledge
of Rashleigh's true character. Such a letter, therefore, I indited, and despatched to the posthouse by the first
opportunity.
At my meeting with Rashleigh, he, as well as I, appeared to have taken up distant ground, and to be disposed
to avoid all pretext for collision. He was probably conscious that Miss Vernon's communications had been
unfavourable to him, though he could not know that they extended to discovering his meditated villany
towards her. Our intercourse, therefore, was reserved on both sides, and turned on subjects of little interest.
Indeed, his stay at Osbaldistone Hall did not exceed a few days after this period, during which I only
remarked two circumstances respecting him. The first was the rapid and almost intuitive manner in which his
powerful and active mind seized upon and arranged the elementary principles necessary to his new
profession, which he now studied hard, and occasionally made parade of his progress, as if to show me how
light it was for him to lift the burden which I had flung down from very weariness and inability to carry it.
The other remarkable circumstance was, that, notwithstanding the injuries with which Miss Vernon charged
Rashleigh, they had several private interviews together of considerable length, although their bearing towards
each other in public did not seem more cordial than usual.
When the day of Rashleigh's departure arrived, his father bade him farewell with indifference; his brothers
with the illconcealed glee of schoolboys who see their taskmaster depart for a season, and feel a joy
which they dare not express; and I myself with cold politeness. When he approached Miss Vernon, and would
have saluted her she drew back with a look of haughty disdain; but said, as she extended her hand to him,
``Farewell, Rashleigh; God reward you for the good you have done, and forgive you for the evil you have
meditated.''
``Amen, my fair cousin,'' he replied, with an air of sanctity, which belonged, I thought, to the seminary of
Saint Omers; ``happy is he whose good intentions have borne fruit in deeds, and whose evil thoughts have
perished in the blossom.''
These were his parting words. ``Accomplished hypocrite!'' said Miss Vernon to me, as the door closed behind
him``how nearly can what we most despise and hate, approach in outward manner to that which we most
venerate!''
I had written to my father by Rashleigh, and also a few lines to Owen, besides the confidential letter which I
have already mentioned, and which I thought it more proper and prudent to despatch by another conveyance.
In these epistles, it would have been natural for me to have pointed out to my father and my friend, that I was
at present in a situation where I could improve myself in no respect, unless in the mysteries of hunting and
hawking; and where I was not unlikely to forget, in the company of rude grooms and horseboys, any useful
knowledge or elegant accomplishments which I had hitherto acquired. It would also have been natural that I
should have expressed the disgust and tedium which I was likely to feel among beings whose whole souls
were centred in fieldsports or more degrading pastimesthat I should have complained of the habitual
intemperance of the family in which I was a guest, and the difficulty and almost resentment with which my
uncle, Sir Hildebrand, received any apology for deserting the bottle. This last, indeed, was a topic on which
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my father, himself a man of severe temperance, was likely to be easily alarmed, and to have touched upon
this spring would to a certainty have opened the doors of my prisonhouse, and would either have been the
means of abridging my exile, or at least would have procured me a change of residence during my rustication.
I say, my dear Tresham, that, considering how very unpleasant a prolonged residence at Osbaldistone Hall
must have been to a young man of my age, and with my habits, it might have seemed very natural that I
should have pointed out all these disadvantages to my father, in order to obtain his consent for leaving my
uncle's mansion. Nothing, however, is more certain, than that I did not say a single word to this purpose in
my letters to my father and Owen. If Osbaldistone Hall had been Athens in all its pristine glory of learning,
and inhabited by sages, heroes, and poets, I could not have expressed less inclination to leave it.
If thou hast any of the salt of youth left in thee, Tresham, thou wilt be at no loss to account for my silence on
a topic seemingly so obvious. Miss Vernon's extreme beauty, of which she herself seemed so little
consciousher romantic and mysterious situationthe evils to which she was exposedthe courage
with which she seemed to face themher manners, more frank than belonged to her sex, yet, as it seemed
to me, exceeding in frankness only from the dauntless consciousness of her innocence,above all, the
obvious and flattering distinction which she made in my favour over all other persons, were at once
calculated to interest my best feelings, to excite my curiosity, awaken my imagination, and gratify my vanity.
I dared not, indeed, confess to myself the depth of the interest with which Miss Vernon inspired me, or the
large share which she occupied in my thoughts. We read together, walked together, rode together, and sate
together. The studies which she had broken off upon her quarrel with Rashleigh, she now resumed, under the
auspices of a tutor whose views were more sincere, though his capacity was far more limited.
In truth, I was by no means qualified to assist her in the prosecution of several profound studies which she
had commenced with Rashleigh, and which appeared to me more fitted for a churchman than for a beautiful
female. Neither can I conceive with what view he should have engaged Diana in the gloomy maze of
casuistry which schoolmen called philosophy, or in the equally abstruse though more certain sciences of
mathematics and astronomy; unless it were to break down and confound in her mind the difference and
distinction between the sexes, and to habituate her to trains of subtle reasoning, by which he might at his own
time invest that which is wrong with the colour of that which is right. It was in the same spirit, though in the
latter case the evil purpose was more obvious, that the lessons of Rashleigh had encouraged Miss Vernon in
setting at nought and despising the forms and ceremonial limits which are drawn round females in modern
society. It is true, she was sequestrated from all female company, and could not learn the usual rules of
decorum, either from example or precept; yet such was her innate modesty, and accurate sense of what was
right and wrong, that she would not of herself have adopted the bold uncompromising manner which struck
me with so much surprise on our first acquaintance, had she not been led to conceive that a contempt of
ceremony indicated at once superiority of understanding and the confidence of conscious innocence. Her wily
instructor had, no doubt, his own views in levelling those outworks which reserve and caution erect around
virtue. But for these, and for his other crimes, he has long since answered at a higher tribunal.
Besides the progress which Miss Vernon, whose powerful mind readily adopted every means of information
offered to it, had made in more abstract science, I found her no contemptible linguist, and well acquainted
both with ancient and modern literature. Were it not that strong talents will often go farthest when they seem
to have least assistance, it would be almost incredible to tell the rapidity of Miss Vernon's progress in
knowledge; and it was still more extraordinary, when her stock of mental acquisitions from books was
compared with her total ignorance of actual life. It seemed as if she saw and knew everything, except what
passed in the world around her; and I believe it was this very ignorance and simplicity of thinking upon
ordinary subjects, so strikingly contrasted with her fund of general knowledge and information, which
rendered her conversation so irresistibly fascinating, and rivetted the attention to whatever she said or did;
since it was absolutely impossible to anticipate whether her next word or action was to display the most acute
perception, or the most profound simplicity. The degree of danger which necessarily attended a youth of my
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age and keen feelings from remaining in close and constant intimacy with an object so amiable, and so
peculiarly interesting, all who remember their own sentiments at my age may easily estimate.
CHAPTER FOURTEENTH.
Yon lamp its line of quivering light
Shoots from my lady's bower;
But why should Beauty's lamp be bright
At midnight's lonely hour?
OLD BALLAD.
The mode of life at Osbaldistone Hall was too uniform to admit of description. Diana Vernon and I enjoyed
much of our time in our mutual studies; the rest of the family killed theirs in such sports and pastimes as
suited the seasons, in which we also took a share. My uncle was a man of habits, and by habit became so
much accustomed to my presence and mode of life, that, upon the whole, he was rather fond of me than
otherwise. I might probably have risen yet higher in his good graces, had I employed the same arts for that
purpose which were used by Rashleigh, who, availing himself of his father's disinclination to business, had
gradually insinuated himself into the management of his property. But although I readily gave my uncle the
advantage of my pen and my arithmetic so often as he desired to correspond with a neighbour, or settle with a
tenant, and was, in so far, a more useful inmate in his family than any of his sons, yet I was not willing to
oblige Sir Hildebrand by relieving him entirely from the management of his own affairs; so that, while the
good knight admitted that nevoy Frank was a steady, handy lad, he seldom failed to remark in the same
breath, that he did not think he should ha' missed Rashleigh so much as he was like to do.
As it is particularly unpleasant to reside in a family where we are at variance with any part of it, I made some
efforts to overcome the illwill which my cousins entertained against me. I exchanged my laced hat for a
jockeycap, and made some progress in their opinion; I broke a young colt in a manner which carried me
further into their good graces. A bet or two opportunely lost to Dickon, and an extra health pledged with
Percie, placed me on an easy and familiar footing with all the young squires, except Thorncliff.
I have already noticed the dislike entertained against me by this young fellow, who, as he had rather more
sense, had also a much worse temper, than any of his brethren. Sullen, dogged, and quarrelsome, he regarded
my residence at Osbaldistone Hall as an intrusion, and viewed with envious and jealous eyes my intimacy
with Diana Vernon, whom the effect proposed to be given to a certain familycompact assigned to him as an
intended spouse. That he loved her, could scarcely be said, at least without much misapplication of the word;
but he regarded her as something appropriated to himself, and resented internally the interference which he
knew not how to prevent or interrupt. I attempted a tone of conciliation towards Thorncliff on several
occasions; but he rejected my advances with a manner about as gracious as that of a growling mastiff, when
the animal shuns and resents a stranger's attempts to caress him. I therefore abandoned him to his illhumour,
and gave myself no further trouble about the matter.
Such was the footing upon which I stood with the family at Osbaldistone Hall; but I ought to mention another
of its inmates with whom I occasionally held some discourse. This was Andrew Fairservice, the gardener
who (since he had discovered that I was a Protestant) rarely suffered me to pass him without proffering his
Scotch mull for a social pinch. There were several advantages attending this courtesy. In the first place, it was
made at no expense, for I never took snuff; and secondly, it afforded an excellent apology to Andrew (who
was not particularly fond of hard labour) for laying aside his spade for several minutes. But, above all, these
brief interviews gave Andrew an opportunity of venting the news he had collected, or the satirical remarks
which his shrewd northern humour suggested.
``I am saying, sir,'' he said to me one evening, with a face obviously charged with intelligence, ``I hae been
down at the Trinlayknowe.''
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``Well, Andrew, and I suppose you heard some news at the alehouse?''
``Na, sir; I never gang to the yillhousethat is unless ony neighbour was to gie me a pint, or the like o' that;
but to gang there on ane's ain coattail, is a waste o' precious time and hardwon siller.But I was doun at
the Trinlayknowe, as I was saying, about a wee bit business o' my ain wi' Mattie Simpson, that wants a
forpit or twa o' peers that will never be missed in the Ha'houseand when we were at the thrangest o' our
bargain, wha suld come in but Pate Macready the travelling merchant?''
``Pedlar, I suppose you mean?''
``E'en as your honour likes to ca' him; but it's a creditable calling and a gainfu', and has been lang in use wi'
our folk. Pate's a farawa cousin o' mine, and we were blythe to meet wi' ane anither.''
``And you went and had a jug of ale together, I suppose, Andrew?For Heaven's sake, cut short your
story.''
``Bide a weebide a wee; you southrons are aye in sic a hurry, and this is something concerns yourself, an
ye wad tak patience to hear'tYill?deil a drap o' yill did Pate offer me; but Mattie gae us baith a drap
skimmed milk, and ane o' her thick ait jannocks, that was as wat and raw as a divot. O for the bonnie girdle
cakes o' the north!and sae we sat doun and took out our clavers.''
``I wish you would take them out just now. Pray, tell me the news, if you have got any worth telling, for I
can't stop here all night.''
``Than, if ye maun hae't, the folk in Lunnun are a' clean wud about this bit job in the north here.''
``Clean wood! what's that?''
``Ou, just real daftneither to haud nor to binda' hirdygirdy clean through itherthe deil's
ower Jock Wabster.''
``But what does all this mean? or what business have I with the devil or Jack Webster?''
``Umph!'' said Andrew, looking extremely knowing, ``it's just becausejust that the dirdum's a' about yon
man's pokmanty.''
``Whose portmanteau? or what do you mean?''
``Ou, just the man Morris's, that he said he lost yonder: but if it's no your honour's affair, as little is it mine;
and I mauna lose this gracious evening.''
And, as if suddenly seized with a violent fit of industry, Andrew began to labour most diligently.
My attention, as the crafty knave had foreseen, was now arrested, and unwilling, at the same time, to
acknowledge any particular interest in that affair, by asking direct questions, I stood waiting till the spirit of
voluntary communication should again prompt him to resume his story. Andrew dug on manfully, and spoke
at intervals, but nothing to the purpose of Mr. Macready's news; and I stood and listened, cursing him in my
heart, and desirous at the same time to see how long his humour of contradiction would prevail over his
desire of speaking upon the subject which was obviously uppermost in his mind.
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``Am trenching up the sparrygrass, and am gaun to saw some Misegun beans; they winna want them to their
swine's flesh, I'se warrantmuckle gude may it do them. And siclike dung as the grieve has gien me!it
should be wheatstrae, or aiten at the warst o't, and it's pease dirt, as fizzenless as chuckiestanes. But the
huntsman guides a' as he likes about the stableyard, and he's selled the best o' the litter, I'se warrant. But,
howsoever, we mauna lose a turn o' this Saturday at e'en, for the wather's sair broken, and if there's a fair day
in seven, Sunday's sure to come and lick it upHowsomever, I'm no denying that it may settle, if it be
Heaven's will, till Monday morning,and what's the use o' my breaking my back at this rate?I think,
I'll e'en awa' hame, for yon's the curfew, as they ca' their jowingin bell.''
Accordingly, applying both his hands to his spade, he pitched it upright in the trench which he had been
digging and, looking at me with the air of superiority of one who knows himself possessed of important
information, which he may communicate or refuse at his pleasure, pulled down the sleeves of his shirt, and
walked slowly towards his coat, which lay carefully folded up upon a neighbouring gardenseat.
``I must pay the penalty of having interrupted the tiresome rascal,'' thought I to myself, ``and even gratify Mr.
Fairservice by taking his communication on his own terms.'' Then raising my voice, I addressed
him,``And after all, Andrew, what are these London news you had from your kinsman, the travelling
merchant?''
``The pedlar, your honour means?'' retorted Andrew``but ca' him what ye wull, they're a great
convenience in a countryside that's scant o' boroughtowns like this Northumberland That's no the case,
now, in Scotland;there's the kingdom of Fife, frae Culross to the East Nuik, it's just like a great combined
citysae mony royal boroughs yoked on end to end, like ropes of ingans, with their hiestreets and their
booths, nae doubt, and their kraemes, and houses of stane and lime and forestairs Kirkcaldy, the sell o't,
is langer than ony town in England.''
``I daresay it is all very splendid and very finebut you were talking of the London news a little while ago,
Andrew.''
``Ay,'' replied Andrew; ``but I dinna think your honour cared to hear about themHowsoever'' (he
continued, grinning a ghastly smile), ``Pate Macready does say, that they are sair mistrysted yonder in their
Parliament House about this rubbery o' Mr. Morris, or whatever they ca' the chiel.''
``In the House of Parliament, Andrew!how came they to mention it there?''
``Ou, that's just what I said to Pate; if it like your honour, I'll tell you the very words; it's no worth making a
lie for the matter`Pate,' said I, `what ado had the lords and lairds and gentles at Lunnun wi' the carle and
his walise?When we had a Scotch Parliament, Pate,' says I (and deil rax their thrapples that reft us o't!)
`they sate dousely down and made laws for a haill country and kinrick, and never fashed their beards about
things that were competent to the judge ordinar o' the bounds; but I think,' said I, `that if ae kailwife pou'd aff
her neighbour's mutch they wad hae the twasome o' them into the Parliament House o' Lunnun. It's just,' said
I, `amaist as silly as our auld daft laird here and his gomerils o' sons, wi' his huntsmen and his hounds, and his
hunting cattle and horns, riding haill days after a bit beast that winna weigh sax punds when they hae catched
it.' ''
``You argued most admirably, Andrew,'' said I, willing to encourage him to get into the marrow of his
intelligence; ``and what said Pate?''
``Ou,'' he said, ``what better could be expected of a wheen pockpudding English folk?But as to the
robbery, it's like that when they're a' at the thrang o' their Whig and Tory wark, and ca'ing ane anither, like
unhanged blackguardsup gets ae langtongued chield, and he says, that a' the north of England were rank
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Jacobites (and, quietly, he wasna far wrang maybe), and that they had levied amaist open war, and a king's
messenger had been stoppit and rubbit on the highway, and that the best bluid o' Northumberland had been at
the doing o't and mickle gowd ta'en aff him, and mony valuable papers; and that there was nae redress to
be gotten by remeed of law for the first justice o' the peace that the rubbit man gaed to, he had fund the twa
loons that did the deed birling and drinking wi' him, wha but they; and the justice took the word o' the tane
for the compearance o' the tither; and that they e'en gae him legbail, and the honest man that had lost his
siller was fain to leave the country for fear that waur had come of it.''
``Can this be really true?'' said I.
``Pate swears it's as true as that his ellwand is a yard lang (and so it is, just bating an inch, that it may
meet the English measure)And when the chield had said his warst, there was a terrible cry for names, and
out comes he wi' this man Morris's name, and your uncle's, and Squire Inglewood's, and other folk's beside''
(looking sly at me)``And then another dragon o' a chield got up on the other side, and said, wad they
accuse the best gentleman in the land on the oath of a broken coward? for it's like that Morris had been
drummed out o' the army for rinning awa in Flanders; and he said, it was like the story had been made up
between the minister and him or ever he had left Lunnun; and that, if there was to be a searchwarrant
granted, he thought the siller wad be fund some gate near to St. James's Palace. Aweel, they trailed up Morris
to their bar, as they ca't, to see what he could say to the job; but the folk that were again him, gae him sic an
awfu' throughgaun about his rinnin' awa, and about a' the ill he had ever dune or said for a' the forepart o' his
life, that Patie says he looked mair like ane dead than living; and they cou'dna get a word o' sense out o' him,
for downright fright at their growling and routing. He maun be a saft sap, wi' a head nae better than a fozy
frosted turnipit wad hae ta'en a hantle o' them to scaur Andrew Fairservice out o' his tale.''
``And how did it all end, Andrew? did your friend happen to learn?''
``Ou, ay; for as his walk is in this country, Pate put aff his journey for the space of a week or thereby, because
it wad be acceptable to his customers to bring down the news. It's just a' gaed aft like moonshine in water.
The fallow that began it drew in his horns, and said, that though he believed the man had been rubbit, yet he
acknowledged he might hae been mista'en about the particulars. And then the other chield got up, and said, he
caredna whether Morris was rubbed or no, provided it wasna to become a stain on ony gentleman's honour
and reputation, especially in the north of England; for, said he before them, I come frae the north mysell, and
I carena a boddle wha kens it. And this is what they ca' explainingthe tane gies up a bit, and the tither
gies up a bit, and a' friends again. Aweel, after the Commons' Parliament had tuggit, and rived, and rugged at
Morris and his rubbery till they were tired o't, the Lords' Parliament they behoved to hae their spell o't. In puir
auld Scotland's Parliament they a' sate thegither, cheek by choul, and than they didna need to hae the same
blethers twice ower again. But till't their lordships went wi' as muckle teeth and gudewill, as if the matter
had been a' speck and span new. Forbye, there was something said about ane Campbell, that suld hae been
concerned in the rubbery, mair or less, and that he suld hae had a warrant frae the Duke of Argyle, as a
testimonial o' his character. And this put MacCallum More's beard in a bleize, as gude reason there was; and
he gat up wi' an unco bang, and garr'd them a' look about them, and wad ram it even doun their throats, there
was never ane o' the Campbells but was as wight, wise, warlike, and worthy trust, as auld Sir John the
Graeme. Now, if your honour's sure ye arena a drap's bluid akin to a Campbell, as I am nane mysell, sae far
as I can count my kin, or hae had it counted to me, I'll gie ye my mind on that matter.''
``You may be assured I have no connection whatever with any gentleman of the name.''
``Ou, than we may speak it quietly amang oursells. There's baith gude and bad o' the Campbells, like other
names, But this MacCallum More has an unco sway and say baith, amang the grit folk at Lunnun even now;
for he canna preceesely be said to belang to ony o' the twa sides o' them, sae deil any o' them likes to quarrel
wi' him; sae they e'en voted Morris's tale a fause calumnious libel, as they ca't, and if he hadna gien them
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legbail, he was likely to hae ta'en the air on the pillory for leasingmaking.''
So speaking, honest Andrew collected his dibbles, spades, and hoes, and threw them into a
wheelbarrow,leisurely, however, and allowing me full time to put any further questions which might
occur to me before he trundled them off to the toolhouse, there to repose during the ensuing day. I thought it
best to speak out at once, lest this meddling fellow should suppose there were more weighty reasons for my
silence than actually existed.
``I should like to see this countryman of yours, Andrew and to hear his news from himself directly. You have
probably heard that I had some trouble from the impertinent folly of this man Morris'' (Andrew grinned a
most significant grin), ``and I should wish to see your cousin the merchant, to ask him the particulars of what
he heard in London, if it could be done without much trouble.''
``Naething mair easy,'' Andrew observed; ``he had but to hint to his cousin that I wanted a pair or twa o' hose,
and he wad be wi' me as fast as he could lay leg to the grund.''
``O yes, assure him I shall be a customer; and as the night is, as you say, settled and fair, I shall walk in the
garden until he comes; the moon will soon rise over the fells. You may bring him to the little backgate; and
I shall have pleasure, in the meanwhile, in looking on the bushes and evergreens by the bright frosty
moonlight.''
``Vara right, vara rightthat's what I hae aften said; a kailblade, or a colliflour, glances sae glegly by
moonlight, it's like a leddy in her diamonds.''
So saying, off went Andrew Fairservice with great glee. He had to walk about two miles, a labour he
undertook with the greatest pleasure, in order to secure to his kinsman the sale of some articles of his trade,
though it is probable he would not have given him sixpence to treat him to a quart of ale. ``The good will of
an Englishman would have displayed itself in a manner exactly the reverse of Andrew's,'' thought I, as I
paced along the smoothcut velvet walks, which, embowered with high, hedges of yew and of holly,
intersected the ancient garden of Osbaldistone Hall.
As I turned to retrace my steps, it was natural that I should lift up my eyes to the windows of the old library;
which, small in size, but several in number, stretched along the second story of that side of the house which
now faced me. Light glanced from their casements. I was not surprised at this, for I knew Miss Vernon often
sat there of an evening, though from motives of delicacy I put a strong restraint upon myself, and never
sought to join her at a time when I knew, all the rest of the family being engaged for the evening, our
interviews must necessarily have been strictly te^tea`te^te. In the mornings we usually read together in the
same room; but then it often happened that one or other of our cousins entered to seek some parchment
duodecimo that could be converted into a fishingbook, despite its gildings and illumination, or to tell us of
some ``sport toward,'' or from mere want of knowing where else to dispose of themselves. In short, in the
mornings the library was a sort of public room, where man and woman might meet as on neutral ground. In
the evening it was very different and bred in a country where much attention is paid, or was at least then paid,
to biense'ance, I was desirous to think for Miss Vernon concerning those points of propriety where her
experience did not afford her the means of thinking for herself. I made her therefore comprehend, as
delicately as I could, that when we had evening lessons, the presence of a third party was proper.
Miss Vernon first laughed, then blushed, and was disposed to be displeased; and then, suddenly checking
herself, said, ``I believe you are very right; and when I feel inclined to be a very busy scholar, I will bribe old
Martha with a cup of tea to sit by me and be my screen.''
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Martha, the old housekeeper, partook of the taste of the family at the Hall. A toast and tankard would have
pleased her better than all the tea in China. However, as the use of this beverage was then confined to the
higher ranks, Martha felt some vanity in being asked to partake of it; and by dint of a great deal of sugar,
many words scarce less sweet, and abundance of toast and butter, she was sometimes prevailed upon to give
us her countenance. On other occasions, the servants almost unanimously shunned the library after nightfall,
because it was their foolish pleasure to believe that it lay on the haunted side of the house. The more timorous
had seen sights and heard sounds there when all the rest of the house was quiet; and even the young squires
were far from having any wish to enter these formidable precincts after nightfall without necessity.
That the library had at one time been a favourite resource of Rashleighthat a private door out of one side
of it communicated with the sequestered and remote apartment which he chose for himself, rather increased
than disarmed the terrors which the household had for the dreaded library of Osbaldistone Hall. His extensive
information as to what passed in the worldhis profound knowledge of science of every kinda few
physical experiments which he occasionally showed off, were, in a house of so much ignorance and bigotry,
esteemed good reasons for supposing him endowed with powers over the spiritual world. He understood
Greek, Latin, and Hebrew; and, therefore, according to the apprehension, and in the phrase of his brother
Wilfred, needed not to care ``for ghaist or barghaist, devil or dobbie.'' Yea, the servants persisted that they
had heard him hold conversations in the library, when every varsal soul in the family were gone to bed; and
that he spent the night in watching for bogles, and the morning in sleeping in his bed, when he should have
been heading the hounds like a true Osbaldistone.
All these absurd rumours I had heard in broken hints and imperfect sentences, from which I was left to draw
the inference; and, as easily may be supposed, I laughed them to scorn. But the extreme solitude to which this
chamber of evil fame was committed every night after curfew time, was an additional reason why I should
not intrude on Miss Vernon when she chose to sit there in the evening.
To resume what I was saying,I was not surprised to see a glimmering of light from the library windows:
but I was a little struck when I distinctly perceived the shadows of two persons pass along and intercept the
light from the first of the windows, throwing the casement for a moment into shade. ``It must be old Martha,''
thought I, ``whom Diana has engaged to be her companion for the evening; or I must have been mistaken,
and taken Diana's shadow for a second person. No, by Heaven! it appears on the second window,two
figures distinctly traced; and now it is lost againit is seen on the thirdon the fourth the darkened
forms of two persons distinctly seen in each window as they pass along the room, betwixt the windows and
the lights. Whom can Diana have got for a companion?'' The passage of the shadows between the lights
and the casements was twice repeated, as if to satisfy me that my observation served me truly; after which the
lights were extinguished, and the shades, of course, were seen no more.
Trifling as this circumstance was, it occupied my mind for a considerable time. I did not allow myself to
suppose that my friendship for Miss Vernon had any directly selfish view; yet it is incredible the displeasure I
felt at the idea of her admitting any one to private interviews, at a time, and in a place, where, for her own
sake, I had been at some trouble to show her that it was improper for me to meet with her.
``Silly, romping, incorrigible girl!'' said I to myself, ``on whom all good advice and delicacy are thrown
away! I have been cheated by the simplicity of her manner, which I suppose she can assume just as she could
a straw bonnet, were it the fashion, for the mere sake of celebrity. I suppose, notwithstanding the excellence
of her understanding, the society of half a dozen of clowns to play at whisk and swabbers would give her
more pleasure than if Ariosto himself were to awake from the dead.''
This reflection came the more powerfully across my mind, because, having mustered up courage to show to
Diana my version of the first books of Ariosto, I had requested her to invite Martha to a teaparty in the
library that evening, to which arrangement Miss Vernon had refused her consent, alleging some apology
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which I thought frivolous at the time. I had not long speculated on this disagreeable subject, when the back
gardendoor opened, and the figures of Andrew and his countryman bending under his packcrossed
the moonlight alley, and called my attention elsewhere.
I found Mr. Macready, as I expected, a tough, sagacious, longheaded Scotchman, and a collector of news
both from choice and profession. He was able to give me a distinct account of what had passed in the House
of Commons and House of Lords on the affair of Morris, which, it appears, had been made by both parties a
touchstone to ascertain the temper of the Parliament. It appeared also, that, as I had learned from Andrew, by
second hand, the ministry had proved too weak to support a story involving the character of men of rank and
importance, and resting upon the credit of a person of such indifferent fame as Morris, who was, moreover,
confused and contradictory in his mode of telling the story. Macready was even able to supply me with a
copy of a printed journal, or NewsLetter, seldom extending beyond the capital, in which the substance of the
debate was mentioned; and with a copy of the Duke of Argyle's speech, printed upon a broadside, of which
he had purchased several from the hawkers, because, he said, it would be a saleable article on the north of the
Tweed. The first was a meagre statement, full of blanks and asterisks, and which added little or nothing to the
information I had from the Scotchman; and the Duke's speech, though spirited and eloquent, contained
chiefly a panegyric on his country, his family, and his clan, with a few compliments, equally sincere, perhaps,
though less glowing, which he took so favourable an opportunity of paying to himself. I could not learn
whether my own reputation had been directly implicated, although I perceived that the honour of my uncle's
family had been impeached, and that this person Campbell, stated by Morris to have been the most active
robber of the two by whom he was assailed, was said by him to have appeared in the behalf of a Mr.
Osbaldistone, and by the connivance of the Justice procured his liberation. In this particular, Morris's story
jumped with my own suspicions, which had attached to Campbell from the moment I saw him appear at
Justice Inglewood's. Vexed upon the whole, as well as perplexed, with this extraordinary story, I dismissed
the two Scotchmen, after making some purchases from Macready, and a small compliment to Fairservice, and
retired to my own apartment to consider what I ought to do in defence of my character thus publicly attacked.
CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.
Whence, and what art you?
Milton.
After exhausting a sleepless night in meditating on the intelligence I had received, I was at first inclined to
think that I ought, as speedily as possible, to return to London, and by my open appearance repel the calumny
which had been spread against me. But I hesitated to take this course on recollection of my father's
disposition, singularly absolute in his decisions as to all that concerned his family. He was most able,
certainly, from experience, to direct what I ought to do, and from his acquaintance with the most
distinguished Whigs then in power, had influence enough to obtain a hearing for my cause. So, upon the
whole, I judged it most safe to state my whole story in the shape of a narrative, addressed to my father; and as
the ordinary opportunities of intercourse between the Hall and the posttown recurred rarely, I determined to
ride to the town, which was about ten miles' distance, and deposit my letter in the postoffice with my own
hands.
Indeed I began to think it strange that though several weeks had elapsed since my departure from home, I had
received no letter, either from my father or Owen, although Rashleigh had written to Sir Hildebrand of his
safe arrival in London, and of the kind reception he had met with from his uncle. Admitting that I might have
been to blame, I did not deserve, in my own opinion at least, to be so totally forgotten by my father; and I
thought my present excursion might have the effect of bringing a letter from him to hand more early than it
would otherwise have reached me. But before concluding my letter concerning the affair of Morris, I failed
not to express my earnest hope and wish that my father would honour me with a few lines, were it but to
express his advice and commands in an affair of some difficulty, and where my knowledge of life could not
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be supposed adequate to my own guidance. I found it impossible to prevail on myself to urge my actual
return to London as a place of residence, and I disguised my unwillingness to do so under apparent
submission to my father's will, which, as I imposed it on myself as a sufficient reason for not urging my final
departure from Osbaldistone Hall, would, I doubted not, be received as such by my parent. But I begged
permission to come to London, for a short time at least, to meet and refute the infamous calumnies which had
been circulated concerning me in so public a manner. Having made up my packet, in which my earnest desire
to vindicate my character was strangely blended with reluctance to quit my present place of residence, I rode
over to the posttown, and deposited my letter in the office. By doing so, I obtained possession, somewhat
earlier than I should otherwise have done, of the following letter from my friend Mr. Owen:
``Dear Mr. Francis,
``Yours received per favour of Mr. R. Osbaldistone, and note the contents. Shall do Mr. R. O. such civilities
as are in my power, and have taken him to see the Bank and Customhouse. He seems a sober, steady young
gentleman, and takes to business; so will be of service to the firm. Could have wished another person had
turned his mind that way; but God's will be done. As cash may be scarce in those parts, have to trust you will
excuse my enclosing a goldsmith's bill at six days' sight, on Messrs. Hooper and Girder of Newcastle, for
L100, which I doubt not will be duly honoured.I remain, as in duty bound, dear Mr. Frank, your very
respectful and obedient servant, ``Joseph Owen.
``Postscriptum.Hope you will advise the above coming safe to hand. Am sorry we have so few of yours.
Your father says he is as usual, but looks poorly.''
From this epistle, written in old Owen's formal style, I was rather surprised to observe that he made no
acknowledgment of that private letter which I had written to him, with a view to possess him of Rashleigh's
real character, although, from the course of post, it seemed certain that he ought to have received it. Yet I had
sent it by the usual conveyance from the Hall, and had no reason to suspect that it could miscarry upon the
road. As it comprised matters of great importance both to my father and to myself, I sat down in the
postoffice and again wrote to Owen, recapitulating the heads of my former letter, and requesting to know, in
course of post, if it had reached him in safety. I also acknowledged the receipt of the bill, and promised to
make use of the contents if I should have any occasion for money. I thought, indeed, it was odd that my father
should leave the care of supplying my necessities to his clerk; but I concluded it was a matter arranged
between them. At any rate, Owen was a bachelor, rich in his way, and passionately attached to me, so that I
had no hesitation in being obliged to him for a small sum, which I resolved to consider as a loan, to be
returned with my earliest ability, in case it was not previously repaid by my father; and I expressed myself to
this purpose to Mr. Owen. A shopkeeper in a little town, to whom the postmaster directed me, readily gave
me in gold the amount of my bill on Messrs. Hooper and Girder, so that I returned to Osbaldistone Hall a
good deal richer than I had set forth. This recruit to my finances was not a matter of indifference to me, as I
was necessarily involved in some expenses at Osbaldistone Hall; and I had seen, with some uneasy
impatience, that the sum which my travelling expenses had left unexhausted at my arrival there was
imperceptibly diminishing. This source of anxiety was for the present removed. On my arrival at the Hall I
found that Sir Hildebrand and all his offspring had gone down to the little hamlet, called Trinlayknowes,
``to see,'' as Andrew Fairservice expressed it, ``a wheen midden cocks pike ilk ither's barns out.''
``It is indeed a brutal amusement, Andrew; I suppose you have none such in Scotland?''
``Na, na,'' answered Andrew boldly; then shaded away his negative with, ``unless it be on Fastern'se'en, or
the like o' thatBut indeed it's no muckle matter what the folk do to the midden pootry, for they had siccan
a skarting and scraping in the yard, that there's nae getting a bean or pea keepit for them. But I am
wondering what it is that leaves that turretdoor open;now that Mr. Rashleigh's away, it canna be him, I
trow.''
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The turretdoor to which he alluded opened to the garden at the bottom of a winding stair, leading down from
Mr. Rashleigh's apartment. This, as I have already mentioned, was situated in a sequestered part of the house,
communicating with the library by a private entrance, and by another intricate and dark vaulted passage with
the rest of the house. A long narrow turf walk led, between two high holly hedges, from the turretdoor to a
little postern in the wall of the garden. By means of these communications Rashleigh, whose movements
were very independent of those of the rest of his family, could leave the Hall or return to it at pleasure,
without his absence or presence attracting any observation. But during his absence the stair and the
turretdoor were entirely disused, and this made Andrew's observation somewhat remarkable.
``Have you often observed that door open?'' was my question.
``No just that often neither; but I hae noticed it ance or twice. I'm thinking it maun hae been the priest, Father
Vaughan, as they ca' him. Ye'll no catch ane o' the servants gauging up that stair, puir frightened heathens
that they are, for fear of bogles and brownies, and langnebbit things frae the neist warld. But Father
Vaughan thinks himself a privileged personset him up and lay him down!I'se be caution the warst
stibbler that ever stickit a sermon out ower the Tweed yonder, wad lay a ghaist twice as fast as him, wi' his
holy water and his idolatrous trinkets. I dinna believe he speaks gude Latin neither; at least he disna take me
up when I tell him the learned names o' the plants.''
Of Father Vaughan, who divided his time and his ghostly care between Osbaldistone Hall and about half a
dozen mansions of Catholic gentlemen in the neighbourhood, I have as yet said nothing, for I had seen but
little. He was aged about sixtyof a good family, as I was given to understand, in the northof a striking
and imposing presence, grave in his exterior, and much respected among the Catholics of Northumberland as
a worthy and upright man. Yet Father Vaughan did not altogether lack those peculiarities which distinguish
his order. There hung about him an air of mystery, which, in Protestant eyes, savoured of priestcraft. The
natives (such they might be well termed) of Osbaldistone Hall looked up to him with much more fear, or at
least more awe, than affection. His condemnation of their revels was evident, from their being discontinued in
some measure when the priest was a resident at the Hall. Even Sir Hildebrand himself put some restraint upon
his conduct at such times, which, perhaps, rendered Father Vaughan's presence rather irksome than otherwise.
He had the wellbred, insinuating, and almost flattering address peculiar to the clergy of his persuasion,
especially in England, where the lay Catholic, hemmed in by penal laws, and by the restrictions of his sect
and recommendation of his pastor, often exhibits a reserved, and almost a timid manner in the society of
Protestants; while the priest, privileged by his order to mingle with persons of all creeds, is open, alert, and
liberal in his intercourse with them, desirous of popularity, and usually skilful in the mode of obtaining it.
Father Vaughan was a particular acquaintance of Rashleigh's, otherwise, in all probability, he would scarce
have been able to maintain his footing at Osbaldistone Hall. This gave me no desire to cultivate his intimacy,
nor did he seem to make any advances towards mine; so our occasional intercourse was confined to the
exchange of mere civility. I considered it as extremely probable that Mr. Vaughan might occupy Rashleigh's
apartment during his occasional residence at the Hall; and his profession rendered it likely that he should
occasionally be a tenant of the library. Nothing was more probable than that it might have been his candle
which had excited my attention on a preceding evening. This led me involuntarily to recollect that the
intercourse between Miss Vernon and the priest was marked with something like the same mystery which
characterised her communications with Rashleigh. I had never heard her mention Vaughan's name, or even
allude to him, excepting on the occasion of our first meeting, when she mentioned the old priest and
Rashleigh as the only conversable beings, besides herself, in Osbaldistone Hall. Yet although silent with
respect to Father Vaughan, his arrival at the Hall never failed to impress Miss Vernon with an anxious and
fluttering tremor, which lasted until they had exchanged one or two significant glances.
Whatever the mystery might be which overclouded the destinies of this beautiful and interesting female, it
was clear that Father Vaughan was implicated in it; unless, indeed, I could suppose that he was the agent
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employed to procure her settlement in the cloister, in the event of her rejecting a union with either of my
cousins,an office which would sufficiently account for her obvious emotion at his appearance. As to the
rest, they did not seem to converse much together, or even to seek each other's society. Their league, if any
subsisted between them, was of a tacit and understood nature, operating on their actions without any
necessity of speech. I recollected, however, on reflection, that I had once or twice discovered signs pass
betwixt them, which I had at the time supposed to bear reference to some hint concerning Miss Vernon's
religious observances, knowing how artfully the Catholic clergy maintain, at all times and seasons, their
influence over the minds of their followers. But now I was disposed to assign to these communications a
deeper and more mysterious import. Did he hold private meetings with Miss Vernon in the library? was a
question which occupied my thoughts; and if so, for what purpose? And why should she have admitted an
intimate of the deceitful Rashleigh to such close confidence?
These questions and difficulties pressed on my mind with an interest which was greatly increased by the
impossibility of resolving them. I had already begun to suspect that my friendship for Diana Vernon was not
altogether so disinterested as in wisdom it ought to have been. I had already felt myself becoming jealous of
the contemptible lout Thorncliff, and taking more notice, than in prudence or dignity of feeling I ought to
have done, of his silly attempts to provoke me. And now I was scrutinising the conduct of Miss Vernon with
the most close and eager observation, which I in vain endeavoured to palm on myself as the offspring of idle
curiosity. All these, like Benedick's brushing his hat of a morning, were signs that the sweet youth was in
love; and while my judgment still denied that I had been guilty of forming an attachment so imprudent, she
resembled those ignorant guides, who, when they have led the traveller and themselves into irretrievable
error, persist in obstinately affirming it to be impossible that they can have missed the way.
CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.
It happened one day about noon, going to my boat, I was exceedingly
surprised with the print of a man's naked foot on the shore, which
was very plain to be seen on the sand.
Robinson Crusoe.
With the blended feelings of interest and jealousy which were engendered by Miss Vernon's singular
situation, my observations of her looks and actions became acutely sharpened, and that to a degree which,
notwithstanding my efforts to conceal it, could not escape her penetration. The sense that she was observed,
or, more properly speaking, that she was watched by my looks, seemed to give Diana a mixture of
embarrassment, pain, and pettishness. At times it seemed that she sought an opportunity of resenting a
conduct which she could not but feel as offensive, considering the frankness with which she had mentioned
the difficulties that surrounded her. At other times she seemed prepared to expostulate upon the subject. But
either her courage failed, or some other sentiment impeded her seeking an e'claircissement. Her displeasure
evaporated in repartee, and her expostulations died on her lips. We stood in a singular relation to each
other,spending, and by mutual choice, much of our time in close society with each other, yet disguising
our mutual sentiments, and jealous of, or offended by, each other's actions. There was betwixt us intimacy
without confidence;on one side, love without hope or purpose, and curiosity without any rational or
justifiable motive; and on the other, embarrassment and doubt, occasionally mingled with displeasure. Yet I
believe that this agitation of the passions (such is the nature of the human bosom), as it continued by a
thousand irritating and interesting, though petty circumstances, to render Miss Vernon and me the constant
objects of each other's thoughts, tended, upon the whole, to increase the attachment with which we were
naturally disposed to regard each other. But although my vanity early discovered that my presence at
Osbaldistone Hall had given Diana some additional reason for disliking the cloister, I could by no means
confide in an affection which seemed completely subordinate to the mysteries of her singular situation. Miss
Vernon was of a character far too formed and determined, to permit her love for me to overpower either her
sense of duty or of prudence, and she gave me a proof of this in a conversation which we had together about
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this period.
We were sitting together in the library. Miss Vernon, in turning over a copy of the Orlando Furioso, which
belonged to me, shook a piece of writing paper from between the leaves. I hastened to lift it, but she
prevented me.``It is verse,'' she said, on glancing at the paper; and then unfolding it, but as if to wait my
answer before proceeding``May I take the liberty?Nay, nay, if you blush and stammer, I must do
violence to your modesty, and suppose that permission is granted.''
``It is not worthy your perusala scrap of a translation My dear Miss Vernon, it would be too severe a
trial, that you, who understand the original so well, should sit in judgment.''
``Mine honest friend,'' replied Diana, ``do not, if you will be guided by my advice, bait your hook with too
much humility; for, ten to one, it will not catch a single compliment. You know I belong to the unpopular
family of Telltruths, and would not flatter Apollo for his lyre.''
She proceeded to read the first stanza, which was nearly to the following purpose:
``Ladies, and knights, and arms, and love's fair flame, Deeds of emprize and courtesy, I sing; What time the
Moors from sultry Africk came, Led on by Agramant, their youthful king He whom revenge and hasty ire
did bring O'er the broad wave, in France to waste and war; Such ills from old Trojano's death did spring,
Which to avenge he came from realms afar, And menaced Christian Charles, the Roman Emperor. Of
dauntless Roland, too, my strain shall sound, In import never known in prose or rhyme, How He, the chief, of
judgment deemed profound, For luckless love was crazed upon a time''
There is a great deal of it,'' said she, glancing along the paper, and interrupting the sweetest sounds which
mortal ears can drink in,those of a youthful poet's verses, namely, read by the lips which are dearest to
him.
``Much more than ought to engage your attention, Miss Vernon,'' I replied, something mortified; and I took
the verses from her unreluctant hand``And yet,'' I continued, ``shut up as I am in this retired situation, I
have felt sometimes I could not amuse myself better than by carrying onmerely for my own amusement,
you will of course understandthe version of this fascinating author, which I began some months since
when I was on the banks of the Garonne.''
``The question would only be,'' said Diana, gravely, ``whether you could not spend your time to better
purpose?''
``You mean in original composition?'' said I, greatly flattered ``But, to say truth, my genius rather lies in
finding words and rhymes than ideas; and therefore I am happy to use those which Ariosto has prepared to
my hand. However, Miss Vernon, with the encouragement you give''
``Pardon me, Frankit is encouragement not of my giving, but of your taking. I meant neither original
composition nor translation, since I think you might employ your time to far better purpose than in either.
You are mortified,'' she continued, ``and I am sorry to be the cause.''
``Not mortified,certainly not mortified,'' said I, with the best grace I could muster, and it was but
indifferently assumed; ``I am too much obliged by the interest you take in me.''
``Nay, but,'' resumed the relentless Diana, ``there is both mortification and a little grain of anger in that
constrained tone of voice; do not be angry if I probe your feelings to the bottomperhaps what I am about
to say will affect them still more.''
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I felt the childishness of my own conduct. and the superior manliness of Miss Vernon's, and assured her, that
she need not fear my wincing under criticism which I knew to be kindly meant.
``That was honestly meant and said,'' she replied; ``I knew full well that the fiend of poetical irritability flew
away with the little preluding cough which ushered in the declaration. And now I must be seriousHave
you heard from your father lately?''
``Not a word,'' I replied; ``he has not honoured me with a single line during the several months of my
residence here.''
``That is strange!you are a singular race, you bold Osbaldistones. Then you are not aware that he has
gone to Holland, to arrange some pressing affairs which required his own immediate presence?''
``I never heard a word of it until this moment.''
``And farther, it must be news to you, and I presume scarcely the most agreeable, that he has left Rashleigh in
the almost uncontrolled management of his affairs until his return.''
I started, and could not suppress my surprise and apprehension.
``You have reason for alarm,'' said Miss Vernon, very gravely; ``and were I you, I would endeavour to meet
and obviate the dangers which arise from so undesirable an arrangement.''
``And how is it possible for me to do so?''
``Everything is possible for him who possesses courage and activity,'' she said, with a look resembling one of
those heroines of the age of chivalry, whose encouragement was wont to give champions double valour at the
hour of need; ``and to the timid and hesitating, everything is impossible, because it seems so.''
``And what would you advise, Miss Vernon?'' I replied, wishing, yet dreading, to hear her answer.
She paused a moment, then answered firmly``That you instantly leave Osbaldistone Hall, and return to
London. You have perhaps already,'' she continued, in a softer tone, ``been here too long; that fault was not
yours. Every succeeding moment you waste here will be a crime. Yes, a crime: for I tell you plainly, that if
Rashleigh long manages your father's affairs, you may consider his ruin as consummated.''
``How is this possible?''
``Ask no questions,'' she said; ``but believe me, Rashleigh's views extend far beyond the possession or
increase of commercial wealth: he will only make the command of Mr. Osbaldistone's revenues and property
the means of putting in motion his own ambitious and extensive schemes. While your father was in Britain
this was impossible; during his absence, Rashleigh will possess many opportunities, and he will not neglect to
use them.''
``But how can I, in disgrace with my father, and divested of all control over his affairs, prevent this danger by
my mere presence in London?''
``That presence alone will do much. Your claim to interfere is a part of your birthright, and it is inalienable.
You will have the countenance, doubtless, of your father's headclerk, and confidential friends and partners.
Above all, Rashleigh's schemes are of a nature that''(she stopped abruptly, as if fearful of saying too
much)``are, in short,'' she resumed, ``of the nature of all selfish and unconscientious plans, which are
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speedily abandoned as soon as those who frame them perceive their arts are discovered and watched.
Therefore, in the language of your favourite poet
To horse! to horse! Urge doubts to those that fear.''
A feeling, irresistible in its impulse, induced me to reply ``Ah! Diana, can you give me advice to leave
Osbaldistone Hall?then indeed I have already been a resident here too long!''
Miss Vernon coloured, but proceeded with great firmness ``Indeed, I do give you this advicenot only
to quit Osbaldistone Hall, but never to return to it more. You have only one friend to regret here,'' she
continued, forcing a smile, ``and she has been long accustomed to sacrifice her friendships and her comforts
to the welfare of others. In the world you will meet a hundred whose friendship will be as
disinterestedmore useful less encumbered by untoward circumstancesless influenced by evil
tongues and evil times.''
``Never!'' I exclaimed, ``never!the world can afford me nothing to repay what I must leave behind me.''
Here I took her hand, and pressed it to my lips.
``This is folly!'' she exclaimed``this is madness!'' and she struggled to withdraw her hand from my grasp,
but not so stubbornly as actually to succeed until I had held it for nearly a minute. ``Hear me, sir!'' she said,
``and curb this unmanly burst of passion. I am, by a solemn contract, the bride of Heaven, unless I could
prefer being wedded to villany in the person of Rashleigh Osbaldistone, or brutality in that of his brother. I
am, therefore, the bride of Heaven,betrothed to the convent from the cradle. To me, therefore, these
raptures are misappliedthey only serve to prove a farther necessity for your departure, and that without
delay.'' At these words she broke suddenly off, and said, but in a suppressed tone of voice, ``Leave me
instantlywe will meet here again, but it must be for the last time.''
My eyes followed the direction of hers as she spoke, and I thought I saw the tapestry shake, which covered
the door of the secret passage from Rashleigh's room to the library. I conceived we were observed, and turned
an inquiring glance on Miss Vernon.
``It is nothing,'' said she, faintly; ``a rat behind the arras.''
``Dead for a ducat,'' would have been my reply, had I dared to give way to the feelings which rose indignant
at the idea of being subjected to an eavesdropper on such an occasion. Prudence, and the necessity of
suppressing my passion, and obeying Diana's reiterated command of ``Leave me! leave me!'' came in time to
prevent my rash action. I left the apartment in a wild whirl and giddiness of mind, which I in vain attempted
to compose when I returned to my own.
A chaos of thoughts intruded themselves on me at once, passing hastily through my brain, intercepting and
overshadowing each other, and resembling those fogs which in mountainous countries are wont to descend in
obscure volumes, and disfigure or obliterate the usual marks by which the traveller steers his course through
the wilds. The dark and undefined idea of danger arising to my father from the machinations of such a man as
Rashleigh Osbaldistonethe half declaration of love that I had offered to Miss Vernon's acceptancethe
acknowledged difficulties of her situation, bound by a previous contract to sacrifice herself to a cloister or to
an illassorted marriage, all pressed themselves at once upon my recollection, while my judgment was
unable deliberately to consider any of them in their just light and bearings. But chiefly and above all the rest,
I was perplexed by the manner in which Miss Vernon had received my tender of affection, and by her
manner, which, fluctuating betwixt sympathy and firmness, seemed to intimate that I possessed an interest in
her bosom, but not of force sufficient to counterbalance the obstacles to her avowing a mutual affection. The
glance of fear, rather than surprise, with which she had watched the motion of the tapestry over the concealed
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door, implied an apprehension of danger which I could not but suppose well grounded; for Diana Vernon was
little subject to the nervous emotions of her sex, and totally unapt to fear without actual and rational cause. Of
what nature could those mysteries be, with which she was surrounded as with an enchanter's spell, and which
seemed continually to exert an active influence over her thoughts and actions, though their agents were never
visible? On this subject of doubt my mind finally rested, as if glad to shake itself free from investigating the
propriety or prudence of my own conduct, by transferring the inquiry to what concerned Miss Vernon. I will
be resolved, I concluded, ere I leave Osbaldistone Hall, concerning the light in which I must in future regard
this fascinating being, over whose life frankness and mystery seem to have divided their reign,the former
inspiring her words and sentiments the latter spreading in misty influence over all her actions.
Joined to the obvious interests which arose from curiosity and anxious passion, there mingled in my feelings
a strong, though unavowed and undefined, infusion of jealousy. This sentiment, which springs up with love
as naturally as the tares with the wheat, was excited by the degree of influence which Diana appeared to
concede to those unseen beings by whom her actions were limited. The more I reflected upon her character,
the more I was internally though unwillingly convinced, that she was formed to set at defiance all control,
excepting that which arose from affection; and I felt a strong, bitter, and gnawing suspicion, that such was the
foundation of that influence by which she was overawed.
These tormenting doubts strengthened my desire to penetrate into the secret of Miss Vernon's conduct, and in
the prosecution of this sage adventure, I formed a resolution, of which, if you are not weary of these details,
you will find the result in the next chapter.
CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.
I hear a voice you cannot hear,
Which says, I must not stay;
I see a hand you cannot see,
Which beckons me awry.
Tickell.
I have already told you, Tresham, if you deign to bear it in remembrance, that my evening visits to the library
had seldom been made except by appointment, and under the sanction of old Dame Martha's presence. This,
however, was entirely a tacit conventional arrangement of my own instituting. Of late, as the embarrassments
of our relative situation had increased, Miss Vernon and I had never met in the evening at all. She had
therefore no reason to suppose that I was likely to seek a renewal of these interviews, and especially without
some previous notice or appointment betwixt us, that Martha might, as usual, be placed upon duty; but, on the
other hand, this cautionary provision was a matter of understanding, not of express enactment. The library
was open to me, as to the other members of the family, at all hours of the day and night, and I could not be
accused of intrusion, however suddenly and unexpectedly I might made my appearance in it. My belief was
strong, that in this apartment Miss Vernon occasionally received Vaughan, or some other person, by whose
opinion she was accustomed to regulate her conduct, and that at the times when she could do so with least
chance of interruption. The lights which gleamed in the library at unusual hoursthe passing shadows
which I had myself remarkedthe footsteps which might be traced in the morningdew from the
turretdoor to the posterngate in the gardensounds and sights which some of the servants, and Andrew
Fairservice in particular, had observed, and accounted for in their own way,all tended to show that the
place was visited by some one different from the ordinary inmates of the hall. Connected as this visitant
probably must be with the fates of Diana Vernon, I did not hesitate to form a plan of discovering who or what
he was, how far his influence was likely to produce good or evil consequences to her on whom he
acted;above all, though I endeavoured to persuade myself that this was a mere subordinate consideration,
I desired to know by what means this person had acquired or maintained his influence over Diana, and
whether he ruled over her by fear or by affection. The proof that this jealous curiosity was uppermost in my
mind, arose from my imagination always ascribing Miss Vernon's conduct to the influence of some one
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individual agent, although, for aught I knew about the matter, her advisers might be as numerous am Legion.
I remarked this over and over to myself; but I found that my mind still settled back in my original conviction,
that one single individual, of the masculine sex, and in all probability young and handsome, was at the
bottom of Miss Vernon's conduct; and it was with a burning desire of discovering, or rather of detecting, such
a rival, that I stationed myself in the garden to watch the moment when the lights should appear in the library
windows.
So eager, however, was my impatience, that I commenced my watch for a phenomenon, which could not
appear until darkness, a full hour before the daylight disappeared, on a July evening. It was Sabbath, and all
the walks were still and solitary. I walked up and down for some time, enjoying the refreshing coolness of a
summer evening, and meditating on the probable consequences of my enterprise. The fresh and balmy air of
the garden, impregnated with fragrance, produced its usual sedative effects on my overheated and feverish
blood. As these took place, the turmoil of my mind began proportionally to abate, and I was led to question
the right I had to interfere with Miss Vernon's secrets, or with those of my uncle's family. What was it to me
whom my uncle might choose to conceal in his house, where I was myself a guest only by tolerance? And
what title had I to pry into the affairs of Miss Vernon, fraught, as she had avowed them to be, with mystery,
into which she desired no scrutiny?
Passion and selfwill were ready with their answers to these questions. In detecting this secret, I was in all
probability about to do service to Sir Hildebrand, who was probably ignorant of the intrigues carried on in his
familyand a still more important service to Miss Vernon, whose frank simplicity of character exposed her
to so many risks in maintaining a private correspondence, perhaps with a person of doubtful or dangerous
character. If I seemed to intrude myself on her confidence, it was with the generous and disinterested (yes, I
even ventured to call it the disinterested) intention of guiding, defending, and protecting her against
craftagainst malice,above all, against the secret counsellor whom she had chosen for her confidant.
Such were the arguments which my will boldly preferred to my conscience, as coin which ought to be
current, and which conscience, like a grumbling shopkeeper, was contented to accept, rather than come to an
open breach with a customer, though more than doubting that the tender was spurious.
While I paced the green alleys, debating these things pro and con, I suddenly alighted upon Andrew
Fairservice, perched up like a statue by a range of beehives, in an attitude of devout contemplationone
eye, however, watching the motions of the little irritable citizens, who were settling in their strawthatched
mansion for the evening, and the other fixed on a book of devotion, which much attrition had deprived of its
corners, and worn into an oval shape; a circumstance which, with the close print and dingy colour of the
volume in question, gave it an air of most respectable antiquity.
``I was e'en taking a spell o' worthy Mess John Quackleben's Flower of a Sweet Savour sawn on the
Middenstead of this World,'' said Andrew, closing his book at my appearance, and putting his horn
spectacles, by way of mark, at the place where he had been reading.
``And the bees, I observe, were dividing your attention, Andrew, with the learned author?''
``They are a contumacious generation,'' replied the gardener; ``they hae sax days in the week to hive on, and
yet it's a common observe that they will aye swarm on the Sabbathday, and keep folk at hame frae hearing
the wordBut there's nae preaching at Graneagain chapel the e'enthat's aye ae mercy.''
``You might have gone to the parish church as I did, Andrew, and heard an excellent discourse.''
``Clauts o' cauld parritchclauts o' cauld parritch,'' replied Andrew, with a most supercilious
sneer,``gude aneueh for dogs, begging your honour's pardonAy! I might nae doubt hae heard the
curate linking awa at it in his white sark yonder, and the musicians playing on whistles, mair like a
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pennywedding than a sermonand to the boot of that, I might hae gaen to evensong, and heard Daddie
Docharty mumbling his massmuckle the better I wad hae been o' that!''
``Docharty!'' said I (this was the name of an old priest, an Irishman, I think, who sometimes officiated at
Osbaldistone Hall)``I thought Father Vaughan had been at the Hall. He was here yesterday.''
``Ay,'' replied Andrew; ``but he left it yestreen, to gang to Greystock, or some o' thae westcountry haulds.
There's an unco stir among them a' e'enow. They are as busy as my bees areGod sain them! that I suld
even the puir things to the like o' papists. Ye see this is the second swarm, and whiles they will swarm off in
the afternoon. The first swarm set off sune in the morning.But I am thinking they are settled in their
skeps for the night; sae I wuss your honour goodnight, and grace, and muckle o't.''
So saying, Andrew retreated, but often cast a parting glance upon the skeps, as he called the beehives.
I had indirectly gained from him an important piece of information, that Father Vaughan, namely, was not
supposed to be at the Hall. If, therefore, there appeared light in the windows of the library this evening, it
either could not be his, or he was observing a very secret and suspicious line of conduct. I waited with
impatience the time of sunset and of twilight. It had hardly arrived, ere a gleam from the windows of the
library was seen, dimly distinguishable amidst the still enduring light of the evening. I marked its first
glimpse, however, as speedily as the benighted sailor descries the first distant twinkle of the lighthouse which
marks his course. The feelings of doubt and propriety, which had hitherto contended with my curiosity and
jealousy, vanished when an opportunity of gratifying the former was presented to me. I reentered the house,
and avoiding the more frequented apartments with the consciousness of one who wishes to keep his purpose
secret, I reached the door of the libraryhesitated for a moment as my hand was upon the latchheard a
suppressed step within opened the doorand found Miss Vernon alone.
Diana appeared surprised,whether at my sudden entrance, or from some other cause, I could not guess;
but there was in her appearance a degree of flutter, which I had never before remarked, and which I knew
could only be produced by unusual emotion. Yet she was calm in a moment; and such is the force of
conscience, that I, who studied to surprise her, seemed myself the surprised, and was certainly the
embarrassed person.
``Has anything happened?'' said Miss Vernon``has any one arrived at the Hall?''
``No one that I know of,'' I answered, in some confusion; ``I only sought the Orlando.''
``It lies there,'' said Miss Vernon, pointing to the table. In removing one or two books to get at that which I
pretended to seek, I was, in truth, meditating to make a handsome retreat from an investigation to which I felt
my assurance inadequate, when I perceived a man's glove lying upon the table. My eyes encountered those of
Miss Vernon, who blushed deeply.
``It is one of my relics,'' she said with hesitation, replying not to my words but to my looks; ``it is one of the
gloves of my grandfather, the original of the superb Vandyke which you admire.''
As if she thought something more than her bare assertion was necessary to prove her statement true, she
opened a drawer of the large oaken table, and taking out another glove, threw it towards me.When a
temper naturally ingenuous stoops to equivocate, or to dissemble, the anxious pain with which the unwonted
task is laboured, often induces the hearer to doubt the authenticity of the tale. I cast a hasty glance on both
gloves, and then replied gravely``The gloves resemble each other, doubtless, in form and embroidery; but
they cannot form a pair, since they both belong to the right hand.''
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She bit her lip with anger, and again coloured deeply.
``You do right to expose me,'' she replied, with bitterness: ``some friends would have only judged from what
I said, that I chose to give no particular explanation of a circumstance which calls for noneat least to a
stranger. You have judged better, and have made me feel, not only the meanness of duplicity, but my own
inadequacy to sustain the task of a dissembler. I now tell you distinctly, that that glove is not the fellow, as
you have acutely discerned, to the one which I just now produced; it belongs to a friend yet dearer to me
than the original of Vandyke's picturea friend by whose counsels I have been, and will be,
guidedwhom I honourwhom I'' she paused.
I was irritated at her manner, and filled up the blank in my own way``Whom she loves, Miss Vernon
would say.''
``And if I do say so,'' she replied haughtily, ``by whom shall my affection be called to account?''
``Not by me, Miss Vernon, assuredlyI entreat you to hold me acquitted of such presumption.But,'' I
continued, with some emphasis, for I was now piqued in return, ``I hope Miss Vernon will pardon a friend,
from whom she seems disposed to withdraw the title, for observing''
``Observe nothing, sir,'' she interrupted with some vehemence, except that I will neither be doubted nor
questioned. There does not exist one by whom I will be either interrogated or judged; and if you sought this
unusual time of presenting yourself in order to spy upon my privacy, the friendship or interest with which
you pretend to regard me, is a poor excuse for your uncivil curiosity.''
``I relieve you of my presence,'' said I, with pride equal to her own; for my temper has ever been a stranger to
stooping, even in cases where my feelings were most deeply interested ``I relieve you of my presence. I
awake from a pleasant, but a most delusive dream; andbut we understand each other.''
I had reached the door of the apartment, when Miss Vernon, whose movements were sometimes so rapid as
to seem almost instinctive, overtook me, and, catching hold of my arm, stopped me with that air of authority
which she could so whimsically assume, and which, from the nai:vete' and simplicity of her manner, had an
effect so peculiarly interesting.
``Stop, Mr. Frank,'' she said, ``you are not to leave me in that way neither; I am not so amply provided with
friends, that I can afford to throw away even the ungrateful and the selfish. Mark what I say, Mr. Francis
Osbaldistone. You shall know nothing of this mysterious glove,'' and she held it up as she
spoke``nothingno, not a single iota more than you know already; and yet I will not permit it to be a
gauntlet of strife and defiance betwixt us. My time here,'' she said, sinking into a tone somewhat softer,
``must necessarily be very short; yours must be still shorter: we are soon to part never to meet again; do not
let us quarrel, or make any mysterious miseries the pretext for farther embittering the few hours we shall ever
pass together on this side of eternity.''
I do not know, Tresham, by what witchery this fascinating creature obtained such complete management over
a temper which I cannot at all times manage myself. I had determined on entering the library, to seek a
complete explanation with Miss Vernon. I had found that she refused it with indignant defiance, and avowed
to my face the preference of a rival; for what other construction could I put on her declared preference of her
mysterious confidant? And yet, while I was on the point of leaving the apartment, and breaking with her for
ever, it cost her but a change of look and tone, from that of real and haughty resentment to that of kind and
playful despotism, again shaded off into melancholy and serious feeling, to lead me back to my seat, her
willing subject, on her own hard terms.
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``What does this avail?'' said I, as I sate down. ``What can this avail, Miss Vernon? Why should I witness
embarrassments which I cannot relieve, and mysteries which I offend you even by attempting to penetrate?
Inexperienced as you are in the world, you must still be aware that a beautiful young woman can have but one
male friend. Even in a male friend I will be jealous of a confidence shared with a third party unknown and
concealed; but with you, Miss Vernon''
``You are, of course, jealous, in all the tenses and moods of that amiable passion? But, my good friend, you
have all this time spoke nothing but the paltry gossip which simpletons repeat from playbooks and
romances, till they give mere cant a real and powerful influence over their minds. Boys and girls prate
themselves into love; and when their love is like to fall asleep, they prate and tease themselves into jealousy.
But you and I, Frank, are rational beings, and neither silly nor idle enough to talk ourselves into any other
relation than that of plain honest disinterested friendship. Any other union is as far out of our reach as if I
were man, or you womanTo speak truth,'' she added, after a moment's hesitation, ``even though I am so
complaisant to the decorum of my sex as to blush a little at my own plain dealing, we cannot marry if we
would; and we ought not if we could.''
And certainly, Tresham, she did blush most angelically, as she made this cruel declaration. I was about to
attack both her positions, entirely forgetting those very suspicions which had been confirmed in the course of
the evening, but she proceeded with a cold firmness which approached to severity``What I say is sober
and indisputable truth, on which I will neither hear question nor explanation. We are therefore friends, Mr.
Osbaldistone are we not?'' She held out her hand, and taking mine, added``And nothing to each other
now, or henceforward, except as friends.''
She let go my hand. I sunk it and my head at once, fairly overcrowed, as Spenser would have termed it, by
the mingled kindness and firmness of her manner. She hastened to change the subject.
``Here is a letter,'' she said, ``directed for you, Mr. Osbaldistone, very duly and distinctly; but which,
notwithstanding the caution of the person who wrote and addressed it, might perhaps never have reached your
hands, had it not fallen into the possession of a certain Pacolet, or enchanted dwarf of mine, whom, like all
distressed damsels of romance, I retain in my secret service.''
I opened the letter and glanced over the contents. The unfolded sheet of paper dropped from my hands, with
the involuntary exclamation of ``Gracious Heaven! my folly and disobedience have ruined my father!''
Miss Vernon rose with looks of real and affectionate alarm ``You grow paleyou are illshall I
bring you a glass of water? Be a man, Mr. Osbaldistone, and a firm one. Is your fatheris he no more?''
``He lives,'' said I, ``thank God! but to what distress and difficulty''
``If that be all, despair not, May I read this letter?'' she said, taking it up.
I assented, hardly knowing what I said. She read it with great attention.
``Who is this Mr. Tresham, who signs the letter?''
``My father's partner''(your own good father, Will)``but he is little in the habit of acting personally in
the business of the house.''
``He writes here,'' said Miss Vernon, ``of various letters sent to you previously.''
``I have received none of them,'' I replied.
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``And it appears,'' she continued, ``that Rashleigh, who has taken the full management of affairs during your
father's absence in Holland, has some time since left London for Scotland, with effects and remittances to
take up large bills granted by your father to persons in that country, and that he has not since been heard of.''
``It is but too true.''
``And here has been,'' she added, looking at the letter, ``a headclerk, or some such
person,OwensonOwendespatched to Glasgow, to find out Rashleigh, if possible, and you are
entreated to repair to the same place, and assist him in his researches.''
``It is even so, and I must depart instantly.''
``Stay but one moment,'' said Miss Vernon. ``It seems to me that the worst which can come of this matter,
will be the loss of a certain sum of money;and can that bring tears into your eyes? For shame, Mr.
Osbaldistone!''
``You do me injustice, Miss Vernon,'' I answered. ``I grieve not for the loss of the money, but for the effect
which I know it will produce on the spirits and health of my father, to whom mercantile credit is as honour;
and who, if declared insolvent, would sink into the grave, oppressed by a sense of grief, remorse, and despair,
like that of a soldier convicted of cowardice or a man of honour who had lost his rank and character in
society. All this I might have prevented by a trifling sacrifice of the foolish pride and indolence which
recoiled from sharing the labours of his honourable and useful profession. Good Heaven! how shall I redeem
the consequences of my error?''
``By instantly repairing to Glasgow, as you are conjured to do by the friend who writes this letter.''
``But if Rashleigh,'' said I, ``has really formed this base and unconscientious scheme of plundering his
benefactor, what prospect is there that I can find means of frustrating a plan so deeply laid?'
``The prospect,'' she replied, ``indeed, may be uncertain; but, on the other hand, there is no possibility of your
doing any service to your father by remaining here. Remember, had you been on the post destined for you,
this disaster could not have happened: hasten to that which is now pointed out, and it may possibly be
retrieved.Yet staydo not leave this room until I return.''
She left me in confusion and amazement; amid which, however, I could find a lucid interval to admire the
firmness, composure, and presence of mind which Miss Vernon seemed to possess on every crisis, however
sudden.
In a few minutes she returned with a sheet of paper in her hand, folded and sealed like a letter, but without
address. ``I trust you,'' she said, ``with this proof of my friendship, because I have the most perfect confidence
in your honour. If I understand the nature of your distress rightly, the funds in Rashleigh's possession must be
recovered by a certain daythe 12th of September, I think is namedin order that they may be applied to
pay the bills in question; and, consequently, that if adequate funds be provided before that period, your
father's credit is safe from the apprehended calamity.''
``CertainlyI so understand Mr. Tresham''I looked at your father's letter again, and added, ``There
cannot be a doubt of it.''
``Well,'' said Diana, ``in that case my little Pacolet may be of use to you. You have heard of a spell contained
in a letter. Take this packet; do not open it until other and ordinary means have failed. If you succeed by your
own exertions, I trust to your honour for destroying it without opening or suffering it to be opened;but if
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not, you may break the seal within ten days of the fated day, and you will find directions which may possibly
be of service to you. Adieu, Frank; we never meet morebut sometimes think of your friend Die Vernon.''
She extended her hand, but I clasped her to my bosom. She sighed as she extricated herself from the embrace
which she permitted escaped to the door which led to her own apartment and I saw her no more.
CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.
And hurry, hurry, off they rode,
As fast as fast might be;
Hurra, hurra, the dead can ride,
Dost fear to ride with me?
Burger.
There is one advantage in an accumulation of evils, differing in cause and character, that the distraction
which they afford by their contradictory operation prevents the patient from being overwhelmed under either.
I was deeply grieved at my separation from Miss Vernon, yet not so much so as I should have been, had not
my father's apprehended distresses forced themselves on my attention; and I was distressed by the news of
Mr. Tresham, yet less so than if they had fully occupied my mind. I was neither a false lover nor an unfeeling
son; but man can give but a certain portion of distressful emotions to the causes which demand them; and if
two operate at once, our sympathy, like the funds of a compounding bankrupt, can only be divided between
them. Such were my reflections when I gained my apartmentit seems, from the illustration, they already
began to have a twang of commerce in them.
I set myself seriously to consider your father's letter. It was not very distinct, and referred for several
particulars to Owen, whom I was entreated to meet with as soon as possible at a Scotch town called Glasgow;
being informed, moreover, that my old friend was to be heard of at Messrs. MacVittie, MacFin, and
Company, merchants in the Gallowgate of the said town. It likewise alluded to several letters,which, as it
appeared to me, must have miscarried or have been intercepted, and complained of my obdurate silence, in
terms which would have, been highly unjust, had my letters reached their purposed destination. I was amazed
as I read. That the spirit of Rashleigh walked around me, and conjured up these doubts and difficulties by
which I was surrounded, I could not doubt for one instant; yet it was frightful to conceive the extent of
combined villany and power which he must have employed in the perpetration of his designs. Let me do
myself justice in one respect. The evil of parting from Miss Vernon, however distressing it might in other
respects and at another time have appeared to me, sunk into a subordinate consideration when I thought of the
dangers impending over my father. I did not myself set a high estimation on wealth, and had the affectation of
most young men of lively imagination, who suppose that they can better dispense with the possession of
money, than resign their time and faculties to the labour necessary to acquire it. But in my father's case, I
knew that bankruptcy would be considered as an utter and irretrievable disgrace, to which life would afford
no comfort, and death the speediest and sole relief.
My mind, therefore, was bent on averting this catastrophe, with an intensity which the interest could not have
produced had it referred to my own fortunes; and the result of my deliberation was a firm resolution to depart
from Osbaldistone Hall the next day and wend my way without loss of time to meet Owen at Glasgow. I did
not hold it expedient to intimate my departure to my uncle, otherwise than by leaving a letter of thanks for his
hospitality, assuring him that sudden and important business prevented my offering them in person. I knew
the blunt old knight would readily excuse ceremony; and I had such a belief in the extent and decided
character of Rashleigh's machinations, that I had some apprehension of his having provided means to
intercept a journey which was undertaken with a view to disconcert them, if my departure were publicly
announced at Osbaldistone Hall.
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I therefore determined to set off on my journey with daylight on the ensuing morning, and to gain the
neighbouring kingdom of Scotland before any idea of my departure was entertained at the Hall. But one
impediment of consequence was likely to prevent that speed which was the soul of my expedition. I did not
know the shortest, nor indeed any road to Glasgow; and as, in the circumstances in which I stood, despatch
was of the greatest consequence, I determined to consult Andrew Fairservice on the subject, as the nearest
and most authentic authority within my reach. Late as it was, I set off with the intention of ascertaining this
important point, and after a few minutes' walk reached the dwelling of the gardener.
Andrew's dwelling was situated at no great distance from the exterior wall of the gardena snug
comfortable Northumbrian cottage, built of stones roughly dressed with the hammer, and having the windows
and doors decorated with huge heavy architraves, or lintels, as they are called, of hewn stone, and its roof
covered with broad grey flags, instead of slates, thatch, or tiles. A jargonelle peartree at one end of the
cottage, a rivulet and flowerplot of a rood in extent in front, and a kitchengarden behind; a paddock for a
cow, and a small field, cultivated with several crops of grain, rather for the benefit of the cottager than for
sale, announced the warm and cordial comforts which Old England, even at her most northern extremity,
extends to her meanest inhabitants.
As I approached the mansion of the sapient Andrew, I heard a noise, which, being of a nature peculiarly
solemn, nasal, and prolonged, led me to think that Andrew, according to the decent and meritorious custom of
his countrymen, had assembled some of his neighbours to join in family exercise, as he called evening
devotion. Andrew had indeed neither wife, child, nor female inmate in his family. ``The first of his trade,'' he
said, ``had had eneugh o'thae cattle.'' But, notwithstanding, he sometimes contrived to form an audience for
himself out of the neighbouring Papists and ChurchofEnglandmenbrands, as he expressed it, snatched
out of the burning, on whom he used to exercise his spiritual gifts, in defiance alike of Father Vaughan,
Father Docharty, Rashleigh, and all the world of Catholics around him, who deemed his interference on such
occasions an act of heretical interloping. I conceived it likely, therefore, that the welldisposed neighbours
might have assembled to hold some chapel of ease of this nature. The noise, however, when I listened to it
more accurately, seemed to proceed entirely from the lungs of the said Andrew; and when I interrupted it by
entering the house, I found Fairservice alone, combating as he best could, with long words and hard names,
and reading aloud, for the purpose of his own edification, a volume of controversial divinity.
``I was just taking a spell,'' said he, laying aside the huge folio volume as I entered, ``of the worthy Doctor
Lightfoot.''
``Lightfoot!'' I replied, looking at the ponderous volume with some surprise; ``surely your author was
unhappily named.''
``Lightfoot was his name, sir; a divine he was, and another kind of a divine than they hae nowadays.
Always, I crave your pardon for keeping ye standing at the door, but having been mistrysted (gude preserve
us!) with ae bogle the night already, I was dubious o' opening the yett till I had gaen through the e'ening
worship; and I had just finished the fifth chapter of Nehemiahif that winna gar them keep their distance, I
wotna what will.''
``Trysted with a bogle!'' said I; ``what do you mean by that, Andrew?''
``I said mistrysted,'' replied Andrew; ``that is as muckle as to say, fley'd wi' a ghaistGude preserve us, I
say again!''
``Flay'd by a ghost, Andrew! how am I to understand that?''
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``I did not say flay'd,'' replied Andrew, ``but fley'd,that is, I got a fleg, and was ready to jump out o' my
skin, though naebody offered to whirl it aff my body as a man wad bark a tree.''
``I beg a truce to your terrors in the present case, Andrew, and I wish to know whether you can direct me the
nearest way to a town in your country of Scotland, called Glasgow?''
``A town ca'd Glasgow!'' echoed Andrew Fairservice. ``Glasgow's a ceety, man.And is't the way to
Glasgow ye were speering if I ken'd?What suld ail me to ken it?it's no that dooms far frae my ain
parish of Dreepdaily, that lies a bittock farther to the west. But what may your honour be gaun to Glasgow
for?''
``Particular business,'' replied I.
``That's as muckle as to say, Speer nae questions, and I'll tell ye nae lees.To Glasgow?''he made a
short pause``I am thinking ye wad be the better o' some ane to show you the road.''
``Certainly, if I could meet with any person going that way.''
``And your honour, doubtless, wad consider the time and trouble?''
``Unquestionablymy business is pressing, and if you can find any guide to accompany me, I'll pay him
handsomely.''
``This is no a day to speak o' carnal matters,'' said Andrew, casting his eyes upwards; ``but if it werena
Sabbath at e'en, I wad speer what ye wad be content to gie to ane that wad bear ye pleasant company on the
road, and tell ye the names of the gentlemen's and noblemen's seats and castles, and count their kin to ye?''
``I tell you, all I want to know is the road I must travel; I will pay the fellow to his satisfactionI will give
him anything in reason.''
``Onything,'' replied Andrew, ``is naething; and this lad that I am speaking o' kens a' the short cuts and queer
bypaths through the hills, and''
``I have no time to talk about it, Andrew; do you make the bargain for me your own way.''
``Aha! that's speaking to the purpose,'' answered Andrew. ``I am thinking, since sae be that sae it is, I'll
be the lad that will guide you mysell.''
``You, Andrew?how will you get away from your employment?''
``I tell'd your honour a while syne, that it was lang that I hae been thinking o' flitting, maybe as lang as frae
the first year I came to Osbaldistone Hall; and now I am o' the mind to gang in gude earnestbetter soon as
synebetter a finger aff as aye wagging.''
``You leave your service, then?but will you not lose your wages?''
``Nae doubt there will be a certain loss; but then I hae siller o' the laird's in my hands that I took for the apples
in the auld orchyardand a sair bargain the folk had that bought thema wheen green trashand yet
Sir Hildebrand's as keen to hae the siller (that is, the steward is as pressing about it) as if they had been a'
gowden pippinsand then there's the siller for the seedsI'm thinking the wage will be in a manner
decently made up.But doubtless your honour will consider my risk of loss when we win to
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Glasgowand ye'll be for setting out forthwith?''
``By daybreak in the morning,'' I answered.
``That's something o' the suddenestwhare am I to find a naig?StayI ken just the beast that will
answer me.''
``At five in the morning, then, Andrew, you will meet me at the head of the avenue.''
``Deil a fear o' me (that I suld say sae) missing my tryste,'' replied Andrew, very briskly; ``and if I might
advise, we wad be aff twa hours earlier. I ken the way, dark or light, as weel as blind Ralph Ronaldson, that's
travelled ower every moor in the countryside, and disna ken the colour of a heathercowe when a's dune.''
I highly approved of Andrew's amendment on my original proposal, and we agreed to meet at the place
appointed at three in the morning. At once, however, a reflection came across the mind of my intended
travelling companion.
``The bogle! the bogle! what if it should come out upon us?I downa forgather wi' thae things twice in the
fourandtwenty hours.''
``Pooh! pooh!'' I exclaimed, breaking away from him, ``fear nothing from the next worldthe earth
contains living fiends, who can act for themselves without assistance, were the whole host that fell with
Lucifer to return to aid and abet them.''
With these words, the import of which was suggested by my own situation, I left Andrew's habitation, and
returned to the Hall.
I made the few preparations which were necessary for my proposed journey, examined and loaded my pistols,
and then threw myself on my bed, to obtain, if possible, a brief sleep before the fatigue of a long and anxious
journey. Nature, exhausted by the tumultuous agitations of the day, was kinder to me than I expected, and I
stink into a deep and profound slumber, from which, however, I started as the old clock struck two from a
turret adjoining to my bedchamber. I instantly arose, struck a light, wrote the letter I proposed to leave for my
uncle, and leaving behind me such articles of dress as were cumbrous in carriage, I deposited the rest of my
wardrobe in my valise, glided down stairs, and gained the stable without impediment. Without being quite
such a groom as any of my cousins, I had learned at Osbaldistone Hall to dress and saddle my own horse, and
in a few minutes I was mounted and ready for my sally.
As I paced up the old avenue, on which the waning moon threw its light with a pale and whitish tinge, I
looked back with a deep and boding sigh towards the walls which contained Diana Vernon, under the
despondent impression that we had probably parted to meet no more. It was impossible, among the long and
irregular lines of Gothic casements, which now looked ghastly white in the moonlight, to distinguish that of
the apartment which she inhabited. ``She is lost to me already,'' thought I, as my eye wandered over the dim
and indistinguishable intricacies of architecture offered by the moonlight view of Osbaldistone Hall``She
is lost to me already, ere I have left the place which she inhabits! What hope is there of my maintaining any
correspondence with her, when leagues shall lie between?''
While I paused in a reverie of no very pleasing nature, the ``iron tongue of time told three upon the drowsy
ear of night,'' and reminded me of the necessity of keeping my appointment with a person of a less interesting
description and appearance Andrew Fairservice.
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At the gate of the avenue I found a horseman stationed in the shadow of the wall, but it was not until I had
coughed twice, and then called ``Andrew,'' that the horticulturist replied, ``I'se warrant it's Andrew.''
``Lead the way, then,'' said I, ``and be silent if you can, till we are past the hamlet in the valley.''
Andrew led the way accordingly, and at a much brisker pace than I would have recommended.and so
well did he obey my injunctions of keeping silence, that he would return no answer to my repeated inquiries
into the cause of such unnecessary haste. Extricating ourselves by short cuts, known to Andrew, from the
numerous stony lanes and bypaths which intersected each other in the vicinity of the Hall, we reached the
open heath and riding swiftly across it, took our course among the barren hills which divide England from
Scotland on what are called the Middle Marches. The way, or rather the broken track which we occupied, was
a happy interchange of bog and shingles; nevertheless, Andrew relented nothing of his speed, but trotted
manfully forward at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour. I was both surprised and provoked at the fellow's
obstinate persistence, for we made abrupt ascents and descents over ground of a very breakneck character,
and traversed the edge of precipices, where a slip of the horse's feet would have consigned the rider to certain
death. The moon, at best, afforded a dubious and imperfect light; but in some places we were so much under
the shade of the mountain as to be in total darkness, and then I could only trace Andrew by the clatter of his
horse's feet, and the fire which they struck from the flints. At first, this rapid motion, and the attention which,
for the sake of personal safety, I was compelled to give to the conduct of my horse, was of service, by
forcibly diverting my thoughts from the various painful reflections which must otherwise have pressed on my
mind. But at length, after hallooing repeatedly to Andrew to ride slower, I became seriously incensed at his
impudent perseverance in refusing either to obey or to reply to me. My anger was, however, quite impotent. I
attempted once or twice to get up alongside of my selfwilled guide, with the purpose of knocking him off
his horse with the buttend of my whip; but Andrew was better mounted than I, and either the spirit of the
animal which he bestrode, or more probably some presentiment of my kind intentions towards him, induced
him to quicken his pace whenever I attempted to make up to him. On the other hand, I was compelled to exert
my spurs to keep him in sight, for without his guidance I was too well aware that I should never find my way
through the howling wilderness which we now traversed at such an unwonted pace. I was so angry at length,
that I threatened to have recourse to my pistols, and send a bullet after the Hotspur Andrew, which should
stop his fieryfooted career, if he did not abate it of his own accord. Apparently this threat made some
impression on the tympanum of his ear, however deaf to all my milder entreaties; for he relaxed his pace
upon hearing it, and, suffering me to close up to him, observed, ``There wasna muckle sense in riding at sic a
daftlike gate.''
``And what did you mean by doing so at all, you selfwilled scoundrel?'' replied I; for I was in a towering
passion,to which, by the way, nothing contributes more than the having recently undergone a spice of
personal fear, which, like a few drops of water flung on a glowing fire, is sure to inflame the ardour which it
is insufficient to quench.
``What's your honour's wull?'' replied Andrew, with impenetrable gravity.
``My will, you rascal?I have been roaring to you this hour to ride slower, and you have never so much as
answered me Are you drunk or mad to behave so?''
``An it like your honour, I am something dull o' hearing; and I'll no deny but I might have maybe taen a
stirrupcup at parting frae the auld bigging whare I hae dwelt sae lang; and having naebody to pledge, nae
doubt I was obliged to do mysell reason, or else leave the end o' the brandy stoup to thae papists and that
wad be a waste, as your honour kens.''
This might be all very true,and my circumstances required that I should be on good terms with my guide;
I therefore satisfied myself with requiring of him to take his directions from me in future concerning the rate
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of travelling.
Andrew, emboldened by the mildness of my tone, elevated his own into the pedantic, conceited octave, which
was familiar to him on most occasions.
``Your honour winna persuade me, and naebody shall persuade me, that it's either halesome or prudent to tak
the night air on thae moors without a cordial o' clowgilliflower water, or a tass of brandy or aquavitae, or
siclike creaturecomfort. I hae taen the bent ower the Otterscraperigg a hundred times, day and night, and
never could find the way unless I had taen my morning; mair by token that I had whiles twa bits o' ankers o'
brandy on ilk side o' me.''
``In other words, Andrew,'' said I, ``you were a smuggler how does a man of your strict principles
reconcile yourself to cheat the revenue?''
``It's a mere spoiling o' the Egyptians,'' replied Andrew; ``puir auld Scotland suffers eneugh by thae
blackguard loons o' excisemen and gaugers, that hae come down on her like locusts since the sad and
sorrowfu' Union; it's the part of a kind son to bring her a soup o' something that will keep up her auld
heart,and that will they nill they, the illfa'ard thieves!''
Upon more particular inquiry, I found Andrew had frequently travelled these mountainpaths as a smuggler,
both before and after his establishment at Osbaldistone Halla circumstance which was so far of
importance to me, as it proved his capacity as a guide, notwithstanding the escapade of which he had been
guilty at his outset, Even now, though travelling at a more moderate pace, the stirrupcup, or whatever else
had such an effect in stimulating Andrew's motions, seemed not totally to have lost its influence. He often
cast a nervous and startled look behind him; and whenever the road seemed at all practicable, showed
symptoms of a desire to accelerate his pace, as if he feared some pursuit from the rear. These appearances of
alarm gradually diminished as we reached the top of a high bleak ridge, which ran nearly east and west for
about a mile, with a very steep descent on either side. The pale beams of the morning were now enlightening
the horizon, when Andrew cast a look behind him, and not seeing the appearance of a living being on the
moors which he had travelled, his hard features gradually unbent, as he first whistled, then sung, with much
glee and little melody, the end of one of his native songs
``Jenny, lass! I think I hae her Ower the muir amang the heather, All their clan shall never get her.''
He patted at the same time the neck of the horse which had carried him so gallantly; and my attention being
directed by that action to the animal, I instantly recognised a favourite mare of Thorncliff Osbaldistone.
``How is this, sir?'' said I sternly; ``that is Mr. Thorncliff's mare!''
``I'll no say but she may aiblins hae been his honour's Squire Thorncliff's in her daybut she's mine now.''
``You have stolen her, you rascal.''
``Na, na, sirnae man can wyte me wi' theft. The thing stands this gate, ye see. Squire Thorncliff borrowed
ten punds o' me to gang to York Racesdeil a boddle wad he pay me back again, and spake o' raddling my
banes, as he ca'd it, when I asked him but for my ain back again;now I think it will riddle him or he gets
his horse ower the Border againunless he pays me plack and bawbee, he sall never see a hair o' her tail. I
ken a canny chield at Loughmaben, a bit writer lad, that will put me in the way to sort him. Steal the mear!
na, na, far be the sin o' theft frae Andrew FairserviceI have just arrested her jurisdictionis fandandy
causey. Thae are bonny writer wordsamaist like the language o' huz gardeners and other learned
menit's a pity they're sae dear;thae three words were a' that Andrew got for a lang lawplea and four
ankers o' as gude brandy as was e'er coupit ower craigHech, sirs! but law's a dear thing.''
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``You are likely to find it much dearer than you suppose, Andrew, if you proceed in this mode of paying
yourself, without legal authority.''
``Hout tout, we're in Scotland now (be praised for't!) and I can find baith friends and lawyers, and judges too,
as weel as ony Osbaldistone o' them a'. My mither's mither's third cousin was cousin to the Provost o'
Dumfries, and he winna see a drap o' her blude wranged. Hout awa! the laws are indifferently administered
here to a' men alike; it's no like on yon side, when a chield may be whuppit awa' wi' ane o' Clerk Jobson's
warrants, afore he kens where he is. But they will hae little enough law amang them by and by, and that is ae
grand reason that I hae gi'en them gudeday.''
I was highly provoked at the achievement of Andrew, and considered it as a hard fate, which a second time
threw me into collision with a person of such irregular practices. I determined, however, to buy the mare of
him, when he should reach the end of our journey, and send her back to my cousin at Osbaldistone Hall; and
with this purpose of reparation I resolved to make my uncle acquainted from the next posttown. It was
needless, I thought, to quarrel with Andrew in the meantime, who had, after all, acted not very unnaturally for
a person in his circumstances. I therefore smothered my resentment, and asked him what he meant by his last
expressions, that there would be little law in Northumberland by and by?
``Law!'' said Andrew, ``hout, aythere will be clublaw eneugh. The priests and the Irish officers, and thae
papist cattle that hae been sodgering abroad, because they durstna bide at hame, are a' fleeing thick in
Northumberland e'enow; and thae corbies dinna gather without they smell carrion. As sure as ye live, his
honour Sir Hildebrand is gaun to stick his horn in the bogthere's naething but gun and pistol, sword and
dagger, amang themand they'll be laying on, I'se warrant; for they're fearless fules the young
Osbaldistone squires, aye craving your honour's pardon.''
This speech recalled to my memory some suspicions that I myself had entertained, that the Jacobites were on
the eve of some desperate enterprise. But, conscious it did not become me to be a spy on my uncle's words
and actions, I had rather avoided than availed myself of any opportunity which occurred of remarking upon
the signs of the times.Andrew Fairservice felt no such restraint, and doubtless spoke very truly in stating
his conviction that some desperate plots were in agitation, as a reason which determined his resolution to
leave the Hall.
``The servants,'' he stated, ``with the tenantry and others, had been all regularly enrolled and mustered, and
they wanted me to take arms also. But I'll ride in nae siccan troopthey little ken'd Andrew that asked him.
I'll fight when I like mysell, but it sall neither be for the hure o' Babylon, nor any hure in England.''
CHAPTER NINETEENTH.
Where longs to fall yon rifted spire,
As weary of the insulting air,
The poet's thoughts, the warrior's fire,
The lover's sighs, are sleeping there.
Langhorne.
At the first Scotch town which we reached, my guide sought out his friend and counsellor, to consult upon
the proper and legal means of converting into his own lawful property the ``bonny creature,'' which was at
present his own only by one of those sleightofhand arrangements which still sometimes took place in that
once lawless district. I was somewhat diverted with the dejection of his looks on his return. He had, it seems,
been rather too communicative to his confidential friend, the attorney; and learned with great dismay, in
return for his unsuspecting frankness, that Mr. Touthope had, during his absence, been appointed clerk to the
peace of the county, and was bound to communicate to justice all such achievements as that of his friend Mr.
Andrew Fairservice. There was a necessity, this alert member of the police stated, for arresting the horse, and
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placing him in Bailie Trumbull's stable, therein to remain at livery, at the rate of twelve shillings (Scotch) per
diem, until the question of property was duly tried and debated. He even talked as if, in strict and rigorous
execution of his duty, he ought to detain honest Andrew himself; but on my guide's most piteously entreating
his forbearance, he not only desisted from this proposal, but made a present to Andrew of a brokenwinded
and spavined pony, in order to enable him to pursue his journey. It is true, he qualified this act of generosity
by exacting from poor Andrew an absolute cession of his right and interest in the gallant palfrey of Thorncliff
Osbaldistone a transference which Mr. Touthope represented as of very little consequence, since his
unfortunate friend, as he facetiously observed, was likely to get nothing of the mare excepting the halter.
Andrew seemed woeful and disconcerted, as I screwed out of him these particulars; for his northern pride was
cruelly pinched by being compelled to admit that attorneys were attorneys on both sides of the Tweed; and
that Mr. Clerk Touthope was not a farthing more sterling coin than Mr. Clerk Jobson.
``It wadna hae vexed him half sae muckle to hae been cheated out o' what might amaist be said to be won
with the peril o' his craig, had it happened amang the Inglishers; but it was an unco thing to see hawks pike
out hawks' e'en, or ae kindly Scot cheat anither. But nae doubt things were strangely changed in his country
sin' the sad and sorrowfu' Union;'' an event to which Andrew referred every symptom of depravity or
degeneracy which he remarked among his countrymen, more especially the inflammation of reckonings, the
diminished size of pintstoups, and other grievances, which he pointed out to me during our journey.
For my own part, I held myself, as things had turned out, acquitted of all charge of the mare, and wrote to my
uncle the circumstances under which she was carried into Scotland, concluding with informing him that she
was in the hands of justice, and her worthy representatives, Bailie Trumbull and Mr. Clerk Touthope, to
whom I referred him for farther particulars. Whether the property returned to the Northumbrian foxhunter,
or continued to bear the person of the Scottish attorney, it is unnecessary for me at present to say.
We now pursued our journey to the northwestward, at a rate much slower than that at which we had
achieved our nocturnal retreat from England. One chain of barren and uninteresting hills succeeded another,
until the more fertile vale of Clyde opened upon us; and, with such despatch as we might, we gained the
town, or, as my guide pertinaciously termed it, the city, of Glasgow. Of late years, I understand, it has fully
deserved the name, which, by a sort of political second sight, my guide assigned to it. An extensive and
increasing trade with the West Indies and American colonies, has, if I am rightly informed, laid the
foundation of wealth and prosperity, which, if carefully strengthened and built upon, may one day support an
immense fabric of commercial prosperity; but in the earlier time of which I speak, the dawn of this splendour
had not arisen. The Union had, indeed, opened to Scotland the trade of the English colonies; but, betwixt
want of capital, and the national jealousy of the English, the merchants of Scotland were as yet excluded, in a
great measure, from the exercise of the privileges which that memorable treaty conferred on them. Glasgow
lay on the wrong side of the island for participating in the east country or continental trade, by which the
trifling commerce as yet possessed by Scotland chiefly supported itself. Yet, though she then gave small
promise of the commercial eminence to which, I am informed, she seems now likely one day to attain,
Glasgow, as the principal central town of the western district of Scotland, was a place of considerable rank
and importance. The broad and brimming Clyde, which flows so near its walls, gave the means of an inland
navigation of some importance. Not only the fertile plains in its immediate neighbourhood, but the districts of
Ayr and Dumfries regarded Glasgow as their capital, to which they transmitted their produce, and received in
return such necessaries and luxuries as their consumption required.
The dusky mountains of the western Highlands often sent forth wilder tribes to frequent the marts of St.
Mungo's favourite city. Hordes of wild shaggy, dwarfish cattle and ponies, conducted by Highlanders, as
wild, as shaggy, and sometimes as dwarfish, as the animals they had in charge, often traversed the streets of
Glasgow. Strangers gazed with surprise on the antique and fantastic dress, and listened to the unknown and
dissonant sounds of their language, while the mountaineers, armed, even while engaged in this peaceful
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occupation, with musket and pistol, sword, dagger, and target, stared with astonishment on the articles of
luxury of which they knew not the use, and with an avidity which seemed somewhat alarming on the articles
which they knew and valued. It is always with unwillingness that the Highlander quits his deserts, and at this
early period it was like tearing a pine from its rock, to plant him elsewhere. Yet even then the mountain glens
were overpeopled, although thinned occasionally by famine or by the sword, and many of their inhabitants
strayed down to Glasgowthere formed settlements there sought and found employment, although
different, indeed, from that of their native hills. This supply of a hardy and useful population was of
consequence to the prosperity of the place, furnished the means of carrying on the few manufactures which
the town already boasted, and laid the foundation of its future prosperity.
The exterior of the city corresponded with these promising circumstances. The principal street was broad and
important, decorated with public buildings, of an architecture rather striking than correct in point of taste, and
running between rows of tall houses, built of stone, the fronts of which were occasionally richly ornamented
with masonworka circumstance which gave the street an imposing air of dignity and grandeur, of which
most English towns are in some measure deprived, by the slight, insubstantial, and perishable quality and
appearance of the bricks with which they are constructed.
In the western metropolis of Scotland, my guide and I arrived on a Saturday evening, too late to entertain
thoughts of business of any kind. We alighted at the door of a jolly hostlerwife, as Andrew called
her,the Ostelere of old father Chaucer,by whom we were civilly received.
On the following morning the bells pealed from every steeple, announcing the sanctity of the day.
Notwithstanding, however, what I had heard of the severity with which the Sabbath is observed in Scotland,
my first impulse, not unnaturally, was to seek out Owen; but on inquiry I found that my attempt would be in
vain, ``until kirk time was ower.'' Not only did my landlady and guide jointly assure me that ``there wadna be
a living soul either in the countinghouse or dwellinghouse of Messrs. MacVittie, MacFin, and Company,''
to which Owen's letter referred me, but, moreover, ``far less would I find any of the partners there. They were
serious men, and wad be where a' gude Christians ought to be at sic a time, and that was in the Barony Laigh
Kirk.''*
* [The Laigh Kirk or Crypt of the Cathedral of Glasgow served for more * than two centuries as the church of
the Barony Parish, and, for a time, was * converted into a burialplace. In the restorations of this grand
building * the crypt was cleared out, and is now admired as one of the richest specimens * of Early English
architecture existing in Scotland.]
Andrew Fairservice, whose disgust at the law of his country had fortunately not extended itself to the other
learned professions of his native land, now sung forth the praises of the preacher who was to perform the
duty, to which my hostess replied with many loud amens. The result was, that I determined to go to this
popular place of worship, as much with the purpose of learning, if possible, whether Owen had arrived in
Glasgow, as with any great expectation of edification. My hopes were exalted by the assurance, that if Mr.
Ephraim MacVittie (worthy man) were in the land of life, he would surely honour the Barony Kirk that day
with his presence; and if he chanced to have a stranger within his gates, doubtless he would bring him to the
duty along with him. This probability determined my motions, and under the escort of my faithful Andrew, I
set forth for the Barony Kirk.
On this occasion, however, I had little need of his guidance; for the crowd, which forced its way up a steep
and roughpaved street, to hear the most popular preacher in the west of Scotland, would of itself have swept
me along with it. On attaining the summit of the hill, we turned to the left, and a large pair of folding doors
admitted us, amongst others, into the open and extensive buryingplace which surrounds the Minster or
Cathedral Church of Glasgow. The pile is of a gloomy and massive, rather than of an elegant, style of Gothic
architecture; but its peculiar character is so strongly preserved, and so well suited with the accompaniments
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that surround it, that the impression of the first view was awful and solemn in the extreme. I was indeed so
much struck, that I resisted for a few minutes all Andrew's efforts to drag me into the interior of the building,
so deeply was I engaged in surveying its outward character.
Situated in a populous and considerable town, this ancient and massive pile has the appearance of the most
sequestered solitude. High walls divide it from the buildings of the city on one side; on the other it is bounded
by a ravine, at the bottom of which, and invisible to the eye, murmurs a wandering rivulet, adding, by its
gentle noise, to the imposing solemnity of the scene. On the opposite side of the ravine rises a steep bank,
covered with firtrees closely planted, whose dusky shade extends itself over the cemetery with an
appropriate and gloomy effect. The churchyard itself had a peculiar character; for though in reality extensive,
it is small in proportion to the number of respectable inhabitants who are interred within it, and whose graves
are almost all covered with tombstones. There is therefore no room for the long rank grass, which, in most
cases, partially clothes the surface of those retreats where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are
at rest. The broad flat monumental stones are placed so close to each other, that the precincts appear to be
flagged with them, and, though roofed only by the heavens, resemble the floor of one of our old English
churches, where the pavement is covered with sepulchral inscriptions. The contents of these sad records of
mortality, the vain sorrows which they preserve, the stern lesson which they teach of the nothingness of
humanity, the extent of ground which they so closely cover, and their uniform and melancholy tenor,
reminded me of the roll of the prophet, which was ``written within and without, and there was written therein
lamentations and mourning and woe.''
The Cathedral itself corresponds in impressive majesty with these accompaniments. We feel that its
appearance is heavy, yet that the effect produced would be destroyed were it lighter or more ornamental. It is
the only metropolitan church in Scotland, excepting, as I am informed, the Cathedral of Kirkwall, in the
Orkneys, which remained uninjured at the Reformation; and Andrew Fairservice, who saw with great pride
the effect which it produced upon my mind, thus accounted for its preservation``Ah! it's a brave
kirknane o' yere whigmaleeries and curliewurlies and opensteek hems about ita' solid, weeljointed
masonwark, that will stand as lang as the warld, keep hands and gunpowther aff it. It had amaist a
douncome lang syne at the Reformation, when they pu'd doun the kirks of St. Andrews and Perth, and
thereawa', to cleanse them o' Papery, and idolatry, and image worship, and surplices, and sic like rags o' the
muckle hure that sitteth on seven hills, as if ane wasna braid eneugh for her auld hinder end. Sae the
commons o' Renfrew, and o' the Barony, and the Gorbals and a' about, they behoved to come into Glasgow
no fair morning, to try their hand on purging the High Kirk o' Popish nicknackets. But the townsmen o'
Glasgow, they were feared their auld edifice might slip the girths in gaun through siccan rough physic, sae
they rang the common bell, and assembled the trainbands wi' took o' drum. By good luck, the worthy James
Rabat was Dean o' Guild that year(and a gude mason he was himself, made him the keener to keep up the
auld bigging) and the trades assembled, and offered downright battle to the commons, rather than their
kirk should coup the crans as others had done elsewhere. It wasna for luve o' Paperiena, na! nane
could ever say that o' the trades o' GlasgowSae they sune came to an agreement to take a' the idolatrous
statues of sants (sorrow be on them) out o' their neuksand sae the bits o' stane idols were broken in pieces
by Scripture warrant, and flung into the Molendinar burn, and the auld kirk stood as crouse as a cat when the
flaes are kaimed aff her, and a' body was alike pleased. And I hae heard wise folk say, that if the same had
been done in ilka kirk in Scotland, the Reform wad just hae been as pure as it is e'en now, and we wad hae
mair Christianlike kirks; for I hae been sae lang in England, that naething will drived out o' my head, that
the dogkennel at Osbaldistone Hall is better than mony a house o' God in Scotland.''
Thus saying, Andrew led the way into the place of worship.
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CHAPTER TWENTIETH.
It strikes an awe
And terror on my aching sight; the tombs
And monumental caves of death look cold,
And shoot a chillness to the trembling heart.
Mourning Bride.
Notwithstanding the impatience of my conductor, I could not forbear to pause and gaze for some minutes on
the exterior of the building, rendered more impressively dignified by the solitude which ensued when its
hitherto open gates were closed, after having, as it were, devoured the multitude which had lately crowded
the churchyard, but now, enclosed within the building, were engaged, as the choral swell of voices from
within announced to us, in the solemn exercises of devotion. The sound of so many voices united by the
distance into one harmony, and freed from those harsh discordances which jar the ear when heard more near,
combining with the murmuring brook, and the wind which sung among the old firs, affected me with a sense
of sublimity. All nature, as invoked by the Psalmist whose verses they chanted, seemed united in offering that
solemn praise in which trembling is mixed with joy as she addressed her Maker. I had heard the service of
high mass in France, celebrated with all the e'clat which the choicest music, the richest dresses, the most
imposing ceremonies, could confer on it; yet it fell short in effect of the simplicity of the Presbyterian
worship. The devotion in which every one took a share seemed so superior to that which was recited by
musicians as a lesson which they had learned by rote, that it gave the Scottish worship all the advantage of
reality over acting.
As I lingered to catch more of the solemn sound, Andrew, whose impatience became ungovernable, pulled
me by the sleeve``Come awa', sircome awa'; we maunna be late o' gaun in to disturb the worship; if
we bide here the searchers will be on us, and carry us to the guardhouse for being idlers in kirktime.''
Thus admonished, I followed my guide, but not, as I had supposed, into the body of the cathedral. ``This
gatethis gate, sir,'' he exclaimed, dragging me off as I made towards the main entrance of the
building``There's but cauldrife lawwork gaun on yondercarnal morality, as dow'd and as fusionless
as rue leaves at YuleHere's the real savour of doctrine.''
So saying, we entered a small lowarched door, secured by a wicket, which a gravelooking person seemed
on the point of closing, and descended several steps as if into the funeral vaults beneath the church. It was
even so; for in these subterranean precincts,why chosen for such a purpose I knew not,was
established a very singular place of worship.
Conceive, Tresham, an extensive range of lowbrowed, dark, and twilight vaults, such as are used for
sepulchres in other countries, and had long been dedicated to the same purpose in this, a portion of which was
seated with pews, and used as a church. The part of the vaults thus occupied, though capable of containing a
congregation of many hundreds, bore a small proportion to the darker and more extensive caverns which
yawned around what may be termed the inhabited space. In those waste regions of oblivion, dusky banners
and tattered escutcheons indicated the graves of those who were once, doubtless, ``princes in Israel.''
Inscriptions, which could only be read by the painful antiquary, in language as obsolete as the act of
devotional charity which they employed, invited the passengers to pray for the souls of those whose bodies
rested beneath. Surrounded by these receptacles of the last remains of mortality, I found a numerous
congregation engaged in the act of prayer. The Scotch perform this duty in a standing instead of a kneeling
posturemore, perhaps, to take as broad a distinction as possible from the ritual of Rome than for any
better reason; since I have observed, that in their family worship, as doubtless in their private devotions, they
adopt, in their immediate address to the Deity, that posture which other Christians use as the humblest and
most reverential. Standing, therefore, the men being uncovered, a crowd of several hundreds of both sexes,
and all ages, listened with great reverence and attention to the extempore, at least the unwritten, prayer of an
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aged clergyman,* who was very popular in the city. Educated
* I have in vain laboured to discover this gentleman's name, and the * period of his incumbency. I do not,
however, despair to see these points, * with some others which may elude my sagacity, satisfactorily
elucidated by * one or other of the periodical publications which have devoted their pages * to explanatory
commentaries on my former volumes; and whose research * and ingenuity claim my peculiar gratitude, for
having discovered many * persons and circumstances connected with my narratives, of which I myself *
never so much as dreamed.
in the same religious persuasion, I seriously bent my mind to join in the devotion of the day; and it was not
till the congregation resumed their seats, that my attention was diverted to the consideration of the appearance
of all around me.
At the conclusion of the prayer, most of the men put on their hats or bonnets, and all who had the happiness
to have seats sate down. Andrew and I were not of this number, having been too late of entering the church to
secure such accommodation. We stood among a number of other persons in the same situation, forming a sort
of ring around the seated part of the congregation. Behind and around us were the vaults I have already
described; before us the devout audience, dimly shown by the light which streamed on their faces through
one or two low Gothic windows, such as give air and light to charnelhouses. By this were seen the usual
variety of countenances which are generally turned towards a Scotch pastor on such occasions, almost all
composed to attention, unless where a father or mother here and there recalls the wandering eyes of a lively
child, or disturbs the slumbers of a dull one. The highboned and harsh countenance of the nation, with the
expression of intelligence and shrewdness which it frequently exhibits, is seen to more advantage in the act of
devotion, or in the ranks of war, than on lighter and more cheerful occasions of assemblage. The discourse of
the preacher was well qualified to call forth the various feelings and faculties of his audience.
Age and infirmities had impaired the powers of a voice originally strong and sonorous. He read his text with
a pronunciation somewhat inarticulate; but when he closed the Bible, and commenced his sermon, his tones
gradually strengthened, as he entered with vehemence into the arguments which he maintained. They related
chiefly to the abstract points of the Christian faith,subjects grave, deep, and fathomless by mere human
reason, but for which, with equal ingenuity and propriety, he sought a key in liberal quotations from the
inspired writings. My mind was unprepared to coincide in all his reasoning, nor was I sure that in some
instances I rightly comprehended his positions. But nothing could be more impressive than the eager
enthusiastic manner of the good old man, and nothing more ingenious than his mode of reasoning. The
Scotch, it is well known, are more remarkable for the exercise of their intellectual powers, than for the
keenness of their feelings; they are, therefore, more moved by logic than by rhetoric, and more attracted by
acute and argumentative reasoning on doctrinal points, than influenced by the enthusiastic appeals to the
heart and to the passions, by which popular preachers in other countries win the favour of their hearers.
Among the attentive group which I now saw, might be distinguished various expressions similar to those of
the audience in the famous cartoon of Paul preaching at Athens. Here sat a zealous and intelligent Calvinist,
with brows bent just as much as to indicate profound attention; lips slightly compressed; eyes fixed on the
minister with an expression of decent pride, as if sharing the triumph of his argument; the forefinger of the
right hand touching successively those of the left, as the preacher, from argument to argument, ascended
towards his conclusion. Another, with fiercer and sterner look, intimated at once his contempt of all who
doubted the creed of his pastor, and his joy at the appropriate punishment denounced against them. A third,
perhaps belonging to a different congregation, and present only by accident or curiosity, had the appearance
of internally impeaching some link of the reasoning; and you might plainly read, in the slight motion of his
head, his doubts as to the soundness of the preacher's argument. The greater part listened with a calm,
satisfied countenance, expressive of a conscious merit in being present, and in listening to such an ingenious
discourse, although perhaps unable entirely to comprehend it. The women in general belonged to this last
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division of the audience; the old, however, seeming more grimly intent upon the abstract doctrines laid before
them; while the younger females permitted their eyes occasionally to make a modest circuit around the
congregation; and some of them, Tresham (if my vanity did not greatly deceive me), contrived to distinguish
your friend and servant, as a handsome young stranger and an Englishman. As to the rest of the congregation,
the stupid gaped, yawned, or slept, till awakened by the application of their more zealous neighbours' heels to
their shins; and the idle indicated their inattention by the wandering of their eyes, but dared give no more
decided token of weariness. Amid the Lowland costume of coat and cloak, I could here and there discern a
Highland plaid, the wearer of which, resting on his baskethilt, sent his eyes among the audience with the
unrestrained curiosity of savage wonder; and who, in all probability, was inattentive to the sermon for a very
pardonable reason because he did not understand the language in which it was delivered. The martial and
wild look, however, of these stragglers, added a kind of character which the congregation could not have
exhibited without them. They were more numerous, Andrew afterwards observed, owing to some cattlefair
in the neighbourhood.
Such was the group of countenances, rising tier on tier, discovered to my critical inspection by such
sunbeams as forced their way through the narrow Gothic lattices of the Laigh Kirk of Glasgow; and, having
illuminated the attentive congregation, lost themselves in the vacuity of the vaults behind, giving to the nearer
part of their labyrinth a sort of imperfect twilight, and leaving their recesses in an utter darkness, which gave
them the appearance of being interminable.
I have already said that I stood with others in the exterior circle, with my face to the preacher, and my back to
those vaults which I have so often mentioned. My position rendered me particularly obnoxious to any
interruption which arose from any slight noise occurring amongst these retiring arches, where the least sound
was multiplied by a thousand echoes. The occasional sound of raindrops, which, admitted through some
cranny in the ruined roof, fell successively, and splashed upon the pavement beneath, caused me to turn my
head more than once to the place from whence it seemed to proceed, and when my eyes took that direction, I
found it difficult to withdraw them; such is the pleasure our imagination receives from the attempt to
penetrate as far as possible into an intricate labyrinth, imperfectly lighted, and exhibiting objects which
irritate our curiosity, only because they acquire a mysterious interest from being undefined and dubious. My
eyes became habituated to the gloomy atmosphere to which I directed them, and insensibly my mind became
more interested in their discoveries than in the metaphysical subtleties which the preacher was enforcing.
My father had often checked me for this wandering mood of mind, arising perhaps from an excitability of
imagination to which he was a stranger; and the finding myself at present solicited by these temptations to
inattention, recalled the time when I used to walk, led by his hand, to Mr. Shower's chapel, and the earnest
injunctions which he then laid on me to redeem the time, because the days were evil. At present, the picture
which my thoughts suggested, far from fixing my attention, destroyed the portion I had yet left, by conjuring
up to my recollection the peril in which his affairs now stood. I endeavoured, in the lowest whisper I could
frame, to request Andrew to obtain information, whether any of the gentlemen of the firm of MacVittie Co.
were at present in the congregation. But Andrew, wrapped in profound attention to the sermon, only replied
to my suggestion by hard punches with his elbow, as signals to me to remain silent. I next strained my eyes,
with equally bad success, to see if, among the sea of upturned faces which bent their eyes on the pulpit as a
common centre, I could discover the sober and businesslike physiognomy of Owen. But not among the
broad beavers of the Glasgow citizens, or the yet broader brimmed Lowland bonnets of the peasants of
Lanarkshire, could I see anything resembling the decent periwig, starched ruffles, or the uniform suit of
lightbrown garments appertaining to the headclerk of the establishment of Osbaldistone and Tresham. My
anxiety now returned on me with such violence as to overpower not only the novelty of the scene around me,
by which it had hitherto been diverted, but moreover my sense of decorum. I pulled Andrew hard by the
sleeve, and intimated my wish to leave the church, and pursue my investigation as I could. Andrew, obdurate
in the Laigh Kirk of Glasgow as on the mountains of Cheviot, for some time deigned me no answer; and it
was only when he found I could not otherwise be kept quiet, that he condescended to inform me, that, being
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once in the church, we could not leave it till service was over, because the doors were locked so soon as the
prayers began. Having thus spoken in a brief and peevish whisper, Andrew again assumed the air of
intelligent and critical importance, and attention to the preacher's discourse.
While I endeavoured to make a virtue of necessity, and recall my attention to the sermon, I was again
disturbed by a singular interruption. A voice from behind whispered distinctly in my ear, ``You are in danger
in this city.''I turned round, as if mechanically.
One or two starched and ordinarylooking mechanics stood beside and behind me,stragglers, who, like
ourselves, had been too late in obtaining entrance. But a glance at their faces satisfied me, though I could
hardly say why, that none of these was the person who had spoken to me. Their countenances seemed all
composed to attention to the sermon, and not one of them returned any glance of intelligence to the
inquisitive and startled look with which I surveyed them. A massive round pillar, which was close behind us,
might have concealed the speaker the instant he uttered his mysterious caution; but wherefore it was given in
such a place, or to what species of danger it directed my attention, or by whom the warning was uttered, were
points on which my imagination lost itself in conjecture. It would, however, I concluded, be repeated, and I
resolved to keep my countenance turned towards the clergyman, that the whisperer might be tempted to
renew his communication under the idea that the first had passed unobserved.
My plan succeeded. I had not resumed the appearance of attention to the preacher for five minutes, when the
same voice whispered, ``Listen, but do not look back.'' I kept my face in the same direction. ``You are in
danger in this place,'' the voice proceeded; ``so am Imeet me tonight on the Brigg, at twelve
preceeselykeep at home till the gloaming, and avoid observation.''
Here the voice ceased, and I instantly turned my head. But the speaker had, with still greater promptitude,
glided behind the pillar, and escaped my observation. I was determined to catch a sight of him, if possible,
and extricating myself from the outer circle of hearers, I also stepped behind the column. All there was
empty; and I could only see a figure wrapped in a mantle, whether a Lowland cloak, or Highland plaid, I
could not distinguish, which traversed, like a phantom, the dreary vacuity of vaults which I have described.
I made a mechanical attempt to pursue the mysterious form, which glided away and vanished in the vaulted
cemetery, like the spectre of one of the numerous dead who rested within its precincts. I had little chance of
arresting the course of one obviously determined not to be spoken with; but that little chance was lost by my
stumbling and falling before I had made three steps from the column. The obscurity which occasioned my
misfortune, covered my disgrace; which I accounted rather lucky, for the preacher, with that stern authority
which the Scottish ministers assume for the purpose of keeping order in their congregations, interrupted his
discourse, to desire the ``proper officer'' to take into custody the causer of this disturbance in the place of
worship. As the noise, however, was not repeated, the beadle, or whatever else he was called, did not think it
necessary to be rigorous in searching out the offender. so that I was enabled, without attracting farther
observation, to place myself by Andrew's side in my original position. The service proceeded, and closed
without the occurrence of anything else worthy of notice.
As the congregation departed and dispersed, my friend Andrew exclaimed, ``See, yonder is worthy Mr.
MacVittie, and Mrs. MacVittie, and Miss Alison MacVittie, and Mr. Thamas MacFin, that they say is to
marry Miss Alison, if a' bowls row right she'll hae a hantle siller, if she's no that bonny.''
My eyes took the direction he pointed out. Mr. MacVittie was a tall, thin, elderly man, with hard features,
thick grey eyebrows, light eyes, and, as I imagined, a sinister expression of countenance, from which my
heart recoiled. I remembered the warning I had received in the church, and hesitated to address this person,
though I could not allege to myself any rational ground of dislike or suspicion.
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I was yet in suspense, when Andrew, who mistook my hesitation for bashfulness, proceeded to exhort me to
lay it aside. ``Speak till himspeak till him, Mr. Francishe's no provost yet, though they say he'll be
my lord neist year. Speak till him, thenhe'll gie ye a decent answer for as rich as he is, unless ye were
wanting siller frae himthey say he's dour to draw his purse.''
It immediately occurred to me, that if this merchant were really of the churlish and avaricious disposition
which Andrew intimated, there might be some caution necessary in making myself known, as I could not tell
how accounts might stand between my father and him. This consideration came in aid of the mysterious hint
which I had received, and the dislike which I had conceived at the man's countenance. Instead of addressing
myself directly to him, as I had designed to have done, I contented myself with desiring Andrew to inquire at
Mr. MacVittie's house the address of Mr. Owen, an English gentleman; and I charged him not to mention the
person from whom he received the commission, but to bring me the result to the small inn where we lodged.
This Andrew promised to do. He said something of the duty of my attending the evening service; but added
with a causticity natural to him, that ``in troth, if folk couldna keep their legs still, but wad needs be couping
the creels ower throughstanes, as if they wad raise the very dead folk wi' the clatter, a kirk wi' a chimley in't
was fittest for them.''
CHAPTER TWENTYFIRST.
On the Rialto, every night at twelve,
I take my evening's walk of meditation:
There we two will meet.
Venice Preserved.
Full of sinister augury, for which, however, I could assign no satisfactory cause, I shut myself up in my
apartment at the inn, and having dismissed Andrew, after resisting his importunity to accompany him to St.
Enoch's Kirk,* where, he said,
* This I believe to be an anachronism, as Saint Enoch's Church was not * built at the date of the story. [It was
founded in 1780, and has since * been rebuilt.]
``a soulsearching divine was to haud forth,'' I set myself seriously to consider what were best to be done. I
never was what is properly called superstitious; but I suppose that all men, in situations of peculiar doubt and
difficulty, when they have exercised their reason to little purpose, are apt, in a sort of despair, to abandon the
reins to their imagination, and be guided altogether by chance, or by those whimsical impressions which take
possession of the mind, and to which we give way as if to involuntary impulses. There was something so
singularly repulsive in the hard features of the Scotch trader, that I could not resolve to put myself into his
hands without transgressing every caution which could be derived from the rules of physiognomy; while, at
the same time, the warning voice, the form which flitted away like a vanishing shadow through those vaults,
which might be termed ``the valley of the shadow of death,'' had something captivating for the imagination of
a young man, who, you will farther please to remember, was also a young poet.
If danger was around me, as the mysterious communication intimated, how could I learn its nature, or the
means of averting it, but by meeting my unknown counsellor, to whom I could see no reason for imputing
any other than kind intentions. Rashleigh and his machinations occurred more than once to my
remembrance;but so rapid had my journey been, that I could not suppose him apprised of my arrival in
Glasgow, much less prepared to play off any stratagem against my person. In my temper also I was bold and
confident, strong and active in person, and in some measure accustomed to the use of arms, in which the
French youth of all kinds were then initiated. I did not fear any single opponent; assassination was neither the
vice of the age nor of the country; the place selected for our meeting was too public to admit any suspicion of
meditated violence. In a word, I resolved to meet my mysterious counsellor on the bridge, as he had
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requested, and to be afterwards guided by circumstances. Let me not conceal from you, Tresham, what at the
time I endeavoured to conceal from myselfthe subdued, yet secretlycherished hope, that Diana Vernon
might by what chance I knew notthrough what means I could not guesshave some connection
with this strange and dubious intimation conveyed at a time and place, and in a manner so surprising. She
alonewhispered this insidious thoughtshe alone knew of my journey; from her own account, she
possessed friends and influence in Scotland; she had furnished me with a talisman, whose power I was to
invoke when all other aid failed me; who then but Diana Vernon possessed either means, knowledge, or
inclination, for averting the dangers, by which, as it seemed, my steps were surrounded? This flattering view
of my very doubtful case pressed itself upon me again and again. It insinuated itself into my thoughts, though
very bashfully, before the hour of dinner; it displayed its attractions more boldly during the course of my
frugal meal, and became so courageously intrusive during the succeeding halfhour (aided perhaps by the
flavour of a few glasses of most excellent claret), that, with a sort of desperate attempt to escape from a
delusive seduction, to which I felt the danger of yielding, I pushed my glass from me, threw aside my dinner,
seized my hat, and rushed into the open air with the feeling of one who would fly from his own thoughts. Yet
perhaps I yielded to the very feelings from which I seemed to fly, since my steps insensibly led me to the
bridge over the Clyde, the place assigned for the rendezvous by my mysterious monitor.
Although I had not partaken of my repast until the hours of evening churchservice were over,in which,
by the way, I complied with the religious scruples of my landlady, who hesitated to dress a hot dinner
between sermons, and also with the admonition of my unknown friend, to keep my apartment till twilight,
several hours had still to pass away betwixt the time of my appointment and that at which I reached the
assigned place of meeting. The interval, as you will readily credit, was wearisome enough; and I can hardly
explain to you how it passed away. Various groups of persons, all of whom, young and old, seemed
impressed with a reverential feeling of the sanctity of the day, passed along the large open meadow which lies
on the northern bank of the Clyde, and serves at once as a bleachingfield and pleasurewalk for the
inhabitants, or paced with slow steps the long bridge which communicates with the southern district of the
county. All that I remember of them was the general, yet not unpleasing, intimation of a devotional character
impressed on each little partyformally assumed perhaps by some, but sincerely characterising the greater
numberwhich hushed the petulant gaiety of the young into a tone of more quiet, yet more interesting,
interchange of sentiments, and suppressed the vehement argument and protracted disputes of those of more
advanced age. Notwithstanding the numbers who passed me, no general sound of the human voice was heard;
few turned again to take some minutes' voluntary exercise, to which the leisure of the evening, and the beauty
of the surrounding scenery, seemed to invite them: all hurried to their homes and restingplaces. To one
accustomed to the mode of spending Sunday evenings abroad, even among the French Calvinists, there
seemed something Judaical, yet, at the same time striking and affecting, in this mode of keeping the Sabbath
holy. Insensibly I felt my mode of sauntering by the side of the river, and crossing successively the various
persons who were passing homeward, and without tarrying or delay, must expose me to observation at least,
if not to censure; and I slunk out of the frequented path, and found a trivial occupation for my mind in
marshalling my revolving walk in such a manner as should least render me obnoxious to observation. The
different alleys lined out through this extensive meadow, and which are planted with trees, like the Park of St.
James's in London, gave me facilities for carrying into effect these childish manoeuvres.
As I walked down one of these avenues, I heard, to my surprise, the sharp and conceited voice of Andrew
Fairservice, raised by a sense of selfconsequence to a pitch somewhat higher than others seemed to think
consistent with the solemnity of the day. To slip behind the row of trees under which I walked was perhaps
no very dignified proceeding; but it was the easiest mode of escaping his observation, and perhaps his
impertinent assiduity, and still more intrusive curiosity. As he passed, I heard him communicate to a
gravelooking man, in a black coat, a slouched hat, and Geneva cloak, the following sketch of a character,
which my selflove, while revolting against it as a caricature, could not, nevertheless, refuse to recognise as a
likeness.
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``Ay, ay, Mr. Hammorgaw, it's e'en as I tell ye. He's no a'thegither sae void o' sense neither; he has a
gloaming sight o' what's reasonablethat is anes and awa'a glisk and nae mair; but he's crackbrained
and cockleheaded about his nippertytipperty poetry nonsenseHe'll glowr at an auldwarld barkit
aiksnag as if it were a queezmaddam in full bearing; and a naked craig, wi' a bum jawing ower't, is unto him
as a garden garnisht with flowering knots and choice potherbs. Then he wad rather claver wi' a daft quean
they ca' Diana Vernon (weel I wet they might ca' her Diana of the Ephesians, for she's little better than a
heathenbetter? she's waura Roman, a mere Roman)he'll claver wi' her, or any ither idle slut,
rather than hear what might do him gude a' the days of his life, frae you or me, Mr. Hammorgaw, or ony ither
sober and sponsible person. Reason, sir, is what he canna endurehe's a' for your vanities and volubilities;
and he ance tell'd me (puir blinded creature!) that the Psalms of David were excellent poetry! as if the holy
Psalmist thought o' rattling rhymes in a blether, like his ain silly clinkumclankum things that he ca's verse.
Gude help him!twa lines o' Davie Lindsay would ding a' he ever clerkit.''
While listening to this perverted account of my temper and studies, you will not be surprised if I meditated
for Mr. Fairservice the unpleasant surprise of a broken pate on the first decent opportunity. His friend only
intimated his attention by ``Ay, ay!'' and ``Is't e'en sae?'' and suchlike expressions of interest, at the proper
breaks in Mr. Fairservice's harangue, until at length, in answer to some observation of greater length, the
import of which I only collected from my trusty guide's reply, honest Andrew answered, ``Tell him a bit o'my
mind, quoth ye? Wha wad be fule then but Andrew? He's a redwad deevil, manHe's like Giles
Heathertap's auld boar;ye need but shake a clout at him to make him turn and gore. Bide wi' him, say
ye?Troth, I kenna what for I bide wi' him mysell. But the lad's no a bad lad after a'; and he needs some
carefu' body to look after him. He hasna the right grip o' his handthe gowd slips through't like water,
man; and it's no that ill a thing to be near him when his purse is in his hand, and it's seldom out o't. And then
he's come o' guid kith and kinMy heart warms to the poor thoughtless callant, Mr. Hammorgawand
then the penny fee''
In the latter part of this instructive communication, Mr. Fairservice lowered his voice to a tone better
beseeming the conversation in a place of public resort on a Sabbath evening, and his companion and he were
soon beyond my hearing. My feelings of hasty resentment soon subsided, under the conviction that, as
Andrew himself might have said, ``A harkener always hears a bad tale of himself,'' and that whoever should
happen to overhear their character discussed in their own servants'hall, must prepare to undergo the scalpel
of some such anatomist as Mr. Fairservice. The incident was so far useful, as, including the feelings to which
it gave rise, it sped away a part of the time which hung so heavily on my hand.
Evening had now closed, and the growing darkness gave to the broad, still, and deep expanse of the brimful
river, first a hue sombre and uniformthen a dismal and turbid appearance, partially lighted by a waning
and pallid moon. The massive and ancient bridge which stretches across the Clyde was now but dimly
visible, and resembled that which Mirza, in his unequalled vision, has described as traversing the valley of
Bagdad. The lowbrowed arches, seen as imperfectly as the dusky current which they bestrode, seemed
rather caverns which swallowed up the gloomy waters of the river, than apertures contrived for their passage.
With the advancing night the stillness of the scene increased. There was yet a twinkling light occasionally
seen to glide along by the stream, which conducted home one or two of the small parties, who, after the
abstinence and religious duties of the day, had partaken of a social supperthe only meal at which the rigid
Presbyterians made some advance to sociality on the Sabbath. Occasionally, also, the hoofs of a horse were
heard, whose rider, after spending the Sunday in Glasgow, was directing his steps towards his residence in
the country. These sounds and sights became gradually of more rare occurrence; at length they altogether
ceased, and I was left to enjoy my solitary walk on the shores of the Clyde in solemn silence, broken only by
the tolling of the successive hours from the steeples of the churches.
But as the night advanced my impatience at the uncertainty of the situation in which I was placed increased
every moment, and became nearly ungovernable. I began to question whether I had been imposed upon by
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the trick of a fool, the raving of a madman, or the studied machinations of a villain, and paced the little quay
or pier adjoining the entrance to the bridge, in a state of incredible anxiety and vexation. At length the hour of
twelve o'clock swung its summons over the city from the belfry of the metropolitan church of St. Mungo, and
was answered and vouched by all the others like dutiful diocesans. The echoes had scarcely ceased to repeat
the last sound, when a human form the first I had seen for two hoursappeared passing along the
bridge from the southern shore of the river. I advanced to meet him with a feeling as if my fate depended on
the result of the interview, so much had my anxiety been wound up by protracted expectation. All that I could
remark of the passenger as we advanced towards each other, was that his frame was rather beneath than
above the middle size, but apparently strong, thickset, and muscular; his dress a horseman's wrapping coat. I
slackened my pace, and almost paused as I advanced in expectation that he would address me. But to my
inexpressible disappointment he passed without speaking, and I had no pretence for being the first to address
one who, notwithstanding his appearance at the very hour of appointment, might nevertheless be an absolute
stranger. I stopped when he had passed me, and looked after him, uncertain whether I ought not to follow
him. The stranger walked on till near the northern end of the bridge, then paused, looked back, and turning
round, again advanced towards me. I resolved that this time he should not have the apology for silence proper
to apparitions, who, it is vulgarly supposed, cannot speak until they are spoken to. ``You walk late, sir,'' said
I, as we met a second time.
``I bide tryste,'' was the reply; ``and so I think do you, Mr. Osbaldistone.''
``You are then the person who requested to meet me here at this unusual hour?''
``I am,'' he replied. ``Follow me, and you shall know my reasons.''
``Before following you, I must know your name and purpose,'' I answered.
``I am a man,'' was the reply; ``and my purpose is friendly to you.''
``A man!'' I repeated;``that is a very brief description.''
``It will serve for one who has no other to give,'' said the stranger. ``He that is without name, without friends,
without coin, without country, is still at least a man; and he that has all these is no more.''
``Yet this is still too general an account of yourself, to say the least of it, to establish your credit with a
stranger.''
``It is all I mean to give, howsoe'er; you may choose to follow me, or to remain without the information I
desire to afford you.''
``Can you not give me that information here?'' I demanded.
``You must receive it from your eyes, not from my tongue you must follow me, or remain in ignorance of
the information which I have to give you.''
There was something short, determined, and even stern, in the man's manner, not certainly well calculated to
conciliate undoubting confidence.
``What is it you fear?'' he said impatiently. ``To whom, think ye, is your life of such consequence, that they
should seek to bereave ye of it?''
``I fear nothing,'' I replied firmly, though somewhat hastily. ``Walk onI attend you.''
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We proceeded, contrary to my expectation, to reenter the town, and glided like mute spectres, side by side,
up its empty and silent streets. The high and gloomy stone fronts, with the variegated ornaments and
pediments of the windows, looked yet taller and more sable by the imperfect moonshine. Our walk was for
some minutes in perfect silence. At length my conductor spoke.
``Are you afraid?''
``I retort your own words,'' I replied: ``wherefore should I fear?''
``Because you are with a strangerperhaps an enemy, in a place where you have no friends and many
enemies.''
``I neither fear you nor them; I am young, active, and armed.''
``I am not armed,'' replied my conductor: ``but no matter, a willing hand never lacked weapon. You say you
fear nothing; but if you knew who was by your side, perhaps you might underlie a tremor.''
``And why should I?'' replied I. ``I again repeat, I fear nought that you can do.''
``Nought that I can do?Be it so. But do you not fear the consequences of being found with one whose
very name whispered in this lonely street would make the stones themselves rise up to apprehend himon
whose head half the men in Glasgow would build their fortune as on a found treasure, had they the luck to
grip him by the collarthe sound of whose apprehension were as welcome at the Cross of Edinburgh as
ever the news of a field stricken and won in Flanders?''
``And who then are you, whose name should create so deep a feeling of terror?'' I replied.
``No enemy of yours, since I am conveying you to a place, where, were I myself recognised and identified,
iron to the heels and hemp to the craig would be my brief dooming.''
I paused and stood still on the pavement, drawing back so as to have the most perfect view of my companion
which the light afforded me, and which was sufficient to guard against any sudden motion of assault.
``You have said,'' I answered, ``either too much or too little too much to induce me to confide in you as a
mere stranger, since you avow yourself a person amenable to the laws of the country in which we areand
too little, unless you could show that you are unjustly subjected to their rigour.''
As I ceased to speak, he made a step towards me. I drew back instinctively, and laid my hand on the hilt of
my sword.
``What!'' said he``on an unarmed man, and your friend?''
``I am yet ignorant if you are either the one or the other,'' I replied; ``and to say the truth, your language and
manner might well entitle me to doubt both.''
``It is manfully spoken,'' replied my conductor; ``and I respect him whose hand can keep his head.I will
be frank and free with youI am conveying you to prison.''
``To prison!'' I exclaimed``by what warrant or for what offence?You shall have my life sooner than
my libertyI defy you, and I will not follow you a step farther.''
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``I do not,'' he said, ``carry you there as a prisoner; I am,'' he added, drawing himself haughtily up, ``neither a
messenger nor sheriff's officer. I carry you to see a prisoner from whose lips you will learn the risk in which
you presently stand. Your liberty is little risked by the visit; mine is in some peril; but that I readily encounter
on your account, for I care not for risk, and I love a free young blood, that kens no protector but the cross o'
the sword.''
While he spoke thus, we had reached the principal street, and were pausing before a large building of hewn
stone, garnished, as I thought I could perceive, with gratings of iron before the windows.
``Muckle,'' said the stranger, whose language became more broadly national as he assumed a tone of
colloquial freedom ``Muckle wad the provost and bailies o' Glasgow gie to hae him sitting with iron
garters to his hose within their tolbooth that now stands wi' his legs as free as the reddeer's on the outside
on't. And little wad it avail them; for an if they had me there wi' a stane's weight o' iron at every ankle, I
would show them a toom room and a lost lodger before tomorrowBut come on, what stint ye for?''
As he spoke thus, he tapped at a low wicket, and was answered by a sharp voice, as of one awakened from a
dream or reverie,``Fa's tat?Wha's that, I wad say?and fat a deil want ye at this hour at
e'en?Clean again rulesclean again rules, as they ca' them.''
The protracted tone in which the last words were uttered, betokened that the speaker was again composing
himself to slumber. But my guide spoke in a loud whisper``Dougal, man! hae ye forgotten Ha nun
Gregarach?''
``Deil a bit, deil a bit,'' was the ready and lively response, and I heard the internal guardian of the prisongate
bustle up with great alacrity. A few words were exchanged between my conductor and the turnkey in a
language to which I was an absolute stranger. The bolts revolved, but with a caution which marked the
apprehension that the noise might be overheard, and we stood within the vestibule of the prison of
Glasgow,a small, but strong guardroom, from which a narrow staircase led upwards, and one or two
low entrances conducted to apartments on the same level with the outward gate, all secured with the jealous
strength of wickets, bolts, and bars. The walls, otherwise naked, were not unsuitably garnished with iron
fetters, and other uncouth implements, which might be designed for purposes still more inhuman,
interspersed with partisans, guns, pistols of antique manufacture, and other weapons of defence and offence.
At finding myself so unexpectedly, fortuitously, and, as it were, by stealth, introduced within one of the legal
fortresses of Scotland, I could not help recollecting my adventure in Northumberland, and fretting at the
strange incidents which again, without any demerits of my own, threatened to place me in a dangerous and
disagreeable collision with the laws of a country which I visited only in the capacity of a stranger.
CHAPTER TWENTYSECOND.
Look round thee, young Astolpho: Here's the place
Which men (for being poor) are sent to starve in;
Rude remedy, I trow, for sore disease.
Within these walls, stifled by damp and stench,
Doth Hope's fair torch expire; and at the snuff,
Ere yet 'tis quite extinct, rude, wild, and wayward,
The desperate revelries of wild despair,
Kindling their hellborn cressets, light to deeds
That the poor captive would have died ere practised,
Till bondage sunk his soul to his condition.
The Prison, Scene III. Act I.
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At my first entrance I turned an eager glance towards my conductor; but the lamp in the vestibule was too
low in flame to give my curiosity any satisfaction by affording a distinct perusal of his features. As the
turnkey held the light in his hand, the beams fell more full on his own scarce less interesting figure. He was a
wild shockheaded looking animal, whose profusion of red hair covered and obscured his features, which
were otherwise only characterised by the extravagant joy that affected him at the sight of my guide. In my
experience I have met nothing so absolutely resembling my idea of a very uncouth, wild, and ugly savage,
adoring the idol of his tribe. He grinned, he shivered, he laughed, he was near crying, if he did not actually
cry. He had a ``Where shall I go?What can I do for you?'' expression of face; the complete, surrendered,
and anxious subservience and devotion of which it is difficult to describe, otherwise than by the awkward
combination which I have attempted. The fellow's voice seemed choking in his ecstasy, and only could
express itself in such interjections as ``Oigh! oigh!Ay! ay!it's lang since she's seen ye!'' and other
exclamations equally brief, expressed in the same unknown tongue in which he had communicated with my
conductor while we were on the outside of the jail door. My guide received all this excess of joyful
gratulation much like a prince too early accustomed to the homage of those around him to be much moved by
it, yet willing to requite it by the usual forms of royal courtesy. He extended his hand graciously towards the
turnkey, with a civil inquiry of ``How's a' wi' you, Dougal?''
``Oigh! oigh!'' exclaimed Dougal, softening the sharp exclamations of his surprise as he looked around with
an eye of watchful alarm``Oigh! to see you hereto see you here! Oigh!what will come o' ye
gin the bailies suld come to get wittingta filthy, gutty hallions, tat they are?''
My guide placed his finger on his lip, and said, ``Fear nothing, Dougal; your hands shall never draw a bolt on
me.''
``Tat sall they no,'' said Dougal; ``she suldshe wadthat is, she wishes them hacked aff by the elbows
firstBut when are ye gaun yonder again? and ye'll no forget to let her ken she's your puir cousin, God
kens, only seven times removed.''
``I will let you ken, Dougal, as soon as my plans are settled.''
``And, by her sooth, when you do, an it were twal o' the Sunday at e'en, she'll fling her keys at the provost's
head or she gie them anither turn, and that or ever Monday morning beginssee if she winna.''
My mysterious stranger cut his acquaintance's ecstasies short by again addressing him, in what I afterwards
understood to be the Irish, Earse, or Gaelic, explaining, probably, the services which he required at his hand.
The answer, ``Wi' a' her heart wi' a' her soul,'' with a good deal of indistinct muttering in a similar tone,
intimated the turnkey's acquiescence in what he proposed. The fellow trimmed his dying lamp, and made a
sign to me to follow him.
``Do you not go with us?'' said 1, looking to my conductor.
``It is unnecessary,'' he replied; ``my company may be inconvenient for you, and I had better remain to secure
our retreat.''
``I do not suppose you mean to betray me to danger,'' said I.
``To none but what I partake in doubly,'' answered the stranger, with a voice of assurance which it was
impossible to mistrust.
I followed the turnkey, who, leaving the inner wicket unlocked behind him, led me up a turnpike (so the
Scotch call a winding stair), then along a narrow gallerythen opening one of several doors which led into
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the passage, he ushered me into a small apartment, and casting his eye on the palletbed which occupied one
corner, said with an under voice, as he placed the lamp on a little deal table, ``She's sleeping.''
``She!who?can it be Diana Vernon in this abode of misery?''
I turned my eye to the bed, and it was with a mixture of disappointment oddly mingled with pleasure, that I
saw my first suspicion had deceived me. I saw a head neither young nor beautiful, garnished with a grey
beard of two days' growth, and accommodated with a red nightcap. The first glance put me at ease on the
score of Diana Vernon; the second, as the slumberer awoke from a heavy sleep, yawned, and rubbed his eyes,
presented me with features very different indeedeven those of my poor friend Owen. I drew back out of
view an instant, that he might have time to recover himself; fortunately recollecting that I was but an intruder
on these cells of sorrow, and that any alarm might be attended with unhappy consequences.
Meantime, the unfortunate formalist, raising himself from the palletbed with the assistance of one hand, and
scratching his cap with the other, exclaimed in a voice in which as much peevishness as he was capable of
feeling, contended with drowsiness, ``I'll tell you what, Mr. Dugwell, or whatever your name may be, the
sumtotal of the matter is, that if my natural rest is to be broken in this manner, I must complain to the lord
mayor.''
``Shentlemans to speak wi' her,'' replied Dougal, resuming the true dogged sullen tone of a turnkey, in
exchange for the shrill clang of Highland congratulation with which he had welcomed my mysterious guide;
and, turning on his heel, he left the apartment.
It was some time before I could prevail upon the unfortunate sleeper awakening to recognise me; and when
he did so, the distress of the worthy creature was. extreme, at supposing, which he naturally did, that I had
been sent thither as a partner of his captivity.
``O, Mr. Frank, what have you brought yourself and the house to?I think nothing of myself, that am a
mere cipher, so to speak; but you, that was your father's sumtotalhis omnium,you that might have
been the first man in the first house in the first city, to be shut up in a nasty Scotch jail, where one cannot
even get the dirt brushed off their clothes!''
He rubbed, with an air of peevish irritation, the once stainless brown coat, which had now shared some of the
impurities of the floor of his prisonhouse,his habits of extreme punctilious neatness acting mechanically
to increase his distress. ``O Heaven be gracious to us!'' he continued. ``What news this will be on
'Change! There has not the like come there since the battle of Almanza, where the total of the British loss was
summed up to five thousand men killed and wounded, besides a floating balance of missingbut what will
that be to the news that Osbaldistone and Tresham have stopped!''
I broke in on his lamentations to acquaint him that I was no prisoner, though scarce able to account for my
being in that place at such an hour. I could only silence his inquiries by persisting in those which his own
situation suggested; and at length obtained from him such information as he was able to give me. It was none
of the most distinct; for, however clearheaded in his own routine of commercial business, Owen, you are
well aware, was not very acute in comprehending what lay beyond that sphere.
The sum of his information was, that of two correspondents of my father's firm at Glasgow, where, owing to
engagements in Scotland formerly alluded to, he transacted a great deal of business, both my father and Owen
had found the house of MacVittie, MacFin, and Company, the most obliging and accommodating. They had
deferred to the great English house on every possible occasion; and in their bargains and transactions acted,
without repining, the part of the jackall, who only claims what the lion is pleased to leave him. However
small the share of profit allotted to them, it was always, as they expressed it, ``enough for the like of them;''
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however large the portion of trouble, ``they were sensible they could not do too much to deserve the
continued patronage and good opinion of their honoured friends in Crane Alley.''
The dictates of my father were to MacVittie and MacFin the laws of the Medes and Persians, not to be
altered, innovated, or even discussed; and the punctilios exacted by Owen in their business transactions, for
he was a great lover of form, more especially when he could dictate it ex cathedra, seemed scarce less
sanctimonious in their eyes. This tone of deep and respectful observance went all currently down with Owen;
but my father looked a little closer into men's bosoms, and whether suspicious of this excess of deference, or,
as a lover of brevity and simplicity in business, tired with these gentlemen's longwinded professions of
regard, he had uniformly resisted their desire to become his sole agents in Scotland. On the contrary, he
transacted many affairs through a correspondent of a character perfectly differenta man whose good
opinion of himself amounted to selfconceit, and who, disliking the English in general as much as my father
did the Scotch, would hold no communication but on a footing of absolute equality; jealous, moreover;
captious occasionally; as tenacious of his own opinions in point of form as Owen could be of his; and totally
indifferent though the authority of all Lombard Street had stood against his own private opinion.
As these peculiarities of temper rendered it difficult to transact business with Mr. Nicol Jarvie,as they
occasioned at times disputes and coldness between the English house and their correspondent, which were
only got over by a sense of mutual interest,as, moreover, Owen's personal vanity sometimes suffered a
little in the discussions to which they gave rise, you cannot be surprised, Tresham, that our old friend threw at
all times the weight of his influence in favour of the civil, discreet, accommodating concern of MacVittie and
MacFin, and spoke of Jarvie as a petulant, conceited Scotch pedlar, with whom there was no dealing.
It was also not surprising, that in these circumstances, which I only learned in detail some time afterwards,
Owen, in the difficulties to which the house was reduced by the absence of my father, and the disappearance
of Rashleigh, should, on his arrival in Scotland, which took place two days before mine, have recourse to the
friendship of those correspondents, who had always professed themselves obliged, gratified, and devoted to
the service of his principal. He was received at Messrs. MacVittie and MacFin's countinghouse in the
Gallowgate, with something like the devotion a Catholic would pay to his tutelar saint. But, alas! this
sunshine was soon overclouded, when, encouraged by the fair hopes which it inspired, he opened the
difficulties of the house to his friendly correspondents, and requested their counsel and assistance. MacVittie
was almost stunned by the communication; and MacFin, ere it was completed, was already at the ledger of
their firm, and deeply engaged in the very bowels of the multitudinous accounts between their house and that
of Osbaldistone and Tresham, for the purpose of discovering on which side the balance lay. Alas! the scale
depressed considerably against the English firm; and the faces of MacVittie and MacFin, hitherto only blank
and doubtful, became now ominous, grim, and lowering. They met Mr. Owen's request of countenance and
assistance with a counterdemand of instant security against imminent hazard of eventual loss; and at length,
speaking more plainly, required that a deposit of assets, destined for other purposes, should be placed in their
hands for that purpose. Owen repelled this demand with great indignation, as dishonourable to his
constituents, unjust to the other creditors of Osbaldistone and Tresham, and very ungrateful on the part of
those by whom it was made.
The Scotch partners gained, in the course of this controversy, what is very convenient to persons who are in
the wrong, an opportunity and pretext for putting themselves in a violent passion, and for taking, under the
pretext of the provocation they had received, measures to which some sense of decency, if not of conscience,
might otherwise have deterred them from resorting.
Owen had a small share, as I believe is usual, in the house to which he acted as headclerk, and was therefore
personally liable for all its obligations. This was known to Messrs. MacVittie and MacFin; and, with a view
of making him feel their power, or rather in order to force him, at this emergency, into those measures in their
favour, to which he had expressed himself so repugnant, they had recourse to a summary process of arrest
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and imprisonment,which it seems the law of Scotland (therein surely liable to much abuse) allows to a
creditor, who finds his conscience at liberty to make oath that the debtor meditates departing from the realm.
Under such a warrant had poor Owen been confined to durance on the day preceding that when I was so
strangely guided to his prisonhouse.
Thus possessed of the alarming outline of facts, the question remained, what was to be done and it was not of
easy determination. I plainly perceived the perils with which we were surrounded, but it was more difficult to
suggest any remedy. The warning which I had already received seemed to intimate, that my own personal
liberty might be endangered by an open appearance in Owen's behalf. Owen entertained the same
apprehension, and, in the exaggeration of his terror, assured me that a Scotchman, rather than run the risk of
losing a farthing by an Englishman, would find law for arresting his wife, children, manservant,
maidservant, and stranger within his household. The laws concerning debt, in most countries, are so
unmercifully severe, that I could not altogether disbelieve his statement; and my arrest, in the present
circumstances, would have been a coupdegrace to my father's affairs. In this dilemma, I asked Owen if he
had not thought of having recourse to my father's other correspondent in Glasgow, Mr. Nicol Jarvie?
``He had sent him a letter,'' he replied, ``that morning; but if the smoothtongued and civil house in the
Gallowgate* had
* [A street in the old town of Glasgow.]
used him thus, what was to be expected from the crossgrained crabstock in the SaltMarket? You might as
well ask a broker to give up his percentage, as expect a favour from him without the per contra. He had not
even,'' Owen said, ``answered his letter though it was put into his hand that morning as he went to church.''
And here the despairing manoffigures threw himself down on his pallet, exclaiming,``My poor dear
master! My poor dear master! O Mr. Frank, Mr. Frank, this is all your obstinacy!But God forgive me for
saying so to you in your distress! It's God's disposing, and man must submit.''
My philosophy, Tresham, could not prevent my sharing in the honest creature's distress, and we mingled our
tears,the more bitter on my part, as the perverse opposition to my father's will, with which the
kindhearted Owen forbore to upbraid me, rose up to my conscience as the cause of all this affliction.
In the midst of our mingled sorrow, we were disturbed and surprised by a loud knocking at the outward door
of the prison. I ran to the top of the staircase to listen, but could only hear the voice of the turnkey, alternately
in a high tone, answering to some person without, and in a whisper, addressed to the person who had guided
me hither``She's comingshe's coming,'' aloud; then in a low key, ``O honari! O honari! what'll
she do now?Gang up ta stair, and hide yourself ahint ta Sassenach shentleman's ped.She's coming as
fast as she can. Ahellanay! it's my lord provosts, and ta pailies, and ta guard and ta captain's coming
toon stairs tooGot press her! gang up or he meets her.She's comingshe's comingta lock's sair
roosted.''
While Dougal, unwillingly, and with as much delay as possible, undid the various fastenings to give
admittance to those without, whose impatience became clamorous, my guide ascended the winding stair, and
sprang into Owen's apartment, into which I followed him. He cast his eyes hastily round, as if looking for a
place of concealment; then said to me, ``Lend me your pistolsyet it's no matter, I can do without
themWhatever you see, take no heed, and do not mix your hand in another man's feudThis gear's
mine, and I must manage it as I dow; but I have been as hard bested, and worse, than I am even now.''
As the stranger spoke these words, he stripped from his person the cumbrous upper coat in which he was
wrapt, confronted the door of the apartment, on which he fixed a keen and determined glance, drawing his
person a little back to concentrate his force, like a fine horse brought up to the leapingbar. I had not a
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moment's doubt that he meant to extricate himself from his embarrassment, whatever might be the cause of it,
by springing full upon those who should appear when the doors opened, and forcing his way through all
opposition into the street;and such was the appearance of strength and agility displayed in his frame, and
of determination in his look and manner, that I did not doubt a moment but that he might get clear through his
opponents, unless they employed fatal means to stop his purpose. It was a period of awful suspense betwixt
the opening of the outward gate and that of the door of the apartment, when there appearedno guard with
bayonets fixed, or watch with clubs, bills, or partisans, but a goodlooking young woman, with grogram
petticoats, tucked up for trudging through the streets, and holding a lantern in her hand. This female ushered
in a more important personage, in form, stout, short, and somewhat corpulent; and by dignity, as it soon
appeared, a magistrate, bobwigged, bustling, and breathless with peevish impatience. My conductor, at his
appearance, drew back as if to escape observation; but he could not elude the penetrating twinkle with which
this dignitary reconnoitered the whole apartment.
``A bonny thing it is, and a beseeming, that I should be kept at the door half an hour, Captain Stanchells,''
said he, addressing the principal jailor, who now showed himself at the door as if in attendance on the great
man, ``knocking as hard to get into the tolbooth as onybody else wad to get out of it, could that avail them,
poor fallen creatures!And how's this?how's this? strangers in the jail after lockup hours, and on
the Sabbath evening!I shall look after this, Stanchells, you may depend on'tKeep the door locked,
and I'll speak to these gentlemen in a gliffingBut first I maun hae a crack wi' an auld acquaintance
here.Mr. Owen, Mr. Owen, how's a' wi' ye, man?''
``Pretty well in body, I thank you, Mr. Jarvie,'' drawled out poor Owen, ``but sore afflicted in spirit.''
``Nae doubt, nae doubtay, ayit's an awfu' whummle and for ane that held his head sae high
toohuman nature, human natureAy ay, we're a' subject to a downcome. Mr. Osbaldistone is a gude
honest gentleman; but I aye said he was ane o' them wad make a spune or spoil a horn, as my father the
worthy deacon used to say. The deacon used to say to me, `Nickyoung Nick' (his name was Nicol as weel
as mine; sae folk ca'd us in their daffin', young Nick and auld Nick) `Nick,' said he, `never put out your
arm farther than ye can draw it easily back again.' I hae said sae to Mr. Osbaldistone, and he didna seem to
take it a'thegither sae kind as I wished but it was weel meantweel meant.''
This discourse, delivered with prodigious volubility, and a great appearance of selfcomplacency, as he
recollected his own advice and predictions, gave little promise of assistance at the hands of Mr. Jarvie. Yet it
soon appeared rather to proceed from a total want of delicacy than any deficiency of real kindness; for when
Owen expressed himself somewhat hurt that these things should be recalled to memory in his present
situation, the Glaswegian took him by the hand, and bade him ``Cheer up a gliff! D'ye think I wad hae comed
out at twal o'clock at night, and amaist broken the Lord's day, just to tell a fa'en man o' his backslidings? Na,
na, that's no Bailie Jarvie's gate, nor was't his worthy father's the deacon afore him. Why, man! it's my rule
never to think on warldly business on the Sabbath, and though I did a' I could to keep your note that I gat this
morning out o' my head, yet I thought mair on it a' day, than on the preachingAnd it's my rule to gang to
my bed wi' the yellow curtains preceesely at ten o'clockunless I were eating a haddock wi' a neighbour,
or a neighbour wi' meask the lassquean there, if it isna a fundamental rule in my household; and here
hae I sitten up reading gude books, and gaping as if I wad swallow St. Enox Kirk, till it chappit twal, whilk
was a lawfu' hour to gie a look at my ledger, just to see how things stood between us; and then, as time and
tide wait for no man, I made the lass get the lantern, and came slipping my ways here to see what can be dune
anent your affairs. Bailie Jarvie can command entrance into the tolbooth at ony hour, day or night; sae
could my father the deacon in his time, honest man, praise to his memory.''
Although Owen groaned at the mention of the ledger, leading me grievously to fear that here also the balance
stood in the wrong column; and although the worthy magistrate's speech expressed much selfcomplacency,
and some ominous triumph in his own superior judgment, yet it was blended with a sort of frank and blunt
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goodnature, from which I could not help deriving some hopes. He requested to see some papers he
mentioned, snatched them hastily from Owen's hand, and sitting on the bed, to ``rest his shanks,'' as he was
pleased to express the accommodation which that posture afforded him, his servant girl held up the lantern to
him, while, pshawing, muttering, and sputtering, now at the imperfect light, now at the contents of the packet,
he ran over the writings it contained.
Seeing him fairly engaged in this course of study, the guide who had brought me hither seemed disposed to
take an unceremonious leave. He made a sign to me to say nothing, and intimated, by his change of posture,
an intention to glide towards the door in such a manner as to attract the least possible observation. But the
alert magistrate (very different from my old acquaintance, Mr. Justice Inglewood) instantly detected and
interrupted his purposes. ``I say, look to the door, Stanchells shut and lock it, and keep watch on the
outside.''
The stranger's brow darkened, and he seemed for an instant again to meditate the effecting his retreat by
violence; but ere he had determined, the door closed, and the ponderous bolt revolved. He muttered an
exclamation in Gaelic, strode across the floor, and then, with an air of dogged resolution, as if fixed and
prepared to see the scene to an end, sate himself down on the oak table, and whistled a strathspey.
Mr. Jarvie, who seemed very alert and expeditious in going through business, soon showed himself master of
that which he had been considering, and addressed himself to Mr. Owen in the following strain:``Weel,
Mr. Owen, weelyour house are awin' certain sums to Messrs. MacVittie and MacFin (shame fa' their
souple snouts! they made that and mair out o' a bargain about the aikwoods at GlenCailziechat, that they
took out atween my teethwi' help o' your gude word, I maun needs say, Mr. Owenbut that makes nae
odds now)Weel, sir, your house awes them this siller; and for this, and relief of other engagements they
stand in for you, they hae putten a double turn o' Stanchells' muckle key on ye.Weel, sir, ye awe this
sillerand maybe ye awe some mair to some other body toomaybe ye awe some to myself, Bailie
Nicol Jarvie.''
``I cannot deny, sir, but the balance may of this date be brought out against us, Mr. Jarvie,'' said Owen; ``but
you'll please to consider''
``I hae nae time to consider e'enow, Mr. OwenSae near Sabbath at e'en, and out o' ane's warm bed at this
time o' night, and a sort o' drow in the air besidesthere's nae time for considering But, sir, as I was
saying, ye awe me moneyit winna denyye awe me money, less or mair, I'll stand by it. But then, Mr.
Owen, I canna see how you, an active man that understands business, can redd out the business ye're come
down about, and clear us a' affas I have gritt hope ye willif ye're keepit lying here in the tolbooth of
Glasgow. Now, sir, if you can find caution judicio sisti,that is, that ye winna flee the country, but appear
and relieve your caution when ca'd for in our legal courts, ye may be set at liberty this very morning.''
``Mr. Jarvie,'' said Owen, ``if any friend would become surety for me to that effect, my liberty might be
usefully employed, doubtless, both for the house and all connected with it.''
``Aweel, sir,'' continued Jarvie, ``and doubtless such a friend wad expect ye to appear when ca'd on, and
relieve him o' his engagement.''
``And I should do so as certainly, bating sickness or death, as that two and two make four.''
``Aweel, Mr. Owen,'' resumed the citizen of Glasgow, ``I dinna misdoubt ye, and I'll prove it, sirI'll prove
it. I am a carefu' man, as is weel ken'd, and industrious, as the hale town can testify; and I can win my
crowns, and keep my crowns, and count my crowns, wi' onybody in the Saut Market, or it may be in the
Gallowgate. And I'm a prudent man, as my father the deacon was before me;but rather than an honest
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civil gentleman, that understands business, and is willing to do justice to all men, should lie by the heels this
gate, unable to help himsell or onybody elsewhy, conscience, man! I'll be your bail myself But ye'll
mind it's a bail judicio sisti, as our townclerk says, not judicatum solvi; ye'll mind that, for there's muckle
difference.''
Mr. Owen assured him, that as matters then stood, he could not expect any one to become surety for the
actual payment of the debt, but that there was not the most distant cause for apprehending loss from his
failing to present himself when lawfully called upon.
``I believe yeI believe ye. Eneugh saideneugh said. We'se hae your legs loose by
breakfasttime.And now let's hear what thir chamber chiels o' yours hae to say for themselves, or how, in
the name of unrule, they got here at this time o' night.''
CHAPTER TWENTYTHIRD.
Hame came our gudeman at e'en,
And hame came he,
And there he saw a man
Where a man suldna be.
``How's this now, kimmer?
How's this?'' quo he,
``How came this carle here
Without the leave o' me?''
Old Song.
The magistrate took the light out of the servantmaid's hand, and advanced to his scrutiny, like Diogenes in
the street of Athens, lanterninhand, and probably with as little expectation as that of the cynic, that he was
likely to encounter any especial treasure in the course of his researches. The first whom he approached was
my mysterious guide, who, seated on a table as I have already described him, with his eyes firmly fixed on
the wall, his features arranged into the utmost inflexibility of expression, his hands folded on his breast with
an air betwixt carelessness and defiance, his heel patting against the foot of the table, to keep time with the
tune which he continued to whistle, submitted to Mr. Jarvie's investigation with an air of absolute confidence
and assurance which, for a moment, placed at fault the memory and sagacity of the acute investigator.
``Ah!Eh!Oh!'' exclaimed the Bailie. ``My conscience! it's impossible!and
yetno!Conscience!it canna be! and yet againDeil hae me, that I suld say sae!Ye
robber ye cateranye born deevil that ye are, to a' bad ends and nae gude ane!can this be you?''
``E'en as ye see, Bailie,'' was the laconic answer.
``Conscience! if I am na clean bumbaizedyou, ye cheatthewuddy rogueyou here on your venture
in the tolbooth o' Glasgow? What d'ye think's the value o' your head?''
``Umph!why, fairly weighed, and Dutch weight, it might weigh down one provost's, four bailies', a
townclerk's, six deacons', besides stentmasters' ''
``Ah, ye reiving villain!'' interrupted Mr. Jarvie. ``But tell ower your sins, and prepare ye, for if I say the
word''
``True, Bailie,'' said he who was thus addressed, folding his hands behind him with the utmost nonchalance,
``but ye will never say that word.''
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``And why suld I not, sir?'' exclaimed the magistrate``Why suld I not? Answer me thatwhy suld I
not?''
``For three sufficient reasons, Bailie Jarvie.First, for auld langsyne; second, for the sake of the auld wife
ayont the fire at Stuckavrallachan, that made some mixture of our bluids, to my own proper shame be it
spoken! that has a cousin wi' accounts, and yarn winnles, and looms and shuttles, like a mere mechanical
person; and lastly, Bailie, because if I saw a sign o' your betraying me, I would plaster that wa' with your
harns ere the hand of man could rescue you!''
``Ye're a bauld desperate villain, sir,'' retorted the undaunted Bailie; ``and ye ken that I ken ye to be sae, and
that I wadna stand a moment for my ain risk.''
``I ken weel,'' said the other, ``ye hae gentle bluid in your veins, and I wad be laith to hurt my ain kinsman.
But I'll gang out here as free as I came in, or the very wa's o' Glasgow tolbooth shall tell o't these ten years to
come.''
``Weel, weel,'' said Mr. Jarvie, ``bluid's thicker than water; and it liesna in kith, kin, and ally, to see motes in
ilka other's een if other een see them no. It wad be sair news to the auld wife below the Ben of
Stuckavrallachan, that you, ye Hieland limmer, had knockit out my harns, or that I had kilted you up in a tow.
But ye'll own, ye dour deevil, that were it no your very sell, I wad hae grippit the best man in the Hielands.''
``Ye wad hae tried, cousin,'' answered my guide, ``that I wot weel; but I doubt ye wad hae come aff wi' the
short measure; for we gangthereout Hieland bodies are an unchancy generation when you speak to us o'
bondage. We downa bide the coercion of gude braidclaith about our hinderlans, let a be breeks o'
freestone, and garters o' iron.''
``Ye'll find the stane breeks and the airn gartersay, and the hemp cravat, for a' that, neighbour,'' replied
the Bailie.
``Nae man in a civilised country ever played the pliskies ye hae donebut e'en pickle in your ain
pockneukI hae gi'en ye wanting.''
``Well, cousin,'' said the other, ``ye'll wear black at my burial.''
``Deil a black cloak will be there, Robin, but the corbies and the hoodiecraws, I'se gie ye my hand on that.
But whar's the gude thousand pund Scots that I lent ye, man, and when am I to see it again?''
``Where it is,'' replied my guide, after the affectation of considering for a moment, ``I cannot justly
tellprobably where last year's snaw is.''
``And that's on the tap of Schehallion, ye Hieland dog,'' said Mr. Jarvie; ``and I look for payment frae you
where ye stand.''
``Ay,'' replied the Highlander, ``but I keep neither snaw nor dollars in my sporran. And as to when you'll see
itwhy, just when the king enjoys his ain again, as the auld sang says.''
``Warst of a', Robin,'' retorted the Glaswegian,``I mean, ye disloyal traitorWarst of a'!Wad ye
bring popery in on us, and arbitrary power, and a foist and a warmingpan, and the set forms, and the curates,
and the auld enormities o' surplices and cerements? Ye had better stick to your auld trade o' theftboot,
blackmail, spreaghs, and gillravagingbetter stealing nowte than ruining nations.''
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``Hout, manwhisht wi' your whiggery,'' answered the Celt; ``we hae ken'd ane anither mony a lang day.
I'se take care your countingroom is no cleaned out when the Gillonanaillie*
* The lads with the kilts or petticoats.
come to redd up the Glasgow buiths, and clear them o' their auld shopwares. And, unless it just fa' in the
preceese way o' your duty, ye maunna see me oftener, Nicol, than I am disposed to be seen.''
``Ye are a dauring villain, Rob,'' answered the Bailie; ``and ye will be hanged, that will be seen and heard tell
o'; but I'se ne'er be the ill bird and foul my nest, set apart strong necessity and the skreigh of duty, which no
man should hear and be inobedient. And wha the deevil's this?'' he continued, turning to me``Some
gillravager that ye hae listed, I daur say. He looks as if he had a bauld heart to the highway, and a lang craig
for the gibbet.''
``This, good Mr. Jarvie,'' said Owen, who, like myself, had been struck dumb during this strange recognition,
and no less strange dialogue, which took place betwixt these extraordinary kinsmen``This, good Mr.
Jarvie, is young Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, only child of the head of our house, who should have been taken
into our firm at the time Mr. Rashleigh Osbaldistone, his cousin, had the luck to be taken into it''(Here
Owen could not suppress a groan)``But howsoever''
``Oh, I have heard of that smaik,'' said the Scotch merchant, interrupting him; ``it is he whom your principal,
like an obstinate auld fule, wad make a merchant o', wad he or wad he no,and the lad turned a strolling
stageplayer, in pure dislike to the labour an honest man should live by. Weel, sir, what say you to your
handiwork? Will Hamlet the Dane, or Hamlet's ghost, be good security for Mr. Owen, sir?''
``I don't deserve your taunt,'' I replied, ``though I respect your motive, and am too grateful for the assistance
you have afforded Mr. Owen, to resent it. My only business here was to do what I could (it is perhaps very
little) to aid Mr. Owen in the management of my father's affairs. My dislike of the commercial profession is a
feeling of which I am the best and sole judge.''
``I protest,'' said the Highlander, ``I had some respect for this callant even before I ken'd what was in him; but
now I honour him for his contempt of weavers and spinners, and siclike mechanical persons and their
pursuits.''
``Ye're mad, Rob,'' said the Bailie``mad as a March hare though wherefore a hare suld be mad at
March mair than at Martinmas, is mair than I can weel say. Weavers! Deil shake ye out o' the web the weaver
craft made. Spinners! ye'll spin and wind yourself a bonny pirn. And this young birkie here, that ye're hoying
and hounding on the shortest road to the gallows and the deevil, will his stageplays and his poetries help
him here, dye think, ony mair than your deep oaths and drawn dirks, ye reprobate that ye are?Will Tityre
tu patulae, as they ca' it, tell him where Rashleigh Osbaldistone is?, or Macbeth, and all his kernes and
gallaglasses, and your awn to boot, Rob, procure him five thousand pounds to answer the bills which fall
due ten days hence, were they a' rouped at the Cross,baskethilts, AndraFerraras, leather targets,
brogues, brochan, and sporrans?''
``Ten days,'' I answered, and instinctively drew out Diana Vernon's packet; and the time being elapsed during
which I was to keep the seal sacred, I hastily broke it open. A sealed letter fell from a blank enclosure, owing
to the trepidation with which I opened the parcel. A slight current of wind, which found its way through a
broken pane of the window, wafted the letter to Mr. Jarvie's feet, who lifted it, examined the address with
unceremonious curiosity, and, to my astonishment, handed it to his Highland kinsman, saying, ``Here's a
wind has blown a letter to its right owner, though there were ten thousand chances against its coming to
hand.''
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Page No 159
The Highlander, having examined the address, broke the letter open without the least ceremony. I
endeavoured to interrupt his proceeding.
``You must satisfy me, sir,'' said I, ``that the letter is intended for you before I can permit you to peruse it.''
``Make yourself quite easy, Mr. Osbaldistone,'' replied the mountaineer with great
composure.``remember Justice Inglewood, Clerk Jobson, Mr. Morrisabove all, remember your vera
humble servant, Robert Cawmil, and the beautiful Diana Vernon. Remember all this, and doubt no longer that
the letter is for me.''
I remained astonished at my own stupidity.Through the whole night, the voice, and even the features of
this man, though imperfectly seen, haunted me with recollections to which I could assign no exact local or
personal associations. But now the light dawned on me at once; this man was Campbell himself. His whole
peculiarities flashed on me at once,the deep strong voicethe inflexible, stern, yet considerate cast of
features the Scottish brogue, with its corresponding dialect and imagery, which, although he possessed
the power at times of laying them aside, recurred at every moment of emotion, and gave pith to his sarcasm,
or vehemence to his expostulation. Rather beneath the middle size than above it, his limbs were formed upon
the very strongest model that is consistent with agility, while from the remarkable ease and freedom of his
movements, you could not doubt his possessing the latter quality in a high degree of perfection. Two points in
his person interfered with the rules of symmetry; his shoulders were so broad in proportion to his height, as,
notwithstanding the lean and lathy appearance of his frame, gave him something the air of being too square in
respect to his stature; and his arms, though round, sinewy, and strong, were so very long as to be rather a
deformity. I afterwards heard that this length of arm was a circumstance on which he prided himself; that
when he wore his native Highland garb, he could tie the garters of his hose without stooping; and that it gave
him great advantage in the use of the broadsword, at which he was very dexterous. But certainly this want
of symmetry destroyed the claim he might otherwise have set up, to be accounted a very handsome man; it
gave something wild, irregular, and, as it were, unearthly, to his appearance, and reminded me involuntarily
of the tales which Mabel used to tell of the old Picts who ravaged Northumberland in ancient times, who,
according to her tradition, were a sort of halfgoblin halfhuman beings, distinguished, like this man, for
courage, cunning, ferocity, the length of their arms, and the squareness of their shoulders.
When, however, I recollected the circumstances in which we formerly met, I could not doubt that the billet
was most probably designed for him. He had made a marked figure among those mysterious personages over
whom Diana seemed to exercise an influence, and from whom she experienced an influence in her turn. It
was painful to think that the fate of a being so amiable was involved in that of desperadoes of this man's
description;yet it seemed impossible to doubt it. Of what use, however, could this person be to my
father's affairs?I could think only of one. Rashleigh Osbaldistone had, at the instigation of Miss Vernon,
certainly found means to produce Mr. Campbell when his presence was necessary to exculpate me from
Morris's accusationWas it not possible that her influence, in like manner, might prevail on Campbell to
produce Rashleigh? Speaking on this supposition, I requested to know where my dangerous kinsman was,
and when Mr. Campbell had seen him. The answer was indirect.
``It's a kittle cast she has gien me to play; but yet it's fair play, and I winna baulk her. Mr. Osbaldistone, I
dwell not very far from hencemy kinsman can show you the way Leave Mr. Owen to do the best he
can in Glasgowdo you come and see me in the glens, and it's like I may pleasure you, and stead your
father in his extremity. I am but a poor man; but wit's better than wealthand, cousin'' (turning from me to
address Mr. Jarvie), ``if ye daur venture sae muckle as to eat a dish of Scotch collops, and a leg o' reddeer
venison wi' me, come ye wi' this Sassenach gentleman as far as Drymen or Bucklivie,or the Clachan of
Aberfoil will be better than ony o' them,and I'll hae somebody waiting to weise ye the gate to the place
where I may be for the timeWhat say ye, man? There's my thumb, I'll ne'er beguile thee.''
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``Na, na, Robin,'' said the cautious burgher, ``I seldom like to leave the Gorbals;* I have nae freedom to gang
among your
* [The Gorbals or ``suburbs'' are situate on the south side of the River.]
wild hills, Robin, and your kilted redshanksit disna become my place, man.''
``The devil damn your place and you baith!'' reiterated Campbell. ``The only drap o' gentle bluid that's in
your body was our greatgranduncle's that was justified* at Dumbarton,
* [Executed for treason.]
and you set yourself up to say ye wad derogate frae your place to visit me! Hark thee, manI owe thee a
day in harstI'll pay up your thousan pund Scots, plack and bawbee, gin ye'll be an honest fallow for anes,
and just daiker up the gate wi' this Sassenach.''
``Hout awa' wi' your gentility,'' replied the Bailie; ``carry your gentle bluid to the Cross, and see what ye'll
buy wi't. But, if I were to come, wad ye really and soothfastly pay me the siller?''
``I swear to ye,'' said the Highlander, ``upon the halidome of him that sleeps beneath the grey stane at
InchCailleach.''*
* InchCailleach is an island in Lochlomond, where the clan of MacGregor * were wont to be interred, and
where their sepulchres may still be * seen. It formerly contained a nunnery: hence the name of
lnchCailleach, * or the island of Old Women.
``Say nae mair, Robinsay nae mairWe'll see what may be dune. But ye maunna expect me to gang
ower the Highland lineI'll gae beyond the line at no rate. Ye maun meet me about Bucklivie or the
Clachan of Aberfoil,and dinna forget the needful.''
``Nae fearnae fear,'' said Campbell; ``I'll be as true as the steel blade that never failed its master. But I
must be budging, cousin, for the air o' Glasgow tolbooth is no that ower salutary to a Highlander's
constitution.''
``Troth,'' replied the merchant, ``and if my duty were to be dune, ye couldna change your atmosphere, as the
minister ca's it, this ae wee while.Ochon, that I sud ever be concerned in aiding and abetting an escape
frae justice! it will be a shame and disgrace to me and mine, and my very father's memory, for ever.''
``Hout tout, man! let that flee stick in the wa','' answered his kinsman; ``when the dirt's dry it will rub
outYour father, honest man, could look ower a friend's fault as weel as anither.''
``Ye may be right, Robin,'' replied the Bailie, after a moment's reflection; ``he was a considerate man the
deacon; he ken'd we had a' our frailties, and he lo'ed his friendsYe'll no hae forgotten him, Robin?'' This
question he put in a softened tone, conveying as much at least of the ludicrous as the pathetic.
``Forgotten him!'' replied his kinsman``what suld ail me to forget him?a wapping weaver he was, and
wrought my first pair o' hose.But come awa', kinsman,
Come fill up my cap, come fill up my cann, Come saddle my horses, and call up my man; Come open your
gates, and let me gae free, I daurna stay langer in bonny Dundee.''
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``Whisht, sir!'' said the magistrate, in an authoritative tone ``lilting and singing sae near the latter end o'
the Sabbath! This house may hear ye sing anither tune yetAweel, we hae a' backslidings to answer
forStanchells, open the door.''
The jailor obeyed, and we all sallied forth. Stanchells looked with some surprise at the two strangers,
wondering, doubtless, how they came into these premises without his knowledge; but Mr. Jarvie's ``Friends o'
mine, Stanchellsfriends o' mine,'' silenced all disposition to inquiries. We now descended into the lower
vestibule, and hallooed more than once for Dougal, to which summons no answer was returned; when
Campbell observed with a sardonic smile, ``That if Dougal was the lad he kent him, he would scarce wait to
get thanks for his ain share of the night's wark, but was in all probability on the full trot to the pass of
Ballamaha''
``And left usand, abune a', me, mysell, locked up in the tolbooth a' night!'' exclaimed the Bailie, in ire and
perturbation. ``Ca' for forehammers, sledgehammers, pinches, and coulters; send for Deacon Yettlin, the
smith, an let him ken that Bailie Jarvie's shut up in the tolbooth by a Highland blackguard, whom he'll hang
up as high as Haman''
``When ye catch him,'' said Campbell, gravely; ``but stay the door is surely not locked.''
Indeed, on examination, we found that the door was not only left open, but that Dougal in his retreat had, by
carrying off the keys along with him, taken care that no one should exercise his office of porter in a hurry.
``He has glimmerings o' common sense now, that creature Dougal,'' said Campbell.``he ken'd an open
door might hae served me at a pinch.''
We were by this time in the street.
``I tell you, Robin,'' said the magistrate, ``in my puir mind, if ye live the life ye do, ye suld hae ane o' your
gillies doorkeeper in every jail in Scotland, in case o' the warst.''
``Ane o' my kinsmen a bailie in ilka burgh will just do as weel, cousin NicolSo, gudenight or
gudemorning to ye; and forget not the Clachan of Aberfoil.''
And without waiting for an answer, he sprung to the other side of the street, and was lost in darkness.
Immediately on his disappearance, we heard him give a low whistle of peculiar modulation, which was
instantly replied to.
``Hear to the Hieland deevils,'' said Mr. Jarvie; ``they think themselves on the skirts of Benlomond already,
where they may gang whewingand whistling about without minding Sunday or Saturday.'' Here he was
interrupted by something which fell with a heavy clash on the street before us``Gude guide us what's this
mair o't?Mattie, haud up the lanternConscience if it isna the keys!Weel, that's just as
weelthey cost the burgh siller, and there might hae been some clavers about the loss o' them. O, an Bailie
Grahame were to get word o' this night's job, it would be a sair hair in my neck!''
As we were still but a few steps from the tolbooth door, we carried back these implements of office, and
consigned them to the head jailor, who, in lieu of the usual mode of making good his post by turning the
keys, was keeping sentry in the vestibule till the arrival of some assistant, whom he had summoned in order
to replace the Celtic fugitive Dougal.
Having discharged this piece of duty to the burgh, and my road lying the same way with the honest
magistrate's, I profited by the light of his lantern, and he by my arm, to find our way through the streets,
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CHAPTER TWENTYTHIRD. 159
Page No 162
which, whatever they may now be, were then dark, uneven, and illpaved. Age is easily propitiated by
attentions from the young. The Bailie expressed himself interested in me, and added, ``That since I was nane
o' that playacting and playganging generation, whom his saul hated, he wad be glad if I wad eat a reisted
haddock or a fresh herring, at breakfast wi' him the morn, and meet my friend, Mr. Owen, whom, by that
time, he would place at liberty.''
``My dear sir,'' said I, when I had accepted of the invitation with thanks, ``how could you possibly connect
me with the stage?''
``I watna,'' replied Mr. Jarvie;``it was a bletherin' phrasin' chield they ca' Fairservice, that cam at e'en to
get an order to send the crier through the toun for ye at skreigh o' day the morn. He tell't me whae ye were,
and how ye were sent frae your father's house because ye wadna be a dealer, and that ye mightna disgrace
your family wi' ganging on the stage. Ane Hammorgaw, our precentor, brought him here, and said he was an
auld acquaintance; but I sent them both away wi' a flae in their lug for bringing me sic an errand, on sic a
night. But I see he's a fulecreature a'thegither, and clean mistaen about ye. I like ye, man,'' he continued; ``I
like a lad that will stand by his friends in troubleI aye did it mysell, and sae did the deacon my father, rest
and bless him! But ye suldna keep ower muckle company wi' Hielandmen and thae wild cattle. Can a man
touch pitch and no be defiled?aye mind that. Nae doubt, the best and wisest may errOnce, twice, and
thrice have I backslidden, man, and dune three things this nightmy father wadna hae believed his een if
he could hae looked up and seen me do them.''
He was by this time arrived at the door of his own dwelling. He paused, however, on the threshold, and went
on in a solemn tone of deep contrition,``Firstly, I hae thought my ain thoughts on the
Sabbathsecondly, I hae gi'en security for an Englishman and, in the third and last place, welladay!
I hae let an illdoer escape from the place of imprisonmentBut there's balm in Gilead, Mr.
OsbaldistoneMattie, I can let mysell insee Mr. Osbaldistone to Luckie Flyter's, at the corner o' the
wynd. Mr. Osbaldistone''in a whisper``ye'll offer nae incivility to Mattieshe's an honest
man's daughter, and a near cousin o' the Laird o' Limmerfield's.''
CHAPTER TWENTYFOURTH.
``Will it please your worship to accept of my poor service? I beseech
that I may feed upon your bread, though it be the brownest, and
drink of your drink, though it be of the smallest; for I will do your
Worship as much service for forty shillings as another man shall for
three pounds.''
Greene's Tu Quoque.
I remembered the honest Bailie's parting charge, but did not conceive there was any incivility in adding a kiss
to the halfcrown with which I remunerated Mattie's attendance;nor did her ``Fie for shame, sir!'' express
any very deadly resentment of the affront. Repeated knocking at Mrs. Flyter's gate awakened in due order,
first, one or two stray dogs, who began to bark with all their might; next two or three nightcapped heads,
which were thrust out of the neighbouring windows to reprehend me for disturbing the solemnity of the
Sunday night by that untimely noise. While I trembled lest the thunders of their wrath might dissolve in
showers like that of Xantippe, Mrs. Flyter herself awoke, and began, in a tone of objurgation not unbecoming
the philosophical spouse of Socrates, to scold one or two loiterers in her kitchen, for not hastening to the door
to prevent a repetition of my noisy summons.
These worthies were, indeed, nearly concerned in the fracas which their laziness occasioned, being no other
than the faithful Mr. Fairservice, with his friend Mr. Hammorgaw, and another person, whom I afterwards
found to be the towncrier, who were sitting over a cog of ale, as they called it (at my expense, as my bill
afterwards informed me), in order to devise the terms and style of a proclamation to be made through the
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streets the next day, in order that ``the unfortunate young gentleman,'' as they had the impudence to qualify
me, might be restored to his friends without farther delay. It may be supposed that I did not suppress my
displeasure at this impertinent interference with my affairs; but Andrew set up such ejaculations of transport
at my arrival, as fairly drowned my expressions of resentment. His raptures, perchance, were partly political;
and the tears of joy which he shed had certainly their source in that noble fountain of emotion, the tankard.
However, the tumultuous glee which he felt, or pretended to feel, at my return, saved Andrew the broken
head which I had twice destined him;first, on account of the colloquy he had held with the precentor on
my affairs; and secondly, for the impertinent history he had thought proper to give of me to Mr. Jarvie. I
however contented myself with slapping the door of my bedroom in his face as he followed me, praising
Heaven for my safe return, and mixing his joy with admonitions to me to take care how I walked my own
ways in future. I then went to bed, resolving my first business in the morning should be to discharge this
troublesome, pedantic, selfconceited coxcomb, who seemed so much disposed to constitute himself rather a
preceptor than a domestic.
Accordingly in the morning I resumed my purpose, and calling Andrew into my, apartment, requested to
know his charge for guiding and attending me as far as Glasgow. Mr. Fairservice looked very blank at this
demand, justly considering it as a presage to approaching dismission.
``Your honour,'' he said, after some hesitation, ``wunna think wunna think''
``Speak out, you rascal, or I'll break your head,'' said I, as Andrew, between the double risk of losing all by
asking too much, or a part, by stating his demand lower than what I might be willing to pay, stood gasping in
the agony of doubt and calculation.
Out it came with a bolt, however, at my threat; as the kind violence of a blow on the back sometimes delivers
the windpipe from an intrusive morsel.``Aughteen pennies sterling per diemthat is, by the
dayyour honour wadna think unconscionable.''
``It is double what is usual, and treble what you merit, Andrew; but there's a guinea for you, and get about
your business.''
``The Lord forgi'e us! Is your honour mad?'' exclaimed Andrew.
``No; but I think you mean to make me soI give you a third above your demand, and you stand staring
and expostulating there as if I were cheating you. Take your money, and go about your business.''
``Gude safe us!'' continued Andrew, ``in what can I hae offended your honour? Certainly a' flesh is but as the
flowers of the field; but if a bed of camomile hath value in medicine, of a surety the use of Andrew
Fairservice to your honour is nothing less evidentit's as muckle as your life's worth to part wi' me.''
``Upon my honour,'' replied I, ``it is difficult to say whether you are more knave or fool. So you intend then
to remain with me whether I like it or no?''
``Troth, I was e'en thinking sae,'' replied Andrew, dogmatically; ``for if your honour disna ken when ye hae a
gude servant, I ken when I hae a gude master, and the deil be in my feet gin I leave yeand there's the brief
and the lang o't besides I hae received nae regular warning to quit my place.''
``Your place, sir!'' said I;``why, you are no hired servant of mine,you are merely a guide, whose
knowledge of the country I availed myself of on my road.''
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``I am no just a common servant, I admit, sir,'' remonstrated Mr. Fairservice; ``but your honour kens I quitted
a gude place at an hour's notice, to comply wi' your honour's solicitations. A man might make honestly, and
wi' a clear conscience, twenty sterling pounds per annum, weel counted siller, o' the garden at Osbaldistone
Hall, and I wasna likely to gi'e up a' that for a guinea, I trowI reckoned on staying wi' your honour to the
term's end at the least o't; and I account my wage, boardwage, fee and bountith,ay, to that length o't at
the least.''
``Come, come, sir,'' replied I, ``these impudent pretensions won't serve your turn; and if I hear any more of
them, I shall convince you that Squire Thorncliff is not the only one of my name that can use his fingers.''
While I spoke thus, the whole matter struck me as so ridiculous, that, though really angry, I had some
difficulty to forbear laughing at the gravity with which Andrew supported a plea so utterly extravagant. The
rascal, aware of the impression he had made on my muscles, was encouraged to perseverance. He judged it
safer, however, to take his pretensions a peg lower, in case of overstraining at the same time both his plea and
my patience.
``Admitting that my honour could part with a faithful servant, that had served me and mine by day and night
for twenty years, in a strange place, and at a moment's warning, he was weel assured,'' he said, ``it wasna in
my heart, nor in no true gentleman's, to pit a puir lad like himself, that had come forty or fifty, or say a
hundred miles out o' his road purely to bear my honour company, and that had nae handing but his
pennyfee, to sic a hardship as this comes to.''
I think it was you, Will, who once told me, that, to be an obstinate man, I am in certain things the most
gullable and malleable of mortals. The fact is, that it is only contradiction which makes me peremptory, and
when I do not feel myself called on to give battle to any proposition, I am always willing to grant it, rather
than give myself much trouble. I knew this fellow to be a greedy, tiresome, meddling coxcomb; still,
however, I must have some one about me in the quality of guide and domestic, and I was so much used to
Andrew's humour, that on some occasions it was rather amusing. In the state of indecision to which these
reflections led me, I asked Fairservice if he knew the roads, towns, etc., in the north of Scotland, to which my
father's concerns with the proprietors of Highland forests were likely to lead me. I believe if I had asked him
the road to the terrestrial paradise, he would have at that moment undertaken to guide me to it; so that I had
reason afterwards to think myself fortunate in finding that his actual knowledge did not fall very much short
of that which he asserted himself to possess. I fixed the amount of his wages, and reserved to myself the
privilege of dismissing him when I chose, on paying him a week in advance. I gave him finally a severe
lecture on his conduct of the preceding day, and then dismissed him rejoicing at heart, though somewhat
crestfallen in countenance, to rehearse to his friend the precentor, who was taking his morning draught in the
kitchen, the mode in which he had ``cuitled up the daft young English squire.''
Agreeable to appointment, I went next to Bailie Nicol Jarvie's, where a comfortable morning's repast was
arranged in the parlour, which served as an apartment of all hours, and almost all work, to that honest
gentleman. The bustling and benevolent magistrate had been as good as his word. I found my friend Owen at
liberty, and, conscious of the refreshments and purification of brush and basin, was of course a very different
person from Owen a prisoner, squalid, heartbroken, and hopeless. Yet the sense of pecuniary difficulties
arising behind, before, and around him, had depressed his spirit, and the almost paternal embrace which the
good man gave me, was embittered by a sigh of the deepest anxiety. And when he sate down, the heaviness in
his eye and manner, so different from the quiet composed satisfaction which they usually exhibited, indicated
that he was employing his arithmetic in mentally numbering up the days, the hours, the minutes, which yet
remained as an interval between the dishonour of bills and the downfall of the great commercial
establishment of Osbaldistone and Tresham. It was left to me, therefore, to do honour to our landlord's
hospitable cheerto his tea, right from China, which he got in a present from some eminent ship'shusband
at Wappingto his coffee, from a snug plantation of his own, as he informed us with a wink, called
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Saltmarket Grove, in the island of Jamaicato his English toast and ale, his Scotch dried salmon, his
Lochfine herrings, and even to the doubledamask tablecloth, ``wrought by no hand, as you may guess,''
save that of his deceased father the worthy Deacon Jarvie.
Having conciliated our goodhumoured host by those little attentions which are great to most men, I
endeavoured in my turn to gain from him some information which might be useful for my guidance, as well
as for the satisfaction of my curiosity. We had not hitherto made the least allusion to the transactions of the
preceding night, a circumstance which made my question sound somewhat abrupt, when, without any
previous introduction of the subject, I took advantage of a pause when the history of the tablecloth ended,
and that of the napkins was about to commence, to inquire, ``Pray, by the by, Mr. Jarvie, who may this Mr.
Robert Campbell be, whom we met with last night?''
The interrogatory seemed to strike the honest magistrate, to use the vulgar phrase, ``all of a heap,'' and instead
of answering, he returned the question``Whae's Mr. Robert Campbell? ahem! ahay! Whae's Mr.
Robert Campbell, quo' he?''
``Yes,'' said I, ``I mean who and what is he?''
``Why, he'sahay!he'sahem!Where did ye meet with Mr. Robert Campbell, as ye ca' him?''
``I met him by chance,'' I replied, ``some months ago in the north of England.''
``Ou then, Mr. Osbaldistone,'' said the Bailie, doggedly, ``ye'll ken as muckle about him as I do.''
``I should suppose not, Mr. Jarvie,'' I replied;``you are his relation, it seems, and his friend.''
``There is some cousinred between us, doubtless,'' said the Bailie reluctantly; ``but we hae seen little o' ilk
other since Rob gae tip the cattleline o' dealing, poor fallow! he was hardly guided by them might hae used
him betterand they haena made their plack a bawbee o't neither. There's mony ane this day wad rather
they had never chased puir Robin frae the Cross o' Glasgowthere's mony ane wad rather see him again at
the tale o' three hundred kyloes, than at the head o' thirty waur cattle.''
``All this explains nothing to me, Mr. Jarvie, of Mr. Campbell's rank, habits of life, and means of
subsistence,'' I replied.
``Rank?'' said Mr. Jarvie; ``he's a Hieland gentleman, nae doubtbetter rank need nane to be;and for
habit, I judge he wears the Hieland habit amang the hills, though he has breeks on when he comes to
Glasgow;and as for his subsistence, what needs we care about his subsistence, sae lang as he asks
naething frae us, ye ken? But I hae nae time for clavering about him e'en now, because we maun look into
your father's concerns wi' all speed.''
So saying, he put on his spectacles, and sate down to examine Mr. Owen's states, which the other thought it
most prudent to communicate to him without reserve. I knew enough of business to be aware that nothing
could be more acute and sagacious than the views which Mr. Jarvie entertained of the matters submitted to
his examination; and, to do him justice, it was marked by much fairness, and even liberality. He scratched his
ear indeed repeatedly on observing the balance which stood at the debit of Osbaldistone and Tresham in
account with himself personally.
``It may be a dead loss,'' he observed; ``and, conscience! whate'er ane o' your Lombard Street goldsmiths may
say to it, it's a snell ane in the SautMarket* o' Glasgow. It will be a
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* [The Saltmarket. This ancient street, situate in the heart of Glasgow, * has of late been almost entirely
renovated.]
heavy deficita staff out o' my bicker, I trow. But what then?I trust the house wunna coup the crane
for a' that's come and gane yet; and if it does, I'll never bear sae base a mind as thae corbies in the
Gallowgatean I am to lose by ye, I'se ne'er deny I hae won by ye mony a fair pund sterlingSae, an it
come to the warst, I'se een lay the head o' the sow to the tail o' the grice.''*
* Anglice, the head of the sow to the tail of the pig.
I did not altogether understand the proverbial arrangement with which Mr. Jarvie consoled himself, but I
could easily see that he took a kind and friendly interest in the arrangement of my father's affairs, suggested
several expedients, approved several plans proposed by Owen, and by his countenance and counsel greatly
abated the gloom upon the brow of that afflicted delegate of my father's establishment.
As I was an idle spectator on this occasion, and, perhaps, as I showed some inclination more than once to
return to the prohibited, and apparently the puzzling subject of Mr. Campbell, Mr. Jarvie dismissed me with
little formality, with an advice to ``gang up the gate to the college, where I wad find some chields could
speak Greek and Latin weelat least they got plenty o' siller for doing deil haet else, if they didna do that;
and where I might read a spell o' the worthy Mr. Zachary Boyd's translation o' the Scripturesbetter poetry
need nane to be, as he had been tell'd by them that ken'd or suld hae ken'd about sic things.'' But he seasoned
this dismission with a kind and hospitable invitation ``to come back and take part o' his familychack at ane
preceeselythere wad be a leg o' mutton, and, it might be, a tup's head, for they were in season;'' but above
all, I was to return at ``ane o'clock preceeselyit was the hour he and the deacon his father aye dined
atthey pat it off for naething nor for naebody.''
CHAPTER TWENTYFIFTH.
So stands the Thracian herdsman with his spear
Full in the gap, and hopes the hunted bear;
And hears him in the rustling wood, and sees
His course at distance by the bending trees,
And thinksHere comes my mortal enemy,
And either he must fall in fight, or I.
Palamon and Arcite.
I took the route towards the college, as recommended by Mr. Jarvie, less with the intention of seeking for any
object of interest or amusement, than to arrange my own ideas, and meditate on my future conduct. I
wandered from one quadrangle of oldfashioned buildings to another, and from thence to the Collegeyards,
or walking ground, where, pleased with the solitude of the place, most of the students being engaged in their
classes, I took several turns, pondering on the waywardness of my own destiny.
I could not doubt, from the circumstances attending my first meeting with this person Campbell, that he was
engaged in some strangely desperate courses; and the reluctance with which Mr. Jarvie alluded to his person
or pursuits, as well as all the scene of the preceding night, tended to confirm these suspicions. Yet to this man
Diana Vernon had not, it would seem, hesitated to address herself in my behalf; and the conduct of the
magistrate himself towards him showed an odd mixture of kindness, and even respect, with pity and censure.
Something there must be uncommon in Campbell's situation and character; and what was still more
extraordinary, it seemed that his fate was doomed to have influence over, and connection with, my own. I
resolved to bring Mr. Jarvie to close quarters on the first proper opportunity, and learn as much as was
possible on the subject of this mysterious person, in order that I might judge whether it was possible for me,
without prejudice to my reputation, to hold that degree of farther correspondence with him to which he
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seemed to invite.
While I was musing on these subjects, my attention was attracted by three persons who appeared at the upper
end of the walk through which I was sauntering, seemingly engaged in very earnest conversation. That
intuitive impression which announces to us the approach of whomsoever we love or hate with intense
vehemence, long before a more indifferent eye can recognise their persons, flashed upon my mind the sure
conviction that the midmost of these three men was Rashleigh Osbaldistone. To address him was my first
impulse;my second was, to watch him until he was alone, or at least to reconnoitre his companions before
confronting him. The party was still at such distance, and engaged in such deep discourse, that I had time to
step unobserved to the other side of a small hedge, which imperfectly screened the alley in which I was
walking. It was at this period the fashion of the young and gay to wear, in their morning walks, a scarlet
cloak, often laced and embroidered, above their other dress, and it was the trick of the time for gallants
occasionally to dispose it so as to muffle a part of the face. The imitating this fashion, with the degree of
shelter which I received from the hedge, enabled me to meet my cousin, unobserved by him or the others,
except perhaps as a passing stranger. I was not a little startled at recognising in his companions that very
Morris on whose account I had been summoned before Justice Inglewood, and Mr. MacVittie the merchant,
from whose starched and severe aspect I had recoiled on the preceding day.
A more ominous conjunction to my own affairs, and those of my father, could scarce have been formed. I
remembered Morris's false accusation against me, which he might be as easily induced to renew as he had
been intimidated to withdraw; I recollected the inauspicious influence of MacVittie over my father's affairs,
testified by the imprisonment of Owen;and I now saw both these men combined with one, whose talent
for mischief I deemed little inferior to those of the great author of all ill, and my abhorrence of whom almost
amounted to dread.
When they had passed me for some paces, I turned and followed them unobserved. At the end of the walk
they separated, Morris and MacVittie leaving the gardens, and Rashleigh returning alone through the walks. I
was now determined to confront him, and demand reparation for the injuries he had done my father, though
in what form redress was likely to be rendered remained to be known. This, however, I trusted to chance; and
flinging back the cloak in which I was muffled, I passed through a gap of the low hedge, and presented
myself before Rashleigh, as, in a deep reverie, he paced down the avenue.
Rashleigh was no man to be surprised or thrown off his guard by sudden occurrences. Yet he did not find me
thus close to him, wearing undoubtedly in my face the marks of that indignation which was glowing in my
bosom, without visibly starting at an apparition so sudden and menacing.
``You are well met, sir,'' was my commencement; ``I was about to take a long and doubtful journey in quest
of you.''
``You know little of him you sought then,'' replied Rashleigh, with his usual undaunted composure. ``I am
easily found by my friendsstill more easily by my foes;your manner compels me to ask in which
class I must rank Mr. Francis Osbaldistone?''
``In that of your foes, sir,'' I answered``in that of your mortal foes, unless you instantly do justice to your
benefactor, my father, by accounting for his property.''
``And to whom, Mr. Osbaldistone,'' answered Rashleigh, ``am I, a member of your father's commercial
establishment, to be compelled to give any account of my proceedings in those concerns, which are in every
respect identified with my own? Surely not to a young gentleman whose exquisite taste for literature
would render such discussions disgusting and unintelligible.''
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``Your sneer, sir, is no answer; I will not part with you until I have full satisfaction concerning the fraud you
meditate you shall go with me before a magistrate.''
``Be it so,'' said Rashleigh, and made a step or two as if to accompany me; then pausing,
proceeded``Were I inclined to do so as you would have me, you should soon feel which of us had most
reason to dread the presence of a magistrate. But I have no wish to accelerate your fate. Go, young man!
amuse yourself in your world of poetical imaginations, and leave the business of life to those who understand
and can conduct it.''
His intention, I believe, was to provoke me, and he succeeded. ``Mr. Osbaldistone,'' I said, ``this tone of calm
insolence shall not avail you. You ought to be aware that the name we both bear never submitted to insult,
and shall not in my person be exposed to it.''
``You remind me,'' said Rashleigh, with one of his blackest looks, ``that it was dishonoured in my
person!and you remind me also by whom! Do you think I have forgotten the evening at Osbaldistone
Hall when you cheaply and with impunity played the bully at my expense? For that insultnever to be
washed out but by blood!for the various times you have crossed my path, and always to my
prejudicefor the persevering folly with which you seek to traverse schemes, the importance of which you
neither know nor are capable of estimating,for all these, sir, you owe me a long account, for which there
shall come an early day of reckoning.''
``Let it come when it will,'' I replied, ``I shall be willing and ready to meet it. Yet you seem to have forgotten
the heaviest articlethat I had the pleasure to aid Miss Vernon's good sense and virtuous feeling in
extricating her from your infamous toils.''
I think his dark eyes flashed actual fire at this hometaunt, and yet his voice retained the same calm
expressive tone with which he had hitherto conducted the conversation.
``I had other views with respect to you, young man,'' was his answer: ``less hazardous for you, and more
suitable to my present character and former education. But I see you will draw on yourself the personal
chastisement your boyish insolence so well merits. Follow me to a more remote spot, where we are less likely
to be interrupted.''
I followed him accordingly, keeping a strict eye on his motions, for I believed him capable of the very worst
actions. We reached an open spot in a sort of wilderness, laid out in the Dutch taste, with clipped hedges, and
one or two statues. I was on my guard, and it was well with me that I was so; for Rashleigh's sword was out
and at my breast ere I could throw down my cloak, or get my weapon unsheathed, so that I only saved my life
by springing a pace or two backwards. He had some advantage in the difference of our weapons; for his
sword, as I recollect, was longer than mine, and had one of those bayonet or threecornered blades which are
now generally worn; whereas mine was what we then called a Saxon bladenarrow, flat, and twoedged,
and scarcely so manageable as that of my enemy. In other respects we were pretty equally matched: for what
advantage I might possess in superior address and agility, was fully counterbalanced by Rashleigh's great
strength and coolness. He fought, indeed, more like a fiend than a manwith concentrated spite and desire
of blood, only allayed by that cool consideration which made his worst actions appear yet worse from the air
of deliberate premeditation which seemed to accompany them. His obvious malignity of purpose never for a
moment threw him off his guard, and he exhausted every feint and stratagem proper to the science of defence;
while, at the same time, he meditated the most desperate catastrophe to our rencounter.
On my part, the combat was at first sustained with more moderation. My passions, though hasty, were not
malevolent; and the walk of two or three minutes' space gave me time to reflect that Rashleigh was my
father's nephew, the son of an uncle, who after his fashion had been kind to me, and that his falling by my
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hand could not but occasion much family distress. My first resolution, therefore, was to attempt to disarm my
antagonista manoeuvre in which, confiding in my superiority of skill and practice, I anticipated little
difficulty. I found, however, I had met my match; and one or two foils which I received, and from the
consequences of which I narrowly escaped, obliged me to observe more caution in my mode of fighting. By
degrees I became exasperated at the rancour with which Rashleigh sought my life, and returned his passes
with an inveteracy resembling in some degree his own; so that the combat had all the appearance of being
destined to have a tragic issue. That issue had nearly taken place at my expense. My foot slipped in a full
lounge which I made at my adversary, and I could not so far recover myself as completely to parry the thrust
with which my pass was repaid. Yet it took but partial effect, running through my waistcoat, grazing my ribs,
and passing through my coat behind. The hilt of Rashleigh's sword, so great was the vigour of his thrust,
struck against my breast with such force as to give me great pain, and confirm me in the momentary belief
that I was mortally wounded. Eager for revenge, I grappled with my enemy, seizing with my left hand the hilt
of his sword, and shortening my own with the purpose of running him through the body. Our deathgrapple
was interrupted by a man who forcibly threw himself between us, and pushing us separate from each other,
exclaimed, in a loud and commanding voice, ``What! the sons of those fathers who sucked the same breast
shedding each others bluid as it were strangers'!By the hand of my father, I will cleave to the brisket the
first man that mints another stroke!''
I looked up in astonishment. The speaker was no other than Campbell. He had a baskethilted broadsword
drawn in his hand, which he made to whistle around his head as he spoke, as if for the purpose of enforcing
his mediation. Rashleigh and I stared in silence at this unexpected intruder, who proceeded to exhort us
alternately:``Do you, Maister Francis, opine that ye will reestablish your father's credit by cutting your
kinsman's thrapple, or getting your ain sneckit instead thereof in the Collegeyards of Glasgow?Or do
you, Mr Rashleigh, think men will trust their lives and fortunes wi' ane, that, when in point of trust and in
point of confidence wi' a great political interest, gangs about brawling like a drunken gillie? Nay, never
look gash or grim at me, manif ye're angry, ye ken how to turn the buckle o' your belt behind you.''
``You presume on my present situation,'' replied Rashleigh, ``or you would have hardly dared to interfere
where my honour is concerned.''
``Hout! tout! tout!Presume? And what for should it be presuming?Ye may be the richer man, Mr.
Osbaldistone, as is maist likely; and ye may be the mair learned man, whilk I dispute not: but I reckon ye are
neither a prettier man nor a better gentleman than myselland it will be news to me when I hear ye are as
gude. And dare too? Muckle daring there's about itI trow, here I stand, that hae slashed as het a haggis as
ony o' the twa o' ye, and thought nae muckle o' my morning's wark when it was dune. If my foot were on the
heather as it's on the causeway, or this pickle gravel, that's little better, I hae been waur mistrysted than if I
were set to gie ye baith your ser'ing o't.''
Rashleigh had by this time recovered his temper completely. ``My kinsman,'' he said, ``will acknowledge he
forced this quarrel on me. It was none of my seeking. I am glad we are interrupted before I chastised his
forwardness more severely.''
``Are ye hurt, lad?'' inquired Campbell of me, with some appearance of interest.
``A very slight scratch,'' I answered, ``which my kind cousin would not long have boasted of had not you
come between us.''
``In troth, and that's true, Maister Rashleigh,'' said Campbell; ``for the cauld iron and your best bluid were
like to hae become acquaint when I mastered Mr. Frank's right hand. But never look like a sow playing upon
a trump for the luve of that, mancome and walk wi' me. I hae news to tell ye, and ye'll cool and come to
yourself, like MacGibbon's crowdy, when he set it out at the windowbole.''
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``Pardon me, sir,'' said I. ``Your intentions have seemed friendly to me on more occasions than one; but I
must not, and will not, quit sight of this person until he yields up to me those means of doing justice to my
father's engagements, of which he has treacherously possessed himself.''
``Ye're daft, man,'' replied Campbell; ``it will serve ye naething to follow us e'enow; ye hae just enow o' ae
manwad ye bring twa on your head, and might bide quiet?''
``Twenty,'' I replied, ``if it be necessary.''
I laid my hand on Rashleigh's collar, who made no resistance, but said, with a sort of scornful smile, ``You
hear him, MacGregor! he rushes on his fatewill it be my fault if he falls into it?The warrants are by
this time ready, and all is prepared.''
The Scotchman was obviously embarrassed. He looked around, and before, and behind him, and then
said``The ne'er a bit will I yield my consent to his being illguided for standing up for the father that got
himand I gie God's malison and mine to a' sort o' magistrates, justices, bailies., sheriffs, sheriffofficers,
constables, and siclike black cattle, that hae been the plagues o' puir auld Scotland this hunder year. it
was a merry warld when every man held his ain gear wi' his ain grip, and when the country side wasna fashed
wi' warrants and poindings and apprizings, and a' that cheatry craft. And ance mair I say it, my conscience
winna see this puir thoughtless lad illguided, and especially wi' that sort o' trade. I wad rather ye fell till't
again, and fought it out like douce honest men.''
``Your conscience, MacGregor!'' said Rashleigh; ``you forget how long you and I have known each other.''
``Yes, my conscience,'' reiterated Campbell, or MacGregor, or whatever was his name; ``I hae such a thing
about me, Maister Osbaldistone; and therein it may weel chance that I hae the better o' you. As to our
knowledge of each other,if ye ken what I am, ye ken what usage it was made me what I am; and,
whatever you may think, I would not change states with the proudest of the oppressors that hae driven me to
tak the heatherbush for a beild. What you are, Maister Rashleigh, and what excuse ye hae for being what
you are, is between your ain heart and the lang day.And now, Maister Francis, let go his collar; for he
says truly, that ye are in mair danger from a magistrate than he is, and were your cause as straight as an
arrow, he wad find a way to put you wrangSo let go his craig, as I was saying.''
He seconded his words with an effort so sudden and unexpected, that he freed Rashleigh from my hold, and
securing me, notwithstanding my struggles, in his own Herculean gripe, he called out``Take the bent, Mr.
RashleighMake ae pair o' legs worth twa pair o' hands; ye hae dune that before now.''
``You may thank this gentleman, kinsman,'' said Rashleigh, ``if I leave any part of my debt to you unpaid;
and if I quit you now, it is only in the hope we shall soon meet again without the possibility of interruption.''
He took up his sword, wiped it, sheathed it, and was lost among the bushes.
The Scotchman, partly by force, partly by remonstrance, prevented my following him; indeed I began to be of
opinion my doing so would be to little purpose.
``As I live by bread,'' said Campbell, when, after one or two struggles in which he used much forbearance
towards me, he perceived me inclined to stand quiet, ``I never saw sae daft a callant! I wad hae gien the best
man in the country the breadth o' his back gin he had gien me sic a kemping as ye hae dune. What wad ye
do?Wad ye follow the wolf to his den? I tell ye, man, he has the auld trap set for yeHe has got the
collectorcreature Morris to bring up a' the auld story again, and ye maun look for nae help frae me here, as
ye got at Justice Inglewood's;it isna good for my health to come in the gate o' the whigamore bailie
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bodies. Now gang your ways hame, like a gude bairnjouk and let the jaw gae byKeep out o' sight o'
Rashleigh, and Morris, and that MacVittie animal Mind the Clachan of Aberfoil, as I said before, and by
the word of a gentleman, I wunna see ye wranged. But keep a calm sough till we meet againI maun gae
and get Rashleigh out o' the town afore waur comes o't, for the neb o' him's never out o' mischiefMind the
Clachan of Aberfoil.''
He turned upon his heel, and left me to meditate on the singular events which had befallen me. My first care
was to adjust my dress and reassume my cloak, disposing it so as to conceal the blood which flowed down
my right side. I had scarcely accomplished this, when, the classes of the college being dismissed, the gardens
began to be filled with parties of the students. I therefore left them as soon as possible; and in my way
towards Mr. Jarvie's, whose dinner hour was now approaching, I stopped at a small unpretending shop, the
sign of which intimated the indweller to be Christopher Neilson, surgeon and apothecary. I requested of a
little boy who was pounding some stuff in a mortar, that he would procure me an audience of this learned
pharmacopolist. He opened the door of the back shop, where I found a lively elderly man, who shook his
head incredulously at some idle account I gave him of having been wounded accidentally by the button
breaking off my antagonist's foil while I was engaged in a fencing match. When he had applied some lint and
somewhat else he thought proper to the trifling wound I had received, he observed``There never was
button on the foil that made this hurt. Ah! young blood! young blood! But we surgeons are a secret
generationIf it werena for hot blood and ill blood, what wad become of the twa learned faculties?''
With which moral reflection he dismissed me; and I experienced very little pain or inconvenience afterwards
from the scratch I had received.
CHAPTER TWENTYSIXTH.
An iron race the mountaincliffs maintain,
Foes to the gentler genius of the plain.
* * * * * * *
Who while their rocky ramparts round they see,
The rough abode of want and liberty,
As lawless force from confidence will grow,
Insult the plenty of the vales below.
Gray.
``What made ye sae late?'' said Mr. Jarvie, as I entered the diningparlour of that honest gentleman; ``it is
chappit ane the best feek o' five minutes bygane. Mattie has been twice at the door wi' the dinner, and weel
for you it was a tup's head, for that canna suffer by delay. A sheep's head ower muckle boiled is rank poison,
as my worthy father used to sayhe likit the lug o' ane weel, honest man.''
I made a suitable apology for my breach of punctuality, and was soon seated at table, where Mr. Jarvie
presided with great glee and hospitality, compelling, however, Owen and myself to do rather more justice to
the Scottish dainties with which his board was charged, than was quite agreeable to our southern palates. I
escaped pretty well, from having those habits of society which enable one to elude this species of wellmeant
persecution. But it was ridiculous enough to see Owen, whose ideas of politeness were more rigorous and
formal, and who was willing, in all acts of lawful compliance, to evince his respect for the friend of the firm,
eating with rueful complaisance mouthful after mouthful of singed wool, and pronouncing it excellent, in a
tone in which disgust almost overpowered civility.
When the cloth was removed, Mr. Jarvie compounded with his own hands a very small bowl of
brandypunch, the first which I had ever the fortune to see.
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``The limes,'' he assured us, ``were from his own little farm yonderawa'' (indicating the West Indies with a
knowing shrug of his shoulders), ``and he had learned the art of composing the liquor from auld Captain
Coffinkey, who acquired it,'' he added in a whisper, ```as maist folk thought, among the Buccaniers. But it's
excellent liquor,'' said he, helping us round; ``and good ware has aften come frae a wicked market. And as for
Captain Coffinkey, he was a decent man when I kent him, only he used to swear awfullyBut he's dead,
and gaen to his account, and I trust he's acceptedI trust he's accepted.''
We found the liquor exceedingly palatable, and it led to a long conversation between Owen and our host on
the opening which the Union had afforded to trade between Glasgow and the British Colonies in America and
the West Indies, and on the facilities which Glasgow possessed of making up sortable cargoes for that market.
Mr. Jarvie answered some objection which Owen made on the difficulty of sorting a cargo for America,
without buying from England, with vehemence and volubility.
``Na, na, sir, we stand on our ain bottomwe pickle in our ain pockneukWe hae our Stirling serges,
Musselburgh stuffs, Aberdeen hose, Edinburgh shalloons, and the like, for our woollen or worsted
goodsand we hae linens of a' kinds better and cheaper than you hae in Lunnon itselland we can buy
your north o' England wares, as Manchester wares, Sheffield wares, and Newcastle earthenware, as cheap as
you can at LiverpoolAnd we are making a fair spell at cottons and muslinsNa, na! let every herring
hing by its ain head, and every sheep by its ain shank, and ye'll find, sir, us Glasgow folk no sae far ahint but
what we may follow.This is but poor entertainment for you, Mr. Osbaldistone'' (observing that I had been
for some time silent); ``but ye ken cadgers maun aye be speaking about cartsaddles.''
I apologised, alleging the painful circumstances of my own situation, and the singular adventures of the
morning, as the causes of my abstraction and absence of mind. In this manner I gained what I soughtan
opportunity of telling my story distinctly and without interruption. I only omitted mentioning the wound I had
received, which I did not think worthy of notice. Mr. Jarvie listened with great attention and apparent interest,
twinkling his little grey eyes, taking snuff, and only interrupting me by brief interjections. When I came to
the account of the rencounter, at which Owen folded his hands and cast up his eyes to Heaven, the very image
of woeful surprise, Mr. Jarvie broke in upon the narration with ``Wrang nowclean wrangto draw a
sword on your kinsman is inhibited by the laws o' God and man; and to draw a sword on the streets of a royal
burgh is punishable by fine and imprisonment and the Collegeyards are nae better privileged they
should be a place of peace and quietness, I trow. The College didna get gude L600 a year out o' bishops' rents
(sorrow fa' the brood o' bishops and their rents too!), nor yet a lease o' the archbishopric o' Glasgow the sell
o't, that they suld let folk tuilzie in their yards, or the wild callants bicker there wi' snawba's as they whiles
do, that when Mattie and I gae through, we are fain to make a baik and a bow, or run the risk o' our harns
being knocked outit suld be looked to.*But come awa'
* The boys in Scotland used formerly to make a sort of Saturnalia in a * snowstorm, by pelting passengers
with snowballs. But those exposed to * that annoyance were excused from it on the easy penalty of a baik
(courtesy) * from a female, or a bow from a man. It was only the refractory who * underwent the storm.
wi' your talewhat fell neist?''
On my mentioning the appearance of Mr. Campbell, Jarvie arose in great surprise, and paced the room,
exclaiming, ``Robin again!Robert's madclean wud, and waurRob will be hanged, and disgrace a'
his kindred, and that will be seen and heard tell o'. My father the deacon wrought him his first hose Od, I
am thinking Deacon Threeplie, the rapespinner, will be twisting his last cravat. Ay, ay, puir Robin is in a
fair way o' being hangedBut come awa', come awa'let's hear the lave o't.''
I told the whole story as pointedly as I could; but Mr. Jarvie still found something lacking to make it clear,
until I went back, though with considerable reluctance, on the whole story of Morris, and of my meeting with
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CHAPTER TWENTYSIXTH. 170
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Campbell at the house of Justice Inglewood. Mr. Jarvie inclined a serious ear to all this, and remained silent
for some time after I had finished my narrative.
``Upon all these matters I am now to ask your advice, Mr. Jarvie, which, I have no doubt, will point out the
best way to act for my father's advantage and my own honour.''
``Ye're right, young manye're right,'' said the Bailie. ``Aye take the counsel of those who are aulder and
wiser than yourself, and binna like the godless Rehoboam, who took the advice o' a wheen beardless callants,
neglecting the auld counsellors who had sate at the feet o' his father Solomon, and, as it was weel put by Mr.
Meiklejohn, in his lecture on the chapter, were doubtless partakers of his sapience. But I maun hear naething
about honourwe ken naething here but about credit. Honour is a homicide and a bloodspiller, that gangs
about making frays in the street; but Credit is a decent honest man, that sits at hame and makes the pat play.''
``Assuredly, Mr. Jarvie,'' said our friend Owen, ``credit is the sum total; and if we can but save that, at
whatever discount''
``Ye are right, Mr. Owenye are right; ye speak weel and wisely; and I trust bowls will row right, though
they are a wee ajee e'enow. But touching Robin, I am of opinion he will befriend this young man if it is in his
power. He has a gude heart, puir Robin; and though I lost a matter o' twa hundred punds wi' his former
engagements, and haena muckle expectation ever to see back my thousand punds Scots that he promises me
e'enow, yet I will never say but what Robin means fair by men.''
``I am then to consider him,'' I replied, ``as an honest man?''
``Umph!'' replied Jarvie, with a precautionary sort of cough ``Ay, he has a kind o' Hieland
honestyhe's honest after a sort, as they say. My father the deacon used aye to laugh when he tauld me
how that byword came up. Ane Captain Costlett was cracking crouse about his loyalty to King Charles, and
Clerk Pettigrew (ye'll hae heard mony a tale about him) asked him after what manner he served the king,
when he was fighting again him at Wor'ster in Cromwell's army; and Captain Costlett was a ready body, and
said that he served him after a sort. My honest father used to laugh weel at that sportand sae the byword
came up.''
``But do you think,'' I said, ``that this man will be able to serve me after a sort, or should I trust myself to this
place of rendezvous which he has given me?''
``Frankly and fairly, it's worth trying. Ye see yourself there's some risk in your staying here. This bit body
Morris has gotten a customhouse place doun at Greenockthat's a port on the Firth doun by here; and tho'
a' the world kens him to be but a twaleggit creature, wi' a goose's head and a hen's heart, that goes about on
the quay plaguing folk about permits, and cockits, and dockits, and a' that vexatious trade, yet if he lodge an
informationou, nae doubt a man in magisterial duty maun attend to it, and ye might come to be clapped
up between four wa's, whilk wad be illconvenient to your father's affairs.''
``True,'' I observed; ``yet what service am I likely to render him by leaving Glasgow, which, it is probable,
will be the principal scene of Rashleigh's machinations, and committing myself to the doubtful faith of a man
of whom I know little but that he fears justice, and has doubtless good reasons for doing so; and that, for
some secret, and probably dangerous purpose, he is in close league and alliance with the very person who is
like to be the author of our ruin?''
``Ah, but ye judge Rob hardly,'' said the Bailie, ``ye judge him hardly, puir chield; and the truth is, that ye ken
naething about our hill country, or Hielands, as we ca' them. They are clean anither set frae the like o'
huz;there's nae bailiecourts amang themnae magistrates that dinna bear the sword in vain, like the
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CHAPTER TWENTYSIXTH. 171
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worthy deacon that's awa', and, I may say't, like mysell and other present magistrates in this cityBut it's
just the laird's command, and the loon maun loup; and the never another law hae they but the length o' their
dirksthe broadsword's pursuer, or plaintiff, as you Englishers ca' it, and the target is defender; the stoutest
head bears langest out;and there's a Hieland plea for ye.''
Owen groaned deeply; and I allow that the description did not greatly increase my desire to trust myself in a
country so lawless as he described these Scottish mountains.
``Now, sir,'' said Jarvie, ``we speak little o' thae things, because they are familiar to oursells; and where's the
use o' vilifying ane's country, and bringing a discredit on ane's kin, before southrons and strangers? It's an ill
bird that files its ain nest.''
``Well, sir, but as it is no impertinent curiosity of mine, but real necessity, that obliges me to make these
inquiries, I hope you will not be offended at my pressing for a little farther information. I have to deal, on my
father's account, with several gentlemen of these wild countries, and I must trust your good sense and
experience for the requisite lights upon the subject.''
This little morsel of flattery was not thrown out in vain. ``Experience!'' said the Bailie``I hae had
experience, nae doubt, and I hae made some calculationsAy, and to speak quietly amang oursells, I hae
made some perquisitions through Andrew Wylie, my auld clerk; he's wi' MacVittie Co. now but he
whiles drinks a gill on the Saturday afternoons wi' his auld master. And since ye say ye are willing to be
guided by the Glasgow weaverbody's advice, I am no the man that will refuse it to the son of an auld
correspondent, and my father the deacon was nane sic afore me. I have whiles thought o' letting my lights
burn before the Duke of Argyle, or his brother Lord Ilay (for wherefore should they be hidden under a
bushel?), but the like o' thae grit men wadna mind the like o' me, a puir wabster bodythey think mair o'
wha says a thing, than o' what the thing is that's said. The mair's the pitymair's the pity. Not that I wad
speak ony ill of this MacCallum More `Curse not the rich in your bedchamber,' saith the son of Sirach,
`for a bird of the air shall carry the clatter, and pintstoups hae lang lugs.' ''
I interrupted these prolegomena, in which Mr. Jarvie was apt to be somewhat diffuse, by praying him to rely
upon Mr. Owen and myself as perfectly secret and safe confidants.
``It's no for that,'' he replied, ``for I fear nae manwhat for suld I?I speak nae treasonOnly thae
Hielandmen hae lang grips, and I whiles gang a wee bit up the glens to see some auld kinsfolks, and I wadna
willingly be in bad blude wi' ony o' their clans. Howsumever, to proceedye maun understand I found my
remarks on figures, whilk as Mr. Owen here weel kens, is the only true demonstrable root of human
knowledge.''
Owen readily assented to a proposition so much in his own way, and our orator proceeded.
``These Hielands of ours, as we ca' them, gentlemen, are but a wild kind of warld by themsells, full of heights
and howes, woods, caverns, lochs, rivers, and mountains, that it wad tire the very deevil's wings to flee to the
tap o' them. And in this country, and in the isles, whilk are little better, or, to speak the truth, rather waur than
the mainland, there are about twa hunder and thirty parochines, including the Orkneys, where, whether they
speak Gaelic or no I wotna, but they are an uncivilised people. Now, sirs, I sall haud ilk parochine at the
moderate estimate of eight hunder examinable persons, deducting children under nine years of age, and then
adding onefifth to stand for bairns of nine years auld, and under, the whole population will reach to the sum
oflet us add onefifth to 800 to be the multiplier, and 230 being the multiplicand''
``The product,'' said Mr. Owen, who entered delightedly into these statistics of Mr. Jarvie, ``will be 230,000.''
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CHAPTER TWENTYSIXTH. 172
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``Right, sirperfectly right; and the military array of this Hieland country, were a' the menfolk between
aughteen and fiftysix brought out that could bear arms, couldna come weel short of fiftyseven thousand
five hundred men. Now, sir, it's a sad and awfu' truth, that there is neither wark, nor the very fashion nor
appearance of wark, for the tae half of thae puir creatures; that is to say, that the agriculture, the pasturage,
the fisheries, and every species of honest industry about the country, cannot employ the one moiety of the
population, let them work as lazily as they like, and they do work as if a pleugh or a spade burnt their fingers.
Aweel, sir, this moiety of unemployed bodies, amounting to''
``To one hundred and fifteen thousand souls,'' said Owen, ``being the half of the above product.''
``Ye hae't, Mr. Owenye hae'twhereof there may be twentyeight thousand seven hundred
ablebodied gillies fit to bear arms, and that do bear arms, and will touch or look at nae honest means of
livelihood even if they could get itwhich, lackaday! they cannot.''
``But is it possible,'' said I, ``Mr. Jarvie, that this can be a just picture of so large a portion of the island of
Britain?''
``Sir, I'll make it as plain as Peter Pasley's pikestaff. I will allow that ilk parochine, on an average, employs
fifty pleughs, whilk is a great proportion in sic miserable soil as thae creatures hae to labour, and that there
may be pasture enough for pleughhorses, and owsen, and forty or fifty cows; now, to take care o' the
pleughs and cattle, we'se allow seventyfive families of six lives in ilk family, and we'se add fifty mair to
make even numbers, and ye hae five hundred souls, the tae half o' the population, employed and maintained
in a sort o' fashion, wi' some chance of sourmilk and crowdie; but I wad be glad to ken what the other five
hunder are to do?''
``In the name of God!'' said I, ``what do they do, Mr. Jarvie? It makes me shudder to think of their situation.''
``Sir,'' replied the Bailie, ``ye wad maybe shudder mair if ye were living near hand them. For, admitting that
the tae half of them may make some little thing for themsells honestly in the Lowlands by shearing in harst,
droving, haymaking, and the like; ye hae still mony hundreds and thousands o' langlegged Hieland gillies
that will neither work nor want, and maun gang thigging and sorning* about on their acquaintance,
* Thigging and sorning was a kind of genteel begging, or rather something * between begging and robbing,
by which the needy in Scotland used * to extort cattle, or the means of subsistence, from those who had any
to * give.
or live by doing the laird's bidding, be't right or be't wrang. And mair especially, mony hundreds o' them
come down to the borders of the low country, where there's gear to grip, and live by stealing, reiving, lifting
cows, and the like depredationsa thing deplorable in ony Christian country!the mair especially, that
they take pride in it, and reckon driving a spreagh (whilk is, in plain Scotch, stealing a herd of nowte) a
gallant, manly action, and mair befitting of pretty* men (as sic reivers will
* The word pretty is or was used in Scotch, in the sense of the German * pra:chtig, and meant a gallant, alert
fellow, prompt and ready at his * weapons.
ca' themselves), than to win a day's wage by ony honest thrift. And the lairds are as bad as the loons; for if
they dinna bid them gae reive and harry, the deil a bit they forbid them; and they shelter them, or let them
shelter themselves, in their woods and mountains, and strongholds, whenever the thing's dune. And every ane
o' them will maintain as mony o' his ane name, or his clan, as we say, as he can rap and rend means for; or,
whilk's the same thing, as mony as can in ony fashion, fair or foul, mainteen themsells. And there they are wi'
gun and pistol, dirk and dourlach, ready to disturb the peace o' the country whenever the laird likes; and that's
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CHAPTER TWENTYSIXTH. 173
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the grievance of the Hielands, whilk are, and hae been for this thousand years bypast, a bike o' the maist
lawless unchristian limmers that ever disturbed a douce, quiet, Godfearing neighbourhood, like this o' ours
in the west here.''
``And this kinsman of yours, and friend of mine, is he one of those great proprietors who maintain the
household troops you speak of?'' I inquired.
``Na, na,'' said Bailie Jarvie; ``he's nane o' your great grandees o' chiefs, as they ca' them, neither. Though he
is weel born, and lineally descended frae auld GlenstraeI ken his lineageindeed he is a near kinsman,
and, as I said, of gude gentle Hieland blude, though ye may think weel that I care little about that
nonsenseit's a' moonshine in waterwaste threads and thrums, as we sayBut I could show ye
letters frae his father, that was the third aff Glenstrae, to my father Deacon Jarvie (peace be wi' his memory!)
beginning, Dear Deacon, and ending, your loving kinsman to command,they are amaist a' about
borrowed siller, sae the gude deacon, that's dead and gane, keepit them as documents and evidentsHe was
a carefu' man.''
``But if he is not,'' I resumed, ``one of their chiefs or patriarchal leaders, whom I have heard my father talk of,
this kinsman of yours has, at least, much to say in the Highlands, I presume?''
``Ye may say thatnae name better ken'd between the Lennox and Breadalbane. Robin was ance a
weeldoing, painstaking drover, as ye wad see amang ten thousandIt was a pleasure to see him in his
belted plaid and brogues, wi' his target at his back, and claymore and dirk at his belt, following a hundred
Highland stots, and a dozen o' the gillies, as rough and ragged as the beasts they drave. And he was baith civil
and just in his dealings; and if he thought his chapman had made a hard bargain, he wad gie him a
luckpenny to the mends. I hae ken'd him gie back five shillings out o' the pund sterling.''
``Twentyfive per cent,'' said Owen``a heavy discount.''
``He wad gie it though, sir, as I tell ye; mair especially if he thought the buyer was a puir man, and couldna
stand by a loss. But the times cam hard, and Rob was venturesome. It wasna my fautit wasna my faut; he
canna wyte meI aye tauld him o'tAnd the creditors, mair especially some grit neighbours o' his,
gripped to his living and land; and they say his wife was turned out o' the house to the hillside, and sair
misguided to the boot. Shamefu'! shamefu'!I am a peacefu' man and a magistrate, but if ony ane had
guided sae muckle as my servant quean, Mattie, as it's like they guided Rob's wife, I think it suld hae set the
shabble* that my father the deacon
* Cutlass.
had at Bothwell brig awalking again. Weel, Rob cam hame, and fand desolation, God pity us! where he left
plenty; he looked east, west, south, north, and saw neither hauld nor hope neither beild nor shelter; sae he
e'en pu'd the bonnet ower his brow, belted the broadsword to his side, took to the braeside, and became a
broken man.''*
* An outlaw.
The voice of the good citizen was broken by his contending feelings. He obviously, while he professed to
contemn the pedigree of his Highland kinsman, attached a secret feeling of consequence to the connection,
and he spoke of his friend in his prosperity with an overflow of affection, which deepened his sympathy for
his misfortunes, and his regret for their consequences.
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CHAPTER TWENTYSIXTH. 174
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``Thus tempted and urged by despair,'' said I, seeing Mr. Jarvie did not proceed in his narrative, ``I suppose
your kinsman became one of those depredators you have described to us?''
``No sae bad as that,'' said the Glaswegian,``no a'thegither and outright sae bad as that; but he became a
levier of blackmail, wider and farther than ever it was raised in our day, a through the Lennox and Menteith,
and up to the gates o' Stirling Castle.''
``Blackmail?I do not understand the phrase,'' I remarked.
``Ou, ye see, Rob soon gathered an unco band o' bluebonnets at his back, for he comes o' a rough name
when he's kent by his ain, and a name that's held its ain for mony a lang year, baith again king and
parliament, and kirk too, for aught I ken an auld and honourable name, for as sair as it has been worried
and hadden down and oppressed. My mother was a MacGregorI carena wha kens itAnd Rob had
soon a gallant band; and as it grieved him (he said) to see sic hership and waste and depredation to the south
o' the Hieland line, why, if ony heritor or farmer wad pay him four punds Scots out of each hundred punds of
valued rent, whilk was doubtless a moderate consideration, Rob engaged to keep them scaithless; let
them send to him if they lost sae muckle as a single cloot by thieving, and Rob engaged to get them again, or
pay the valueand he aye keepit his wordI canna deny but he keepit his worda' men allow Rob
keeps his word.''
``This is a very singular contract of assurance,'' said Mr. Owen.
``It's clean again our statute law, that must be owned,'' said Jarvie, ``clean again law; the levying and the
paying blackmail are baith punishable: but if the law canna protect my barn and byre, whatfor suld I no
engage wi' a Hieland gentleman that can?answer me that.''
``But,'' said I, ``Mr. Jarvie, is this contract of blackmail, as you call it, completely voluntary on the part of
the landlord or farmer who pays the insurance? or what usually happens, in case any one refuses payment of
this tribute?''
``Aha, lad!'' said the Bailie, laughing, and putting his finger to his nose, ``ye think ye hae me there. Troth, I
wad advise ony friends o' mine to gree wi' Rob; for, watch as they like, and do what they like, they are sair
apt to be harried* when
* Plundered.
the lang nights come on. Some o' the Grahame and Cohoon gentry stood out; but what then?they lost
their haill stock the first winter; sae maist folks now think it best to come into Rob's terms. He's easy wi' a'
body that will be easy wi' him; but if ye thraw him, ye had better thraw the deevil.''
``And by his exploits in these vocations,'' I continued, ``I suppose he has rendered himself amenable to the
laws of the country?''
``Amenable?ye may say that; his craig wad ken the weight o' his hurdies if they could get haud o' Rob.
But he has gude friends amang the grit folks; and I could tell ye o' ae grit family that keeps him up as far as
they decently can, to be a them in the side of another. And then he's sic an auldfarran langheaded chield as
never took up the trade o' cateran in our time; mony a daft reik he has playedmair than wad fill a book,
and a queer ane it wad beas gude as Robin Hood, or William Wallacea' fu' o' venturesome deeds and
escapes, sic as folk tell ower at a winter ingle in the daft days. It's a queer thing o' me, gentlemen, that am a
man o' peace mysell, and a peacefu man's sonfor the deacon my father quarrelled wi' nane out o the
towncouncilit's a queer thing, I say, but I think the Hieland blude o' me warms at thae daft tales, and
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whiles I like better to hear them than a word o' profit, gude forgie me! But they are vanitiessinfu'
vanitiesand, moreover, again the statute lawagain the statute and gospel law.''
I now followed up my investigation, by inquiring what means of influence this Mr. Robert Campbell could
possibly possess over my affairs, or those of my father.
``Why, ye are to understand,'' said Mr. Jarvie in a very subdued tone``I speak amang friends, and under
the roseYe are to understand, that the Hielands hae been keepit quiet since the year aughtyninethat
was Killiecrankie year. But how hae they been keepit quiet, think ye? By siller, Mr. Owen by siller, Mr.
Osbaldistone. King William caused Breadalbane distribute twenty thousand oude punds sterling amang them,
and it's said the auld Hieland Earl keepit a lang lug o't in his ain sporran. And then Queen Anne, that's dead,
gae the chiefs bits o' pensions, sae they had wherewith to support their gillies and caterans that work nae
wark, as I said afore; and they lay by quiet eneugh, saying some spreagherie on the Lowlands, whilk is their
use and wont, and some cutting o' thrapples amang themsells, that nae civilised body kens or cares onything
anent.Weel, but there's a new warld come up wi' this King George (I say, God bless him, for
ane)there's neither like to be siller nor pensions gaun amang them; they haena the means o' mainteening
the clans that eat them up, as ye may guess frae what I said before; their credit's gane in the Lowlands; and a
man that can whistle ye up a thousand or feifteen hundred linking lads to do his will, wad hardly get fifty
punds on his band at the Cross o' GlasgowThis canna stand lang there will be an outbreak for the
Stuartsthere will be an outbreak they will come down on the low country like a flood, as they did in
the waefu' wars o' Montrose, and that will be seen and heard tell o' ere a twalmonth gangs round.''
``Yet still,'' I said, ``I do not see how this concerns Mr. Campbell, much less my father's affairs.''
``Rob can levy five hundred men, sir, and therefore war suld concern him as muckle as maist folk,'' replied
the Bailie; ``for it is a faculty that is far less profitable in time o' peace. Then, to tell ye the truth, I doubt he
has been the prime agent between some o' our Hieland chiefs and the gentlemen in the north o' England. We
a' heard o' the public money that was taen frae the chield Morris somewhere about the fit o' Cheviot by Rob
and ane o' the Osbaldistone lads; and, to tell ye the truth, word gaed that it was yoursell Mr. Francis,and
sorry was I that your father's son suld hae taen to sic practicesNa, ye needna say a word about itI see
weel I was mistaen; but I wad believe onything o' a stageplayer, whilk I concluded ye to be. But now, I
doubtna, it has been Rashleigh himself or some other o' your cousinsthey are a' tarred wi' the same stick
rank Jacobites and papists, and wad think the government siller and government papers lawfu' prize. And
the creature Morris is sic a cowardly caitiff, that to this hour he daurna say that it was Rob took the
portmanteau aff him; and troth he's right, for your customhouse and excise cattle are ill liket on a' sides, and
Rob might get a backhanded lick at him, before the Board, as they ca't, could help him.''
``I have long suspected this, Mr. Jarvie,'' said I, ``and perfectly agree with you. But as to my father's
affairs''
``Suspected it?it's certainit's certainI ken them that saw some of the papers that were taen aff
Morrisit's needless to say where. But to your father's affairsYe maun think that in thae twenty years
bygane, some o' the Hieland lairds and chiefs hae come to some sma' sense o' their ain interest your
father and others hae bought the woods of GlenDisseries, Glen Kissoch, TobernaKippoch, and mony
mair besides, and your father's house has granted large bills in payment,and as the credit o' Osbaldistone
and Tresham was gudefor I'll say before Mr. Owen's face, as I wad behind his back, that, bating
misfortunes o' the Lord's sending, nae men could be mair honourable in businessthe Hieland gentlemen,
holders o' thae bills, hae found credit in Glasgow and Edinburgh(I might amaist say in Glasgow wholly,
for it's little the pridefu' Edinburgh folk do in real business)for all, or the greater part of the contents o'
thae bills. So thatAha! d'ye see me now?''
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I confessed I could not quite follow his drift.
``Why,'' said he, ``if these bills are not paid, the Glasgow merchant comes on the Hieland lairds, whae hae
deil a boddle o' siller, and will like ill to spew up what is item a' spent They will turn desperatefive
hundred will rise that might hae sitten at hamethe deil will gae ower Jock Wabsterand the stopping of
your father's house will hasten the outbreak that's been sae lang biding us.''
``You think, then,'' said I, surprised at this singular view of the case, ``that Rashleigh Osbaldistone has done
this injury to my father, merely to accelerate a rising in the Highlands, by distressing the gentlemen to whom
these bills were originally granted?''
``Doubtlessdoubtlessit has been one main reason, Mr. Osbaldistone. I doubtna but what the ready
money he carried off wi' him might be another. But that makes comparatively but a sma' part o' your father's
loss, though it might make the maist part o' Rashleigh's direct gain. The assets he carried off are of nae mair
use to him than if he were to light his pipe wi' them. He tried if MacVittie Co. wad gie him siller on
themthat I ken by Andro Wyliebut they were ower auld cats to draw that strae afore themthey
keepit aff, and gae fair words. Rashleigh Osbaldistone is better ken'd than trusted in Glasgow, for he was here
about some jacobitical papistical troking in seventeen hundred and seven, and left debt ahint him. Na,
nahe canna pit aff the paper here; folk will misdoubt him how he came by it. Na, nahe'll hae the stuff
safe at some o' their haulds in the Hielands, and I daur say my cousin Rob could get at it gin he liked.''
``But would he be disposed to serve us in this pinch, Mr. Jarvie?'' said I. ``You have described him as an
agent of the Jacobite party, and deeply connected in their intrigues: will he be disposed for my sake, or, if you
please, for the sake of justice, to make an act of restitution, which, supposing it in his power, would,
according to your view of the case, materially interfere with their plans?''
``I canna preceesely speak to that: the grandees among them are doubtfu' o' Rob, and he's doubtfu' o'
them.And he's been weel friended wi' the Argyle family, wha stand for the present model of government.
If he was freed o' his hornings and captions, he would rather be on Argyle's side than he wad be on
Breadalbane's, for there's auld illwill between the Breadalbane family and his kin and name. The truth is,
that Rob is for his ain hand, as Henry Wynd feught*he'll take
* Two great clans fought out a quarrel with thirty men of a side, in * presence ot the king, on the North Inch
of Perth, on or about the year * 1392; a man was amissing on one side, whose room was filled by a little *
bandylegged citizen of Perth. This substitute, Henry Wyndor, as the * Highlanders called him, Gow
Chrom, that is, the bandylegged smith * fought well, and contributed greatly to the fate of the battle,
without * knowing which side he fought on;so, ``To fight for your own hand, like * Henry Wynd,''
passed into a proverb. [This incident forms a conspicuous * part of the subsequent novel, ``The Fair Maid of
Perth.'']
the side that suits him best; if the deil was laird, Rob wad be for being tenant; and ye canna blame him, puir
fallow, considering his circumstances. But there's ae thing sair again ye Rob has a grey mear in his stable
at hame.'' ``A grey mare?'' said I. ``What is that to the purpose?''
``The wife, manthe wife,an awfu' wife she is. She downa bide the sight o' a kindly Scot, if he come
frae the Lowlands, far less of an Inglisher, and she'll be keen for a' that can set up King James, and ding down
King George.''
``It is very singular,'' I replied, ``that the mercantile transactions of London citizens should become involved
with revolutions and rebellions.''
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``Not at a', mannot at a','' returned Mr. Jarvie; ``that's a' your silly prejudications. I read whiles in the lang
dark nights, and I hae read in Baker's Chronicle* that the merchants o'
* [The Chronicle of the Kings of England, by Sir Richard Baker, with * continuations, passed through several
editions between 1641 and 1733. * Whether any of them contain the passage alluded to is doubtful.]
London could gar the Bank of Genoa break their promise to advance a mighty sum to the King o' Spain,
whereby the sailing of the Grand Spanish Armada was put aff for a haill year What think you of that,
sir?''
``That the merchants did their country golden service, which ought to be honourably remembered in our
histories.''
``I think sae too; and they wad do weel, and deserve weal baith o' the state and o' humanity, that wad save
three or four honest Hieland gentlemen frae louping heads ower heels into destruction, wi' a' their puir
sackless* followers, just because
* Sackless, that is, innocent.
they canna pay back the siller they had reason to count upon as their ainand save your father's
creditand my ain gude siller that Osbaldistone and Tresham awes me into the bargain. I say, if ane could
manage a' this, I think it suld be done and said unto him, even if he were a puir ca'theshuttle body, as unto
one whom the king delighteth to honour.''
``I cannot pretend to estimate the extent of public gratitude,'' I replied; ``but our own thankfulness, Mr. Jarvie,
would be commensurate with the extent of the obligation.''
``Which,'' added Mr. Owen, ``we would endeavour to balance with a per contra, the instant our Mr.
Osbaldistone returns from Holland.''
``I doubtnaI doubtnahe is a very worthy gentleman, and a sponsible, and wi' some o' my lights might
do muckle business in ScotlandWeel, sir, if these assets could be redeemed out o' the hands o' the
Philistines, they are gude paper they are the right stuff when they are in the right hands, and that's yours,
Mr. Owen. And I'se find ye three men in Glasgow, for as little as ye may think o' us, Mr. Owenthat's
Sandie Steenson in the Trade'sLand, and John Pirie in Candleriggs, and another that sall be nameless at this
present, sall advance what soums are sufficient to secure the credit of your house, and seek nae better
security.''
Owen's eyes sparkled at this prospect of extrication; but his countenance instantly fell on recollecting how
improbable it was that the recovery of the assets, as he technically called them, should be successfully
achieved.
``Dinna despair, sirdinna despair,'' said Mr. Jarvie; ``I hae taen sae muckle concern wi' your affairs
already, that it maun een be ower shoon ower boots wi' me now. I am just like my father the deacon (praise
be wi' him!) I canna meddle wi' a friend's business, but I aye end wi' making it my ainSae, I'll e'en pit on
my boots the morn, and be jogging ower Drymen Muir wi' Mr. Frank here; and if I canna mak Rob hear
reason, and his wife too, I dinna ken wha canI hae been a kind freend to them afore now, to say naething
o' owerlooking him last night, when naming his name wad hae cost him his life I'll be hearing o' this in
the council maybe frae Bailie Grahame. and MacVittie, and some o' them. They hae coost up my kindred to
Rob to me alreadyset up their nashgabs! I tauld them I wad vindicate nae man's faults; but set apart what
he had done again the law o' the country, and the hership o' the Lennox, and the misfortune o' some folk
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CHAPTER TWENTYSIXTH. 178
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losing life by him, he was an honester man than stood on ony o' their shanksAnd whatfor suld I mind
their clavers? If Rob is an outlaw, to himsell be it saidthere is nae laws now about reset of
intercommuned persons, as there was in the ill times o' the last StuartsI trow I hae a Scotch tongue in
my headif they speak, I'se answer.''
It was with great pleasure that I saw the Bailie gradually surmount the barriers of caution, under the united
influence of public spirit and goodnatured interest in our affairs, together with his natural wish to avoid loss
and acquire gain, and not a little harmless vanity. Through the combined operation of these motives, he at
length arrived at the doughty resolution of taking the field in person, to aid in the recovery of my father's
property. His whole information led me to believe, that if the papers were in possession of this Highland
adventurer, it might be possible to induce him to surrender what he could not keep with any prospect of
personal advantage; and I was conscious that the presence of his kinsman was likely to have considerable
weight with him. I therefore cheerfully acquiesced in Mr. Jarvie's proposal that we should set out early next
morning.
That honest gentleman was indeed as vivacious and alert in preparing to carry his purpose into execution, as
he had been slow and cautious in forming it. He roared to Mattie to ``air his trotcosey, to have his
jackboots greased and set before the kitchenfire all night, and to see that his beast be corned, and a' his
riding gear in order.'' Having agreed to meet him at five o'clock next morning, and having settled that Owen,
whose presence could be of no use to us upon this expedition, should await our return at Glasgow, we took a
kind farewell of this unexpectedly zealous friend. I installed Owen in an apartment in my lodgings,
contiguous to my own, and, giving orders to Andrew Fairservice to attend me next morning at the hour
appointed, I retired to rest with better hopes than it had lately been my fortune to entertain.
CHAPTER TWENTYSEVENTH.
Far as the eye could reach no tree was seen,
Earth, clad in russet, scorned the lively green;
No birds, except as birds of passage flew;
No bee was heard to hum, no dove to coo;
No streams, as amber smoothas amber clear,
Were seen to glide, or heard to warble here.
Prophecy of Famine.
It was in the bracing atmosphere of a harvest morning, that I met by appointment Fairservice, with the horses,
at the door of Mr. Jarvie's house, which was but little space distant from Mrs. Flyter's hotel. The first matter
which caught my attention was, that whatever were the deficiencies of the pony which Mr. Fairservice's legal
adviser, Clerk Touthope, generously bestowed upon him in exchange for Thorncliff's mare, he had contrived
to part with it, and procure in its stead an animal with so curious and complete a lameness, that it seemed
only to make use of three legs for the purpose of progression, while the fourth appeared as if meant to be
flourished in the air by way of accompaniment. ``What do you mean by bringing such a creature as that here,
sir? and where is the pony you rode to Glasgow upon?'' were my very natural and impatient inquiries.
``I sell't it, sir. It was a slink beast, and wad hae eaten its head aff, standing at Luckie Flyter's at livery. And I
hae bought this on your honour's account. It's a grand bargain cost but a pund sterling the footthat's
four a'thegither. The stringhalt will gae aff when it's gaen a mile; it's a weelken'd ganger; they call it Souple
Tam.''
``On my soul, sir,'' said I, ``you will never rest till my supplejack and your shoulders become acquainted, If
you do not go instantly and procure the other brute, you shall pay the penalty of your ingenuity.''
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Andrew, notwithstanding my threats, continued to battle the point, as he said it would cost him a guinea of
ruebargain to the man who had bought his pony, before he could get it back again. Like a true Englishman,
though sensible I was duped by the rascal, I was about to pay his exaction rather than lose time, when forth
sallied Mr. Jarvie, cloaked, mantled, hooded, and booted, as if for a Siberian winter, while two apprentices,
under the immediate direction of Mattie, led forth the decent ambling steed which had the honour on such
occasions to support the person of the Glasgow magistrate. Ere he ``clombe to the saddle,'' an expression
more descriptive of the Bailie's mode of mounting than that of the knightserrant to whom Spenser applies it,
he inquired the cause of the dispute betwixt my servant and me. Having learned the nature of honest
Andrew's manoeuvre he instantly cut short all debate, by pronouncing, that if Fairservice did not forthwith
return the threelegged palfrey, and produce the more useful quadruped which he had discarded, he would
send him to prison, and amerce him in half his wages. ``Mr. Osbaldistone,'' said he, ``contracted for the
service of both your horse and youtwa brutes at anceye unconscionable rascal!but I'se look weel
after you during this journey.''
``It will be nonsense fining me,'' said Andrew, doughtily, ``that hasna a grey groat to pay a fine wi'it's ill
taking the breeks aff a Hielandman.''
``If ye hae nae purse to fine, ye hae flesh to pine,'' replied the Bailie, ``and I will look weel to ye getting your
deserts the tae way or the tither.''
To the commands of Mr. Jarvie, therefore, Andrew was compelled to submit, only muttering between his
teeth, ``Ower mony maisters,ower mony maisters, as the paddock said to the harrow, when every tooth
gae her a tig.''
Apparently he found no difficulty in getting rid of Supple Tam, and recovering possession of his former
Bucephalus, for he accomplished the exchange without being many minutes absent; nor did I hear further of
his having paid any smartmoney for breach of bargain.
We now set forward, but had not reached the top of the street in which Mr. Jarvie dwelt, when a loud
hallooing and breathless call of ``Stop, stop!'' was heard behind us. We stopped accordingly, and were
overtaken by Mr. Jarvie's two lads, who bore two parting tokens of Mattie's care for her master. The first was
conveyed in the form of a voluminous silk handkerchief, like the mainsail of one of his own WestIndiamen,
which Mrs. Mattie particularly desired he would put about his neck, and which, thus entreated, he added to
his other integuments. The second youngster brought only a verbal charge (I thought I saw the rogue disposed
to laugh as he delivered it) on the part of the housekeeper, that her master would take care of the waters.
``Pooh! pooh! silly hussy,'' answered Mr. Jarvie; but added, turning to me, ``it shows a kind heart
thoughit shows a kind heart in sae young a queanMattie's a carefu' lass.'' So speaking, he pricked the
sides of his palfrey, and we left the town without farther interruption.
While we paced easily forward, by a road which conducted us northeastward from the town, I had an
opportunity to estimate and admire the good qualities of my new friend. Although, like my father, he
considered commercial transactions the most important objects of human life, he was not wedded to them so
as to undervalue more general knowledge. On the contrary, with much oddity and vulgarity of
manner,with a vanity which he made much more ridiculous by disguising it now and then under a thin
veil of humility, and devoid as he was of all the advantages of a learned education, Mr. Jarvie's conversation
showed tokens of a shrewd, observing, liberal, and, to the extent of its opportunities, a wellimproved mind.
He was a good local antiquary, and entertained me, as we passed along, with an account of remarkable events
which had formerly taken place in the scenes through which we passed. And as he was well acquainted with
the ancient history of his district, he saw with the prospective eye of an enlightened patriot, the buds of many
of those future advantages which have only blossomed and ripened within these few years. I remarked also,
and with great pleasure, that although a keen Scotchman, and abundantly zealous for the honour of his
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CHAPTER TWENTYSEVENTH. 180
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country, he was disposed to think liberally of the sister kingdom. When Andrew Fairservice (whom, by the
way, the Bailie could not abide) chose to impute the accident of one of the horses casting his shoe to the
deteriorating influence of the Union, he incurred a severe rebuke from Mr. Jarvie.
``Whisht, sir!whisht! it's illscraped tongues like yours, that make mischief atween neighbourhoods and
nations. There's naething sae gude on this side o' time but it might hae been better, and that may be said o' the
Union. Nane were keener against it than the Glasgow folk, wi' their rabblings and their risings, and their
mobs, as they ca' them nowadays. But it's an ill wind blaws naebody gudeLet ilka ane roose the ford as
they find it I say let Glasgow flourish! whilk is judiciously and elegantly putten round the town's arms,
by way of byword.Now, since St. Mungo catched herrings in the Clyde, what was ever like to gar us
flourish like the sugar and tobacco trade? Will onybody tell me that, and grumble at the treaty that opened us
a road westawa' yonder?''
Andrew Fairservice was far from acquiescing in these arguments of expedience, and even ventured to enter a
grumbling protest, ``That it was an unco change to hae Scotland's laws made in England; and that, for his
share, he wadna for a' the herringbarrels in Glasgow, and a' the tobaccocasks to boot, hae gien up the
riding o' the Scots Parliament, or sent awa' our crown, and our sword, and our sceptre, and Mons Meg,* to be
keepit by
* Note G. Mons Meg.
thae English pockpuddings in the Tower o' Lunnon. What wad Sir William Wallace, or auld Davie Lindsay,
hae said to the Union, or them that made it?''
The road which we travelled, while diverting the way with these discussions, had become wild and open, as
soon as we had left Glasgow a mile or two behind us, and was growing more dreary as we advanced. Huge
continuous heaths spread before, behind, and around us, in hopeless barrennessnow level and
interspersed with swamps, green with treacherous verdure, or sable with turf, or, as they call them in
Scotland, peatbogs, and now swelling into huge heavy ascents, which wanted the dignity and form of
hills, while they were still more toilsome to the passenger. There were neither trees nor bushes to relieve the
eye from the russet livery of absolute sterility. The very heath was of that stinted imperfect kind which has
little or no flower, and affords the coarsest and meanest covering, which, as far as my experience enables me
to judge, mother Earth is ever arrayed in. Living thing we saw none, except occasionally a few straggling
sheep of a strange diversity of colours, as black, bluish, and orange. The sable hue predominated, however, in
their faces and legs. The very birds seemed to shun these wastes, and no wonder, since they had an easy
method of escaping from them;at least I only heard the monotonous and plaintive cries of the lapwing
and curlew, which my companions denominated the peasweep and whaup.
At dinner, however, which we took about noon, at a most miserable alehouse, we had the good fortune to find
that these tiresome screamers of the morass were not the only inhabitants of the moors. The goodwife told us,
that ``the gudeman had been at the hill;'' and well for us that he had been so, for we enjoyed the produce of
his chasse in the shape of some broiled moorgame,a dish which gallantly eked out the ewemilk cheese,
dried salmon, and oaten bread, being all besides that the house afforded. Some very indifferent twopenny
ale, and a glass of excellent brandy, crowned our repast; and as our horses had, in the meantime, discussed
their corn, we resumed our journey with renovated vigour.
I had need of all the spirits a good dinner could give, to resist the dejection which crept insensibly on my
mind, when I combined the strange uncertainty of my errand with the disconsolate aspect of the country
through which it was leading me. Our road continued to be, if possible, more waste and wild than that we had
travelled in the forenoon. The few miserable hovels that showed some marks of human habitation, were now
of still rarer occurrence; and at length, as we began to ascend an uninterrupted swell of moorland, they totally
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CHAPTER TWENTYSEVENTH. 181
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disappeared. The only exercise which my imagination received was, when some particular turn of the road
gave us a partial view, to the left, of a large assemblage of darkblue mountains stretching to the north and
northwest, which promised to include within their recesses a country as wild perhaps, but certainly differing
greatly in point of interest, from that which we now travelled. The peaks of this screen of mountains were as
wildly varied and distinguished, as the hills which we had seen on the right were tame and lumpish; and
while I gazed on this Alpine region, I felt a longing to explore its recesses, though accompanied with toil and
danger, similar to that which a sailor feels when he wishes for the risks and animation of a battle or a gale, in
exchange for the insupportable monotony of a protracted calm. I made various inquiries of my friend Mr.
Jarvie respecting the names and positions of these remarkable mountains; but it was a subject on which he
had no information, or did not choose to be communicative. ``They're the Hieland hillsthe Hieland
hillsYe'll see and hear eneugh about them before ye see Glasgow Cross againI downa look at
themI never see them but they gar me grew. It's no for fearno for fear, but just for grief, for the puir
blinded halfstarved creatures that inhabit thembut say nae mair about itit's ill speaking o'
Hielandmen sae near the line. I hae ken'd mony an honest man wadna hae ventured this length without he had
made his last will and testamentMattie had illwill to see me set awa' on this ride, and grat awee, the
sillie tawpie; but it's nae mair ferlie to see a woman greet than to see a goose gang barefit.''
I next attempted to lead the discourse on the character and history of the person whom we were going to visit;
but on this topic Mr. Jarvie was totally inaccessible, owing perhaps in part to the attendance of Mr. Andrew
Fairservice, who chose to keep so close in our rear that his ears could not fail to catch every word which was
spoken, while his tongue assumed the freedom of mingling in our conversation as often as he saw an
opportunity. For this he occasionally incurred Mr. Jarvie's reproof.
``Keep back, sir, as best sets ye,'' said the Bailie, as Andrew pressed forward to catch the answer to some
question I had asked about Campbell.``ye wad fain ride the forehorse, an ye wist how.That chield's
aye for being out o' the cheesefat he was moulded in.Now, as for your questions, Mr. Osbaldistone, now
that chield's out of earshot, I'll just tell you it's free to you to speer, and it's free to me to answer, or
noGude I canna say muckle o' Rob, puir chield; ill I winna say o' him, for, forby that he's my cousin,
we're coming near his ain country, and there may be ane o' his gillies ahint every whinbush, for what I
kenAnd if ye'll be guided by my advice, the less ye speak about him, or where we are gaun, or what we
are gaun to do, we'll be the mair likely to speed us in our errand. For it's like we may fa' in wi' some o' his
unfreendsthere are e'en ower mony o' them aboutand his bonnet sits even on his brow yet for a' that;
but I doubt they'll be upsides wi' Rob at the last air day or late day, the fox's hide finds aye the flaying
knife.''
``I will certainly,'' I replied, ``be entirely guided by your experience.''
``Right, Mr. Osbaldistoneright. But I maun speak to this gabbling skyte too, for bairns and fules speak at
the Cross what they hear at the ingleside.D'ye hear, you, Andrewwhat's your
name?Fairservice!''
Andrew, who at the last rebuff had fallen a good way behind, did not choose to acknowledge the summons.
``Andrew, ye scoundrel!'' repeated Mr. Jarvie; ``here, sir here!''
``Here is for the dog.'' said Andrew, coming up sulkily.
``I'll gie you dog's wages, ye rascal, if ye dinna attend to what I say t'yeWe are gaun into the Hielands a
bit''
``I judged as muckle,'' said Andrew.
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CHAPTER TWENTYSEVENTH. 182
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``Haud your peace, ye knave, and hear what I have to say till yeWe are gaun a bit into the
Hielands''
``Ye tauld me sae already,'' replied the incorrigible Andrew.
``I'll break your head,'' said the Bailie, rising in wrath, ``if ye dinna haud your tongue.''
``A hadden tongue,'' replied Andrew, ``makes a slabbered mouth.''
It was now necessary I should interfere, which I did by commanding Andrew, with an authoritative tone, to
be silent at his peril.
``I am silent,'' said Andrew. ``I'se do a' your lawfu' bidding without a naysay. My puir mother used aye to
tell me,
Be it better, be it worse, Be ruled by him that has the purse.
Sae ye may e'en speak as lang as ye like, baith the tane and the tither o' you, for Andrew.''
Mr. Jarvie took the advantage of his stopping after quoting the above proverb, to give him the requisite
instructions. ``Now, sir, it's as muckle as your life's worththat wad be dear o' little siller, to be surebut
it is as muckle as a' our lives are worth, if ye dinna mind what I sae to ye. In this public whar we are gaun to,
and whar it is like we may hae to stay a' night, men o' a' clans and kindredHieland and Lawland tak
up their quartersAnd whiles there are mair drawn dirks than open Bibles amang them, when the
usquebaugh gets uppermost. See ye neither meddle nor mak, nor gie nae offence wi' that clavering tongue o'
yours, but keep a calm sough, and let ilka cock fight his ain battle.''
``Muckle needs to tell me that,'' said Andrew, contemptuously, ``as if I had never seen a Hielandman before,
and ken'd nae how to manage them. Nae man alive can cuitle up Donald better than mysellI hae bought
wi' them, sauld wi' them, eaten wi' them, drucken wi' them''
``Did ye ever fight wi' them?'' said Mr. Jarvie.
``Na, na,'' answered Andrew, ``I took care o' that: it wad ill hae set me, that am an artist and half a scholar to
my trade, to be fighting amang a wheen kilted loons that dinna ken the name o' a single herb or flower in
braid Scots, let abee in the Latin tongue.''
``Then,'' said Mr. Jarvie, ``as ye wad keep either your tongue in your mouth, or your lugs in your head (and
ye might miss them, for as saucy members as they are), I charge ye to say nae word, gude or bad, that ye can
weel get by, to onybody that may be in the Clachan. And ye'll specially understand that ye're no to be
bleezing and blasting about your master's name and mine, or saying that this is Mr. Bailie Nicol Jarvie o' the
Saut Market, son o' the worthy Deacon Nicol Jarvie, that a' body has heard about; and this is Mr. Frank
Osbaldistone, son of the managing partner of the great house of Osbaldistone and Tresham, in the City.''
``Eneueh said,'' answered Andrew``eneueh said. What need ye think I wad be speaking about your names
for?I hae mony things o' mair importance to speak about, I trow.''
``It's thae very things of importance that I am feared for, ye blethering goose; ye maunna speak ony thing,
gude or bad, that ye can by any possibility help.''
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``If ye dinna think me fit,'' replied Andrew, in a huff, ``to speak like ither folk, gie me my wages and my
boardwages, and I'se gae back to GlasgowThere's sma' sorrow at our parting, as the auld mear said to
the broken cart.''
Finding Andrew's perverseness again rising to a point which threatened to occasion me inconvenience, I was
under the necessity of explaining to him, that he might return if he thought proper, but that in that case I
would not pay him a single farthing for his past services. The argument ad crumenam, as it has been called by
jocular logicians, has weight with the greater part of mankind, and Andrew was in that particular far from
affecting any trick of singularity. He ``drew in his horns,'' to use the Bailie's phrase, on the instant, professed
no intention whatever to disoblige, and a resolution to be guided by my commands, whatever they might be.
Concord being thus happily restored to our small party, we continued to pursue our journey. The road, which
had ascended for six or seven English miles, began now to descend for about the same space, through a
country which neither in fertility nor interest could boast any advantage over that which we had passed
already, and which afforded no variety, unless when some tremendous peak of a Highland mountain appeared
at a distance. We continued, however, to ride on without pause and even when night fell and overshadowed
the desolate wilds which we traversed, we were, as I understood from Mr. Jarvie, still three miles and a
bittock distant from the place where we were to spend the night.
CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHTH.
Baron of Bucklivie,
May the foul fiend drive ye,
And a' to pieces rive ye,
For building sic a town,
Where there's neither horse meat, nor man's meat, nor a chair
to sit down.
Scottish Popular Rhymes on a bad Inn.
The night was pleasant, and the moon afforded us good light for our journey. Under her rays, the ground over
which we passed assumed a more interesting appearance than during the broad daylight, which discovered
the extent of its wasteness. The mingled light and shadows gave it an interest which naturally did not belong
to it; and, like the effect of a veil flung over a plain woman, irritated our curiosity on a subject which had in
itself nothing gratifying.
The descent, however, still continued, turned, winded, left the more open heaths, and got into steeper ravines,
which promised soon to lead us to the banks of some brook or river, and ultimately made good their presage.
We found ourselves at length on the bank of a stream, which rather resembled one of my native English
rivers than those I had hitherto seen in Scotland. It was narrow, deep, still, and silent; although the imperfect
light, as it gleamed on its placid waters, showed also that we were now among the lofty mountains which
formed its cradle. ``That's the Forth,'' said the Bailie, with an air of reverence, which I have observed the
Scotch usually pay to their distinguished rivers. The Clyde, the Tweed, the Forth, the Spey, are usually
named by those who dwell on their banks with a sort of respect and pride, and I have known duels occasioned
by any word of disparagement. I cannot say I have the least quarrel with this sort of harmless enthusiasm. I
received my friend's communication with the importance which he seemed to think appertained to it. In fact, I
was not a little pleased, after so long and dull a journey, to approach a region which promised to engage the
imagination. My faithful squire, Andrew, did not seem to be quite of the same opinion, for he received the
solemn information, ``That is the Forth,'' with a ``Umph!an he had said that's the publichouse, it wad
hae been mair to the purpose.''
The Forth, however, as far as the imperfect light permitted me to judge, seemed to merit the admiration of
those who claimed an interest in its stream. A beautiful eminence of the most regular round shape, and
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clothed with copsewood of hazels, mountainash, and dwarfoak, intermixed with a few magnificent old
trees, which, rising above the underwood, exposed their forked and bared branches to the silver moonshine,
seemed to protect the sources from which the river sprung. If I could trust the tale of my companion, which,
while professing to disbelieve every word of it, he told under his breath, and with an air of something like
intimidation, this hill, so regularly formed, so richly verdant, and garlanded with such a beautiful variety of
ancient trees and thriving copsewood, was held by the neighbourhood to contain, within its unseen caverns,
the palaces of the fairiesa race of airy beings, who formed an intermediate class between men and
demons, and who, if not positively malignant to humanity, were yet to be avoided and feared, on account of
their capricious, vindictive, and irritable disposition.*
* Note H. Fairy Superstition.
``They ca' them,'' said Mr. Jarvie, in a whisper, ``Daoine Schie,whilk signifies, as I understand, men of
peace; meaning thereby to make their gudewill. And we may e'en as weel ca' them that too, Mr. Osbaldistone,
for there's nae gude in speaking ill o' the laird within his ain bounds.'' But he added presently after, on seeing
one or two lights which twinkled before us, ``It's deceits o' Satan, after a', and I fearna to say itfor we are
near the manse now, and yonder are the lights in the Clachan of Aberfoil.''
I own I was well pleased at the circumstance to which Mr. Jarvie alluded; not so much that it set his tongue at
liberty, in his opinion, with all safety to declare his real sentiments with respect to the Daoine Schie, or
fairies, as that it promised some hours' repose to ourselves and our horses, of which, after a ride of fifty miles
and upwards, both stood in some need.
We crossed the infant Forth by an oldfashioned stone bridge, very high and very narrow. My conductor,
however, informed me, that to get through this deep and important stream, and to clear all its tributary
dependencies, the general pass from the Highlands to the southward lay by what was called the Fords of
Frew, at all times deep and difficult of passage, and often altogether unfordable. Beneath these fords, there
was no pass of general resort until so far east as the bridge of Stirling; so that the river of Forth forms a
defensible line between the Highlands and Lowlands of Scotland, from its source nearly to the Firth, or inlet
of the ocean, in which it terminates. The subsequent events which we witnessed led me to recall with
attention what the shrewdness of Bailie Jarvie suggested in his proverbial expression, that ``Forth bridles the
wild Highlandman.''
About half a mile's riding, after we crossed the bridge, placed us at the door of the publichouse where we
were to pass the evening. It was a hovel rather worse than better than that in which we had dined; but its little
windows were lighted up, voices were heard from within, and all intimated a prospect of food and shelter, to
which we were by no means indifferent. Andrew was the first to observe that there was a peeled
willowwand placed across the halfopen door of the little inn. He hung back and advised us not to enter.
``For,'' said Andrew, ``some of their chiefs and grit men are birling at the usquebaugh in by there, and dinna
want to be disturbed; and the least we'll get, if we gang ramstam in on them, will be a broken head, to learn us
better havings, if we dinna come by the length of a cauld dirk in our wame, whilk is just as likely.''
I looked at the Bailie, who acknowledged, in a whisper, ``that the gowk had some reason for singing, ance in
the year.''
Meantime a staring halfclad wench or two came out of the inn and the neighbouring cottages, on hearing the
sound of our horses' feet. No one bade us welcome, nor did any one offer to take our horses, from which we
had alighted; and to our various inquiries, the hopeless response of ``Ha niel Sassenach,'' was the only answer
we could extract. The Bailie, however, found (in his experience) a way to make them speak English. ``If I gie
ye a bawbee,'' said he to an urchin of about ten years old, with a fragment of a tattered plaid about him, ``will
you understand Sassenach?''
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Page No 188
``Ay, ay, that will I,'' replied the brat, in very decent English. ``Then gang and tell your mammy, my man,
there's twa Sassenach gentlemen come to speak wi' her.''
The landlady presently appeared, with a lighted piece of split fir blazing in her hand. The turpentine in this
species of torch (which is generally dug from out the turfbogs) makes it blaze and sparkle readily, so that it
is often used in the Highlands in lieu of candles. On this occasion such a torch illuminated the wild and
anxious features of a female, pale, thin, and rather above the usual size, whose soiled and ragged dress,
though aided by a plaid or tartan screen, barely served the purposes of decency, and certainly not those of
comfort. Her black hair, which escaped in uncombed elflocks from under her coif, as well as the strange and
embarrassed look with which she regarded us, gave me the idea of a witch disturbed in the midst of her
unlawful rites. She plainly refused to admit us into the house. We remonstrated anxiously, and pleaded the
length of our journey, the state of our horses, and the certainty that there was not another place where we
could be received nearer than Callander, which the Bailie stated to be seven Scots miles distant. How many
these may exactly amount to in English measurement, I have never been able to ascertain, but I think the
double ratio may be pretty safely taken as a medium computation. The obdurate hostess treated our
expostulation with contempt. ``Better gang farther than fare waur,'' she said, speaking the Scottish Lowland
dialect, and being indeed a native of the Lennox district``Her house was taen up wi' them wadna like to
be intruded on wi' strangers. She didna ken wha mair might be thereredcoats, it might be, frae the
garrison.'' (These last words she spoke under her breath, and with very strong emphasis.) ``The night,'' she
said, ``was fair abune heada night amang the heather wad caller our bloods we might sleep in our
claes, as mony a gude blade does in the scabbardthere wasna muckle flowmoss in the shaw, if we took up
our quarters right, and we might pit up our horses to the hill, naebody wad say naething against it.''
``But, my good woman,'' said I, while the Bailie groaned and remained undecided, ``it is six hours since we
dined, and we have not taken a morsel since. I am positively dying with hunger, and I have no taste for taking
up my abode supperless among these mountains of yours. I positively must enter; and make the best apology
you can to your guests for adding a stranger or two to their number. Andrew, you will see the horses put up.''
The Hecate looked at me with surprise, and then ejaculated ``A wilfu' man will hae his waythem that
will to Cupar maun to Cupar!To see thae English bellygods! he has had ae fu' meal the day already, and
he'll venture life and liberty, rather than he'll want a het supper! Set roasted beef and pudding on the opposite
side o' the pit o' Tophet, and an Englishman will mak a spang at itBut I wash my hands o't Follow me
sir'' (to Andrew), ``and I'se show ye where to pit the beasts.''
I own I was somewhat dismayed at my landlady's expressions, which seemed to be ominous of some
approaching danger. I did not, however, choose to shrink back after having declared my resolution, and
accordingly I boldly entered the house; and after narrowly escaping breaking my shins over a turf back and a
salting tub, which stood on either side of the narrow exterior passage, I opened a crazy halfdecayed door,
constructed not of plank, but of wicker, and, followed by the Bailie, entered into the principal apartment of
this Scottish caravansary.
The interior presented a view which seemed singular enough to southern eyes. The fire, fed with blazing turf
and branches of dried wood, blazed merrily in the centre; but the smoke, having no means to escape but
through a hole in the roof, eddied round the rafters of the cottage, and hung in sable folds at the height of
about five feet from the floor. The space beneath was kept pretty clear by innumerable currents of air which
rushed towards the fire from the broken panel of basketwork which served as a doorfrom two square
holes, designed as ostensible windows, through one of which was thrust a plaid, and through the other a
tattered greatcoatand moreover, through various less distinguishable apertures in the walls of the
tenement, which, being built of round stones and turf, cemented by mud, let in the atmosphere at innumerable
crevices.
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CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHTH. 186
Page No 189
At an old oaken table, adjoining to the fire, sat three men, guests apparently, whom it was impossible to
regard with indifference. Two were in the Highland dress; the one, a little darkcomplexioned man, with a
lively, quick, and irritable expression of features, wore the trews, or close pantaloons wove out of a sort of
chequered stocking stuff. The Bailie whispered me, that ``he behoved to be a man of some consequence, for
that naebody but their Duinhe'wassels wore the trewsthey were ill to weave exactly to their Highland
pleasure.''
The other mountaineer was a very tall, strong man, with a quantity of reddish hair, freckled face, high
cheekbones, and long china sort of caricature of the national features of Scotland. The tartan which he
wore differed from that of his companion, as it had much more scarlet in it, whereas the shades of black and
darkgreen predominated in the chequers of the other. The third, who sate at the same table, was in the
Lowland dress,a bold, stoutlooking man, with a cast of military daring in his eye and manner, his
ridingdress showily and profusely laced, and his cocked hat of formidable dimensions. His hanger and a pair
of pistols lay on the table before him. Each of the Highlanders had their naked dirks stuck upright in the
board beside him,an emblem, I was afterwards informed, but surely a strange one, that their computation
was not to be interrupted by any brawl. A mighty pewter measure, containing about an English quart of
usquebaugh, a liquor nearly as strong as brandy, which the Highlanders distil from malt, and drink undiluted
in excessive quantities, was placed before these worthies. A broken glass, with a wooden foot, served as a
drinking cup to the whole party, and circulated with a rapidity, which, considering the potency of the liquor,
seemed absolutely marvellous. These men spoke loudly and eagerly together, sometimes in Gaelic, at other
times in English. Another Highlander, wrapt in his plaid, reclined on the floor, his head resting on a stone,
from which it was only separated by a wisp of straw, and slept or seemed to sleep, without attending to what
was going on around him, He also was probably a stranger, for he lay in full dress, and accoutred with the
sword and target, the usual arms of his countrymen when on a journey. Cribs there were of different
dimensions beside the walls, formed, some of fractured boards, some of shattered wickerwork or plaited
boughs, in which slumbered the family of the house, men, women, and children, their places of repose only
concealed by the dusky wreaths of vapour which arose above, below, and around them.
Our entrance was made so quietly, and the carousers I have described were so eagerly engaged in their
discussions, that we escaped their notice for a minute or two. But I observed the Highlander who lay beside
the fire raise himself on his elbow as we entered, and, drawing his plaid over the lower part of his face, fix his
look on us for a few seconds, after which he resumed his recumbent posture, and seemed again to betake
himself to the repose which our entrance had interrupted,
We advanced to the fire, which was an agreeable spectacle after our late ride, during the chillness of an
autumn evening among the mountains, and first attracted the attention of the guests who had preceded us, by
calling for the landlady. She approached, looking doubtfully and timidly, now at us, now at the other party,
and returned a hesitating and doubtful answer to our request to have something to eat.
``She didna ken,'' she said, ``she wasna sure there was onything in the house,'' and then modified her refusal
with the qualification``that is, onything fit for the like of us.''
I assured her we were indifferent to the quality of our supper; and looking round for the means of
accommodation, which were not easily to be found, I arranged an old hencoop as a seat for Mr. Jarvie, and
turned down a broken tub to serve for my own. Andrew Fairservice entered presently afterwards, and took a
place in silence behind our backs. The natives, as I may call them, continued staring at us with an air as if
confounded by our assurance, and we, at least I myself, disguised as well as we could, under an appearance of
indifference, any secret anxiety we might feel concerning the mode in which we were to be received by those
whose privacy we had disturbed.
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CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHTH. 187
Page No 190
At length, the lesser Highlander, addressing himself to me said, in very good English, and in a tone of great
haughtiness, ``Ye make yourself at home, sir, I see.''
``I usually do so,'' I replied, ``when I come into a house of public entertainment.''
``And did she na see,'' said the taller man, ``by the white wand at the door, that gentlemans had taken up the
publichouse on their ain business?''
``I do not pretend to understand the customs of this country but I am yet to learn,'' I replied, ``how three
persons should be entitled to exclude all other travellers from the only place of shelter and refreshment for
miles round.''
``There's nae reason for't, gentlemen,'' said the Bailie; ``we mean nae offencebut there's neither law nor
reason for't; but as far as a stoup o' gude brandy wad make up the quarrel, we, being peaceable folk, wad be
willing.''
``Damn your brandy, sir!'' said the Lowlander, adjusting his cocked hat fiercely upon his head; ``we desire
neither your brandy nor your company,'' and up he rose from his seat. His companions also arose, muttering
to each other, drawing up their plaids, and snorting and snuffing the air after the mariner of their countrymen
when working themselves into a passion.
``I tauld ye what wad come, gentlemen,'' said the landlady, ``an ye wad hae been tauld:get awa' wi' ye out
o' my house, and make nae disturbance herethere's nae gentleman be disturbed at Jeanie MacAlpine's an
she can hinder. A wheen idle English loons, gaun about the country under cloud o' night, and disturbing
honest peaceable gentlemen that are drinking their drap drink at the fireside!''
At another time I should have thought of the old Latin adage,
``Dat veniam corvis, vexat censure columbas''
But I had not any time for classical quotation, for there was obviously a fray about to ensue, at which, feeling
myself indiginant at the inhospitable insolence with which I was treated, I was totally indifferent, unless on
the Bailie's account, whose person and qualities were ill qualified for such an adventure. I started up,
however, on seeing the others rise, and dropped my. cloak from my shoulders, that I might be ready to stand
on the defensive.
``We are three to three,'' said the lesser Highlander, glancing his eyes at our party: ``if ye be pretty men,
draw!'' and unsheathing his broadsword, he advanced on me. I put myself in a posture of defence, and aware
of the superiority of my weapon, a rapier or smallsword, was little afraid of the issue of the contest. The
Bailie behaved with unexpected mettle. As he saw the gigantic Highlander confront him with his weapon
drawn, he tugged for a second or two at the hilt of his shabble, as he called it; but finding it loth to quit the
sheath, to which it had long been secured by rust and disuse, he seized, as a substitute, on the redhot coulter
of a plough which had been employed in arranging the fire by way of a poker, and brandished it with such
effect, that at the first pass he set the Highlander's plaid on fire, and compelled him to keep a respectful
distance till he could get it extinguished. Andrew, on the contrary, who ought to have faced the Lowland
champion, had, I grieve to say it, vanished at the very commencement of the fray. But his antagonist, crying
``Fair play, fair play!'' seemed courteously disposed to take no share in the scuffle. Thus we commenced our
rencontre on fair terms as to numbers. My own aim was, to possess myself, if possible, of my antagonist's
weapon; but I was deterred from closing, for fear of the dirk which he held in his left hand, and used in
parrying the thrusts of my rapier. Meantime the Bailie, notwithstanding the success of his first onset, was
sorely bested. The weight of his weapon, the corpulence of his person, the very effervescence of his own
Rob Roy
CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHTH. 188
Page No 191
passions, were rapidly exhausting both his strength and his breath, and he was almost at the mercy of his
antagonist, when up started the sleeping Highlander from the floor on which he reclined, with his naked
sword and target in his hand, and threw himself between the discomfited magistrate and his assailant,
exclaiming, ``Her nainsell has eaten the town pread at the Cross o' Glasgow, and py her troth she'll fight for
Bailie Sharvie at the Clachan of Aberfoiltat will she e'en!'' And seconding his words with deeds, this
unexpected auxiliary made his sword whistle about the ears of his tall countryman, who, nothing abashed,
returned his blows with interest. But being both accoutred with round targets made of wood, studded with
brass, and covered with leather, with which they readily parried each other's strokes, their combat was
attended with much more noise and clatter than serious risk of damage. It appeared, indeed, that there was
more of bravado than of serious attempt to do us any injury; for the Lowland gentleman, who, as I mentioned,
had stood aside for want of an antagonist when the brawl commenced, was now pleased to act the part of
moderator and peacemaker.
``Hand your hands! haud your hands!eneugh done! eneugh done! the quarrel's no mortal. The strange
gentlemen have shown themselves men of honour, and gien reasonable satisfaction. I'll stand on mine honour
as kittle as ony man, but I hate unnecessary bloodshed.''
It was not, of course, my wish to protract the fraymy adversary seemed equally disposed to sheathe his
swordthe Bailie, gasping for breath, might be considered as hors de combat, and our two
swordandbuckler men gave up their contest with as much indifference as they had entered into it.
``And now,'' said the worthy gentleman who acted as umpire, ``let us drink and gree like honest
fellowsThe house will haud us a'. I propose that this good little gentleman, that seems sair forfoughen, as
I may say, in this tuilzie, shall send for a tass o' brandy and I'll pay for another, by way of archilowe,* and
then we'll birl our bawbees a' round about, like brethren.''
``And fa's to pay my new ponnie plaid,'' said the larger Highlander, ``wi' a hole burnt in't ane might put a
kailpat through? Saw ever onybody a decent gentleman fight wi' a firebrand before?''
``Let that be nae hinderance,'' said the Bailie, who had now recovered his breath, and was at once disposed to
enjoy the triumph of having behaved with spirit, and avoid the necessity of again resorting to such hard and
doubtful arbitrament ``Gin I hae broken the head,'' he said, ``I sall find the plaister. A new plaid sall ye
hae, and o' the bestyour ain clancolours, man,an ye will tell me where it can be sent t'ye frae
Glasco.''
``I needna name my clanI am of a king's clan, as is weel ken'd,'' said the Highlander; ``but ye may tak a
bit o' the plaidfigh! she smells like a singit sheep's head!and that'll learn ye the settand a
gentleman, that's a cousin o' my ain, that carries eggs doun frae Glencroe, will ca' for't about Martimas, an ye
will tell her where ye bide. But, honest gentleman, neist time ye fight, an ye hae ony respect for your
athversary, let it be wi' your sword, man, since ye wear ane, and no wi' thae het culters and fireprands, like a
wild Indian.''
``Conscience!'' replied the Bailie, ``every man maun do as he dow. My sword hasna seen the light since
Bothwell Brigg, when my father that's dead and gane, ware it; and I kenna weel if it was forthcoming then
either, for the battle was o' the briefestAt ony rate, it's glued to the scabbard now beyond my power to
part them; and, finding that, I e'en grippit at the first thing I could make a fend wi'. I trow my fighting days is
done, though I like ill to take the scorn, for a' that.But where's the honest lad that tuik my quarrel on
himself sae frankly?I'se bestow a gill o' aquavitae on him, an I suld never ca' for anither.''
* Archilowe, of unknown derivation, signifies a peaceoffering.
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CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHTH. 189
Page No 192
The champion for whom he looked around was, however, no longer to be seen. He had escaped unobserved
by the Bailie, immediately when the brawl was ended, yet not before I had recognised, in his wild features
and shaggy red hair, our acquaintance Dougal, the fugitive turnkey of the Glasgow jail. I communicated this
observation in a whisper to the Bailie, who answered in the same tone, ``Weel, weel,I see that him that ye
ken o' said very right; there is some glimmering o' common sense about that creature Dougal; I maun see and
think o' something will do him some gude.''
Thus saying, he sat down, and fetching one or two deep aspirations, by way of recovering his breath, called to
the landlady``I think, Luckie, now that I find that there's nae hole in my wame, whilk I had muckle
reason to doubt frae the doings o' your house, I wad be the better o' something to pit intill't.''
The dame, who was all officiousness so soon as the storm had blown over, immediately undertook to broil
something comfortable for our supper. Indeed, nothing surprised me more, in the course of the whole matter,
than the extreme calmness with which she and her household seemed to regard the martial tumult that had
taken place. The good woman was only heard to call to some of her assistants``Steek the door! steek the
door! kill or be killed, let naebody pass out till they hae paid the lawin.'' And as for the slumberers in those
lairs by the wall, which served the family for beds, they only raised their shirtless bodies to look at the fray,
ejaculated, ``Oigh! oigh!'' in the tone suitable to their respective sex and ages, and were, I believe, fast asleep
again, ere our swords were well returned to their scabbards.
Our landlady, however, now made a great bustle to get some victuals ready, and, to my surprise, very soon
began to prepare for us in the fryingpan a savoury mess of venison collops, which she dressed in a manner
that might well satisfy hungry men, if not epicures. In the meantime the brandy was placed on the table, to
which the Highlanders, however partial to their native strong waters, showed no objection, but much the
contrary; and the Lowland gentleman, after the first cup had passed round, became desirous to know our
profession, and the object of our journey.
``We are bits o' Glasgow bodies, if it please your honour,'' said the Bailie, with an affectation of great
humility, ``travelling to Stirling to get in some siller that is awing us.''
I was so silly as to feel a little disconcerted at the unassuming account which he chose to give of us; but I
recollected my promise to be silent, and allow the Bailie to manage the matter his own way. And really, when
I recollected, Will, that I had not only brought the honest man a long journey from home, which even in itself
had been some inconvenience (if I were to judge from the obvious pain and reluctance with which he took his
seat, or arose from it), but had also put him within a hair'sbreadth of the loss of his life, I could hardly refuse
him such a compliment. The spokesman of the other party, snuffing up his breath through his nose, repeated
the words with a sort of sneer;``You Glasgow tradesfolks hae naething to do but to gang frae the tae end
o' the west o' Scotland to the ither, to plague honest folks that may chance to be awee ahint the hand, like
me.''
``If our debtors were a' sic honest gentlemen as I believe you to be, Garschattachin,'' replied the Bailie,
``conscience! we might save ourselves a labour, for they wad come to seek us.''
``Eh! what! how!'' exclaimed the person whom he had addressed,``as I shall live by bread (not forgetting
beef and brandy), it's my auld friend Nicol Jarvie, the best man that ever counted doun merks on a band till a
distressed gentleman. Were ye na coming up my way?were ye na coming up the Endrick to
Garschattachin?''
``Troth no, Maister Galbraith,'' replied the Bailie, ``I had other eggs on the spitand I thought ye wad be
saying I cam to look about the annual rent that's due on the bit heritable band that's between us.''
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``Damn the annual rent!'' said the laird, with an appearance of great heartiness``Deil a word o' business
will you or I speak, now that ye're so near my country. To see how a trotcosey and a joseph can disguise a
manthat I suldna ken my auld feal friend the deacon!''
``The Bailie, if ye please,'' resumed my companion; ``but I ken what gars ye mistakthe band was granted
to my father that's happy, and he was deacon; but his name was Nicol as weel as mine. I dinna mind that
there's been a payment of principal sum or annual rent on it in myday, and doubtless that has made the
mistake.''
``Weel, the devil take the mistake and all that occasioned it!'' replied Mr. Galbraith. ``But I am glad ye are a
bailie. Gentlemen, fill a brimmerthis is my excellent friend, Bailie Nicol Jarvie's healthI ken'd him
and his father these twenty years. Are ye a' cleared kelty aff?Fill anither. Here's to his being sune
provostI say provostLord Provost Nicol Jarvie!and them that affirms there's a man walks the
Hiestreet o' Glasgow that's fitter for the office, they will do weel not to let me, Duncan Galbraith of
Garschattachin, hear them say saethat's all.'' And therewith Duncan Galbraith martially cocked his hat,
and placed it on one side of his head with an air of defiance.
The brandy was probably the best recommendation of there complimentary toasts to the two Highlanders,
who drank them without appearing anxious to comprehend their purport. They commenced a conversation
with Mr. Galbraith in Gaelic, which he talked with perfect fluency, being, as I afterwards learned, a near
neighbour to the Highlands.
``I ken'd that Scanto'grace weel eneugh frae the very outset,'' said the Bailie, in a whisper to me; ``but
when blude was warm, and swords were out at ony rate, wha kens what way he might hae thought o' paying
his debts? it will be lang or he does it in common form. But he's an honest lad, and has a warm heart too; he
disna come often to the Cross o' Glasgow, but mony a buck and blackcock he sends us doun frae the hills.
And I can want my siller weel eneugh. My father the deacon had a great regard for the family of
Garschattachin.''
Supper being now nearly ready, I looked round for Andrew Fairservice; but that trusty follower had not been
seen by any one since the beginning of the rencontre. The hostess, however, said that she believed our servant
had gone into the stable, and offered to light me to the place, saying that ``no entreaties of the bairns or hers
could make him give any answer; and that truly she caredna to gang into the stable herself at this hour. She
was a lone woman, and it was weel ken'd how the Brownie of Benyegask guided the gudewife of
Ardnagowan; and it was aye judged there was a Brownie in our stable, which was just what garr'd me gie
ower keeping an hostler.''
As, however, she lighted me towards the miserable hovel into which they had crammed our unlucky steeds,
to regale themselves on hay, every fibre of which was as thick as an ordinary goosequill, she plainly showed
me that she had another reason for drawing me aside from the company than that which her words implied.
``Read that,'' she said, slipping a piece of paper into my hand, as we arrived at the door of the shed; ``I bless
God I am rid o't. Between sogers and Saxons, and caterans and cattlelifters, and hership and bluidshed, an
honest woman wad live quieter in hell than on the Hieland line.''
So saying, she put the pinetorch into my hand, and returned into the house,
CHAPTER TWENTYNINTH.
Bagpipes, not lyres, the Highland hills adorn,
MacLean's loud hollo, and MacGregor's horn.
John Cooper's Reply to Allan Ramsay.
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CHAPTER TWENTYNINTH. 191
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I stopped in the entrance of the stable, if indeed a place be entitled to that name where horses were stowed
away along with goats, poultry, pigs, and cows, under the same roof with the mansionhouse; although, by a
degree of refinement unknown to the rest of the hamlet, and which I afterwards heard was imputed to an
overpride on the part of Jeanie MacAlpine, our landlady, the apartment was accommodated with an entrance
different from that used by her biped customers. By the light of my torch, I deciphered the following billet,
written on a wet, crumpled, and dirty piece of paper, and addressed``For the honoured hands of Mr. F.
O., a Saxon young gentleman These.'' The contents were as follows:
``Sir,
``There are nighthawks abroad, so that I cannot give you and my respected kinsman, B. N. J., the meeting at
the Clachan of Aberfoil, whilk was my purpose. I pray you to avoid unnecessary communication with those
you may find there, as it may give future trouble. The person who gives you this is faithful and may be
trusted, and will guide you to a place where, God willing, I may safely give you the meeting, when I trust my
kinsman and you will visit my poor house, where, in despite of my enemies, I can still promise sic cheer as
ane Hielandman may gie his friends, and where we will drink a solemn health to a certain D. V., and look to
certain affairs whilk I hope to be your aidance in; and I rest, as is wont among gentlemen, your servant to
command, R. M. C.''
I was a good deal mortified at the purport of this letter, which seemed to adjourn to a more distant place and
date the service which I had hoped to receive from this man Campbell. Still, however, it was some comfort to
know that he continued to be in my interest, since without him I could have no hope of recovering my father's
papers. I resolved, therefore, to obey his instructions; and, observing all caution before the guests, to take the
first good opportunity I could find to procure from the landlady directions how I was to obtain a meeting with
this mysterious person.
My next business was to seek out Andrew Fairservice, whom I called several times by name, without
receiving any answer, surveying the stable all round, at the same time, not without risk of setting the premises
on fire, had not the quantity of wet litter and mud so greatly counterbalanced two or three bunches of straw
and hay. At length my repeated cries of ``Andrew Fairservice! Andrew! fool!ass! where are you?''
produced a doleful ``Here,'' in a groaning tone, which might have been that of the Brownie itself. Guided by
this sound, I advanced to the corner of a shed, where, ensconced in the angle of the wall, behind a barrel full
of the feathers of all the fowls which had died in the cause of the public for a month past, I found the manful
Andrew; and partly by force, partly by command and exhortation, compelled him forth into the open air. The
first words he spoke were, ``I am an honest lad, sir.''
``Who the devil questions your honesty?'' said I, ``or what have we to do with it at present? I desire you to
come and attend us at supper.''
``Yes,'' reiterated Andrew, without apparently understanding what I said to him, ``I am an honest lad,
whatever the Bailie may say to the contrary. I grant the warld and the warld's gear sits ower near my heart
whiles, as it does to mony a ane But I am an honest lad; and, though I spak o' leaving ye in the muir, yet
God knows it was far frae my purpose, but just like idle things folk says when they're driving a bargain, to get
it as far to their ain side as they canAnd I like your honour weel for sae young a lad, and I wadna part wi'
ye lightly.''
``What the deuce are you driving at now?'' I replied. ``Has not everything been settled again and again to your
satisfaction? And are you to talk of leaving me every hour, without either rhyme or reason?''
``Ay,but I was only making fashion before,'' replied Andrew; ``but it's come on me in sair earnest
nowLose or win, I daur gae nae farther wi' your honour; and if ye'll tak my foolish advice, ye'll bide by a
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CHAPTER TWENTYNINTH. 192
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broken tryste, rather than gang forward yoursell. I hae a sincere regard for ye, and I'm sure ye'll be a credit to
your friends if ye live to saw out your wild aits, and get some mair sense and steadinessBut I can follow
ye nae farther, even if ye suld founder and perish from the way for lack of guidance and counsel. To gang
into Rob Roy's country is a mere tempting o' Providence.''
``Rob Roy?'' said I, in some surprise; ``I know no such person. What new trick is this, Andrew?''
``It's hard,'' said Andrew``very hard, that a man canna be believed when he speaks Heaven's truth, just
because he's whiles owercome, and tells lees a little when there is necessary occasion. Ye needna ask whae
Rob Roy is, the reiving lifter that he isGod forgie me! I hope naebody hears uswhen ye hae a letter
frae him in your pouch. I heard ane o' his gillies bid that auld rudas jaud of a gudewife gie ye that. They
thought I didna understand their gibberish; but, though I canna speak it muckle, I can gie a gude guess at
what I hear them sayI never thought to hae tauld ye that, but in a fright a' things come out that suld be
keepit in. O, Maister Frank! a' your uncle's follies, and a' your cousin's pliskies, were naething to this! Drink
clean cap out, like Sir Hildebrand; begin the blessed morning with brandy sops, like Squire Percy; swagger,
like Squire Thorncliff; rin wud amang the lasses, like Squire John; gamble, like Richard; win souls to the
Pope and the deevil, like Rashleigh; rive, rant, break the Sabbath, and do the Pope's bidding, like them a' put
thegitherBut, merciful Providence! take care o' your young bluid, and gang nae near Rob Roy!''
Andrew's alarm was too sincere to permit me to suppose he counterfeited. I contented myself, however, with
telling him, that I meant to remain in the alehouse that night, and desired to have the horses well looked after.
As to the rest, I charged him to observe the strictest silence upon the subject of his alarm, and he might rely
upon it I would not incur any serious danger without due precaution. He followed me with a dejected air into
the house, observing between his teeth, ``Man suld be served afore beastI haena had a morsel in my
mouth, but the rough legs o' that auld muircock, this haill blessed day.''
The harmony of the company seemed to have suffered some interruption since my departure, for I found Mr.
Galbraith and my friend the Bailie high in dispute.
``I'll hear nae sic language,'' said Mr. Jarvie, as I entered, ``respecting the Duke o' Argyle and the name o'
Campbell. He's a worthy publicspirited nobleman, and a credit to the country, and a friend and benefactor to
the trade o' Glasgow.''
``I'll sae naething against MacCallum More and the SliochnanDiarmid,'' said the lesser Highlander,
laughing. ``I live on the wrang side of Glencroe to quarrel with Inverara.''
``Our loch ne'er saw the Cawmil lymphads,''* said the bigger
* Lymphads. The galley which the family of Argyle and others of the * Clan Campbell carry in their arms.
Highlander. ``She'll speak her mind and fear naebodyShe doesna value a Cawmil mair as a Cowan, and
ye may tell MacCallum More that Allan Iverach said saeIt's a far cry to Lochow.''*
* Lochow and the adjacent districts formed the original seat of the * Campbells. The expression of a ``far cry
to Lochow'' was proverbial.
Mr. Galbraith, on whom the repeated pledges which he had quaffed had produced some influence, slapped his
hand on the table with great force, and said, in a stern voice, ``There's a bloody debt due by that family, and
they will pay it one day The banes of a loyal and a gallant Grahame hae lang rattled in their coffin for
vengeance on thae Dukes of Guile and Lords for Lorn. There ne'er was treason in Scotland but a Cawmil was
at the bottom o't; and now that the wrang side's uppermost, wha but the Cawmils for keeping down the right?
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CHAPTER TWENTYNINTH. 193
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But this warld winna last lang, and it will be time to sharp the maiden*
* A rude kind of guillotine formerly used in Scotland.
for shearing o' craigs and thrapples. I hope to see the auld rusty lass linking at a bluidy harst again.''
``For shame, Garschattachin!'' exclaimed the Bailie; ``fy for shame, sir! Wad ye say sic things before a
magistrate, and bring yoursell into trouble?How d'ye think to mainteen your family and satisfy your
creditors (mysell and others), if ye gang on in that wild way, which cannot but bring you under the law, to the
prejudice of a' that's connected wi' ye?''
``Dn my creditors!'' retorted the gallant Galbraith, ``and you if ye be ane o' them! I say there will be a
new warld suneAnd we shall hae nae Cawmils cocking their bonnet sae hie, and hounding their dogs
where they daurna come themsells, nor protecting thieves, nor murderers, and oppressors, to harry and spoil
better men and mair loyal clans than themsells.''
The Bailie had a great mind to have continued the dispute, when the savoury vapour of the broiled venison,
which our landlady now placed before us, proved so powerful a mediator, that he betook himself to his
trencher with great eagerness, leaving the strangers to carry on the dispute among themselves.
``And tat's true,'' said the taller Highlanderwhose name I found was Stewart``for we suldna be
plagued and worried here wi' meetings to pit down Rob Roy, if the Cawmils didna gie him refutch. I was ane
o' thirty o' my ain namepart Glenfinlas, and part men that came down frae Appine. We shased the
MacGregors as ye wad shase raedeer, till we came into Glenfalloch's country, and the Cawmils raise, and
wadna let us pursue nae farder, and sae we lost our labour; but her wad gie twa and a plack to be as near Rob
as she was tat day.''
It seemed to happen very unfortunately, that in every topic of discourse which these warlike gentlemen
introduced, my friend the Bailie found some matter of offence. ``Ye'll forgie me speaking my mind, sir; but
ye wad maybe hae gien the best bowl in your bonnet to hae been as far awae frae Rob as ye are e'en
nowOd! my het pleughculter wad hae been naething to his claymore.''
``She had better speak nae mair about her culter, or, by G! her will gar her eat her words, and twa
handfuls o' cauld steel to drive them ower wi'!'' And, with a most inauspicious and menacing look, the
mountaineer laid his hand on his dagger.
``We'll hae nae quarrelling, Allan,'' said his shorter companion; ``and if the Glasgow gentleman has ony
regard for Rob Roy, he'll maybe see him in cauld irons the night, and playing tricks on a tow the morn; for
this country has been owre lang plagued wi' him, and his race is nearhand runAnd it's time, Allan, we
were ganging to our lads.''
``Hout awa, Inverashalloch,'' said Galbraith;``Mind the auld saw, manIt's a bauld moon, quoth
Bennygaskanother pint, quoth Lesley;we'll no start for another chappin.''
``I hae had chappins eneugh,'' said Inverashalloch; ``I'll drink my quart of usquebaugh or brandy wi' ony
honest fellow, but the deil a drap mair when I hae wark to do in the morning. And, in my puir thinking,
Garschattachin, ye had better be thinking to bring up your horsemen to the Clachan before day, that we may
ay start fair.''
``What the deevil are ye in sic a hurry for?'' said Garschattachin; ``meat and mass never hindered wark. An it
had been my directing, deil a bit o' me wad hae fashed ye to come down the glens to help us. The garrison
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CHAPTER TWENTYNINTH. 194
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and our ain horse could hae taen Rob Roy easily enough. There's the hand,'' he said, holding up his own,
``should lay him on the green, and never ask a Hielandman o' ye a' for his help.''
``Ye might hae loot us bide still where we were, then,'' said Inverashalloch. ``I didna come sixty miles
without being sent for. But an ye'll hae my opinion, I redd ye keep your mouth better steekit, if ye hope to
speed. Shored folk live lang, and sae may him ye ken o'. The way to catch a bird is no to fling your bannet at
her. And also thae gentlemen hae heard some things they suldna hae heard, an the brandy hadna been ower
bauld for your brain, Major Galbraith. Ye needna cock your hat and bully wi' me, man, for I will not bear it.''
``I hae said it,'' said Galbraith, with a solemn air of drunken gravity, ``that I will quarrel no more this night
either with broadcloth or tartan. When I am off duty I'll quarrel with you or ony man in the Hielands or
Lowlands, but not on duty nono. I wish we heard o' these redcoats. If it had been to do onything
against King James, we wad hae seen them lang synebut when it's to keep the peace o' the country they
can lie as lound as their neighbours.''
As he spoke we heard the measured footsteps of a body of infantry on the march; and an officer, followed by
two or three files of soldiers, entered the apartment. He spoke in an English accent, which was very pleasant
to my ears, now so long accustomed to the varying brogue of the Highland and Lowland Scotch.``You
are, I suppose, Major Galbraith, of the squadron of Lennox Militia, and these are the two Highland gentlemen
with whom I was appointed to meet in this place?''
They assented, and invited the officer to take some refreshments, which he declined.``I have been too
late, gentlemen, and am desirous to make up time. I have orders to search for and arrest two persons guilty of
treasonable practices.''
``We'll wash our hands o' that,'' said Inverashalloch. ``I came here wi' my men to fight against the red
MacGregor that killed my cousin, seven times removed, Duncan MacLaren, in Invernenty;* but I will hae
nothing to do touching honest
* This, as appears from the introductory matter to this Tale, is an anachronism. * The slaughter of MacLaren,
a retainer of the chief of Appine, * by the MacGregors, did not take place till after Rob Roy's death, since it *
happened in 1736.
gentlemen that may be gaun through the country on their ain business.''
``Nor I neither,'' said Iverach.
Major Galbraith took up the matter more solemnly, and, premising his oration with a hiccup, spoke to the
following purpose:
``I shall say nothing against King George, Captain, because, as it happens, my commission may rin in his
nameBut one commission being good, sir, does not make another bad; and some think that James may be
just as good a name as George. There's the king that isand there's the king that suld of right beI say,
an honest man may and suld be loyal to them both, Captain. But I am of the Lord Lieutenant's opinion for the
time, as it becomes a militia officer and a deputelieutenant and about treason and all that, it's lost time to
speak of it least said is sunest mended.''
``I am sorry to see how you have been employing your time, sir,'' replied the English officeras indeed the
honest gentleman's reasoning had a strong relish of the liquor he had been drinking``and I could wish, sir,
it had been otherwise on an occasion of this consequence. I would recommend to you to try to sleep for an
hour.Do these gentlemen belong to your party?'' looking at the Bailie and me, who, engaged in eating
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CHAPTER TWENTYNINTH. 195
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our supper, had paid little attention to the officer on his entrance.
``Travellers, sir,'' said Galbraith``lawful travellers by sea and land, as the prayerbook hath it.''
``My instructions.'' said the Captain, taking a light to survey us closer, ``are to place under arrest an elderly
and a young personand I think these gentlemen answer nearly the description.''
``Take care what you say, sir,'' said Mr. Jarvie; ``it shall not be your red coat nor your laced hat shall protect
you, if you put any affront on me. I'se convene ye baith in an action of scandal and false imprisonmentI
am a free burgess and a magistrate o' Glasgow; Nicol Jarvie is my name, sae was my father's afore meI
am a bailie, be praised for the honour, and my father was a deacon.''
``He was a prickeared cur,'' said Major Galbraith, ``and fought agane the King at Bothwell Brigg.''
``He paid what he ought and what he bought, Mr. Galbraith,'' said the Bailie, ``and was an honester man than
ever stude on your shanks.''
``I have no time to attend to all this,'' said the officer; ``I must positively detain you, gentlemen, unless you
can produce some respectable security that you are loyal subjects.''
``I desire to be carried before some civil magistrate,'' said the Bailie``the sherra or the judge of the
bounds;I am not obliged to answer every redcoat that speers questions at me.''
``Well, sir, I shall know how to manage you if you are silent And you, sir'' (to me), ``what may your
name be?''
``Francis Osbaldistone, sir.''
``What, a son of Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone of Northumberland?''
``No, sir,'' interrupted the Bailie; ``a son of the great William Osbaldistone of the House of Osbaldistone and
Tresham, CraneAlley, London.''
``I am afraid, sir,'' said the officer, ``your name only increases the suspicions against you, and lays me under
the necessity of requesting that you will give up what papers you have in charge.''
I observed the Highlanders look anxiously at each other when this proposal was made.
``I had none,'' I replied, ``to surrender.''
The officer commanded me to be disarmed and searched. To have resisted would have been madness. I
accordingly gave up my arms, and submitted to a search, which was conducted as civilly as an operation of
the kind well could. They found nothing except the note which I had received that night through the hand of
the landlady.
``This is different from what I expected,'' said the officer; ``but it affords us good grounds for detaining you.
Here I find you in written communication with the outlawed robber, Robert MacGregor Campbell, who has
been so long the plague of this districtHow do you account for that?''
``Spies of Rob!'' said Inverashalloch. ``We wad serve them right to strap them up till the neist tree.''
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``We are gaun to see after some gear o' our ain, gentlemen,'' said the Bailie, ``that's fa'en into his hands by
accidentthere's nae law agane a man looking after his ain, I hope?''
``How did you come by this letter?'' said the officer, addressing himself to me.
I could not think of betraying the poor woman who had given it to me, and remained silent.
``Do you know anything of it, fellow?'' said the officer, looking at Andrew, whose jaws were chattering like a
pair of castanets at the threats thrown out by the Highlander.
``O ay, I ken a' about itit was a Hieland loon gied the letter to that langtongued jaud the gudewife there;
I'll be sworn my maister ken'd naething about it. But he's wilfu' to gang up the hills and speak wi' Rob; and
oh, sir, it wad be a charity just to send a wheen o' your redcoats to see him safe back to Glasgow again
whether he will or noAnd ye can keep Mr. Jarvie as lang as ye likeHe's responsible enough for ony
fine ye may lay on himand so's my master for that matter; for me, I'm just a puir gardener lad, and no
worth your steering.''
``I believe,'' said the officer, ``the best thing I can do is to send these persons to the garrison under an escort.
They seem to be in immediate correspondence with the enemy, and I shall be in no respect answerable for
suffering them to be at liberty. Gentlemen, you will consider yourselves as my prisoners. So soon as dawn
approaches, I will send you to a place of security. If you be the persons you describe yourselves, it will soon
appear, and you will sustain no great inconvenience from being detained a day or two. I can hear no
remonstrances,'' he continued, turning away from the Bailie, whose mouth was open to address him; ``the
service I am on gives me no time for idle discussions.''
``Aweel, aweel, sir,'' said the Bailie, ``you're welcome to a tune on your ain fiddle; but see if I dinna gar ye
dance till't afore a's dune.''
An anxious consultation now took place between the officer and the Highlanders, but carried on in so low a
tone, that it was impossible to catch the sense. So soon as it was concluded they all left the house. At their
departure, the Bailie thus expressed himself:``Thae Hielandmen are o' the westland clans, and just as
lighthanded as their neighbours, an a' tales be true, and yet ye see they hae brought them frae the head o'
Argyleshire to make war wi' puir Rob for some auld illwill that they hae at him and his sirname. And there's
the Grahames, and the Buchanans, and the Lennox gentry, a' mounted and in orderIt's weel ken'd their
quarrel; and I dinna blame themnaebody likes to lose his kye. And then there's sodgers, puir things,
hoyed out frae the garrison at a' body's biddingPuir Rob will hae his hands fu' by the time the sun comes
ower the hill. Weelit's wrang for a magistrate to be wishing onything agane the course o' justice, but deil
o' me an I wad break my heart to hear that Rob had gien them a' their paiks!''
CHAPTER THIRTIETH.
General,
Hear me, and mark me well, and look upon me
Directly in my facemy woman's face
See if one fear, one shadow of a terror,
One paleness dare appear, but from my anger,
To lay hold on your mercies.
Bonduca.
We were permitted to slumber out the remainder of the night in the best manner that the miserable
accommodations of the alehouse permitted. The Bailie, fatigued with his journey and the subsequent
scenesless interested also in the event of our arrest, which to him could only be a matter of temporary
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CHAPTER THIRTIETH. 197
Page No 200
inconvenience perhaps less nice than habit had rendered me about the cleanliness or decency of his
couch,tumbled himself into one of the cribs which I have already described, and soon was heard to snore
soundly. A broken sleep, snatched by intervals, while I rested my head upon the table, was my only
refreshment. In the course of the night I had occasion to observe that there seemed to be some doubt and
hesitation in the motions of the soldiery. Men were sent out, as if to obtain intelligence, and returned
apparently without bringing any satisfactory information to their commanding officer. He was obviously
eager and anxious, and again despatched small parties of two or three men, some of whom, as I could
understand from what the others whispered to each other, did not return again to the Clachan.
The morning had broken, when a corporal and two men rushed into the hut, dragging after them, in a sort of
triumph, a Highlander, whom I immediately recognised as my acquaintance the exturnkey. The Bailie, who
started up at the noise with which they entered, immediately made the same discovery, and
exclaimed``Mercy on us! they hae grippit the puir creature Dougal.Captain, I will put in
bailsufficient bail, for that Dougal creature.''
To this offer, dictated undoubtedly by a grateful recollection of the late interference of the Highlander in his
behalf, the Captain only answered by requesting Mr. Jarvie to ``mind his own affairs, and remember that he
was himself for the present a prisoner.''
``I take you to witness, Mr. Osbaldistone,'' said the Bailie, who was probably better acquainted with the
process in civil than in military cases, ``that he has refused sufficient bail. It's my opinion that the creature
Dougal will have a good action of wrongous imprisonment and damages agane him, under the Act seventeen
hundred and one, and I'll see the creature righted.''
The officer, whose name I understood was Thornton, paying no attention to the Bailie's threats or
expostulations, instituted a very close inquiry into Dougal's life and conversation, and compelled him to
admit, though with apparent reluctance, the successive facts,that he knew Rob Roy MacGregorthat
he had seen him within these twelve monthswithin these six monthswithin this monthwithin this
week; in fine, that he had parted from him only an hour ago. All this detail came like drops of blood from the
prisoner, and was, to all appearance, only extorted by the threat of a halter and the next tree, which Captain
Thornton assured him should be his doom, if he did not give direct and special information.
``And now, my friend,'' said the officer, ``you will please inform me how many men your master has with
him at present.''
Dougal looked in every direction except at the querist, and began to answer, ``She canna just be sure about
that.''
``Look at me, you Highland dog,'' said the officer, ``and remember your life depends on your answer. How
many rogues had that outlawed scoundrel with him when you left him?''
``Ou, no aboon sax rogues when I was gane.''
``And where are the rest of his banditti?''
``Gane wi' the Lieutenant agane ta westland carles.''
``Against the westland clans?'' said the Captain. ``Umph that is likely enough; and what rogue's errand
were you despatched upon?''
``Just to see what your honour and ta gentlemen redcoats were doing doun here at ta Clachan.''
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``The creature will prove fausehearted, after a','' said the Bailie, who by this time had planted himself close
behind me; ``it's lucky I didna pit mysell to expenses anent him.''
``And now, my friend,'' said the Captain, ``let us understand each other. You have confessed yourself a spy,
and should string up to the next treeBut come, if you will do me one good turn, I will do you another.
You, Donaldyou shall just, in the way of kindness, carry me and a small party to the place where you left
your master, as I wish to speak a few words with him on serious affairs; and I'll let you go about your
business, and give you five guineas to boot.''
``Oigh! oigh!'' exclaimed Dougal, in the extremity of distress and perplexity; ``she canna do tatshe canna
do tat; she'll rather be hanged.''
``Hanged, then, you shall be, my friend'' said the officer; ``and your blood be upon your own head. Corporal
Cramp, do you play ProvostMarshalaway with him!''
The corporal had confronted poor Dougal for some time, ostentatiously twisting a piece of cord which he had
found in the house into the form of a halter. He now threw it about the culprit's neck, and, with the assistance
of two soldiers, had dragged Dougal as far as the door, when, overcome with the terror of immediate death,
he exclaimed, ``Shentlemans, stops stops! She'll do his honour's biddingstops!''
``Awa' wi' the creature!'' said the Bailie, ``he deserves hanging mair now than ever; awa' wi' him, corporal.
Why dinna ye tak him awa'?''
``It's my belief and opinion, honest gentleman,'' said the corporal, ``that if you were going to be hanged
yourself, you would be in no such dd hurry.'
This bydialogue prevented my hearing what passed between the prisoner and Captain Thornton; but I heard
the former snivel out, in a very subdued tone, ``And ye'll ask her to gang nae farther than just to show ye
where the MacGregor is? Ohon! ohon!''
``Silence your howling, you rascalNo; I give you my word I will ask you to go no farther.Corporal,
make the men fall in, in front of the houses. Get out these gentlemen's horses; we must carry them with us. I
cannot spare any men to guard them here. Come, my lads, get under arms.''
The soldiers bustled about, and were ready to move. We were led out, along with Dougal, in the capacity of
prisoners. As we left the hut, I heard our companion in captivity remind the Captain of ``ta foive kuineas.''
``Here they are for you,'' said the officer, putting gold into his hand; ``but observe, that if you attempt to
mislead me, I will blow your brains out with my own hand.''
``The creature,'' said the Bailie, ``is waur than I judged him it is a warldly and a perfidious creature. O the
filthy lucre of gain that men gies themsells up to! My father the deacon used to say, the penny siller slew mair
souls than the naked sword slew bodies.''
The landlady now approached, and demanded payment of her reckoning, including all that had been quaffed
by Major Galbraith and his Highland friends. The English officer remonstrated, but Mrs. MacAlpine
declared, if ``she hadna trusted to his honour's name being used in their company, she wad never hae drawn
them a stoup o' liquor; for Mr. Galbraith, she might see him again, or she might no, but weel did she wot she
had sma' chance of seeing her sillerand she was a puir widow, had naething but her custom to rely on.''
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Captain Thornton put a stop to her remonstrances by paying the charge, which was only a few English
shillings, though the amount sounded very formidable in Scottish denominations. The generous officer would
have included Mr. Jarvie and me in this general acquittance; but the Bailie, disregarding an intimation from
the landlady to ``make as muckle of the Inglishers as we could, for they were sure to gie us plague eneugh,''
went into a formal accounting respecting our share of the reckoning, and paid it accordingly. The Captain
took the opportunity to make us some slight apology for detaining us. ``If we were loyal and peaceable
subjects,'' he said, ``we would not regret being stopt for a day, when it was essential to the king's service; if
otherwise, he was acting according to his duty.''
We were compelled to accept an apology which it would have served no purpose to refuse, and we sallied out
to attend him on his march.
I shall never forget the delightful sensation with which I exchanged the dark, smoky, smothering atmosphere
of the Highland hut, in which we had passed the night so uncomfortably, for the refreshing fragrance of the
morning air, and the glorious beams of the rising sun, which, from a tabernacle of purple and golden clouds,
were darted full on such a scene of natural romance and beauty as had never before greeted my eyes. To the
left lay the valley, down which the Forth wandered on its easterly course, surrounding the beautiful detached
hill, with all its garland of woods. On the right, amid a profusion of thickets, knolls, and crags, lay the bed of
a broad mountain lake, lightly curled into tiny waves by the breath of the morning breeze, each glittering in
its course under the influence of the sunbeams. High hills, rocks, and banks, waving with natural forests of
birch and oak, formed the borders of this enchanting sheet of water; and, as their leaves rustled to the wind
and twinkled in the sun, gave to the depth of solitude a sort of life and vivacity. Man alone seemed to be
placed in a state of inferiority, in a scene where all the ordinary features of nature were raised and exalted.
The miserable little bourocks, as the Bailie termed them, of which about a dozen formed the village called the
Clachan of Aberfoil, were composed of loose stones, cemented by clay instead of mortar, and thatched by
turfs, laid rudely upon rafters formed of native and unhewn birches and oaks from the woods around. The
roofs approached the ground so nearly, that Andrew Fairservice observed we might have ridden over the
village the night before, and never found out we were near it, unless our horses' feet had ``gane through the
riggin'.''
From all we could see, Mrs. MacAlpine's house, miserable as were the quarters it afforded, was still by far
the best in the hamlet; and I dare say (if my description gives you any curiosity to see it) you will hardly find
it much improved at the present day, for the Scotch are not a people who speedily admit innovation, even
when it comes in the shape of improvement.*
* Note I. Clachan of Aberfoil.
The inhabitants of these miserable dwellings were disturbed by the noise of our departure; and as our party of
about twenty soldiers drew up in rank before marching off, we were reconnoitred by many a beldam from the
halfopened door of her cottage. As these sibyls thrust forth their grey heads, imperfectly covered with close
caps of flannel, and showed their shrivelled brows, and long skinny arms, with various gestures, shrugs, and
muttered expressions in Gaelic addressed to each other, my imagination recurred to the witches of Macbeth,
and I imagined I read in the features of these crones the malevolence of the weird sisters. The little children
also, who began to crawl forth, some quite naked, and others very imperfectly covered with tatters of tartan
stuff, clapped their tiny hands, and grinned at the English soldiers, with an expression of national hate and
malignity which seemed beyond their years. I remarked particularly that there were no men, nor so much as a
boy of ten or twelve years old, to be seen among the inhabitants of a village which seemed populous in
proportion to its extent; and the idea certainly occurred to me, that we were likely to receive from them, in the
course of our journey, more effectual tokens of illwill than those which lowered on the visages, and dictated
the murmurs, of the women and children. It was not until we commenced our march that the malignity of the
elder persons of the community broke forth into expressions. The last file of men had left the village, to
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pursue a small broken track, formed by the sledges in which the natives transported their peats and turfs, and
which led through the woods that fringed the lower end of the lake, when a shrilly sound of female
exclamation broke forth, mixed with the screams of children, the whooping of boys, and the clapping of
hands, with which the Highland dames enforce their notes, whether of rage or lamentation. I asked Andrew,
who looked as pale as death, what all this meant.
``I doubt we'll ken that ower sune,'' said he. ``Means? It means that the Highland wives are cursing and
banning the redcoats, and wishing illluck to them, and ilka ane that ever spoke the Saxon tongue. I have
heard wives flyte in England and Scotlandit's nae marvel to hear them flyte ony gate; but sic illscrapit
tongues as thae Highland carlines'and sic grewsome wishes, that men should be slaughtered like
sheepand that they may lapper their hands to the elbows in their heart's bludeand that they suld dee
the death of Walter Cuming of Guiyock,* wha hadna as muckle o' him left thegither as would
* A great feudal oppressor, who, riding on some cruel purpose through * the forest of Guiyock, was thrown
from his horse, and his foot being caught * in the stirrup, was dragged along by the frightened animal till he
was torn * to pieces. The expression, ``Walter of Guiyock's curse,'' is proverbial.
supper a messandogsic awsome language as that I ne'er heard out o' a human thrapple;and, unless
the deil wad rise amang them to gie them a lesson, I thinkna that their talent at cursing could be amended.
The warst o't is, they bid us aye gang up the loch, and see what we'll land in.''
Adding Andrew's information to what I had myself observed, I could scarce doubt that some attack was
meditated upon our party. The road, as we advanced, seemed to afford every facility for such an unpleasant
interruption. At first it winded apart from the lake through marshy meadow ground, overgrown with
copsewood, now traversing dark and close thickets which would have admitted an ambuscade to be sheltered
within a few yards of our line of march, and frequently crossing rough mountain torrents, some of which took
the soldiers up to the knees, and ran with such violence, that their force could only be stemmed by the
strength of two or three men holding fast by each other's arms. It certainly appeared to me, though altogether
unacquainted with military affairs, that a sort of halfsavage warriors, as I had heard the Highlanders asserted
to be, might, in such passes as these, attack a party of regular forces with great advantage. The Bailie's good
sense and shrewd observation had led him to the same conclusion, as I understood from his requesting to
speak with the captain, whom he addressed nearly in the following terms:``Captain, it's no to fleech ony
favour out o' ye, for I scorn itand it's under protest that I reserve my action and pleas of oppression and
wrongous imprisonment; but, being a friend to King George and his army, I take the liberty to
speerDinna ye think ye might tak a better time to gang up this glen? If ye are seeking Rob Roy, he's ken'd
to be better than half a hunder men strong when he's at the fewest; an if he brings in the Glengyle folk, and
the Glenfinlas and Balquhidder lads, he may come to gie you your kail through the reek; and it's my sincere
advice, as a king's friend, ye had better tak back again to the Clachan, for thae women at Aberfoil are like the
scarts and seamaws at the Cumriesthere's aye foul weather follows their skirting.''
``Make yourself easy, sir,'' replied Captain Thornton; ``I am in the execution of my orders. And as you say
you are a friend to King George, you will be glad to learn that it is impossible that this gang of ruffians,
whose license has disturbed the country so long, can escape the measures now taken to suppress them. The
horse squadron of militia, commanded by Major Galbraith, is already joined by two or more troops of
cavalry, which will occupy all the lower passes of this wild country; three hundred Highlanders, under the
two gentlemen you saw at the inn, are in possession of the upper part, and various strong parties from the
garrison are securing the hills and glens in different directions. Our last accounts of Rob Roy correspond with
what this fellow has confessed, that, finding himself surrounded on all sides, he had dismissed the greater part
of his followers, with the purpose either of lying concealed, or of making his escape through his superior
knowledge of the passes.''
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``I dinna ken,'' said the Bailie; ``there's mair brandy than brains in Garschattachin's head this morningAnd
I wadna, an I were you, Captain, rest my main dependence on the Hielandmenhawks winna pike out
hawks' een. They may quarrel among themsells, and gie ilk ither ill names, and maybe a slash wi' a claymore;
but they are sure to join in the lang run, against a' civilised folk, that wear breeks on their hinder ends, and
hae purses in their pouches.''
Apparently these admonitions were not altogether thrown away on Captain Thornton. He reformed his line of
march, commanded his soldiers to unsling their firelocks and fix their bayonets, and formed an advanced and
rearguard, each consisting of a noncommissioned officer and two soldiers, who received strict orders to
keep an alert lookout. Dougal underwent another and very close examination, in which he steadfastly
asserted the truth of what he had before affirmed; and being rebuked on account of the suspicious and
dangerous appearance of the route by which he was guiding them, he answered with a sort of testiness that
seemed very natural, ``Her nainsell didna mak ta road; an shentlemans likit grand roads, she suld hae pided at
Glasco.''
All this passed off well enough, and we resumed our progress.
Our route, though leading towards the lake, had hitherto been so much shaded by wood, that we only from
time to time obtained a glimpse of that beautiful sheet of water. But the road now suddenly emerged from the
forest ground, and, winding close by the margin of the loch, afforded us a full view of its spacious mirror,
which now, the breeze having totally subsided, reflected in still magnificence the high dark heathy
mountains, huge grey rocks, and shaggy banks, by which it is encircled. The hills now sunk on its margin so
closely, and were so broken and precipitous, as to afford no passage except just upon the narrow line of the
track which we occupied, and which was overhung with rocks, from which we might have been destroyed
merely by rolling down stones, without much possibility of offering resistance. Add to this, that, as the road
winded round every promontory and bay which indented the lake, there was rarely a possibility of seeing a
hundred yards before us. Our commander appeared to take some alarm at the nature of the pass in which he
was engaged, which displayed itself in repeated orders to his soldiers to be on the alert, and in many threats
of instant death to Dougal, if he should be found to have led them into danger. Dougal received these threats
with an air of stupid impenetrability, which might arise either from conscious innocence, or from dogged
resolution.
``If shentlemans were seeking ta Red Gregarach,'' he said, ``to be sure they couldna expect to find her without
some wee danger.''
Just as the Highlander uttered these words, a halt was made by the corporal commanding the advance, who
sent back one of the file who formed it, to tell the Captain that the path in front was occupied by Highlanders,
stationed on a commanding point of particular difficulty. Almost at the same instant a soldier from the rear
came to say, that they heard the sound of a bagpipe in the woods through which we had just passed. Captain
Thornton, a man of conduct as well as courage, instantly resolved to force the pass in front, without waiting
till he was assailed from the rear; and, assuring his soldiers that the bagpipes which they heard were those of
the friendly Highlanders who were advancing to their assistance, he stated to them the importance of
advancing and securing Rob Roy, if possible, before these auxiliaries should come up to divide with them the
honour, as well as the reward which was placed on the head of this celebrated freebooter. He therefore
ordered the rearguard to join the centre, and both to close up to the advance, doubling his files so as to occupy
with his column the whole practicable part of the road, and to present such a front as its breadth admitted.
Dougal, to whom he said in a whisper, ``You dog, if you have deceived me, you shall die for it!'' was placed
in the centre, between two grenadiers, with positive orders to shoot him if he attempted an escape. The same
situation was assigned to us, as being the safest, and Captain Thornton, taking his halfpike from the soldier
who carried it, placed himself at the head of his little detachment, and gave the word to march forward.
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CHAPTER THIRTIETH. 202
Page No 205
The party advanced with the firmness of English soldiers. Not so Andrew Fairservice, who was frightened
out of his wits; and not so, if truth must be told, either the Bailie or I myself, who, without feeling the same
degree of trepidation, could not with stoical indifference see our lives exposed to hazard in a quarrel with
which we had no concern. But there was neither time for remonstrance nor remedy.
We approached within about twenty yards of the spot where the advanced guard had seen some appearance of
an enemy. It was one of those promontories which run into the lake, and round the base of which the road had
hitherto winded in the manner I have described. In the present case, however, the path, instead of keeping the
water's edge, sealed the promontory by one or two rapid zigzags, carried in a broken track along the
precipitous face of a slaty grey rock, which would otherwise have been absolutely inaccessible. On the top of
this rock, only to be approached by a road so broken, so narrow, and so precarious, the corporal declared he
had seen the bonnets and longbarrelled guns of several mountaineers, apparently couched among the long
heath and brushwood which crested the eminence. Captain Thornton ordered him to move forward with three
files, to dislodge the supposed ambuscade, while, at a more slow but steady pace, he advanced to his support
with the rest of his party.
The attack which he meditated was prevented by the unexpected apparition of a female upon the summit of
the rock.
``Stand!'' she said, with a commanding tone, ``and tell me what ye seek in MacGregor's country?''
I have seldom seen a finer or more commanding form than this woman. She might be between the term of
forty and fifty years, and had a countenance which must once have been of a masculine cast of beauty;
though now, imprinted with deep lines by exposure to rough weather, and perhaps by the wasting influence of
grief and passion, its features were only strong, harsh, and expressive. She wore her plaid, not drawn around
her head and shoulders, as is the fashion of the women in Scotland, but disposed around her body as the
Highland soldiers wear theirs. She had a man's bonnet, with a feather in it, an unsheathed sword in her hand,
and a pair of pistols at her girdle.
``It's Helen Campbell, Rob's wife,'' said the Bailie, in a whisper of considerable alarm; ``and there will be
broken heads amang us or it's lang.''
``What seek ye here?'' she asked again of Captain Thornton, who had himself advanced to reconnoitre.
``We seek the outlaw, Rob Roy MacGregor Campbell,'' answered the officer, ``and make no war on women;
therefore offer no vain opposition to the king's troops, and assure yourself of civil treatment.''
``Ay,'' retorted the Amazon, ``I am no stranger to your tender mercies. Ye have left me neither name nor
famemy mother's bones will shrink aside in their grave when mine are laid beside themYe have left
me neither house nor hold, blanket nor bedding, cattle to feed us, or flocks to clothe us Ye have taken
from us allall!The very name of our ancestors have ye taken away, and now ye come for our lives.''
``I seek no man's life,'' replied the Captain; ``I only execute my orders. If you are alone, good woman, you
have nought to fearif there are any with you so rash as to offer useless resistance, their own blood be on
their own heads. Move forward, sergeant.''
``Forward! march!'' said the noncommissioned officer. ``Huzza, my boys, for Rob Roy's head and a purse of
gold.''
He quickened his pace into a run, followed by the six soldiers; but as they attained the first traverse of the
ascent, the flash of a dozen of firelocks from various parts of the pass parted in quick succession and
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deliberate aim. The sergeant, shot through the body, still struggled to gain the ascent, raised himself by his
hands to clamber up the face of the rock, but relaxed his grasp, after a desperate effort, and falling, rolled
from the face of the cliff into the deep lake, where he perished. Of the soldiers, three fell, slain or disabled;
the others retreated on their main body, all more or less wounded.
``Grenadiers, to the front!'' said Captain Thornton.You are to recollect, that in those days this description
of soldiers actually carried that destructive species of firework from which they derive their name. The four
grenadiers moved to the front accordingly. The officer commanded the rest of the party to be ready to support
them, and only saying to us, ``Look to your safety, gentlemen,'' gave, in rapid succession, the word to the
grenadiers``Open your poucheshandle your grenades blow your matchesfall on.''
The whole advanced with a shout, headed by Captain Thornton, the grenadiers preparing to throw their
grenades among the bushes where the ambuscade lay, and the musketeers to support them by an instant and
close assault. Dougal, forgotten in the scuffle, wisely crept into the thicket which overhung that part of the
road where we had first halted, which he ascended with the activity of a wild cat. I followed his example,
instinctively recollecting that the fire of the Highlanders would sweep the open track. I clambered until out of
breath; for a continued spattering fire, in which every shot was multiplied by a thousand echoes, the hissing
of the kindled fusees of the grenades, and the successive explosion of those missiles, mingled with the huzzas
of the soldiers, and the yells and cries of their Highland antagonists, formed a contrast which added I do
not shame to own itwings to my desire to reach a place of safety. The difficulties of the ascent soon
increased so much, that I despaired of reaching Dougal, who seemed to swing himself from rock to rock, and
stump to stump, with the facility of a squirrel, and I turned down my eyes to see what had become of my
other companions. Both were brought to a very awkward standstill.
The Bailie, to whom I suppose fear had given a temporary share of agility, had ascended about twenty feet
from the path, when his foot slipping, as he straddled from one huge fragment of rock to another, he would
have slumbered with his father the deacon, whose acts and words he was so fond of quoting, but for a
projecting branch of a ragged thorn, which, catching hold of the skirts of his ridingcoat, supported him in
midair, where he dangled not unlike to the sign of the Golden Fleece over the door of a mercer in the
Trongate of his native city.
As for Andrew Fairservice, he had advanced with better success, until he had attained the top of a bare cliff,
which, rising above the wood, exposed him, at least in his own opinion, to all the dangers of the neighbouring
skirmish, while, at the same time, it was of such a precipitous and impracticable nature, that he dared neither
to advance nor retreat. Footing it up and down upon the narrow space which the top of the cliff afforded (very
like a fellow at a countryfair dancing upon a trencher), he roared for mercy in Gaelic and English
alternately, according to the side on which the scale of victory seemed to predominate, while his
exclamations were only answered by the groans of the Bailie, who suffered much, not only from
apprehension, but from the pendulous posture in which he hung suspended by the loins.
On perceiving the Bailie's precarious situation, my first idea was to attempt to render him assistance; but this
was impossible without the concurrence of Andrew, whom neither sign, nor entreaty, nor command, nor
expostulation, could inspire with courage to adventure the descent from his painful elevation, where, like an
unskilful and obnoxious minister of state, unable to escape from the eminence to which he had
presumptuously ascended, he continued to pour forth piteous prayers for mercy, which no one heard, and to
skip to and fro, writhing his body into all possible antic shapes to avoid the balls which he conceived to be
whistling around him.
In a few minutes this cause of terror ceased, for the fire, at first so well sustained, now sunk at oncea sure
sign that the conflict was concluded. To gain some spot from which I could see how the day had gone was
now my object, in order to appeal to the mercy of the victors, who, I trusted (whichever side might be
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gainers), would not suffer the honest Bailie to remain suspended, like the coffin of Mahomet, between heaven
and earth, without lending a hand to disengage him. At length, by dint of scrambling, I found a spot which
commanded a view of the field of battle. It was indeed ended; and, as my mind already augured, from the
place and circumstances attending the contest, it had terminated in the defeat of Captain Thornton. I saw a
party of Highlanders in the act of disarming that officer, and the scanty remainder of his party. They
consisted of about twelve men most of whom were wounded, who, surrounded by treble their number, and
without the power either to advance or retreat, exposed to a murderous and wellaimed fire, which they had
no means of returning with effect, had at length laid down their arms by the order of their officer, when he
saw that the road in his rear was occupied, and that protracted resistance would be only wasting the lives of
his brave followers. By the Highlanders, who fought under cover, the victory was cheaply bought, at the
expense of one man slain and two wounded by the grenades. All this I learned afterwards. At present I only
comprehended the general result of the day, from seeing the English officer, whose face was covered with
blood, stripped of his hat and arms, and his men, with sullen and dejected countenances which marked their
deep regret, enduring, from the wild and martial figures who surrounded them, the severe measures to which
the laws of war subject the vanquished for security of the victors.
CHAPTER THIRTYFIRST.
``Woe to the vanquished!'' was stern Brenno's word,
When sunk proud Rome beneath the Gallic sword
``Woe to the vanquished!'' when his massive blade
Bore down the scale against her ransom weigh'd;
And on the field of foughten battle still,
Woe knows no limits save the victor's will.
The Gaulliad.
I anxiously endeavoured to distinguish Dougal among the victors. I had little doubt that the part he had
played was assumed, on purpose to lead the English officer into the defile, and I could not help admiring the
address with which the ignorant, and apparently halfbrutal savage, had veiled his purpose, and the affected
reluctance with which he had suffered to be extracted from him the false information which it must have been
his purpose from the beginning to communicate. I foresaw we should incur some danger on approaching the
victors in the first flush of their success, which was not unstained with cruelty; for one or two of the soldiers,
whose wounds prevented them from rising, were poniarded by the victors, or rather by some ragged Highland
boys who had mingled with them. I concluded, therefore, it would be unsafe to present ourselves without
some mediator; and as Campbell, whom I now could not but identify with the celebrated freebooter Rob Roy,
was nowhere to be seen, I resolved to claim the protection of his emissary, Dougal.
After gazing everywhere in vain, I at length retraced my steps to see what assistance I could individually
render to my unlucky friend, when, to my great joy, I saw Mr. Jarvie delivered from his state of suspense; and
though very black in the face, and much deranged in the garments, safely seated beneath the rock, in front of
which he had been so lately suspended. I hastened to join him and offer my congratulations, which he was at
first far from receiving in the spirit of cordiality with which they were offered. A heavy fit of coughing scarce
permitted him breath enough to express the broken hints which he threw out against my sincerity.
``Uh! uh! uh! uh!they say a frienduh! uh!a friend sticketh closer than a britheruh! uh! uh!
When I came up here, Maister Osbaldistone, to this country, cursed of God and manuh! uhHeaven
forgie me for swearingon nae man's errand but yours, d'ye think it was fairuh! uh! uh!to leave
me, first, to be shot or drowned atween redwad Highlanders and redcoats; and next to be hung up between
heaven and earth, like an auld potatobogle, without sae muckle as tryinguh! uh!sae muckle as trying
to relieve me?''
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I made a thousand apologies, and laboured so hard to represent the impossibility of my affording him relief
by my own unassisted exertions, that at length I succeeded, and the Bailie, who was as placable as hasty in
his temper, extended his favour to me once more. I next took the liberty of asking him how he had contrived
to extricate himself.
``Me extricate! I might hae hung there till the day of judgment or I could hae helped mysell, wi' my head
hinging down on the tae side, and my heels on the tother, like the yarnscales in the weighhouse. It was the
creature Dougal that extricated me, as he did yestreen; he cuttit aff the tails o' my coat wi' his durk, and
another gillie and him set me on my legs as cleverly as if I had never been aff them. But to see what a thing
gude braid claith is! Had I been in ony o' your rotten French camlets now, or your drabdeberries, it would
hae screeded like an auld rag wi' sic a weight as mine. But fair fa' the weaver that wrought the weft o'tI
swung and bobbit yonder as safe as a gabbart* that's moored by a threeply cable at the Broomielaw.''
* A kind of lighter used in the river Clyde,probably from the French * abare.
I now inquired what had become of his preserver.
``The creature,'' so he continued to call the Highlandman, ``contrived to let me ken there wad be danger in
gaun near the leddy till he came back, and bade me stay here. I am o' the mind,'' he continued, ``that he's
seeking after youit's a considerate creatureand troth, I wad swear he was right about the leddy, as he
ca's her, tooHelen Campbell was nane o' the maist douce maidens, nor meekest wives neither, and folk
say that Rob himsell stands in awe o' her. I doubt she winna ken me, for it's mony years since we metI am
clear for waiting for the Dougal creature or we gang near her.''
I signified my acquiescence in this reasoning; but it was not the will of fate that day that the Bailie's prudence
should profit himself or any one else.
Andrew Fairservice, though he had ceased to caper on the pinnacle upon the cessation of the firing, which
had given occasion for his whimsical exercise, continued, as perched on the top of an exposed cliff, too
conspicuous an object to escape the sharp eyes of the Highlanders, when they had time to look a little around
them. We were apprized he was discovered, by a wild and loud halloo set up among the assembled victors,
three or four of whom instantly plunged into the copsewood, and ascended the rocky side of the hill in
different directions towards the place where they had discovered this whimsical apparition.
Those who arrived first within gunshot of poor Andrew, did not trouble themselves to offer him any
assistance in the ticklish posture of his affairs, but levelling their long Spanishbarrelled guns, gave him to
understand, by signs which admitted of no misconstruction, that he must contrive to come down and submit
himself to their mercy, or to be marked at from beneath, like a regimental target set up for ballpractice. With
such a formidable hint for venturous exertion, Andrew Fairservice could no longer hesitate; the more
imminent peril overcame his sense of that which seemed less inevitable, and he began to descend the cliff at
all risks, clutching to the ivy and oak stumps, and projecting fragments of rock, with an almost feverish
anxiety, and never failing, as circumstances left him a hand at liberty, to extend it to the plaided gentry below
in an attitude of supplication, as if to deprecate the discharge of their levelled firearms. In a word, the fellow,
under the influence of a counteracting motive for terror, achieved a safe descent from his perilous eminence,
which, I verily believe, nothing but the fear of instant death could have moved him to attempt. The awkward
mode of Andrew's descent greatly amused the Highlanders below, who fired a shot or two while he was
engaged in it, without the purpose of injuring him, as I believe, but merely to enhance the amusement they
derived from his extreme terror, and the superlative exertions of agility to which it excited him.
At length he attained firm and comparatively level ground or rather, to speak more correctly, his foot
slipping at the last point of descent, he fell on the earth at his full length, and was raised by the assistance of
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the Highlanders, who stood to receive him, and who, ere he gained his legs, stripped him not only of the
whole contents of his pockets, but of periwig, hat, coat, doublet, stockings, and shoes, performing the feat
with such admirable celerity, that, although he fell on his back a wellclothed and decent burgherseeming
servingman, he arose a forked, uncased, baldpated, beggarlylooking scarecrow. Without respect to the
pain which his undefended toes experienced from the sharp encounter of the rocks over which they hurried
him, those who had detected Andrew proceeded to drag him downward towards the road through all the
intervening obstacles.
In the course of their descent, Mr. Jarvie and I became exposed to their lynxeyed observation, and instantly
halfadozen of armed Highlanders thronged around us, with drawn dirks and swords pointed at our faces
and throats, and cocked pistols presented against our bodies. To have offered resistance would have been
madness, especially as we had no weapons capable of supporting such a demonstration. We therefore
submitted to our fate; and with great roughness on the part of those who assisted at our toilette, were in the
act of being reduced to as unsophisticated a state (to use King Lear's phrase) as the plumeless biped Andrew
Fairservice, who stood shivering between fear and cold at a few yards' distance. Good chance, however,
saved us from this extremity of wretchedness; for, just as I had yielded up my cravat (a smart Steinkirk, by
the way, and richly laced), and the Bailie had been disrobed of the fragments of his ridingcoatenter
Dougal, and the scene was changed. By a high tone of expostulation, mixed with oaths and threats, as far as I
could conjecture the tenor of his language from the violence of his gestures, he compelled the plunderers,
however reluctant, not only to give up their further depredations on our property, but to restore the spoil they
had already appropriated. He snatched my cravat from the fellow who had seized it, and twisted it (in the zeal
of his restitution) around my neck with such suffocating energy as made me think that he had not only been,
during his residence at Glasgow, a substitute of the jailor, but must moreover have taken lessons as an
apprentice of the hangman. He flung the tattered remnants of Mr. Jarvie's coat around his shoulders, and as
more Highlanders began to flock towards us from the high road, he led the way downwards, directing and
commanding the others to afford us, but particularly the Bailie, the assistance necessary to our descending
with comparative ease and safety. It was, however, in vain that Andrew Fairservice employed his lungs in
obsecrating a share of Dougal's protection, or at least his interference to procure restoration of his shoes.
``Na, na,'' said Dougal in reply, ``she's nae gentle pody, I trow; her petters hae ganged parefoot, or she's
muckle mista'en.'' And, leaving Andrew to follow at his leisure, or rather at such leisure as the surrounding
crowd were pleased to indulge him with, he hurried us down to the pathway in which the skirmish had been
fought, and hastened to present us as additional captives to the female leader of his band.
We were dragged before her accordingly, Dougal fighting, struggling, screaming, as if he were the party most
apprehensive of hurt, and repulsing, by threats and efforts, all those who attempted to take a nearer interest in
our capture than he seemed to do himself. At length we were placed before the heroine of the day, whose
appearance, as well as those of the savage, uncouth, yet martial figures who surrounded us, struck me, to own
the truth, with considerable apprehension. I do not know if Helen MacGregor had personally mingled in the
fray, and indeed I was afterwards given to understand the contrary; but the specks of blood on her brow, her
hands and naked arms, as well as on the blade of her sword which she continued to hold in her handher
flushed countenance, and the disordered state of the raven locks which escaped from under the red bonnet
and plume that formed her headdress, seemed all to intimate that she had taken an immediate share in the
conflict. Her keen black eyes and features expressed an imagination inflamed by the pride of gratified
revenge, and the triumph of victory. Yet there was nothing positively sanguinary, or cruel, in her deportment;
and she reminded me, when the immediate alarm of the interview was over, of some of the paintings I had
seen of the inspired heroines in the Catholic churches of France. She was not, indeed, sufficiently beautiful
for a Judith, nor had she the inspired expression of features which painters have given to Deborah, or to the
wife of Heber the Kenite, at whose feet the strong oppressor of Israel, who dwelled in Harosheth of the
Gentiles, bowed down, fell, and lay a dead man. Nevertheless, the enthusiasm by which she was agitated
gave her countenance and deportment, wildly dignified in themselves, an air which made her approach nearly
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to the ideas of those wonderful artists who gave to the eye the heroines of Scripture history.
I was uncertain in what terms to accost a personage so uncommon, when Mr. Jarvie, breaking the ice with a
preparatory cough (for the speed with which he had been brought into her presence had again impeded his
respiration), addressed her as follows:``Uh! uh! I am very happy to have this joyful opportunity'' (a
quaver in his voice strongly belied the emphasis which he studiously laid on the word joyful) ``this joyful
occasion,'' he resumed, trying to give the adjective a more suitable accentuation, ``to wish my kinsman
Robin's wife a very good morningUh! uh!How's a' wi' ye?'' (by this time he had talked himself into
his usual jogtrot manner, which exhibited a mixture of familiarity and selfimportance) ``How's a' wi'
ye this lang time? Ye'll hae forgotten me, Mrs. MacGregor Campbell, as your cousinuh! uh!but ye'll
mind my father, Deacon Nicol Jarvie, in the Saut Market o' Glasgow?an honest man he was, and a
sponsible, and respectit you and yours. Sae, as I said before, I am right glad to see you, Mrs. MacGregor
Campbell, as my kinsman's wife. I wad crave the liberty of a kinsman to salute you, but that your gillies keep
such a dolefu' fast haud o' my arms, and, to speak Heaven's truth and a magistrate's, ye wadna be the waur of
a cogfu' o' water before ye welcomed your friends.''
There was something in the familiarity of this introduction which ill suited the exalted state of temper of the
person to whom it was addressed, then busied with distributing dooms of death, and warm from conquest in a
perilous encounter.
``What fellow are you,'' she said, ``that dare to claim kindred with the MacGregor, and neither wear his dress
nor speak his language?What are you, that have the tongue and the habit of the hound, and yet seek to lie
down with the deer?''
``I dinna ken,'' said the undaunted Bailie, ``if the kindred has ever been weel redd out to you yet,
cousinbut it's ken'd, and can be prov'd. My mother, Elspeth MacFarlane, was the wife of my father,
Deacon Nicol Jarviepeace be wi' them baith!and Elspeth was the daughter of Parlane MacFarlane, at
the Sheeling o' Loch Sloy. Now, this Parlane MacFarlane, as his surviving daughter Maggy MacFarlane, alias
MacNab, wha married Duncan MacNab o' Stuckavrallachan, can testify, stood as near to your gudeman,
Robert MacGregor, as in the fourth degree of kindred, for''
The virago lopped the genealogical tree, by demanding haughtily, ``If a stream of rushing water
acknowledged any relation with the portion withdrawn from it for the mean domestic uses of those who dwelt
on its banks?''
``Vera true, kinswoman,'' said the Bailie; ``but for a' that, the burn wad be glad to hae the milldam back again
in simmer, when the chuckiestanes are white in the sun. I ken weel eneugh you Hieland folk haud us
Glasgow people light and cheap for our language and our claes;but everybody speaks their native tongue
that they learned in infancy; and it would be a daftlike thing to see me wi' my fat wame in a short Hieland
coat, and my puir short houghs gartered below the knee, like ane o' your langlegged gillies. Mair by token,
kinswoman,'' he continued, in defiance of various intimations by which Dougal seemed to recommend
silence, as well as of the marks of impatience which the Amazon evinced at his loquacity, ``I wad hae ye to
mind that the king's errand whiles comes in the cadger's gate, and that, for as high as ye may think o' the
gudeman, as it's right every wife should honour her husbandthere's Scripture warrant for thatyet as
high as ye haud him, as I was saying, I hae been serviceable to Rob ere now;forbye a set o' pearlins I sent
yourself when ye was gaun to be married, and when Rob was an honest weeldoing drover, and nane o' this
unlawfu' wark, wi' fighting, and flashes, and fluffgibs, disturbing the king's peace and disarming his
soldiers.''
He had apparently touched on a key which his kinswoman could not brook. She drew herself up to her full
height, and betrayed the acuteness of her feelings by a laugh of mingled scorn and bitterness.
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``Yes,'' she said, ``you, and such as you, might claim a relation to us, when we stooped to be the paltry
wretches fit to exist under your dominion, as your hewers of wood and drawers of waterto find cattle for
your banquets, and subjects for your laws to oppress and trample on. But now we are free free by the
very act which left us neither house nor hearth, food nor coveringwhich bereaved me of allof
alland makes me groan when I think I must still cumber the earth for other purposes than those of
vengeance. And I will carry on the work, this day has so well commenced, by a deed that shall break all
bands between MacGregor and the Lowland churls. Here AllanDougalbind these Sassenachs neck
and heel together, and throw them into the Highland Loch to seek for their Highland kinsfolk.''
The Bailie, alarmed at this mandate, was commencing an expostulation, which probably would have only
inflamed the violent passions of the person whom he addressed, when Dougal threw himself between them,
and in his own language, which he spoke with a fluency and rapidity strongly contrasted by the slow,
imperfect, and idiotlike manner in which he expressed himself in English, poured forth what I doubt not was
a very animated pleading in our behalf.
His mistress replied to him, or rather cut short his harangue, by exclaiming in English (as if determined to
make us taste in anticipation the full bitterness of death)``Base dog, and son of a dog, do you dispute my
commands? Should I tell ye to cut out their tongues and put them into each other's throats, to try which would
there best knap Southron, or to tear out their hearts and put them into each other's breasts, to see which would
there best plot treason against the MacGregorand such things have been done of old in the day of
revenge, when our fathers had wrongs to redressShould I command you to do this, would it be your part
to dispute my orders?''
``To be sure, to be sure,'' Dougal replied, with accents of profound submission; ``her pleasure suld be
donetat's but reason; but an it weretat is, an it could be thought the same to her to coup the illfaured
loon of ta redcoat Captain, and hims corporal Cramp, and twa three o' the redcoats, into the loch, herself
wad do't wi' muckle mair great satisfaction than to hurt ta honest civil shentlemans as were friends to the
Gregarach, and came up on the Chiefs assurance, and not to do no treason, as herself could testify.''
The lady was about to reply, when a few wild strains of a pibroch were heard advancing up the road from
Aberfoil, the same probably which had reached the ears of Captain Thornton's rearguard, and determined
him to force his way onward rather than return to the village, on finding the pass occupied. The skirmish
being of very short duration, the armed men who followed this martial melody, had not, although quickening
their march when they heard the firing, been able to arrive in time sufficient to take any share in the
rencontre. The victory, therefore, was complete without them, and they now arrived only to share in the
triumph of their countrymen.
There was a marked difference betwixt the appearance of these new comers and that of the party by which
our escort had been defeatedand it was greatly in favour of the former. Among the Highlanders who
surrounded the Chieftainess, if I may presume to call her so without offence to grammar, were men in the
extremity of age, boys scarce able to bear a sword, and even womenall, in short, whom the last necessity
urges to take up arms; and it added a shade of bitter shame to the defection which clouded Thornton's manly
countenance, when he found that the numbers and position of a foe, otherwise so despicable, had enabled
them to conquer his brave veterans. But the thirty or forty Highlanders who now joined the others, were all
men in the prime of youth or manhood, active cleanmade fellows, whose short hose and belted plaids set out
their sinewy limbs to the best advantage. Their arms were as superior to those of the first party as their dress
and appearance. The followers of the female Chief had axes, scythes, and other antique weapons, in aid of
their guns; and some had only clubs, daggers, and long knives. But of the second party, most had pistols at
the belt, and almost all had dirks hanging at the pouches which they wore in front. Each had a good gun in his
hand, and a broadsword by his side, besides a stout round target, made of light wood, covered with leather,
and curiously studded with brass, and having a steel spike screwed into the centre. These hung on their left
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shoulder during a march, or while they were engaged in exchanging fire with the enemy, and were worn on
their left arm when they charged with sword in hand.
But it was easy to see that this chosen band had not arrived from a victory such as they found their
illappointed companions possessed of. The pibroch sent forth occasionally a few wailing notes expressive of
a very different sentiment from triumph; and when they appeared before the wife of their Chieftain, it was in
silence, and with downcast and melancholy looks. They paused when they approached her, and the pipes
again sent forth the same wild and melancholy strain.
Helen rushed towards them with a countenance in which anger was mingled with apprehension.``What
means this, Alaster?'' she said to the minstrel``why a lament in the moment of
victory?RobertHamishwhere's the MacGregor? where's your father?''
Her sons, who led the band, advanced with slow and irresolute steps towards her, and murmured a few words
in Gaelic, at hearing which she set up a shriek that made the rocks ring again, in which all the women and
boys joined, clapping their hands and yelling as if their lives had been expiring in the sound. The mountain
echoes, silent since the military sounds of battle had ceased, had now to answer these frantic and discordant
shrieks of sorrow, which drove the very nightbirds from their haunts in the rocks, as if they were startled to
hear orgies more hideous and illomened than their own, performed in the face of open day.
``Taken!'' repeated Helen, when the clamour had subsided ``Taken!captive!and you live to say
so?Coward dogs! did I nurse you for this, that you should spare your blood on your father's enemies? or
see him prisoner, and come back to tell it?''
The sons of MacGregor, to whom this expostulation was addressed, were youths, of whom the eldest had
hardly attained his twentieth year. Hamish, or James, the elder of these youths, was the tallest by a head, and
much handsomer than his brother; his lightblue eyes, with a profusion of fair hair, which streamed from
under his smart blue bonnet, made his whole appearance a most favourable specimen of the Highland youth.
The younger was called Robert; but, to distinguish him from his father, the Highlanders added the epithet
Oig, or the young. Dark hair, and dark features, with a ruddy glow of health and animation, and a form strong
and wellset beyond his years, completed the sketch of the young mountaineer.
Both now stood before their mother with countenances clouded with grief and shame, and listened, with the
most respectful submission, to the reproaches with which she loaded them. At length when her resentment
appeared in some degree to subside, the eldest, speaking in English, probably that he might not be understood
by their followers, endeavoured respectfully to vindicate himself and his brother from his mother's
reproaches. I was so near him as to comprehend much of what he said; and, as it was of great consequence to
me to be possessed of information in this strange crisis, I failed not to listen as attentively as I could.
``The MacGregor,'' his son stated, ``had been called out upon a trysting with a Lowland hallion, who came
with a token from''he muttered the name very low, but I thought it sounded like my own. ``The
MacGregor,'' he said, ``accepted of the invitation, but commanded the Saxon who brought the message to be
detained, as a hostage that good faith should be observed to him. Accordingly he went to the place of
appointment'' (which had some wild Highland name that I cannot remember), ``attended only by Angus
Breck and Little Rory, commanding no one to follow him. Within half an hour Angus Breck came back with
the doleful tidings that the MacGregor had been surprised and made prisoner by a party of Lennox militia,
under Galbraith of Garschattachin.'' He added, ``that Galbraith, on being threatened by MacGregor, who upon
his capture menaced him with retaliation on the person of the hostage, had treated the threat with great
contempt, replying, `Let each side hang his man; we'll hang the thief, and your catherans may hang the
gauger, Rob, and the country will be rid of two damned things at once, a wild Highlander and a revenue
officer.' Angus Breck, less carefully looked to than his master, contrived to escape from the hands of the
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captors, after having been in their custody long enough to hear this discussion, and to bring off the news.''
``And did you learn this, you falsehearted traitor,'' said the wife of MacGregor, ``and not instantly rush to
your father's rescue, to bring him off, or leave your body on the place?''
The young MacGregor modestly replied, by representing the very superior force of the enemy, and stated,
that as they made no preparation for leaving the country, he had fallen back up the glen with the purpose of
collecting a band sufficient to attempt a rescue with some tolerable chance of success. At length he said, ``the
militiamen would quarter, he understood, in the neighbouring house of Gartartan, or the old castle in the port
of Monteith, or some other stronghold, which, although strong and defensible, was nevertheless capable of
being surprised, could they but get enough of men assembled for the purpose.''
I understood afterwards that the rest of the freebooter's followers were divided into two strong bands, one
destined to watch the remaining garrison of Inversnaid, a party of which, under Captain Thornton, had been
defeated; and another to show front to the Highland clans who had united with the regular troops and
Lowlanders in this hostile and combined invasion of that mountainous and desolate territory, which lying
between the lakes of Loch Lomond, Loch Katrine, and Loch Ard, was at this time currently called Rob Roy's,
or the MacGregor country. Messengers were despatched in great haste, to concentrate, as I supposed, their
forces, with a view to the purposed attack on the Lowlanders; and the dejection and despair, at first visible on
each countenance, gave place to the hope of rescuing their leader, and to the thirst of vengeance. It was under
the burning influence of the latter passion that the wife of MacGregor commanded that the hostage
exchanged for his safety should be brought into her presence. I believe her sons had kept this unfortunate
wretch out of her sight, for fear of the consequences; but if it was so, their humane precaution only postponed
his fate. They dragged forward at her summons a wretch already half dead with terror, in whose agonised
features I recognised, to my horror and astonishment, my old acquaintance Morris.
He fell prostrate before the female Chief with an effort to clasp her knees, from which she drew back, as if his
touch had been pollution, so that all he could do in token of the extremity of his humiliation, was to kiss the
hem of her plaid. I never heard entreaties for life poured forth with such agony of spirit. The ecstasy of fear
was such, that instead of paralysing his tongue, as on ordinary occasions, it even rendered him eloquent; and,
with cheeks pale as ashes, hands compressed in agony, eyes that seemed to be taking their last look of all
mortal objects, he protested, with the deepest oaths, his total ignorance of any design on the person of Rob
Roy, whom he swore he loved and honoured as his own soul. In the inconsistency of his terror, he said he
was but the agent of others, and he muttered the name of Rashleigh. He prayed but for lifefor life he
would give all he had in the world: it was but life he asked life, if it were to be prolonged under tortures
and privations: he asked only breath, though it should be drawn in the damps of the lowest caverns of their
hills.
It is impossible to describe the scorn, the loathing, and contempt, with which the wife of MacGregor regarded
this wretched petitioner for the poor boon of existence.
``I could have bid ye live,'' she said, ``had life been to you the same weary and wasting burden that it is to
methat it is to every noble and generous mind. But youwretch! you could creep through the world
unaffected by its various disgraces, its ineffable miseries, its constantly accumulating masses of crime and
sorrow: you could live and enjoy yourself, while the nobleminded are betrayedwhile nameless and
birthless villains tread on the neck of the brave and the longdescended: you could enjoy yourself, like a
butcher's dog in the shambles, battening on garbage, while the slaughter of the oldest and best went on around
you! This enjoyment you shall not live to partake of!you shall die, base dog! and that before yon cloud
has passed over the sun.''
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She gave a brief command in Gaelic to her attendants, two of whom seized upon the prostrate suppliant, and
hurried him to the brink of a cliff which overhung the flood. He set up the most piercing and dreadful cries
that fear ever utteredI may well term them dreadful, for they haunted my sleep for years afterwards. As
the murderers, or executioners, call them as you will, dragged him along, he recognised me even in that
moment of horror, and exclaimed, in the last articulate words I ever heard him utter, ``Oh, Mr. Osbaldistone,
save me!save me!''
I was so much moved by this horrid spectacle, that, although in momentary expectation of sharing his fate, I
did attempt to speak in his behalf, but, as might have been expected, my interference was sternly disregarded.
The victim was held fast by some, while others, binding a large heavy stone in a plaid, tied it round his neck,
and others again eagerly stripped him of some part of his dress. Halfnaked, and thus manacled, they hurled
him into the lake, there about twelve feet deep, with a loud halloo of vindictive triumph,above which,
however, his last deathshriek, the yell of mortal agony, was distinctly heard. The heavy burden splashed in
the darkblue waters, and the Highlanders, with their poleaxes and swords, watched an instant to guard,
lest, extricating himself from the load to which he was attached, the victim might have struggled to regain the
shore. But the knot had been securely boundthe wretched man sunk without effort; the waters, which his
fall had disturbed, settled calmly over him, and the unit of that life for which he had pleaded so strongly, was
for ever withdrawn from the sum of human existence.
CHAPTER THIRTYSECOND.
And be he safe restored ere evening set,
Or, if there's vengeance in an injured heart,
And power to wreak it in an armed hand,
Your land shall ache for't.
Old Play.
I know not why it is that a single deed of violence and cruelty affects our nerves more than when these are
exercised on a more extended scale. I had seen that day several of my brave countrymen fall in battle: it
seemed to me that they met a lot appropriate to humanity, and my bosom, though thrilling with interest, was
affected with nothing of that sickening horror with which I beheld the unfortunate Morris put to death without
resistance, and in cold blood. I looked at my companion, Mr. Jarvie, whose face reflected the feelings which
were painted in mine. Indeed he could not so suppress his horror, but that the words escaped him in a low and
broken whisper,
``I take up my protest against this deed, as a bloody and cruel murderit is a cursed deed, and God will
avenge it in his due way and time.''
``Then you do not fear to follow?'' said the virago, bending on him a look of death, such as that with which a
hawk looks at his prey ere he pounces.
``Kinswoman,'' said the Bailie, ``nae man willingly wad cut short his thread of life before the end o' his pirn
was fairly measured off on the yarnwinlesAnd I hae muckle to do, an I be spared, in this
warldpublic and private business, as weel that belonging to the magistracy as to my ain particular; and
nae doubt I hae some to depend on me, as puir Mattie, wha is an orphanShe's a farawa' cousin o' the
Laird o' Limmerfield. Sae that, laying a' this thegitherskin for skin, yea all that a man hath, will he give
for his life.''
``And were I to set you at liberty,'' said the imperious dame, ``what name could you give to the drowning of
that Saxon dog?''
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``Uh! uh!hem! hem!'' said the Bailie, clearing his throat as well as he could, ``I suld study to say as little
on that score as might beleast said is sunest mended.''
``But if you were called on by the courts, as you term them, of justice,'' she again demanded, ``what then
would be your answer?''
The Bailie looked this way and that way, like a person who meditates an escape, and then answered in the
tone of one who, seeing no means of accomplishing a retreat, determines to stand the brunt of battle``I
see what you are driving me to the wa' about. But I'll tell you't plain, kinswoman,I behoved just to speak
according to my ain conscience; and though your ain gudeman, that I wish had been here for his ain sake and
mine, as wool as the puir Hieland creature Dougal, can tell ye that Nicol Jarvie can wink as hard at a friend's
failings as onybody, yet I'se tell ye, kinswoman, mine's ne'er be the tongue to belie my thought; and sooner
than say that yonder puir wretch was lawfully slaughtered, I wad consent to be laid beside himthough I
think ye are the first Hieland woman wad mint sic a doom to her husband's kinsman but four times removed.''
It is probable that the tone and firmness assumed by the Bailie in his last speech was better suited to make an
impression on the hard heart of his kinswoman than the tone of supplication he had hitherto assumed, as
gems can be cut with steel, though they resist softer metals. She commanded us both to be placed before her.
``Your name,'' she said to me, ``is Osbaldistone?the dead dog, whose death you have witnessed, called
you so.''
``My name is Osbaldistone,'' was my answer.
``Rashleigh, then, I suppose, is your Christian name?'' she pursued.
``No,my name is Francis.''
``But you know Rashleigh Osbaldistone,'' she continued. ``He is your brother, if I mistake not,at least
your kinsman and near friend.''
``He is my kinsman,'' I replied, ``but not my friend. We were lately engaged together in a rencontre, when we
were separated by a person whom I understand to be your husband. My blood is hardly yet dried on his
sword, and the wound on my side is yet green. I have little reason to acknowledge him as a friend.''
``Then,'' she replied, ``if a stranger to his intrigues, you can go in safety to Garschattachin and his party
without fear of being detained, and carry them a message from the wife of the MacGregor?''
I answered that I knew no reasonable cause why the militia gentlemen should detain me; that I had no reason,
on my own account, to fear being in their hands; and that if my going on her embassy would act as a
protection to my friend and servant, who were here prisoners, I was ready to set out directly.'' I took the
opportunity to say, ``That I had come into this country on her husband's invitation, and his assurance that he
would aid me in some important matters in which I was interested; that my companion, Mr. Jarvie, had
accompanied me on the same errand.''
``And I wish Mr. Jarvie's boots had been fu' o' boiling water when he drew them on for sic a purpose,''
interrupted the Bailie.
``You may read your father,'' said Helen MacGregor, turning to her sons, ``in what this young Saxon tells
usWise only when the bonnet is on his head, and the sword is in his hand, he never exchanges the tartan
for the broadcloth, but he runs himself into the miserable intrigues of the Lowlanders, and becomes again,
after all he has suffered, their agenttheir tool their slave.''
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CHAPTER THIRTYSECOND. 213
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``Add, madam,'' said I, ``and their benefactor.''
``Be it so,'' she said; ``for it is the most empty title of them all, since he has uniformly sown benefits to reap a
harvest of the most foul ingratitude.But enough of this. I shall cause you to be guided to the enemy's
outposts. Ask for their commander, and deliver him this message from me, Helen MacGregor; that if they
injure a hair of MacGregor's head, and if they do not set him at liberty within the space of twelve hours, there
is not a lady in the Lennox but shall before Christmas cry the coronach for them she will be loath to
lose,there is not a farmer but shall sing wellawa over a burnt barnyard and an empty byre,there is
not a laird nor heritor shall lay his head on the pillow at night with the assurance of being a live man in the
morning,and, to begin as we are to end, so soon as the term is expired, I will send them this Glasgow
Bailie, and this Saxon Captain, and all the rest of my prisoners, each bundled in a plaid, and chopped into as
many pieces as there are checks in the tartan.''
As she paused in her denunciation, Captain Thornton, who was within hearing, added, with great coolness,
``Present my complimentsCaptain Thornton's of the Royals, compliments to the commanding officer,
and tell him to do his duty and secure his prisoner, and not waste a thought upon me. If I have been fool
enough to have been led into an ambuscade by these artful savages, I am wise enough to know how to die for
it without disgracing the service. I am only sorry for my poor fellows,'' he said, ``that have fallen into such
butcherly hands.''
``Whist! whist!'' exclaimed the Bailie; ``are ye weary o' your life?Ye'll gie my service to the commanding
officer, Mr. Osbaldistone Bailie Nicol Jarvie's service, a magistrate o' Glasgow, as his father the deacon
was before himand tell him, here are a wheen honest men in great trouble, and like to come to mair; and
the best thing he can do for the common good, will be just to let Rob come his wa's up the glen, and nae mair
about it. There's been some ill dune here already; but as it has lighted chiefly on the gauger, it winna be
muckle worth making a stir about.''
With these very opposite injunctions from the parties chiefly interested in the success of my embassy, and
with the reiterated charge of the wife of MacGregor to remember and detail every word of her injunctions, I
was at length suffered to depart; and Andrew Fairservice, chiefly, I believe, to get rid of his clamorous
supplications, was permitted to attend me. Doubtful, however, that I might use my horse as a means of escape
from my guides, or desirous to retain a prize of some value, I was given to understand that I was to perform
my journey on foot, escorted by Hamish MacGregor, the elder brother, who, with two followers, attended, as
well to show me the way, as to reconnoitre the strength and position of the enemy. Dougal had been at first
ordered on this party, but he contrived to elude the service, with the purpose, as we afterwards understood, of
watching over Mr. Jarvie, whom, according to his wild principles of fidelity, he considered as entitled to his
good offices, from having once acted in some measure as his patron or master.
After walking with great rapidity about an hour, we arrived at an eminence covered with brushwood, which
gave us a commanding prospect down the valley, and a full view of the post which the militia occupied.
Being chiefly cavalry, they had judiciously avoided any attempt to penetrate the pass which had been so
unsuccessfully essayed by Captain Thornton. They had taken up their situation with some military skill, on a
rising ground in the centre of the little valley of Aberfoil, through which the river Forth winds its earliest
course, and which is formed by two ridges of hills, faced with barricades of limestone rock, intermixed with
huge masses of breecia, or pebbles imbedded in some softer substance which has hardened around them like
mortar; and surrounded by the more lofty mountains in the distance. These ridges, however, left the valley of
breadth enough to secure the cavalry from any sudden surprise by the mountaineers and they had stationed
sentinels and outposts at proper distances from this main body, in every direction, so that they might secure
full time to mount and get under arms upon the least alarm. It was not, indeed, expected at that time, that
Highlanders would attack cavalry in an open plain, though late events have shown that they may do so with
success.*
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CHAPTER THIRTYSECOND. 214
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* The affairs of Prestonpans and Falkirk are probably alluded to, which * marks the time of writing the
Memoirs as subsequent to 1745.
When I first knew the Highlanders, they had almost a superstitious dread of a mounted trooper, the horse
being so much more fierce and imposing in his appearance than the little shelties of their own hills, and
moreover being trained, as the more ignorant mountaineers believed, to fight with his feet and his teeth. The
appearance of the piequeted horses, feeding in this little valethe forms of the soldiers, as they sate, stood,
or walked, in various groups in the vicinity of the beautiful river, and of the bare yet romantic ranges of rock
which hedge in the landscape on either side,formed a noble foreground; while far to the eastward the eye
caught a glance of the lake of Menteith; and Stirling Castle, dimly seen along with the blue and distant line of
the Ochil Mountains, closed the scene.
After gazing on this landscape with great earnestness, young MacGregor intimated to me that I was to
descend to the station of the militia and execute my errand to their commander, enjoining me at the same
time, with a menacing gesture, neither to inform them who had guided me to that place, nor where I had
parted from my escort. Thus tutored, I descended towards the military post, followed by Andrew, who, only
retaining his breeches and stockings of the English costume, without a hat, barelegged, with brogues on his
feet, which Dougal had given him out of compassion, and having a tattered plaid to supply the want of all
upper garments, looked as if he had been playing the part of a Highland TomofBedlam. We had not
proceeded far before we became visible to one of the videttes, who, riding towards us, presented his carabine
and commanded me to stand. I obeyed, and when the soldier came up, desired to be conducted to his
commandingofficer. I was immediately brought where a circle of officers, sitting upon the grass, seemed in
attendance upon one of superior rank. He wore a cuirass of polished steel, over which were drawn the
insignia of the ancient Order of the Thistle. My friend Garschattachin, and many other gentlemen, some in
uniform, others in their ordinary dress, but all armed and well attended, seemed to receive their orders from
this person of distinction. Many servants in rich liveries, apparently a part of his household, were also in
waiting.
Having paid to this nobleman the respect which his rank appeared to demand, I acquainted him that I had
been an involuntary witness to the king's soldiers having suffered a defeat from the Highlanders at the pass of
LochArd (such I had learned was the name of the place where Mr. Thornton was made prisoner), and that
the victors threatened every species of extremity to those who had fallen into their power, as well as to the
Low Country in general, unless their Chief, who had that morning been made prisoner, were returned to them
uninjured. The Duke (for he whom I addressed was of no lower rank) listened to me with great composure,
and then replied, that he should be extremely sorry to expose the unfortunate gentlemen who had been made
prisoners to the cruelty of the barbarians into whose hands they had fallen, but that it was folly to suppose
that he would deliver up the very author of all these disorders and offences, and so encourage his followers in
their license. ``You may return to those who sent you,'' he proceeded, ``and inform them, that I shall certainly
cause Rob Roy Campbell, whom they call MacGregor, to be executed, by break of day, as an outlaw taken in
arms, and deserving death by a thousand acts of violence; that I should be most justly held unworthy of my
situation and commission did I act otherwise; that I shall know how to protect the country against their
insolent threats of violence; and that if they injure a hair of the head of any of the unfortunate gentlemen
whom an unlucky accident has thrown into their power, I will take such ample vengeance, that the very
stones of their glens shall sing woe for it this hundred years to come!''
I humbly begged leave to remonstrate respecting the honourable mission imposed on me, and touched upon
the obvious danger attending it, when the noble commander replied, ``that such being the case, I might send
my servant.''
``The deil be in my feet,'' said Andrew, without either having respect to the presence in which he stood, or
waiting till I replied``the deil be in my feet, if I gang my tae's length. Do the folk think I hae another
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CHAPTER THIRTYSECOND. 215
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thrapple in my pouch after John Highlandman's sneeked this ane wi' his joctaleg? or that I can dive doun at
the tae side of a Highland loch and rise at the tother, like a shelldrake? Na, nailk ane for himsell, and
God for us a'. Folk may just make a page o' their ain age, and serve themsells till their bairns grow up, and
gang their ain errands for Andrew. Rob Roy never came near the parish of Dreepdaily, to steal either pippin
or pear frae me or mine.''
Silencing my follower with some difficulty, I represented to the Duke the great danger Captain Thornton and
Mr. Jarvie would certainly be exposed to, and entreated he would make me the bearer of such modified terms
as might be the means of saving their lives. I assured him I should decline no danger if I could be of service;
but from what I had heard and seen, I had little doubt they would be instantly murdered should the chief of
the outlaws suffer death.
The Duke was obviously much affected. ``It was a hard case,'' he said, ``and he felt it as such; but he had a
paramount duty to perform to the countryRob Roy must die!''
I own it was not without emotion that I heard this threat of instant death to my acquaintance Campbell, who
had so often testified his goodwill towards me. Nor was I singular in the feeling, for many of those around
the Duke ventured to express themselves in his favour. ``It would be more advisable,'' they said, ``to send him
to Stirling Castle, and there detain him a close prisoner, as a pledge for the submission and dispersion of his
gang. It were a great pity to expose the country to be plundered, which, now that the long nights approached,
it would be found very difficult to prevent, since it was impossible to guard every point, and the Highlanders
were sure to select those that were left exposed.'' They added, that there was great hardship in leaving the
unfortunate prisoners to the almost certain doom of massacre denounced against them, which no one doubted
would be executed in the first burst of revenge.
Garschattachin ventured yet farther, confiding in the honour of the nobleman whom he addressed, although
he knew he had particular reasons for disliking their prisoner. ``Rob Roy,'' he said, ``though a kittle neighbour
to the Low Country, and particularly obnoxious to his Grace, and though he maybe carried the catheran trade
farther than ony man o' his day, was an auldfarrand carle, and there might be some means of making him
hear reason; whereas his wife and sons were reckless fiends, without either fear or mercy about them, and, at
the head of a' his limmer loons, would be a worse plague to the country than ever he had been.''
``Pooh! pooh!'' replied his Grace, ``it is the very sense and cunning of this fellow which has so long
maintained his reign a mere Highland robber would have been put down in as many weeks as he has
flourished years. His gang, without him, is no more to be dreaded as a permanent annoyanceit will no
longer existthan a wasp without its head, which may sting once perhaps, but is instantly crushed into
annihilation.''
Garschattachin was not so easily silenced. ``I am sure, my Lord Duke,'' he replied, ``I have no favour for Rob,
and he as little for me, seeing he has twice cleaned out my ain byres, beside skaith amang my tenants; but,
however''
``But, however, Garschattachin,'' said the Duke, with a smile of peculiar expression, ``I fancy you think such
a freedom may be pardoned in a friend's friend, and Rob's supposed to be no enemy to Major Galbraith's
friends over the water.''
``If it be so, my lord,'' said Garschattachin, in the same tone of jocularity, ``it's no the warst thing I have heard
of him. But I wish we heard some news from the clans, that we have waited for sae lang. I vow to God they'll
keep a Hielandman's word wi' usI never ken'd them betterit's ill drawing boots upon trews.''
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CHAPTER THIRTYSECOND. 216
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``I cannot believe it,'' said the Duke. ``These gentlemen are known to be men of honour, and I must
necessarily suppose they are to keep their appointment. Send out two more horsemen to look for our friends.
We cannot, till their arrival, pretend to attack the pass where Captain Thornton has suffered himself to be
surprised, and which, to my knowledge, ten men on foot might make good against a regiment of the best
horse in EuropeMeanwhile let refreshments be given to the men.''
I had the benefit of this last order, the more necessary and acceptable, as I had tasted nothing since our hasty
meal at Aberfoil the evening before. The videttes who had been despatched returned without tidings of the
expected auxiliaries, and sunset was approaching, when a Highlander belonging to the clans whose
cooperation was expected, appeared as the bearer of a letter, which he delivered to the Duke with a most
profound conge'.
``Now will I wad a hogshead of claret,'' said Garschattachin, ``that this is a message to tell us that these
cursed Highlandmen, whom we have fetched here at the expense of so much plague and vexation, are going
to draw off, and leave us to do our own business if we can.''
``It is even so, gentlemen,'' said the Duke, reddening with indignation, after having perused the letter, which
was written upon a very dirty scrap of paper, but most punctiliously addressed, ``For the muchhonoured
hands of Ane High and Mighty Prince, the Duke,'' ``Our allies,'' continued the Duke, ``have deserted us,
gentlemen, and have made a separate peace with the enemy.''
``It's just the fate of all alliances,'' said Garschattachin, ``the Dutch were gaun to serve us the same gate, if we
had not got the start of them at Utrecht.''
``You are facetious, air,'' said the Duke, with a frown which showed how little he liked the pleasantry; ``but
our business is rather of a grave cut just now.I suppose no gentleman would advise our attempting to
penetrate farther into the country, unsupported either by friendly Highlanders, or by infantry from
Inversnaid?''
A general answer announced that the attempt would be perfect madness.
``Nor would there be great wisdom,'' the Duke added, ``in remaining exposed to a nightattack in this place. I
therefore propose that we should retreat to the house of Duchray and that of Gartartan, and keep safe and sure
watch and ward until morning. But before we separate, I will examine Rob Roy before you all, and make you
sensible, by your own eyes and ears, of the extreme unfitness of leaving him space for farther outrage.'' He
gave orders accordingly, and the prisoner was brought before him, his arms belted down above the elbow,
and secured to his body by a horsegirth buckled tight behind him. Two noncommissioned officers had hold
of him, one on each side, and two file of men with carabines and fixed bayonets attended for additional
security.
I had never seen this man in the dress of his country, which set in a striking point of view the peculiarities of
his form. A shockhead of red hair, which the hat and periwig of the Lowland costume had in a great
measure concealed, was seen beneath the Highland bonnet, and verified the epithet of Roy, or Red, by which
he was much better known in the Low Country than by any other, and is still, I suppose, best remembered.
The justice of the appellation was also vindicated by the appearance of that part of his limbs, from the bottom
of his kilt to the top of his short hose, which the fashion of his country dress left bare, and which was covered
with a fell of thick, short, red hair, especially around his knees, which resembled in this respect, as well as
from their sinewy appearance of extreme strength, the limbs of a redcoloured Highland bull. Upon the
whole, betwixt the effect produced by the change of dress, and by my having become acquainted with his real
and formidable character, his appearance had acquired to my eyes something so much wilder and more
striking than it before presented, that I could scarce recognise him to be the same person.
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CHAPTER THIRTYSECOND. 217
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His manner was bold, unconstrained unless by the actual bonds, haughty, and even dignified. He bowed to
the Duke, nodded to Garschattachin and others, and showed some surprise at seeing me among the party.
``It is long since we have met, Mr. Campbell,'' said the Duke.
``It is so, my Lord Duke; I could have wished it had been'' (looking at the fastening on his arms) ``when I
could have better paid the compliments I owe to your Grace;but there's a gude time coming.''
``No time like the time present, Mr. Campbell,'' answered the Duke, ``for the hours are fast flying that must
settle your last account with all mortal affairs. I do not say this to insult your distress; but you must be aware
yourself that you draw near the end of your career. I do not deny that you may sometimes have done less
harm than others of your unhappy trade, and that you may occasionally have exhibited marks of talent, and
even of a disposition which promised better things. But you are aware how long you have been the terror and
the oppressor of a peaceful neighbourhood, and by what acts of violence you have maintained and extended
your usurped authority. You know, in short, that you have deserved death, and that you must prepare for it.''
``My Lord,'' said Rob Roy, ``although I may well lay my misfortunes at your Grace's door, yet I will never
say that you yourself have been the wilful and witting author of them. My Lord, if I had thought sae, your
Grace would not this day have been sitting in judgment on me; for you have been three times within good
rifle distance of me when you were thinking but of the red deer, and few people have ken'd me miss my aim.
But as for them that have abused your Grace's ear, and set you up against a man that was ance as peacefu' a
man as ony in the land, and made your name the warrant for driving me to utter extremity,I have had
some amends of them, and, for a' that your Grace now says, I expect to live to hae mair.''
``I know,'' said the Duke, in rising anger, ``that you are a determined and impudent villain, who will keep his
oath if he swears to mischief; but it shall be my care to prevent you. You have no enemies but your own
wicked actions.''
``Had I called myself Grahame, instead of Campbell, I might have heard less about them,'' answered Rob
Roy, with dogged resolution.
``You will do well, sir,'' said the Duke, ``to warn your wife and family and followers, to beware how they use
the gentlemen now in their hands, as I will requite tenfold on them, and their kin and allies, the slightest
injury done to any of his Majesty's liege subjects.''
``My Lord,'' said Roy in answer, ``none of my enemies will allege that I have been a bloodthirsty man, and
were I now wi' my folk, I could rule four or five hundred wild Hielanders as easy as your Grace those eight or
ten lackeys and footboys But if your Grace is bent to take the head away from a house, ye may lay your
account there will be misrule amang the members.However, come o't what like, there's an honest man, a
kinsman o' my ain, maun come by nae skaith. Is there ony body here wad do a gude deed for
MacGregor?he may repay it, though his hands be now tied.''
The Highlander who had delivered the letter to the Duke replied, ``I'll do your will for you, MacGregor; and
I'll gang back up the glen on purpose.''
He advanced, and received from the prisoner a message to his wife, which, being in Gaelic, I did not
understand, but I had little doubt it related to some measures to be taken for the safety of Mr. Jarvie.
``Do you hear the fellow's impudence?'' said the Duke; ``he confides in his character of a messenger. His
conduct is of a piece with his master's, who invited us to make common cause against these freebooters, and
have deserted us so soon as the MacGregors have agreed to surrender the Balquhidder lands they were
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CHAPTER THIRTYSECOND. 218
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squabbling about.
No truth in plaids, no faith in tartan trews! Chameleonlike, they change a thousand hues.''
``Your great ancestor never said so, my Lord,'' answered Major Galbraith;``and, with submission, neither
would your Grace have occasion to say it, wad ye but be for beginning justice at the wellheadGie the
honest man his mear again Let every head wear it's ane bannet, and the distractions o' the Lennox wad be
mended wi' them o' the land.''
``Hush! hush! Garschattachin,'' said the Duke; ``this is language dangerous for you to talk to any one, and
especially to me; but I presume you reckon yourself a privileged person. Please to draw off your party
towards Gartartan; I shall myself see the prisoner escorted to Duchray, and send you orders tomorrow. You
will please grant no leave of absence to any of your troopers.''
``Here's auld ordering and counterordering,'' muttered Garschattachin between his teeth. ``But patience!
patience!we may ae day play at change seats, the king's coming.''
The two troops of cavalry now formed, and prepared to march off the ground, that they might avail
themselves of the remainder of daylight to get to their evening quarters. I received an intimation, rather than
an invitation, to attend the party; and I perceived, that, though no longer considered as a prisoner, I was yet
under some sort of suspicion. The times were indeed so dangerous,the great party questions of Jacobite
and Hanoverian divided the country so effectually,and the constant disputes and jealousies between the
Highlanders and Lowlanders, besides a number of inexplicable causes of feud which separated the great
leading families in Scotland from each other, occasioned such general suspicion, that a solitary and
unprotected stranger was almost sure to meet with something disagreeable in the course of his travels.
I acquiesced, however, in my destination with the best grace I could, consoling myself with the hope that I
might obtain from the captive freebooter some information concerning Rashleigh and his machinations. I
should do myself injustice did I not add, that my views were not merely selfish. I was too much interested in
my singular acquaintance not to be desirous of rendering him such services as his unfortunate situation might
demand, or admit of his receiving.
CHAPTER THIRTYTHIRD.
And when he came to broken brigg,
He bent his bow and swam;
And when he came to grass growing,
Set down his feet and ran.
Gil Morrice.
The echoes of the rocks and ravines, on either side, now rang to the trumpets of the cavalry, which, forming
themselves into two distinct bodies, began to move down the valley at a slow trot. That commanded by Major
Galbraith soon took to the right hand, and crossed the Forth, for the purpose of taking up the quarters
assigned them for the night, when they were to occupy, as I understood, an old castle in the vicinity. They
formed a lively object while crossing the stream, but were soon lost in winding up the bank on the opposite
side, which was clothed with wood.
We continued our march with considerable good order. To ensure the safe custody of the prisoner, the Duke
had caused him to be placed on horseback behind one of his retainers, called, as I was informed, Ewan of
Brigglands, one of the largest and strongest men who were present. A horsebelt, passed round the bodies of
both, and buckled before the yeoman's breast, rendered it impossible for Rob Roy to free himself from his
keeper. I was directed to keep close beside them, and accommodated for the purpose with a troophorse. We
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CHAPTER THIRTYTHIRD. 219
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were as closely surrounded by the soldiers as the width of the road would permit, and had always at least one,
if not two, on each side, with pistol in hand. Andrew Fairservice, furnished with a Highland pony, of which
they had made prey somewhere or other, was permitted to ride among the other domestics, of whom a great
number attended the line of march, though without falling into the ranks of the more regularly trained
troopers.
In this manner we travelled for a certain distance, until we arrived at a place where we also were to cross the
river. The Forth, as being the outlet of a lake, is of considerable depth, even where less important in point of
width, and the descent to the ford was by a broken precipitous ravine, which only permitted one horseman to
descend at once. The rear and centre of our small body halting on the bank while the front files passed down
in succession, produced a considerable delay, as is usual on such occasions, and even some confusion; for a
number of those riders, who made no proper part of the squadron, crowded to the ford without regularity, and
made the militia cavalry, although tolerably well drilled, partake in some degree of their own disorder.
It was while we were thus huddled together on the bank that I heard Rob Roy whisper to the man behind
whom he was placed on horseback, ``Your father, Ewan, wadna hae carried an auld friend to the shambles,
like a calf, for a' the Dukes in Christendom.''
Ewan returned no answer, but shrugged, as one who would express by that sign that what he was doing was
none of his own choice.
``And when the MacGregors come down the glen, and ye see toom faulds, a bluidy hearthstone, and the fire
flashing out between the rafters o' your house, ye may be thinking then, Ewan, that were your friend Rob to
the fore, you would have had that safe which it will make your heart sair to lose.''
Ewan of Brigglands again shrugged and groaned, but remained silent.
``It's a sair thing,'' continued Rob, sliding his insinuations so gently into Ewan's ear that they reached no other
but mine, who certainly saw myself in no shape called upon to destroy his prospects of escape``It's a sair
thing, that Ewan of Brigglands, whom Roy MacGregor has helped with hand, sword, and purse, suld mind a
gloom from a great man mair than a friend's life.''
Ewan seemed sorely agitated, but was silent.We heard the Duke's voice from the opposite bank call,
``Bring over the prisoner.''
Ewan put his horse in motion, and just as I heard Roy say, ``Never weigh a MacGregor's bluid against a
broken whang o' leather, for there will be another accounting to gie for it baith here and hereafter,'' they
passed me hastily, and dashing forward rather precipitately, entered the water.
``Not yet, sirnot yet,'' said some of the troopers to me, as I was about to follow, while others pressed
forward into the stream.
I saw the Duke on the other side, by the waning light, engaged in commanding his people to get into order, as
they landed dispersedly, some higher, some lower. Many had crossed, some were in the water, and the rest
were preparing to follow, when a sudden splash warned me that MacGregor's eloquence had prevailed on
Ewan to give him freedom and a chance for life. The Duke also heard the sound, and instantly guessed its
meaning. ``Dog!'' he exclaimed to Ewan as he landed, ``where is your prisoner?'' and, without waiting to hear
the apology which the terrified vassal began to falter forth, he fired a pistol at his head, whether fatally I
know not, and exclaimed, ``Gentlemen, disperse and pursue the villainAn hundred guineas for him that
secures Rob Roy!''
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CHAPTER THIRTYTHIRD. 220
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All became an instant scene of the most lively confusion. Rob Roy, disengaged from his bonds, doubtless by
Ewan's slipping the buckle of his belt, had dropped off at the horse's tail, and instantly dived, passing under
the belly of the troophorse which was on his left hand. But as he was obliged to come to the surface an
instant for air, the glimpse of his tartan plaid drew the attention of the troopers, some of whom plunged into
the river, with a total disregard to their own safety, rushing, according to the expression of their country,
through pool and stream, sometimes swimming their horses, sometimes losing them and struggling for their
own lives. Others, less zealous or more prudent, broke off in different directions, and galloped up and down
the banks, to watch the places at which the fugitive might possibly land. The hollowing, the whooping, the
calls for aid at different points, where they saw, or conceived they saw, some vestige of him they were
seeking,the frequent report of pistols and carabines, fired at every object which excited the least
suspicion,the sight of so many horsemen riding about, in and out of the river, and striking with their long
broadswords at whatever excited their attention, joined to the vain exertions used by their officers to restore
order and regularity,and all this in so wild a scene, and visible only by the imperfect twilight of an
autumn evening, made the most extraordinary hubbub I had hitherto witnessed. I was indeed left alone to
observe it, for our whole cavalcade had dispersed in pursuit, or at least to see the event of the search. Indeed,
as I partly suspected at the time, and afterwards learned with certainty, many of those who seemed most
active in their attempts to waylay and recover the fugitive, were, in actual truth, least desirous that he should
be taken, and only joined in the cry to increase the general confusion, and to give Rob Roy a better
opportunity of escaping.
Escape, indeed, was not difficult for a swimmer so expert as the freebooter, as soon as he had eluded the first
burst of pursuit. At one time he was closely pressed, and several blows were made which flashed in the water
around him; the scene much resembling one of the otterhunts which I had seen at Osbaldistone Hall, where
the animal is detected by the hounds from his being necessitated to put his nose above the stream to vent or
breathe, while he is enabled to elude them by getting under water again so soon as he has refreshed himself
by respiration. MacGregor, however, had a trick beyond the otter; for he contrived, when very closely
pursued, to disengage himself unobserved from his plaid, and suffer it to float down the stream, where in its
progress it quickly attracted general attention; many of the horsemen were thus put upon a false scent, and
several shots or stabs were averted from the party for whom they were designed.
Once fairly out of view, the recovery of the prisoner became almost impossible, since, in so many places, the
river was rendered inaccessible by the steepness of its banks, or the thickets of alders, poplars, and birch,
which, overhanging its banks, prevented the approach of horsemen. Errors and accidents had also happened
among the pursuers, whose task the approaching night rendered every moment more hopeless. Some got
themselves involved in the eddies of the stream, and required the assistance of their companions to save them
from drowning. Others, hurt by shots or blows in the confused mele'e, implored help or threatened
vengeance, and in one or two instances such accidents led to actual strife. The trumpets, therefore, sounded
the retreat, announcing that the commanding officer, with whatsoever unwillingness, had for the present
relinquished hopes of the important prize which had thus unexpectedly escaped his grasp, and the troopers
began slowly, reluctantly, and brawling with each other as they returned, again to assume their ranks. I could
see them darkening, as they formed on the southern bank of the river,whose murmurs, long drowned by
the louder cries of vengeful pursuit, were now heard hoarsely mingling with the deep, discontented, and
reproachful voices of the disappointed horsemen.
Hitherto I had been as it were a mere spectator, though far from an uninterested one, of the singular scene
which had passed. But now I heard a voice suddenly exclaim, ``Where is the English stranger?It was he
gave Rob Roy the knife to cut the belt.''
``Cleeve the pockpudding to the chafts!'' cried one voice.
``Weize a brace of balls through his harnpan!'' said a second.
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``Drive three inches of cauld airn into his brisket!'' shouted a third.
And I heard several horses galloping to and fro, with the kind purpose, doubtless, of executing these
denunciations. I was immediately awakened to the sense of my situation, and to the certainty that armed men,
having no restraint whatever on their irritated and inflamed passions, would probably begin by shooting or
cutting me down, and afterwards investigate the justice of the action. Impressed by this belief, I leaped from
my horse, and turning him loose, plunged into a bush of aldertrees, where, considering the advancing
obscurity of the night, I thought there was little chance of my being discovered. Had I been near enough to
the Duke to have invoked his personal protection, I would have done so; but he had already commenced his
retreat, and I saw no officer on the left bank of the river, of authority sufficient to have afforded protection, in
case of my surrendering myself. I thought there was no point of honour which could require, in such
circumstances, an unnecessary exposure of my life. My first idea, when the tumult began to be appeased, and
the clatter of the horses' feet was heard less frequently in the immediate vicinity of my hidingplace, was to
seek out the Duke's quarters when all should be quiet, and give myself up to him, as a liege subject, who had
nothing to fear from his justice, and a stranger, who had every right to expect protection and hospitality. With
this purpose I crept out of my hidingplace, and looked around me.
The twilight had now melted nearly into darkness; a few or none of the troopers were left on my side of the
Forth, and of those who were already across it, I only heard the distant trample of the horses' feet, and the
wailing and prolonged sound of their trumpets, which rung through the woods to recall stragglers, Here,
therefore, I was left in a situation of considerable difficulty. I had no horse, and the deep and wheeling stream
of the river, rendered turbid by the late tumult of which its channel had been the scene, and seeming yet more
so under the doubtful influence of an imperfect moonlight, had no inviting influence for a pedestrian by no
means accustomed to wade rivers, and who had lately seen horsemen weltering, in this dangerous passage, up
to the very saddlelaps. At the same time, my prospect, if I remained on the side of the river on which I then
stood, could be no other than of concluding the various fatigues of this day and the preceding night, by
passing that which was now closing in, al fresco on the side of a Highland hill.
After a moment's reflection, I began to consider that Fairservice, who had doubtless crossed the river with the
other domestics, according to his forward and impertinent custom of putting himself always among the
foremost, could not fail to satisfy the Duke, or the competent authorities, respecting my rank and situation;
and that, therefore, my character did not require my immediate appearance, at the risk of being drowned in
the riverof being unable to trace the march of the squadron in case of my reaching the other side in
safetyor, finally, of being cut down, right or wrong, by some straggler, who might think such a piece of
good service a convenient excuse for not sooner rejoining his ranks. I therefore resolved to measure my steps
back to the little inn, where I had passed the preceding night. I had nothing to apprehend from Rob Roy. He
was now at liberty, and I was certain, in case of my falling in with any of his people, the news of his escape
would ensure me protection. I might thus also show, that I had no intention to desert Mr. Jarvie in the delicate
situation in which he had engaged himself chiefly on my account. And lastly, it was only in this quarter that I
could hope to learn tidings concerning Rashleigh and my father's papers, which had been the original cause of
an expedition so fraught with perilous adventure. I therefore abandoned all thoughts of crossing the Forth that
evening; and, turning my back on the Fords of Frew, began to retrace my steps towards the little village of
Aberfoil.
A sharp frostwind, which made itself heard and felt from time to time, removed the clouds of mist which
might otherwise have slumbered till morning on the valley; and, though it could not totally disperse the
clouds of vapour, yet threw them in confused and changeful masses, now hovering round the heads of the
mountains, now filling, as with a dense and voluminous stream of smoke, the various deep gullies where
masses of the composite rock, or breccia, tumbling in fragments from the cliffs, have rushed to the valley,
leaving each behind its course a rent and torn ravine resembling a deserted watercourse. The moon, which
was now high, and twinkled with all the vivacity of a frosty atmosphere, silvered the windings of the river
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and the peaks and precipices which the mist left visible, while her beams seemed as it were absorbed by the
fleecy whiteness of the mist, where it lay thick and condensed; and gave to the more light and vapoury
specks, which were elsewhere visible, a sort of filmy transparency resembling the lightest veil of silver gauze.
Despite the uncertainty of my situation, a view so romantic, joined to the active and inspiring influence of the
frosty atmosphere, elevated my spirits while it braced my nerves. I felt an inclination to cast care away, and
bid defiance to danger, and involuntarily whistled, by way of cadence to my steps, which my feeling of the
cold led me to accelerate, and I felt the pulse of existence beat prouder and higher in proportion as I felt
confidence in my own strength, courage, and resources. I was so much lost in these thoughts, and in the
feelings which they excited, that two horsemen came up behind me without my hearing their approach, until
one was on each side of me, when the lefthand rider, pulling up his horse, addressed me in the English
tongue``So ho, friend! whither so late?''
``To my supper and bed at Aberfoil,'' I replied.
``Are the passes open?'' he inquired, with the same commanding tone of voice.
``I do not know,'' I replied; ``I shall learn when I get there. But,'' I added, the fate of Morris recurring to my
recollection, ``if you are an English stranger, I advise you to turn back till daylight; there has been some
disturbance in this neighbourhood, and I should hesitate to say it is perfectly safe for strangers.''
``The soldiers had the worst?had they not?'' was the reply.
``They had indeed; and an officer's party were destroyed or made prisoners.''
``Are you sure of that?'' replied the horseman.
``As sure as that I hear you speak,'' I replied. ``I was an unwilling spectator of the skirmish.''
``Unwilling!'' continued the interrogator. ``Were you not engaged in it then?''
``Certainly no,'' I replied; ``I was detained by the king's officer.''
``On what suspicion? and who are you? or what is your name?'' he continued.
``I really do not know, sir,'' said I, ``why I should answer so many questions to an unknown stranger. I have
told you enough to convince you that you are going into a dangerous and distracted country. If you choose to
proceed, it is your own affair; but as I ask you no questions respecting your name and business, you will
oblige me by making no inquiries after mine.''
``Mr. Francis Osbaldistone,'' said the other rider, in a voice the tones of which thrilled through every nerve of
my body, ``should not whistle his favourite airs when he wishes to remain undiscovered.''
And Diana Vernonfor she, wrapped in a horseman's cloak, was the last speakerwhistled in playful
mimicry the second part of the tune which was on my lips when they came up.
``Good God!'' I exclaimed, like one thunderstruck, ``can it be you, Miss Vernon, on such a spotat such an
hourin such a lawless countryin such''
``In such a masculine dress, you would say.But what would you have? The philosophy of the excellent
Corporal Nym is the best after all; things must be as they maypauca verba.''
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While she was thus speaking, I eagerly took advantage of an unusually bright gleam of moonshine, to study
the appearance of her companion; for it may be easily supposed, that finding Miss Vernon in a place so
solitary, engaged in a journey so dangerous, and under the protection of one gentleman only, were
circumstances to excite every feeling of jealousy, as well as surprise. The rider did not speak with the deep
melody of Rashleigh's voice; his tones were more high and commanding; he was taller, moreover, as he sate
on horseback, than that firstrate object of my hate and suspicion. Neither did the stranger's address resemble
that of any of my other cousins; it had that indescribable tone and manner by which we recognise a man of
sense and breeding, even in the first few sentences he speaks.
The object of my anxiety seemed desirous to get rid of my investigation.
``Diana,'' he said, in a tone of mingled kindness and authority, ``give your cousin his property, and let us not
spend time here.''
Miss Vernon had in the meantime taken out a small case, and leaning down from her horse towards me, she
said, in a tone in which an effort at her usual quaint lightness of expression contended with a deeper and more
grave tone of sentiment, ``You see, my dear coz, I was born to be your better angel. Rashleigh has been
compelled to yield up his spoil, and had we reached this same village of Aberfoil last night, as we purposed, I
should have found some Highland sylph to have wafted to you all these representatives of commercial
wealth. But there were giants and dragons in the way; and errantknights and damsels of modern times, bold
though they be, must not, as of yore, run into useless dangerDo not you do so either, my dear coz.''
``Diana,'' said her companion, ``let me once more warn you that the evening waxes late, and we are still
distant from our home.''
``I am coming, sir, I am comingConsider,'' she added, with a sigh, ``how lately I have been subjected to
controlbesides, I have not yet given my cousin the packet, and bid him farewell for ever. Yes,
Frank,'' she said, ``for ever!there is a gulf between usa gulf of absolute perdition;where we go,
you must not followwhat we do, you must not share in Farewellbe happy!''
In the attitude in which she bent from her horse, which was a Highland pony, her face, not perhaps altogether
unwillingly, touched mine. She pressed my hand, while the tear that trembled in her eye found its way to my
cheek instead of her own. It was a moment never to be forgotteninexpressibly bitter, yet mixed with a
sensation of pleasure so deeply soothing and affecting, as at once to unlock all the floodgates of the heart. It
was but a moment, however; for, instantly recovering from the feeling to which she had involuntarily given
way, she intimated to her companion she was ready to attend him, and putting their horses to a brisk pace,
they were soon far distant from the place where I stood.
Heaven knows, it was not apathy which loaded my frame and my tongue so much, that I could neither return
Miss Vernon's half embrace, nor even answer her farewell. The word, though it rose to my tongue, seemed to
choke in my throat like the fatal guilty, which the delinquent who makes it his plea, knows must be followed
by the doom of death. The surprisethe sorrow, almost stupified me. I remained motionless with the
packet in my hand, gazing after them, as if endeavouring to count the sparkles which flew from the horses'
hoofs. I continued to look after even these had ceased to be visible, and to listen for their footsteps long after
the last distant trampling had died in my ears. At length, tears rushed to my eyes, glazed as they were by the
exertion of straining after what was no longer to be seen. I wiped them mechanically, and almost without
being aware that they were flowingbut they came thicker and thicker; I felt the tightening of the throat
and breastthe hysterica passio of poor Lear; and sitting down by the wayside, I shed a flood of the first
and most bitter tears which had flowed from my eyes since childhood.
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CHAPTER THIRTYFOURTH.
Dangle.Egad, I think the interpreter is the harder to be understood
of the two.
Critic.
I had scarce given vent to my feelings in this paroxysm, ere was ashamed of my weakness. I remembered that
I had been for some time endeavouring to regard Diana Vernon, when her idea intruded itself on my
remembrance, as a friend, for whose welfare I should indeed always be anxious, but with whom I could have
little further communication. But the almost unrepressed tenderness of her manner, joined to the romance of
our sudden meeting where it was so little to have been expected, were circumstances which threw me entirely
off my guard. I recovered, however, sooner than might have been expected, and without giving myself time
accurately to examine my motives. I resumed the path on which I had been travelling when overtaken by this
strange and unexpected apparition.
``I am not,'' was my reflection, ``transgressing her injunction so pathetically given, since I am but pursuing
my own journey by the only open route.If I have succeeded in recovering my father's property, it still
remains incumbent on me to see my Glasgow friend delivered from the situation in which he has involved
himself on my account; besides, what other place of rest can I obtain for the night excepting at the little inn of
Aberfoil? They also must stop there, since it is impossible for travellers on horseback to go fartherWell,
then, we shall meet againmeet for the last time perhapsBut I shall see and hear herI shall learn
who this happy man is who exercises over her the authority of a husbandI shall learn if there remains, in
the difficult course in which she seems engaged, any difficulty which my efforts may remove, or aught that I
can do to express my gratitude for her generosityfor her disinterested friendship.''
As I reasoned thus with myself, colouring with every plausible pretext which occurred to my ingenuity my
passionate desire once more to see and converse with my cousin, I was suddenly hailed by a touch on the
shoulder; and the deep voice of a Highlander, who, walking still faster than I, though I was proceeding at a
smart pace, accosted me with, ``A braw night, Maister Osbaldistonewe have met at the mirk hour before
now.''
There was no mistaking the tone of MacGregor; he had escaped the pursuit of his enemies, and was in full
retreat to his own wilds and to his adherents. He had also contrived to arm himself, probably at the house of
some secret adherent, for he had a musket on his shoulder, and the usual Highland weapons by his side. To
have found myself alone with such a character in such a situation, and at this late hour in the evening, might
not have been pleasant to me in any ordinary mood of mind; for, though habituated to think of Rob Roy in
rather a friendly point of view, I will confess frankly that I never heard him speak but that it seemed to thrill
my blood. The intonation of the mountaineers gives a habitual depth and hollowness to the sound of their
words, owing to the guttural expression so common in their native language, and they usually speak with a
good deal of emphasis. To these national peculiarities Rob Roy added a sort of hard indifference of accent
and manner, expressive of a mind neither to be daunted, nor surprised, nor affected by what passed before
him, however dreadful, however sudden, however afflicting. Habitual danger, with unbounded confidence in
his own strength and sagacity, had rendered him indifferent to fear, and the lawless and precarious life he led
had blunted, though its dangers and errors had not destroyed, his feelings for others. And it was to be
remembered that I had very lately seen the followers of this man commit a cruel slaughter on an unarmed and
suppliant individual.
Yet such was the state of my mind, that I welcomed the company of the outlaw leader as a relief to my own
overstrained and painful thoughts; and was not without hopes that through his means I might obtain some
clew of guidance through the maze in which my fate had involved me. I therefore answered his greeting
cordially, and congratulated him on his late escape in circumstances when escape seemed impossible.
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``Ay,'' he replied, ``there is as much between the craig and the woodie* as there is between the cup and the
lip. But my peril
* i.e. The throat and the withy. Twigs of willow, such as bind faggots, * were often used for halters in
Scotland and Ireland, being a sage economy * of hemp.
was less than you may think, being a stranger to this country. Of those that were summoned to take me, and
to keep me, and to retake me again, there was a moiety, as cousin Nicol Jarvie calls it, that had nae will that I
suld be either taen, or keepit fast, or retaen; and of tother moiety, there was as half was feared to stir me; and
so I had only like the fourth part of fifty or sixty men to deal withal.''
``And enough, too, I should think,'' replied I.
``I dinna ken that,'' said he; ``but I ken, that turn every illwiller that I had amang them out upon the green
before the Clachan of Aberfoil, I wad find them play with broadsword and target, one down and another
come on.''
He now inquired into my adventures since we entered his country, and laughed heartily at my account of the
battle we had in the inn, and at the exploits of the Bailie with the redhot poker.
``Let Glasgow Flourish!'' he exclaimed. ``The curse of Cromwell on me, if I wad hae wished better sport than
to see cousin Nicol Jarvie singe Iverach's plaid, like a sheep's head between a pair of tongs. But my cousin
Jarvie,'' he added, more gravely, ``has some gentleman's bluid in his veins, although he has been unhappily
bred up to a peaceful and mechanical craft, which could not but blunt any pretty man's spirit.Ye may
estimate the reason why I could not receive you at the Clachan of Aberfoil as I purposed. They had made a
fine hosenet for me when I was absent twa or three days at Glasgow, upon the king's businessBut I think
I broke up the league about their lugsthey'll no be able to hound one clan against another as they hae
dune. I hope soon to see the day when a' Hielandmen will stand shouther to shouther. But what chanced
next?''
I gave him an account of the arrival of Captain Thornton and his party, and the arrest of the Bailie and myself
under pretext of our being suspicious persons; and upon his more special inquiry, I recollected the officer had
mentioned that, besides my name sounding suspicious in his ears, he had orders to secure an old and young
person, resembling our description. This again moved the outlaw's risibility.
``As man lives by bread,'' he said, ``the buzzards have mistaen my friend the Bailie for his Excellency, and
you for Diana VernonO, the most egregious nighthowlets!''
``Miss Vernon?'' said I, with hesitation, and trembling for the answer``Does she still bear that name? She
passed but now, along with a gentleman who seemed to use a style of authority.''
``Ay, ay,'' answered Rob, ``she's under lawfu' authority now; and full time, for she was a daft hempieBut
she's a mettle quean. It's a pity his Excellency is a thought eldern. The like o' yourself, or my son Hamish,
wad be mair sortable in point of years.''
Here, then, was a complete downfall of those castles of cards which my fancy had, in despite of my reason,
so often amused herself with building. Although in truth I had scarcely anything else to expect, since I could
not suppose that Diana could be travelling in such a country, at such an hour, with any but one who had a
legal title to protect her, I did not feel the blow less severely when it came; and MacGregor's voice, urging me
to pursue my story, sounded in my ears without conveying any exact import to my mind.
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CHAPTER THIRTYFOURTH. 226
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``You are ill,'' he said at length, after he had spoken twice without receiving an answer; ``this day's wark has
been ower muckle for ane doubtless unused to sic things.''
The tone of kindness in which this was spoken, recalling me to myself, and to the necessities of my situation,
I continued my narrative as well as I could. Rob Roy expressed great exultation at the successful skirmish in
the pass.
``They say,'' he observed, ``that king's chaff is better than other folk's corn; but I think that canna be said o'
king's soldiers, if they let themselves be beaten wi' a wheen auld carles that are past fighting, and bairns that
are no come till't, and wives wi' their rocks and distaffs, the very wallydraigles o' the countryside. And
Dougal Gregor, toowha wad hae thought there had been as muckle sense in his tattypow, that ne'er had
a better covering than his ain shaggy hassock of hair!But say awaythough I dread what's to come
neistfor my Helen's an incarnate devil when her bluid's uppuir thing, she has ower muckle reason.''
I observed as much delicacy as I could in communicating to him the usage we had received, but I obviously
saw the detail gave him great pain.
``I wad rather than a thousand merks,'' he said, ``that I had been at hame! To misguide strangers, and forbye
a', my ain natural cousin, that had showed me sic kindnessI wad rather they had burned half the Lennox
in their folly! But this comes o' trusting women and their bairns, that have neither measure nor reason in their
dealings. However, it's a' owing to that dog of a gauger, wha betrayed me by pretending a message from your
cousin Rashleigh, to meet him on the king's affairs, whilk I thought was very like to be anent Garschattachin
and a party of the Lennox declaring themselves for King James. Faith! but I ken'd I was clean beguiled when
I heard the Duke was there; and when they strapped the horsegirth ower my arms, I might hae judged what
was biding me; for I ken'd your kinsman, being, wi' pardon, a slippery loon himself, is prone to employ those
of his ain kidneyI wish he mayna hae been at the bottom o' the ploy himsellI thought the chield
Morris looked devilish queer when I determined he should remain a wad, or hostage, for my safe
backcoming. But I am come back, nae thanks to him, or them that employed him; and the question is, how
the collector loon is to win back himsellI promise him it will not be without a ransom.''
``Morris,'' said I, ``has already paid the last ransom which mortal man can owe.''
``Eh! What?'' exclaimed my companion hastily; `` what d'ye say? I trust it was in the skirmish he was killed?''
``He was slain in cold blood after the fight was over, Mr. Campbell.''
``Cold blood?Damnation!'' he said, muttering betwixt his teeth``How fell that, sir? Speak out, sir, and
do not Maister or Campbell memy foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor!''
His passions were obviously irritated; but without noticing the rudeness of his tone, I gave him a short and
distinct account of the death of Morris. He struck the butt of his gun with great vehemence against the
ground, and broke out``I vow to God, such a deed might make one forswear kin, clan, country, wife, and
bairns! And yet the villain wrought long for it. And what is the difference between warsling below the water
wi' a stane about your neck, and wavering in the wind wi' a tether round it?it's but choking after a', and he
drees the doom he ettled for me. I could have wished, though, they had rather putten a ball through him, or a
dirk; for the fashion of removing him will give rise to mony idle claversBut every wight has his weird,
and we maun a' dee when our day comes And naebody will deny that Helen MacGregor has deep wrongs
to avenge.''
So saying, he seemed to dismiss the theme altogether from his mind, and proceeded to inquire how I got free
from the party in whose hands he had seen me.
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CHAPTER THIRTYFOURTH. 227
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My story was soon told; and I added the episode of my having recovered the papers of my father, though I
dared not trust my voice to name the name of Diana.
``I was sure ye wad get them,'' said MacGregor;``the letter ye brought me contained his Excellency's
pleasure to that effect and nae doubt it was my will to have aided in it. And I asked ye up into this glen on the
very errand. But it's like his Excellency has foregathered wi' Rashleigh sooner than I expected.''
The first part of this answer was what most forcibly struck me.
``Was the letter I brought you, then, from this person you call his Excellency? Who is he? and what is his
rank and proper name?''
``I am thinking,'' said MacGregor, ``that since ye dinna ken them already they canna be o' muckle
consequence to you, and sae I shall say naething on that score. But weel I wot the letter was frae his ain hand,
or, having a sort of business of my ain on my hands, being, as ye weel may see, just as much as I can fairly
manage, I canna say I would hae fashed mysell sae muckle about the matter.''
I now recollected the lights seen in the librarythe various circumstances which had excited my
jealousythe glovethe agitation of the tapestry which covered the secret passage from Rashleigh's
apartment; and, above all, I recollected that Diana retired in order to write, as I then thought, the billet to
which I was to have recourse in case of the last necessity. Her hours, then, were not spent in solitude, but in
listening to the addresses of some desperate agent of Jacobitical treason, who was a secret resident within the
mansion of her uncle! Other young women have sold themselves for gold, or suffered themselves to be
seduced from their first love from vanity; but Diana had sacrificed my affections and her own to partake the
fortunes of some desperate adventurerto seek the haunts of freebooters through midnight deserts, with no
better hopes of rank or fortune than that mimicry of both which the mock court of the Stuarts at St. Germains
had in their power to bestow.
``I will see her,'' I said internally, ``if it be possible, once more. I will argue with her as a friendas a
kinsmanon the risk she is incurring, and I will facilitate her retreat to France, where she may, with more
comfort and propriety, as well as safety, abide the issue of the turmoils which the political trepanner, to
whom she has united her fate, is doubtless busied in putting into motion.''
``I conclude, then,'' I said to MacGregor, after about five minutes' silence on both sides, ``that his Excellency,
since you give me no other name for him, was residing in Osbaldistone Hall at the same time with myself?''
``To be sureto be sureand in the young lady's apartment, as best reason was.'' This gratuitous
information was adding gall to bitterness. ``But few,'' added MacGregor, ``ken'd he was derned there, save
Rashleigh and Sir Hildebrand; for you were out o' the question; and the young lads haena wit eneugh to ca'
the cat frae the creamBut it's a bra' auldfashioned house, and what I specially admire is the abundance o'
holes and bores and concealmentsye could put twenty or thirty men in ae corner, and a family might live
a week without finding them outwhilk, nae doubt, may on occasion be a special convenience. I wish we
had the like o' Osbaldistone Hall on the braes o' CraigRoystonBut we maun gar woods and caves serve
the like o' us puir Hieland bodies.''
``I suppose his Excellency,'' said I, ``was privy to the first accident which befell''
I could not help hesitating a moment.
``Ye were going to say Morris,'' said Rob Roy coolly, for he was too much accustomed to deeds of violence
for the agitation he had at first expressed to be of long continuance. ``I used to laugh heartily at that reik; but
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CHAPTER THIRTYFOURTH. 228
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I'll hardly hae the heart to do't again, since the illfar'd accident at the Loch. Na, na his Excellency ken'd
nought o' that ployit was a' managed atween Rashleigh and mysell. But the sport that came after and
Rashleigh's shift o' turning the suspicion aff himself upon you, that he had nae grit favour to frae the
beginningand then Miss Die, she maun hae us sweep up a' our spiders' webs again, and set you out o' the
Justice's clawsand then the frightened craven Morris, that was scared out o' his seven senses by seeing the
real man when he was charging the innocent strangerand the gowk of a clerkand the drunken carle of
a justiceOhon! ohon!mony a laugh that job's gien meand now, a' that I can do for the puir devil is
to get some messes said for his soul.''
``May I ask,'' said I, ``how Miss Vernon came to have so much influence over Rashleigh and his accomplices
as to derange your projected plan?''
``Mine! it was none of mine. No man can say I ever laid my burden on other folk's shouldersit was a'
Rashleigh's doings. But, undoubtedly, she had great influence wi' us baith on account of his Excellency's
affection, as weel as that she ken'd far ower mony secrets to be lightlied in a matter o' that kind.Deil tak
him,'' he ejaculated, by way of summing up, ``that gies women either secret to keep or power to
abusefules shouldna hae chappingsticks.''
We were now within a quarter of a mile from the village, when three Highlanders, springing upon us with
presented arms, commanded us to stand and tell our business. The single word Gregaragh, in the deep and
commanding voice of my companion, was answered by a shout, or rather yell, of joyful recognition. One,
throwing down his firelock, clasped his leader so fast round the knees, that he was unable to extricate himself,
muttering, at the same time, a torrent of Gaelic gratulation, which every now and then rose into a sort of
scream of gladness. The two others, after the first howling was over, set off literally with the speed of deers,
contending which should first carry to the village, which a strong party of the MacGregors now occupied, the
joyful news of Rob Roy's escape and return. The intelligence excited such shouts of jubilation, that the very
hills rung again, and young and old, men, women, and children, without distinction of sex or age, came
running down the vale to meet us, with all the tumultuous speed and clamour of a mountain torrent. When I
heard the rushing noise and yells of this joyful multitude approach us, I thought it a fitting precaution to
remind MacGregor that I was a stranger, and under his protection. He accordingly held me fast by the hand,
while the assemblage crowded around him with such shouts of devoted attachment, and joy at his return, as
were really affecting; nor did he extend to his followers what all eagerly sought, the grasp, namely, of his
hand, until he had made them understand that I was to be kindly and carefully used.
The mandate of the Sultan of Delhi could not have been more promptly obeyed. Indeed, I now sustained
nearly as much inconvenience from their wellmeant attentions as formerly from their rudeness. They would
hardly allow the friend of their leader to walk upon his own legs, so earnest were they in affording me
support and assistance upon the way; and at length, taking advantage of a slight stumble which I made over a
stone, which the press did not permit me to avoid, they fairly seized upon me, and bore me in their arms in
triumph towards Mrs. MacAlpine's.
On arrival before her hospitable wigwam, I found power and popularity had its inconveniences in the
Highlands, as everywhere else; for, before MacGregor could be permitted to enter the house where he was to
obtain rest and refreshment, he was obliged to relate the story of his escape at least a dozen times over, as I
was told by an officious old man, who chose to translate it at least as often for my edification, and to whom I
was in policy obliged to seem to pay a decent degree of attention. The audience being at length satisfied,
group after group departed to take their bed upon the heath, or in the neighbouring huts, some cursing the
Duke and Garschattachin, some lamenting the probable danger of Ewan of Brigglands, incurred by his
friendship to MacGregor, but all agreeing that the escape of Rob Roy himself lost nothing in comparison with
the exploit of any one of their chiefs since the days of Dougal Ciar, the founder of his line.
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYFOURTH. 229
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The friendly outlaw, now taking me by the arm, conducted me into the interior of the hut. My eyes roved
round its smoky recesses in quest of Diana and her companion; but they were nowhere to be seen, and I felt
as if to make inquiries might betray some secret motives, which were best concealed. The only known
countenance upon which my eyes rested was that of the Bailie, who, seated on a stool by the fireside,
received with a sort of reserved dignity, the welcomes of Rob Roy, the apologies which he made for his
indifferent accommodation, and his inquiries after his health.
``I am pretty weel, kinsman,'' said the Bailie``indifferent weel, I thank ye; and for accommodations, ane
canna expect to carry about the Saut Market at his tail, as a snail does his caup;and I am blythe that ye
hae gotten out o' the hands o' your unfreends.''
``Weel, weel, then,'' answered Roy, ``what is't ails ye, man a's weel that ends weel!the warld will last
our dayCome, take a cup o' brandyyour father the deacon could take ane at an orra time.''
``It might be he might do sae, Robin, after fatiguewhilk has been my lot mair ways than ane this day.
But,'' he continued, slowly filling up a little wooden stoup which might hold about three glasses, ``he was a
moderate man of his bicker, as I am mysellHere's wussing health to ye, Robin'' (a sip), ``and your
weelfare here and hereafter'' (another taste), ``and also to my cousin Helenand to your twa hopefu' lads,
of whom mair anon.''
So saying, he drank up the contents of the cup with great gravity and deliberation, while MacGregor winked
aside to me, as if in ridicule of the air of wisdom and superior authority which the Bailie assumed towards
him in their intercourse, and which he exercised when Rob was at the head of his armed clan, in full as great,
or a greater degree, than when he was at the Bailie's mercy in the Tolbooth of Glasgow. It seemed to me, that
MacGregor wished me, as a stranger, to understand, that if he submitted to the tone which his kinsman
assumed, it was partly out of deference to the rights of hospitality, but still more for the jest's sake.
As the Bailie set down his cup he recognised me, and giving me a cordial welcome on my return, he waived
farther communication with me for the present.``I will speak to your matters anon; I maun begin, as in
reason, wi' those of my kinsman.I presume, Robin, there's naebody here will carry aught o' what I am
gaun to say, to the towncouncil or elsewhere, to my prejudice or to yours?''
``Make yourself easy on that head, cousin Nicol,'' answered MacGregor; ``the tae half o' the gillies winna ken
what ye say, and the tother winna carebesides that, I wad stow the tongue out o' the head o' any o' them
that suld presume to say ower again ony speech held wi' me in their presence.''
``Aweel, cousin, sic being the case, and Mr. Osbaldistone here being a prudent youth, and a safe
friendI'se plainly tell ye, ye are breeding up your family to gang an ill gate.'' Then, clearing his voice with
a preliminary hem, he addressed his kinsman, checking, as Malvolio proposed to do when seated in his state,
his familiar smile with an austere regard of control.``Ye ken yourself ye haud light by the lawand for
my cousin Helen, forbye that her reception o' me this blessed daywhilk I excuse on account of
perturbation of mind, was muckle on the north side o' friendly, I say (outputting this personal reason of
complaint) I hae that to say o' your wife''
``Say nothing of her, kinsman,'' said Rob, in a grave and stern tone, ``but what is befitting a friend to say, and
her husband to hear. Of me you are welcome to say your full pleasure.''
``Aweel, aweel,'' said the Bailie, somewhat disconcerted, ``we'se let that be a passoverI dinna approve
of making mischief in families. But here are your twa sons, Hamish and Robin, whilk signifies, as I'm gien to
understand, James and Robert I trust ye will call them sae in futurethere comes nae gude o'
Hamishes, and Eachines, and Angusses, except that they're the names ane aye chances to see in the
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CHAPTER THIRTYFOURTH. 230
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indictments at the Western Circuits for cowlifting, at the instance of his majesty's advocate for his majesty's
interest. Aweel, but the twa lads, as I was saying, they haena sae muckle as the ordinar grunds, man, of liberal
educationthey dinna ken the very multiplication table itself, whilk is the root of a' usefu' knowledge, and
they did naething but laugh and fleer at me when I tauld them my mind on their ignoranceIt's my belief
they can neither read, write, nor cipher, if sic a thing could be believed o' ane's ain connections in a Christian
land.''
``If they could, kinsman,'' said MacGregor, with great indifference, ``their learning must have come o' free
will, for whar the deil was I to get them a teacher?wad ye hae had me put on the gate o' your Divinity
Hall at Glasgow College, `Wanted, a tutor for Rob Roy's bairns?' ''
``Na, kinsman,'' replied Mr. Jarvie, ``but ye might hae sent the lads whar they could hae learned the fear o'
God, and the usages of civilised creatures. They are as ignorant as the kyloes ye used to drive to market, or
the very English churls that ye sauld them to, and can do naething whatever to purpose.''
``Umph!'' answered Rob; ``Hamish can bring doun a blackcock when he's on the wing wi' a single bullet,
and Rob can drive a dirk through a twainch board.''
``Sae muckle the waur for them, cousin!sae muckle the waur for them baith!'' answered the Glasgow
merchant in a tone of great decision; ``an they ken naething better than that, they had better no ken that
neither. Tell me yourself, Rob, what has a' this cutting, and stabbing, and shooting, and driving of dirks,
whether through human flesh or fir deals, dune for yourself?and werena ye a happier man at the tail o'
your nowtebestial, when ye were in an honest calling, than ever ye hae been since, at the head o' your
Hieland kernes and gallyglasses?''
I observed that MacGregor, while his wellmeaning kinsman spoke to him in this manner, turned and writhed
his body like a man who indeed suffers pain, but is determined no groan shall escape his lips; and I longed for
an opportunity to interrupt the wellmeant, but, as it was obvious to me, quite mistaken strain, in which
Jarvie addressed this extraordinary person. The dialogue, however, came to an end without my interference.
``And sae,'' said the Bailie, ``I hae been thinking, Rob, that as it may be ye are ower deep in the black book to
win a pardon, and ower auld to mend yourself, that it wad be a pity to bring up twa hopefu' lads to sic a
godless trade as your ain, and I wad blythely tak them for prentices at the loom, as I began mysell, and my
father the deacon afore me, though, praise to the Giver, I only trade now as wholesale dealerAnd
and''
He saw a storm gathering on Rob's brow, which probably induced him to throw in, as a sweetener of an
obnoxious proposition, what he had reserved to crown his own generosity, had it been embraced as an
acceptable one;``and Robin, lad, ye needna look sae glum, for I'll pay the prenticefee, and never plague
ye for the thousand merks neither.''
``Ceade millia diaoul, hundred thousand devils!'' exclaimed Rob, rising and striding through the hut, ``My
sons weavers! Millia molligheart!but I wad see every loom in Glasgow, beam, traddles, and shuttles,
burnt in hellfire sooner!''
With some difficulty I made the Bailie, who was preparing a reply, comprehend the risk and impropriety of
pressing our host on this topic, and in a minute he recovered, or reassumed, his serenity of temper.
``But ye mean weelye mean weel,'' said he; ``so gie me your hand, Nicol, and if ever I put my sons
apprentice, I will gie you the refusal o' them. And, as you say, there's the thousand merks to be settled
between us.Here, Eachin MacAnaleister, bring me my sporran.''
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYFOURTH. 231
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The person he addressed, a tall, strong mountaineer, who seemed to act as MacGregor's lieutenant, brought
from some place of safety a large leathern pouch, such as Highlanders of rank wear before them when in full
dress, made of the skin of the seaotter, richly garnished with silver ornaments and studs.
``I advise no man to attempt opening this sporran till he has my secret,'' said Rob Roy; and then twisting one
button in one direction, and another in another, pulling one stud upward, and pressing another downward, the
mouth of the purse, which was bound with massive silver plate, opened and gave admittance to his hand. He
made me remark, as if to break short the subject on which Bailie Jarvie had spoken, that a small steel pistol
was concealed within the purse, the trigger of which was connected with the mounting, and made part of the
machinery, so that the weapon would certainly be discharged, and in all probability its contents lodged in the
person of any one, who, being unacquainted with the secret, should tamper with the lock which secured his
treasure. ``This,'' said he touching the pistol``this is the keeper of my privy purse.''
The simplicity of the contrivance to secure a furred pouch, which could have been ripped open without any
attempt on the spring, reminded me of the verses in the Odyssey, where Ulysses, in a yet ruder age, is content
to secure his property by casting a curious and involved complication of cordage around the seachest in
which it was deposited.
The Bailie put on his spectacles to examine the mechanism, and when he had done, returned it with a smile
and a sigh, observing``Ah! Rob, had ither folk's purses been as weel guarded, I doubt if your sporran wad
hae been as weel filled as it kythes to be by the weight.''
``Never mind, kinsman,'' said Rob, laughing; ``it will aye open for a friend's necessity, or to pay a just
dueand here,'' he added, pulling out a rouleau of gold, ``here is your ten hundred merkscount them,
and see that you are full and justly paid.''
Mr. Jarvie took the money in silence, and weighing it in his hand for an instant, laid it on the table, and
replied, ``Rob, I canna tak itI downa intromit with itthere can nae gude come o'tI hae seen ower
weel the day what sort of a gate your gowd is made inillgot gear ne'er prospered; and, to be plain wi'
you, I winna meddle wi'tit looks as there might be bluid on't.''
``Troutsho!'' said the outlaw, affecting an indifference which perhaps he did not altogether feel; ``it's gude
French gowd, and ne'er was in Scotchman's pouch before mine. Look at them, manthey are a' louisd'ors,
bright and bonnie as the day they were coined.''
``The waur, the waurjust sae muckle the waur, Robin,'' replied the Bailie, averting his eyes from the
money, though, like Caesar on the Lupercal, his fingers seemed to itch for it ``Rebellion is waur than
witchcraft, or robbery either; there's gospel warrant for't.''
``Never mind the warrant, kinsman,'' said the freebooter; ``you come by the gowd honestly, and in payment
of a just debt it came from the one king, you may gie it to the other, if ye like; and it will just serve for a
weakening of the enemy, and in the point where puir King James is weakest too, for, God knows, he has
hands and hearts eneugh, but I doubt he wants the siller.''
``He'll no get mony Hielanders then, Robin,'' said Mr. Jarvie, as, again replacing his spectacles on his nose,
he undid the rouleau, and began to count its contents.
``Nor Lowlanders neither,'' said MacGregor, arching his eyebrow, and, as he looked at me, directing a glance
towards Mr. Jarvie, who, all unconscious of the ridicule, weighed each piece with habitual scrupulosity; and
having told twice over the sum, which amounted to the discharge of his debt, principal and interest, he
returned three pieces to buy his kinswoman a gown, as he expressed himself, and a brace more for the twa
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYFOURTH. 232
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bairns, as he called them, requesting they might buy anything they liked with them except gunpowder. The
Highlander stared at his kinsman's unexpected generosity, but courteously accepted his gift, which he
deposited for the time in his wellsecured pouch.
The Bailie next produced the original bond for the debt, on the back of which he had written a formal
discharge, which, having subscribed himself, he requested me to sign as a witness. I did so, and Bailie Jarvie
was looking anxiously around for another, the Scottish law requiring the subscription of two witnesses to
validate either a bond or acquittance. ``You will hardly find a man that can write save ourselves within these
three miles,'' said Rob, ``but I'll settle the matter as easily;'' and, taking the paper from before his kinsman, he
threw it in the fire. Bailie Jarvie stared in his turn, but his kinsman continued, ``That's a Hieland settlement of
accounts. The time might come, cousin, were I to keep a' these charges and discharges, that friends might be
brought into trouble for having dealt with me.''
The Bailie attempted no reply to this argument, and our supper now appeared in a style of abundance, and
even delicacy, which, for the place, might be considered as extraordinary. The greater part of the provisions
were cold, intimating they had been prepared at some distance; and there were some bottles of good French
wine to relish pasties of various sorts of game, as well as other dishes. I remarked that MacGregor, while
doing the honours of the table with great and anxious hospitality, prayed us to excuse the circumstance that
some particular dish or pasty had been infringed on before it was presented to us. ``You must know,'' said he
to Mr. Jarvie, but without looking towards me, ``you are not the only guests this night in the MacGregor's
country, whilk, doubtless, ye will believe, since my wife and the twa lads would otherwise have been maist
ready to attend you, as weel beseems them.''
Bailie Jarvie looked as if he felt glad at any circumstance which occasioned their absence; and I should have
been entirely of his opinion, had it not been that the outlaw's apology seemed to imply they were in
attendance on Diana and her companion, whom even in my thoughts I could not bear to designate as her
husband.
While the unpleasant ideas arising from this suggestion counteracted the good effects of appetite, welcome,
and good cheer, I remarked that Rob Roy's attention had extended itself to providing us better bedding than
we had enjoyed the night before. Two of the least fragile of the bedsteads, which stood by the wall of the hut,
had been stuffed with heath, then in full flower, so artificially arranged, that, the flowers being uppermost,
afforded a mattress at once elastic and fragrant. Cloaks, and such bedding as could be collected, stretched
over this vegetable couch, made it both soft and warm. The Bailie seemed exhausted by fatigue. I resolved to
adjourn my communication to him until next morning; and therefore suffered him to betake himself to bed so
soon as he had finished a plentiful supper. Though tired and harassed, I did not myself feel the same
disposition to sleep, but rather a restless and feverish anxiety, which led to some farther discourse betwixt me
and MacGregor.
CHAPTER THIRTYFIFTH.
A hopeless darkness settles o'er my fate;
I've seen the last look of her heavenly eyes,
I've heard the last sound of her blessed voice,
I've seen her fair form from my sight depart;
My doom is closed.
Count Basil.
``I ken not what to make of you, Mr. Osbaldistone,'' said MacGregor, as he pushed the flask towards me.
``You eat not, you show no wish for rest; and yet you drink not, though that flask of Bourdeaux might have
come out of Sir Hildebrand's ain cellar. Had you been always as abstinent, you would have escaped the
deadly hatred of your cousin Rashleigh.''
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYFIFTH. 233
Page No 236
``Had I been always prudent,'' said I, blushing at the scene he recalled to my recollection, ``I should have
escaped a worse evilthe reproach of my own conscience.''
MacGregor cast a keen and somewhat fierce glance on me, as if to read whether the reproof, which he
evidently felt, had been intentionally conveyed. He saw that I was thinking of myself, not of him, and turned
his face towards the fire with a deep sigh. I followed his example, and each remained for a few minutes wrapt
in his own painful reverie. All in the hut were now asleep, or at least silent, excepting ourselves.
MacGregor first broke silence, in the tone of one who takes up his determination to enter on a painful subject.
``My cousin Nicol Jarvie means well,'' he said, ``but he presses ower hard on the temper and situation of a
man like me, considering what I have beenwhat I have been forced to becomeand, above all, that
which has forced me to become what I am.''
He paused; and, though feeling the delicate nature of the discussion in which the conversation was likely to
engage me, I could not help replying, that I did not doubt his present situation had much which must be most
unpleasant to his feelings.
``I should be happy to learn,'' I added, ``that there is an honourable chance of your escaping from it.''
``You speak like a boy,'' returned MacGregor, in a low tone that growled like distant thunder``like a boy,
who thinks the auld gnarled oak can be twisted as easily as the young sapling. Can I forget that I have been
branded as an outlawstigmatised as a traitora price set on my head as if I had been a wolfmy
family treated as the dam and cubs of the hillfox, whom all may torment, vilify, degrade, and insultthe
very name which came to me from a long and noble line of martial ancestors, denounced, as if it were a spell
to conjure up the devil with?''
As he went on in this manner, I could plainly see, that, by the enumeration of his wrongs, he was lashing
himself up into a rage, in order to justify in his own eyes the errors they had led him into. In this he perfectly
succeeded; his light grey eyes contracting alternately and dilating their pupils, until they seemed actually to
flash with flame, while he thrust forward and drew back his foot, grasped the hilt of his dirk, extended his
arm, clenched his fist, and finally rose from his seat.
``And they shall find,'' he said, in the same muttered but deep tone of stifled passion, ``that the name they
have dared to proscribethat the name of MacGregoris a spell to raise the wild devil withal. They shall
hear of my vengeance, that would scorn to listen to the story of my wrongsThe miserable Highland
drover, bankrupt, barefooted,stripped of all, dishonoured and hunted down, because the avarice of others
grasped at more than that poor all could pay, shall burst on them in an awful change. They that scoffed at the
grovelling worm, and trode upon him, may cry and howl when they see the stoop of the flying and
fierymouthed dragon.But why do I speak of all this?'' he said, sitting down again, and in a calmer
tone``Only ye may opine it frets my patience, Mr. Osbaldistone, to be hunted like an otter, or a sealgh, or
a salmon upon the shallows, and that by my very friends and neighbours; and to have as many swordcuts
made, and pistols flashed at me, as I had this day in the ford of Avondow, would try a saint's temper, much
more a Highlander's, who are not famous for that gude gift, as ye may hae heard, Mr. Osbaldistone. But
as thing bides wi' me o' what Nicol said;I'm vexed for the bairnsI'm vexed when I think o' Hamish
and Robert living their father's life.'' And yielding to despondence on account of his sons, which he felt not
upon his own, the father rested his head upon his hand.
I was much affected, Will. All my life long I have been more melted by the distress under which a strong,
proud, and powerful mind is compelled to give way, than by the more easily excited sorrows of softer
dispositions. The desire of aiding him rushed strongly on my mind, notwithstanding the apparent difficulty,
and even impossibility, of the task.
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYFIFTH. 234
Page No 237
``We have extensive connections abroad,'' said I: ``might not your sons, with some assistanceand they are
well entitled to what my father's house can givefind an honourable resource in foreign service?''
I believe my countenance showed signs of sincere emotion; but my companion, taking me by the hand, as I
was going to speak farther, said``I thankI thank yebut let us say nae mair o' this. I did not think
the eye of man would again have seen a tear on MacGregor's eyelash.'' He dashed the moisture from his
long gray eyelash and shaggy red eyebrow with the back of his hand. ``Tomorrow morning,'' he said,
``we'll talk of this, and we will talk, too, of your affairsfor we are early starters in the dawn, even when
we have the luck to have good beds to sleep in. Will ye not pledge me in a grace cup?'' I declined the
invitation.
``Then, by the soul of St. Maronoch! I must pledge myself,'' and he poured out and swallowed at least
halfaquart of wine.
I laid myself down to repose, resolving to delay my own inquiries until his mind should be in a more
composed state. Indeed, so much had this singular man possessed himself of my imagination, that I felt it
impossible to avoid watching him for some minutes after I had flung myself on my heath mattress to seeming
rest. He walked up and down the hut, crossed himself from time to time, muttering over some Latin prayer of
the Catholic church; then wrapped himself in his plaid, with his naked sword on one side, and his pistol on
the other, so disposing the folds of his mantle that he could start up at a moment's warning, with a weapon in
either hand, ready for instant combat. In a few minutes his heavy breathing announced that he was fast asleep.
Overpowered by fatigue, and stunned by the various unexpected and extraordinary scenes of the day, I, in my
turn, was soon overpowered by a slumber deep and overwhelming, from which, notwithstanding every cause
for watchfulness, I did not awake until the next morning.
When I opened my eyes, and recollected my situation, I found that MacGregor had already left the hut. I
awakened the Bailie, who, after many a snort and groan, and some heavy complaints of the soreness of his
bones, in consequence of the unwonted exertions of the preceding day, was at length able to comprehend the
joyful intelligence, that the assets carried off by Rashleigh Osbaldistone had been safely recovered. The
instant he understood my meaning, he forgot all his grievances, and, bustling up in a great hurry, proceeded
to compare the contents of the packet which I put into his hands, with Mr. Owen's memorandums, muttering,
as he went on, ``Right, rightthe real thingBailie and Whittingtonwhere's Bailie and
Whittington?seven hundred, six, and eightexact to a fractionPollock and
Peelmantwentyeight, sevenexact Praise be blest!Grub and Grinderbetter men cannot
be three hundred and seventyGlibladtwenty; I doubt Gliblad's gangingSlipprytongue;
Slipprytongue's gaenbut they are sma'sumssma'sumsthe rest's a'rightPraise be blest! we have
got the stuff, and may leave this doleful country. I shall never think on LochArd but the thought will gar me
grew again''
``I am sorry, cousin,'' said MacGregor, who entered the hut during the last observation, ``I have not been
altogether in the circumstances to make your reception sic as I could have desirednatheless, if you would
condescend to visit my puir dwelling''
``Muckle obliged, muckle obliged,'' answered Mr. Jarvie, very hastily``But we maun be gangingwe
maun be jogging, Mr. Osbaldistone and mebusiness canna wait.''
``Aweel, kinsman,'' replied the Highlander, ``ye ken our fashionfoster the guest that comesfurther
him that maun gang. But ye cannot return by DrymenI must set you on Loch Lomond, and boat ye down
to the Ferry o' Balloch, and send your nags round to meet ye there. It's a maxim of a wise man never to return
by the same road he came, providing another's free to him.''
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYFIFTH. 235
Page No 238
``Ay, ay, Rob,'' said the Bailie, ``that's ane o' the maxims ye learned when ye were a drover;ye caredna to
face the tenants where your beasts had been taking a rug of their moorland grass in the byganging, and I
doubt your road's waur marked now than it was then.''
``The mair need not to travel it ower often, kinsman,'' replied Rob; ``but I'se send round your nags to the ferry
wi' Dougal Gregor, wha is converted for that purpose into the Bailie's man, comingnot, as ye may
believe, from Aberfoil or Rob Roy's country, but on a quiet jaunt from Stirling. See, here he is.''
``I wadna hae ken'd the creature,'' said Mr. Jarvie; nor indeed was it easy to recognise the wild Highlander,
when he appeared before the door of the cottage, attired in a hat, periwig, and ridingcoat, which had once
called Andrew Fairservice master, and mounted on the Bailie's horse, and leading mine. He received his last
orders from his master to avoid certain places where he might be exposed to suspicionto collect what
intelligence he could in the course of his journey, and to await our coming at an appointed place, near the
Ferry of Balloch.
At the same time, MacGregor invited us to accompany him upon our own road, assuring us that we must
necessarily march a few miles before breakfast, and recommending a dram of brandy as a proper introduction
to the journey, in which he was pledged by the Bailie, who pronounced it ``an unlawful and perilous habit to
begin the day wi' spirituous liquors, except to defend the stomach (whilk was a tender part) against the
morning mist; in whilk case his father the deacon had recommended a dram, by precept and example.''
``Very true, kinsman,'' replied Rob, ``for which reason we, who are Children of the Mist, have a right to drink
brandy from morning till night.''
The Bailie, thus refreshed, was mounted on a small Highland pony; another was offered for my use, which,
however, I declined; and we resumed, under very different guidance and auspices, our journey of the
preceding day.
Our escort consisted of MacGregor, and five or six of the handsomest, best armed, and most athletic
mountaineers of his band, and whom he had generally in immediate attendance upon his own person.
When we approached the pass, the scene of the skirmish of the preceding day, and of the still more direful
deed which followed it, MacGregor hastened to speak, as if it were rather to what he knew must be
necessarily passing in my mind, than to any thing I had saidhe spoke, in short, to my thoughts, and not to
my words.
``You must think hardly of us, Mr. Osbaldistone, and it is not natural that it should be otherwise. But
remember, at least, we have not been unprovoked. We are a rude and an ignorant, and it may be a violent and
passionate, but we are not a cruel people. The land might be at peace and in law for us, did they allow us to
enjoy the blessings of peaceful law. But we have been a persecuted generation.''
``And persecution,'' said the Bailie, ``maketh wise men mad.''
``What must it do then to men like us, living as our fathers did a thousand years since, and possessing scarce
more lights than they did? Can we view their bluidy edicts against us their hanging, heading, hounding,
and hunting down an ancient and honourable nameas deserving better treatment than that which enemies
give to enemies?Here I stand, have been in twenty frays, and never hurt man but when I was in het bluid;
and yet they wad betray me and hang me like a masterless dog, at the gate of ony great man that has an ill
will at me.''
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CHAPTER THIRTYFIFTH. 236
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I replied, ``that the proscription of his name and family sounded in English ears as a very cruel and arbitrary
law;'' and having thus far soothed him, I resumed my propositions of obtaining military employment for
himself, if he chose it, and his sons, in foreign parts. MacGregor shook me very cordially by the hand, and
detaining me, so as to permit Mr. Jarvie to precede us, a manoeuvre for which the narrowness of the road
served as an excuse, he said to me``You are a kindhearted and an honourable youth, and understand,
doubtless, that which is due to the feelings of a man of honour. But the heather that I have trode upon when
living, must bloom ower me when I am deadmy heart would sink, and my arm would shrink and wither
like fern in the frost, were I to lose sight of my native hills; nor has the world a scene that would console me
for the loss of the rocks and cairns, wild as they are, that you see around us.And Helenwhat could
become of her, were I to leave her the subject of new insult and atrocity?or how could she bear to be
removed from these scenes, where the remembrance of her wrongs is aye sweetened by the recollection of
her revenge?I was once so hard put at by my Great enemy, as I may well ca' him, that I was forced e'en to
gie way to the tide, and removed myself and my people and family from our dwellings in our native land, and
to withdraw for a time into MacCallum More's countryand Helen made a Lament on our departure, as
weel as MacRimmon* himsell could hae
* The MacRimmons or MacCrimonds were hereditary pipers to the chiefs * of MacLeod, and celebrated for
their talents. The pibroch said to have * been composed by Helen MacGregor is still in existence. See the
Introduction * to this Novel.
framed itand so piteously sad and waesome, that our hearts amaist broke as we sate and listened to
herit was like the wailing of one that mourns for the mother that bore himthe tears came down the
rough faces of our gillies as they hearkened; and I wad not have the same touch of heartbreak again, no, not
to have all the lands that ever were owned by MacGregor.''
``But your sons,'' I said``they are at the age when your countrymen have usually no objection to see the
world?''
``And I should be content,'' he replied, ``that they pushed their fortune in the French or Spanish service, as is
the wont of Scottish cavaliers of honour; and last night your plan seemed feasible eneughBut I hae seen
his Excellency this morning before ye were up.''
``Did he then quarter so near us?'' said I, my bosom throbbing with anxiety.
``Nearer than ye thought,'' was MacGregor's reply; ``but he seemed rather in some shape to jalouse your
speaking to the young leddy; and so you see''
``There was no occasion for jealousy,'' I answered, with some haughtiness;``I should not have intruded on
his privacy.''
``But ye must not be offended, or look out from amang your curls then, like a wildcat out of an ivytod, for
ye are to understand that he wishes most sincere weel to you, and has proved it. And it's partly that whilk has
set the heather on fire e'en now.''
``Heather on fire?'' said I. ``I do not understand you.''
``Why,'' resumed MacGregor, ``ye ken weel eneugh that women and gear are at the bottom of a' the mischief
in this warld. I hae been misdoubting your cousin Rashleigh since ever he saw that he wasna to get Die
Vernon for his marrow, and I think he took grudge at his Excellency mainly on that account. But then came
the splore about the surrendering your papersand we hae now gude evidence, that, sae soon as he was
compelled to yield them up, he rade post to Stirling, and tauld the Government all and mair than all, that was
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CHAPTER THIRTYFIFTH. 237
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gaun doucely on amang us hillfolk; and, doubtless, that was the way that the country was laid to take his
Excellency and the leddy, and to make sic an unexpected raid on me. And I hae as little doubt that the poor
deevil Morris, whom he could gar believe onything, was egged on by him, and some of the Lowland gentry,
to trepan me in the gate he tried to do. But if Rashleigh Osbaldistone were baith the last and best of his name,
and granting that he and I ever forgather again, the fiend go down my weasand with a bare blade at his belt, if
we part before my dirk and his best blude are weel acquainted thegither!''
He pronounced the last threat with an ominous frown, and the appropriate gesture of his hand upon his
dagger.
``I should almost rejoice at what has happened,'' said I, ``could I hope that Rashleigh's treachery might prove
the means of preventing the explosion of the rash and desperate intrigues in which I have long suspected him
to be a prime agen.''
``Trow ye na that,'' said Rob Roy; ``traitor's word never yet hurt honest cause. He was ower deep in our
secrets, that's true; and had it not been so, Stirling and Edinburgh Castles would have been baith in our hands
by this time, or briefly hereafter, whilk is now scarce to be hoped for. But there are ower mony engaged, and
far ower gude a cause to be gien up for the breath of a traitor's tale, and that will be seen and heard of ere it be
lang. And so, as I was about to say, the best of my thanks to you for your offer anent my sons, whilk last
night I had some thoughts to have embraced in their behalf. But I see that this villain's treason will convince
our great folks that they must instantly draw to a head, and make a blow for it, or be taen in their houses,
coupled up like hounds, and driven up to London like the honest noblemen and gentlemen in the year
seventeen hundred and seven. Civil war is like a cockatrice; we have sitten hatching the egg that held it
for ten years, and might hae sitten on for ten years mair, when in comes Rashleigh, and chips the shell, and
out bangs the wonder amang us, and cries to fire and sword. Now in sic a matter I'll hae need o' a' the hands I
can mak; and, nae disparagement to the Kings of France and Spain, whom I wish very weel to, King James is
as gude a man as ony o' them, and has the best right to Hamish and Rob, being his naturalborn subjects.''
I easily comprehended that these words boded a general national convulsion; and, as it would have been alike
useless and dangerous to have combated the political opinions of my guide, at such a place and moment, I
contented myself with regretting the promiscuous scene of confusion and distress likely to arise from any
general exertion in favour of the exiled royal family.
``Let it come, manlet it come,'' answered MacGregor; ``ye never saw dull weather clear without a
shower; and if the world is turned upside down, why, honest men have the better chance to cut bread out of
it.''
I again attempted to bring him back to the subject of Diana; but although on most occasions and subjects he
used a freedom of speech which I had no great delight in listening to, yet upon that alone which was most
interesting to me, he kept a degree of scrupulous reserve, and contented himself with intimating, ``that he
hoped the leddy would be soon in a quieter country than this was like to be for one while.'' I was obliged to be
content with this answer, and to proceed in the hope that accident might, as on a former occasion, stand my
friend, and allow me at least the sad gratification of bidding farewell to the object which had occupied such a
share of my affections, so much beyond even what I had supposed, till I was about to be separated from her
for ever.
We pursued the margin of the lake for about six English miles, through a devious and beautifully variegated
path, until we attained a sort of Highland farm, or assembly of hamlets, near the head of that fine sheet of
water, called, if I mistake not, Lediart, or some such name. Here a numerous party of MacGregor's men were
stationed in order to receive us. The taste as well as the eloquence of tribes in a savage, or, to speak more
properly, in a rude state, is usually just, because it is unfettered by system and affectation; and of this I had an
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CHAPTER THIRTYFIFTH. 238
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example in the choice these mountaineers had made of a place to receive their guests. It has been said that a
British monarch would judge well to receive the embassy of a rival power in the cabin of a manofwar; and
a Highland leader acted with some propriety in choosing a situation where the natural objects of grandeur
proper to his country might have their full effect on the minds of his guests.
We ascended about two hundred yards from the shores of the lake, guided by a brawling brook, and left on
the right hand four or five Highland huts, with patches of arable land around them, so small as to show that
they must have been worked with the spade rather than the plough, cut as it were out of the surrounding
copsewood, and waving with crops of barley and oats. Above this limited space the hill became more steep;
and on its edge we descried the glittering arms and waving drapery of about fifty of MacGregor's followers.
They were stationed on a spot, the recollection of which yet strikes me with admiration. The brook, hurling
its waters downwards from the mountain, had in this spot encountered a barrier rock, over which it had made
its way by two distinct leaps. The first fall, across which a magnificent old oak, slanting out from the farther
bank, partly extended itself as if to shroud the dusky stream of the cascade, might be about twelve feet high;
the broken waters were received in a beautiful stone basin, almost as regular as if hewn by a sculptor; and
after wheeling around its flinty margin, they made a second precipitous dash, through a dark and narrow
chasm, at least fifty feet in depth, and from thence, in a hurried, but comparatively a more gentle course,
escaped to join the lake.
With the natural taste which belongs to mountaineers, and especially to the Scottish Highlanders, whose
feelings, I have observed, are often allied with the romantic and poetical, Rob Roy's wife and followers had
prepared our morning repast in a scene well calculated to impress strangers with some feelings of awe. They
are also naturally a grave and proud people, and, however rude in our estimation, carry their ideas of form
and politeness to an excess that would appear overstrained, except from the demonstration of superior force
which accompanies the display of it; for it must be granted that the air of punctilious deference and rigid
etiquette which would seem ridiculous in an ordinary peasant, has, like the salute of a corpsdegarde, a
propriety when tendered by a Highlander completely armed. There was, accordingly, a good deal of formality
in our approach and reception.
The Highlanders, who had been dispersed on the side of the hill, drew themselves together when we came in
view, and, standing firm and motionless, appeared in close column behind three figures, whom I soon
recognised to be Helen MacGregor and her two sons. MacGregor himself arranged his attendants in the rear,
and, requesting Mr. Jarvie to dismount where the ascent became steep, advanced slowly, marshalling us
forward at the head of the troop. As we advanced, we heard the wild notes of the bagpipes, which lost their
natural discord from being mingled with the dashing sound of the cascade. When we came close, the wife of
MacGregor came forward to meet us. Her dress was studiously arranged in a more feminine taste than it had
been on the preceding day, but her features wore the same lofty, unbending, and resolute character; and as she
folded my friend the Bailie in an unexpected and apparently unwelcome embrace, I could perceive by the
agitation of his wig, his back, and the calves of his legs, that he felt much like to one who feels himself
suddenly in the gripe of a shebear, without being able to distinguish whether the animal is in kindness or in
wrath.
``Kinsman,'' she said, ``you are welcomeand you, too, stranger,'' she added, releasing my alarmed
companion, who instinctively drew back and settled his wig, and addressing herself to me``you also are
welcome. You came,'' she added, ``to our unhappy country, when our bloods were chafed, and our hands
were red. Excuse the rudeness that gave you a rough welcome, and lay it upon the evil times, and not upon
us.'' All this was said with the manners of a princess, and in the tone and style of a court. Nor was there the
least tincture of that vulgarity, which we naturally attach to the Lowland Scottish. There was a strong
provincial accentuation, but, otherwise, the language rendered by Helen MacGregor, out of the native and
poetical Gaelic, into English, which she had acquired as we do learned tongues, but had probably never heard
applied to the mean purposes of ordinary life, was graceful, flowing, and declamatory. Her husband, who had
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CHAPTER THIRTYFIFTH. 239
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in his time played many parts, used a much less elevated and emphatic dialect;but even his language rose
in purity of expression, as you may have remarked, if I have been accurate in recording it, when the affairs
which he discussed were of an agitating and important nature; and it appears to me in his case, and in that of
some other Highlanders whom I have known, that, when familiar and facetious, they used the Lowland
Scottish dialect,when serious and impassioned, their thoughts arranged themselves in the idiom of their
native language; and in the latter case, as they uttered the corresponding ideas in English, the expressions
sounded wild, elevated, and poetical. In fact, the language of passion is almost always pure as well as
vehement, and it is no uncommon thing to hear a Scotchman, when overwhelmed by a countryman with a
tone of bitter and fluent upbraiding, reply by way of taunt to his adversary, ``You have gotten to your
English.''
Be this as it may, the wife of MacGregor invited us to a refreshment spread out on the grass, which abounded
with all the good things their mountains could offer, but was clouded by the dark and undisturbed gravity
which sat on the brow of our hostess, as well as by our deep and anxious recollection of what had taken place
on the preceding day. It was in vain that the leader exerted himself to excite mirth;a chill hung over our
minds, as if the feast had been funereal; and every bosom felt light when it was ended.
``Adieu, cousin,'' she said to Mr. Jarvie, as we rose from the entertainment; ``the best wish Helen MacGregor
can give to a friend is, that he may see her no more.''
The Bailie struggled to answer, probably with some commonplace maxim of morality;but the calm and
melancholy sternness of her countenance bore down and disconcerted the mechanical and formal importance
of the magistrate. He coughed, hemmed,bowed,and was silent.
``For you, stranger,'' she said, ``I have a token, from one whom you can never''
``Helen!'' interrupted MacGregor, in a loud and stern voice, ``what means this?have you forgotten the
charge?''
``MacGregor,'' she replied, ``I have forgotten nought that is fitting for me to remember. It is not such hands as
these,'' and she stretched forth her long, sinewy, and bare arm, ``that are fitting to convey lovetokens, were
the gift connected with aught but misery. Young man,'' she said, presenting me with a ring, which I well
remembered as one of the few ornaments that Miss Vernon sometimes wore, ``this comes from one whom
you will never see more. If it is a joyless token, it is well fitted to pass through the hands of one to whom joy
can never be known. Her last words wereLet him forget me for ever.''
``And can she,'' I said, almost without being conscious that I spoke, ``suppose that is possible?''
``All may be forgotten,'' said the extraordinary female who addressed me,``allbut the sense of
dishonour, and the desire of vengeance.''
``Seid suas!''* cried the MacGregor, stamping with impatience.
* ``Strike up.''
The bagpipes sounded, and with their thrilling and jarring tones cut short our conference. Our leave of our
hostess was taken by silent gestures; and we resumed our journey with an additional proof on my part, that I
was beloved by Diana, and was separated from her for ever.
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYFIFTH. 240
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CHAPTER THIRTYSIXTH.
Farewell to the land where the clouds love to rest,
Like the shroud of the dead, on the mountain's cold breast
To the cataract's roar where the eagles reply,
And the lake her lone bosom expands to the sky.
Our route lay through a dreary, yet romantic country, which the distress of my own mind prevented me from
remarking particularly, and which, therefore, I will not attempt to describe. The lofty peak of Ben Lomond,
here the predominant monarch of the mountains, lay on our right hand, and served as a striking landmark. I
was not awakened from my apathy, until, after a long and toilsome walk, we emerged through a pass in the
hills, and Loch Lomond opened before us. I will spare you the attempt to describe what you would hardly
comprehend without going to see it. But certainly this noble lake, boasting innumerable beautiful islands, of
every varying form and outline which fancy can frame,its northern extremity narrowing until it is lost
among dusky and retreating mountains,while, gradually widening as it extends to the southward, it
spreads its base around the indentures and promontories of a fair and fertile land, affords one of the most
surprising, beautiful, and sublime spectacles in nature. The eastern side, peculiarly rough and rugged, was at
this time the chief seat of MacGregor and his clan,to curb whom, a small garrison had been stationed in a
central position betwixt Loch Lomond and another lake. The extreme strength of the country, however, with
the numerous passes, marshes, caverns, and other places of concealment or defence, made the establishment
of this little fort seem rather an acknowledgment of the danger, than an effectual means of securing against it.
On more than one occasion, as well as on that which I witnessed, the garrison suffered from the adventurous
spirit of the outlaw and his followers. These advantages were never sullied by ferocity when he himself was
in command; for, equally goodtempered and sagacious, he understood well the danger of incurring
unnecessary odium. I learned with pleasure that he had caused the captives of the preceding day to be
liberated in safety; and many traits of mercy, and even of generosity, are recorded of this remarkable man on
similar occasions.
A boat waited for us in a creek beneath a huge rock, manned by four lusty Highland rowers; and our host
took leave of us with great cordiality, and even affection. Betwixt him and Mr. Jarvie, indeed, there seemed
to exist a degree of mutual regard, which formed a strong contrast to their different occupations and habits.
After kissing each other very lovingly, and when they were just in the act of parting, the Bailie, in the fulness
of his heart, and with a faltering voice, assured his kinsman, ``that if ever an hundred pund, or even twa
hundred, would put him or his family in a settled way, he need but just send a line to the SautMarket;'' and
Rob, grasping his baskethilt with one hand, and shaking Mr. Jarvie's heartily with the other, protested, ``that
if ever anybody should affront his kinsman, an he would but let him ken, he would stow his lugs out of his
head, were he the best man in Glasgow.''
With these assurances of mutual aid and continued goodwill, we bore away from the shore, and took our
course for the southwestern angle of the lake, where it gives birth to the river Leven. Rob Roy remained for
some time standing on the rock from beneath which we had departed, conspicuous by his long gun, waving
tartans, and the single plume in his cap, which in those days denoted the Highland gentleman and soldier;
although I observe that the present military taste has decorated the Highland bonnet with a quantity of black
plumage resembling that which is borne before funerals. At length, as the distance increased between us, we
saw him turn and go slowly up the side of the hill, followed by his immediate attendants or bodyguard.
We performed our voyage for a long time in silence, interrupted only by the Gaelic chant which one of the
rowers sung in low irregular measure, rising occasionally into a wild chorus, in which the others joined.
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CHAPTER THIRTYSIXTH. 241
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My own thoughts were sad enough;yet I felt something soothing in the magnificent scenery with which I
was surrounded; and thought, in the enthusiasm of the moment, that had my faith been that of Rome, I could
have consented to live and die a lonely hermit in one of the romantic and beautiful islands amongst which our
boat glided.
The Bailie had also his speculations, but they were of somewhat a different complexion; as I found when,
after about an hour's silence, during which he had been mentally engaged in the calculations necessary, he
undertook to prove the possibility of draining the lake, and ``giving to plough and harrow many hundred, ay,
many a thousand acres, from whilk no man could get earthly gude e'enow, unless it were a gedd,* or a dish of
* A pike.
perch now and then.''
Amidst a long discussion, which he ``crammed into mine ear against the stomach of my sense,'' I only
remember, that it was part of his project to preserve a portion of the lake just deep enough and broad enough
for the purposes of watercarriage, so that coalbarges and gabbards should pass as easily between
Dumbarton and Glenfalloch as between Glasgow and Greenock.
At length we neared our distant place of landing, adjoining to the ruins of an ancient castle, and just where
the lake discharges its superfluous waters into the Leven. There we found Dougal with the horses. The Bailie
had formed a plan with respect to ``the creature,'' as well as upon the draining of the lake; and, perhaps in
both cases, with more regard to the utility than to the practical possibility of his scheme. ``Dougal,'' he said,
``ye are a kindly creature, and hae the sense and feeling o' what is due to your bettersand I'm e'en wae for
you, Dougal, for it canna be but that in the life ye lead you suld get a Jeddart cast* ae day suner or later. I
trust, considering my
* [``The memory of Dunbar's legal (?) proceedings at Jedburgh is preserved * in the proverbial phrase Jeddart
Justice, which signifies trial after * execution.''Minstrelsy of the Border, Preface, p. lvi.]
services as a magistrate, and my father the deacon's afore me, I hae interest eneugh in the council to gar them
wink a wee at a waur faut than yours. Sae I hae been thinking, that if ye will gang back to Glasgow wi' us,
being a strongbackit creature, ye might be employed in the warehouse till something better suld cast up.''
``Her nainsell muckle obliged till the Bailie's honour,'' replied Dougal; ``but teil be in her shanks fan she
gangs on a causeway'd street, unless she be drawn up the Gallowgate wi' tows, as she was before.''
In fact, I afterwards learned that Dougal had originally come to Glasgow as a prisoner, from being concerned
in some depredation, but had somehow found such favour in the eyes of the jailor, that, with rather
overweening confidence, he had retained him in his service as one of the turnkeys; a task which Dougal had
discharged with sufficient fidelity, so far as was known, until overcome by his clannish prejudices on the
unexpected appearance of his old leader.
Astonished at receiving so round a refusal to so favourable an offer, the Bailie, turning to me, observed, that
the ``creature was a naturalborn idiot.'' I testified my own gratitude in a way which Dougal much better
relished, by slipping a couple of guineas into his hand. He no sooner felt the touch of the gold, than he sprung
twice or thrice from the earth with the agility of a wild buck, flinging out first one heel and then another, in a
manner which would have astonished a French dancingmaster. He ran to the boatmen to show them the
prize, and a small gratuity made them take part in his raptures. He then, to use a favourite expression of the
dramatic John Bunyan, ``went on his way, and I saw him no more.''
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CHAPTER THIRTYSIXTH. 242
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The Bailie and I mounted our horses, and proceeded on the road to Glasgow. When we had lost the view of
the lake, and its superb amphitheatre of mountains, I could not help expressing with enthusiasm, my sense of
its natural beauties, although I was conscious that Mr. Jarvie was a very uncongenial spirit to communicate
with on such a subject.
``Ye are a young gentleman,'' he replied, ``and an Englishman, and a' this may be very fine to you; but for
me, wha am a plain man, and ken something o' the different values of land, I wadna gie the finest sight we
hae seen in the Hielands, for the first keek o' the Gorbals o' Glasgow; and if I were ance there, it suldna be
every fule's errand, begging your pardon, Mr. Francis, that suld take me out o' sight o' Saint Mungo's steeple
again!''
The honest man had his wish; for, by dint of travelling very late, we arrived at his own house that night, or
rather on the succeeding morning. Having seen my worthy fellowtraveller safely consigned to the charge of
the considerate and officious Mattie, I proceeded to Mrs. Flyter's, in whose house, even at this unwonted
hour, light was still burning. The door was opened by no less a person than Andrew Fairservice himself, who,
upon the first sound of my voice, set up a loud shout of joyful recognition, and, without uttering a syllable,
ran up stairs towards a parlour on the second floor, from the windows of which the light proceeded. Justly
conceiving that he went to announce my return to the anxious Owen, I followed him upon the foot. Owen was
not alone, there was another in the apartment it was my father.
The first impulse was to preserve the dignity of his usual equanimity,``Francis, I am glad to see you.'' The
next was to embrace me tenderly,``My deardear son!''Owen secured one of my hands, and
wetted it with his tears, while he joined in gratulating my return. These are scenes which address themselves
to the eye and to the heart rather than to the earMy old eyelids still moisten at the recollection of our
meeting; but your kind and affectionate feelings can well imagine what I should find it impossible to
describe.
When the tumult of our joy was over, I learnt that my father had arrived from Holland shortly after Owen had
set off for Scotland. Determined and rapid in all his movements, he only stopped to provide the means of
discharging the obligations incumbent on his house. By his extensive resources, with funds enlarged, and
credit fortified, by eminent success in his continental speculation, he easily accomplished what perhaps his
absence alone rendered difficult, and set out for Scotland to exact justice from Rashleigh Osbaldistone, as
well as to put order to his affairs in that country. My father's arrival in full credit, and with the ample means
of supporting his engagements honourably, as well as benefiting his correspondents in future, was a stunning
blow to MacVittie and Company, who had conceived his star set for ever. Highly incensed at the usage his
confidential clerk and agent had received at their hands, Mr. Osbaldistone refused every tender of apology
and accommodation; and having settled the balance of their account, announced to them that, with all its
numerous contingent advantages, that leaf of their ledger was closed for ever.
While he enjoyed this triumph over false friends, he was not a little alarmed on my account. Owen, good
man, had not supposed it possible that a journey of fifty or sixty miles, which may be made with so much
ease and safety in any direction from London, could be attended with any particular danger. But he caught
alarm, by sympathy, from my father, to whom the country, and the lawless character of its inhabitants, were
better known.
These apprehensions were raised to agony, when, a few hours before I arrived, Andrew Fairservice made his
appearance, with a dismal and exaggerated account of the uncertain state in which he had left me. The
nobleman with whose troops he had been a sort of prisoner, had, after examination, not only dismissed him,
but furnished him with the means of returning rapidly to Glasgow, in order to announce to my friends my
precarious and unpleasant situation.
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CHAPTER THIRTYSIXTH. 243
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Andrew was one of those persons who have no objection to the sort of temporary attention and woeful
importance which attaches itself to the bearer of bad tidings, and had therefore by no means smoothed down
his tale in the telling, especially as the rich London merchant himself proved unexpectedly one of the
auditors. He went at great length into an account of the dangers I had escaped, chiefly, as he insinuated, by
means of his own experience, exertion, and sagacity.
``What was to come of me now, when my better angel, in his (Andrew's) person, was removed from my side,
it was,'' he said, ``sad and sair to conjecture; that the Bailie was nae better than just naebody at a pinch, or
something waur, for he was a conceited bodyand Andrew hated conceitbut certainly, atween the
pistols and the carabines of the troopers, that rappit aff the tane after the tother as fast as hail, and the dirks
and claymores o' the Hielanders, and the deep waters and weils o' the Avondow, it was to be thought there
wad be a puir account of the young gentleman.''
This statement would have driven Owen to despair, had he been alone and unsupported; but my father's
perfect knowledge of mankind enabled him easily to appreciate the character of Andrew, and the real amount
of his intelligence. Stripped of all exaggeration, however, it was alarming enough to a parent. He determined
to set out in person to obtain my liberty by ransom or negotiation, and was busied with Owen till a late hour,
in order to get through some necessary correspondence, and devolve on the latter some business which should
be transacted during his absence; and thus it chanced that I found them watchers.
It was late ere we separated to rest, and, too impatient long to endure repose, I was stirring early the next
morning. Andrew gave his attendance at my levee, as in duty bound, and, instead of the scarecrow figure to
which he had been reduced at Aberfoil, now appeared in the attire of an undertaker, a goodly suit, namely, of
the deepest mourning. It was not till after one or two queries, which the rascal affected as long as he could to
misunderstand, that I found out he ``had thought it but decent to put on mourning, on account of my
inexpressible loss; and as the broker at whose shop he had equipped himself, declined to receive the goods
again, and as his own garments had been destroyed or carried off in my honour's service, doubtless I and my
honourable father, whom Providence had blessed wi' the means, wadna suffer a puir lad to sit down wi' the
loss; a stand o' claes was nae great matter to an Osbaldistone (be praised for't!), especially to an old and
attached servant o' the house.''
As there was something of justice in Andrew's plea of loss in my service, his finesse succeeded; and he came
by a good suit of mourning, with a beaver and all things conforming, as the exterior signs of woe for a master
who was alive and merry.
My father's first care, when he arose, was to visit Mr. Jarvie, for whose kindness he entertained the most
grateful sentiments, which he expressed in very few, but manly and nervous terms. He explained the altered
state of his affairs, and offered the Bailie, on such terms as could not but be both advantageous and
acceptable, that part in his concerns which had been hitherto managed by MacVittie and Company. The
Bailie heartily congratulated my father and Owen on the changed posture of their affairs, and, without
affecting to disclaim that he had done his best to serve them, when matters looked otherwise, he said, ``He
had only just acted as he wad be done by that, as to the extension of their correspondence, he frankly
accepted it with thanks. Had MacVittie's folk behaved like honest men,'' he said, ``he wad hae liked ill to hae
come in ahint them, and out afore them this gate. But it's otherwise, and they maun e'en stand the loss.''
The Bailie then pulled me by the sleeve into a corner, and, after again cordially wishing me joy, proceeded, in
rather an embarrassed tone``I wad heartily wish, Maister Francis, there suld be as little said as possible
about the queer things we saw up yonder awa. There's nae gude, unless ane were judicially examinate, to say
onything about that awfu' job o' Morrisand the members o' the council wadna think it creditable in ane of
their body to be fighting wi' a wheen Hielandmen, and singeing their plaidensAnd abune a', though I am
a decent sponsible man, when I am on my right end, I canna but think I maun hae made a queer figure
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without my hat and my periwig, hinging by the middle like bawdrons, or a cloak flung ower a cloakpin.
Bailie Grahame wad hae an unco hair in my neck an he got that tale by the end.''
I could not suppress a smile when I recollected the Bailie's situation, although I certainly thought it no
laughing matter at the time. The goodnatured merchant was a little confused, but smiled also when he shook
his head``I see how it isI see how it is. But say naething about itthere's a gude callant; and charge
that langtongued, conceited, upsetting serving man o' yours, to sae naething neither. I wadna for ever sae
muckle that even the lassock Mattie ken'd onything about it. I wad never hear an end o't.''
He was obviously relieved from his impending fears of ridicule, when I told him it was my father's intention
to leave Glasgow almost immediately. Indeed he had now no motive for remaining, since the most valuable
part of the papers carried off by Rashleigh had been recovered. For that portion which he had converted into
cash and expended in his own or on political intrigues, there was no mode of recovering it but by a suit at
law, which was forthwith commenced, and proceeded, as our lawagents assured us, with all deliberate
speed.
We spent, accordingly, one hospitable day with the Bailie, and took leave of him, as this narrative now does.
He continued to grow in wealth, honour, and credit, and actually rose to the highest civic honours in his
native city. About two years after the period I have mentioned, he tired of his bachelor life, and promoted
Mattie from her wheel by the kitchen fire to the upper end of his table, in the character of Mrs. Jarvie. Bailie
Grahame, the MacVitties, and others (for all men have their enemies, especially in the council of a royal
burgh), ridiculed this transformation. ``But,'' said Mr. Jarvie, ``let them say their say. I'll ne'er fash mysell,
nor lose my liking for sae feckless a matter as a nine days' clash. My honest father the deacon had a byword,
Brent brow and lily skin, A loving heart, and a leal within, Is better than gowd or gentle kin.
Besides,'' as he always concluded, ``Mattie was nae ordinary lassockquean; she was akin to the Laird o'
Limmerfield.''
Whether it was owing to her descent or her good gifts, I do not presume to decide; but Mattie behaved
excellently in her exaltation, and relieved the apprehensions of some of the Bailie's friends, who had deemed
his experiment somewhat hazardous. I do not know that there was any other incident of his quiet and useful
life worthy of being particularly recorded.
CHAPTER THIRTYSEVENTH.
``Come ye hither my `six' good sons,
Gallant men I trow ye be,
How many of you, my children dear,
Will stand by that good Earl and me?''
``Five'' of them did answer make
``Five'' of them spoke hastily,
``O father, till the day we die,
We'll stand by that good Earl and thee.''
The Rising in the North.
On the morning when we were to depart from Glasgow, Andrew Fairservice bounced into my apartment like
a madman, jumping up and down, and singing, with more vehemence than tune,
The kiln's on firethe kiln's on fire The kiln's on fireshe's a' in a lowe.
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With some difficulty I prevailed on him to cease his confounded clamour, and explain to me what the matter
was. He was pleased to inform me, as if he had been bringing the finest news imaginable, ``that the Hielands
were clean broken out, every man o' them, and that Rob Roy, and a' his breekless bands, wad be down upon
Glasgow or twentyfour hours o' the clock gaed round.''
``Hold your tongue,'' said I, ``you rascal! You must be drunk or mad; and if there is any truth in your news, is
it a singing matter, you scoundrel?''
``Drunk or mad? nae doubt,'' replied Andrew, dauntlessly; ``ane's aye drunk or mad if he tells what grit folks
dinna like to hearSing? Od, the clans will make us sing on the wrang side o' our mouth, if we are sae
drunk or mad as to bide their coming.''
I rose in great haste, and found my father and Owen also on foot, and in considerable alarm.
Andrew's news proved but too true in the main. The great rebellion which agitated Britain in the year 1715
had already broken out, by the unfortunate Earl of Mar's setting up the standard of the Stuart family in an
illomened hour, to the ruin of many honourable families, both in England and Scotland. The treachery of
some of the Jacobite agents (Rashleigh among the rest), and the arrest of others, had made George the First's
Government acquainted with the extensive ramifications of a conspiracy long prepared, and which at last
exploded prematurely, and in a part of the kingdom too distant to have any vital effect upon the country,
which, however, was plunged into much confusion.
This great public event served to confirm and elucidate the obscure explanations I had received from
MacGregor; and I could easily see why the westland clans, who were brought against him, should have
waived their private quarrel, in consideration that they were all shortly to be engaged in the same public
cause. It was a more melancholy reflection to my mind, that Diana Vernon was the wife of one of those who
were most active in turning the world upside down, and that she was herself exposed to all the privations and
perils of her husband's hazardous trade.
We held an immediate consultation on the measures we were to adopt in this crisis, and acquiesced in my
father's plan, that we should instantly get the necessary passports, and make the best of our way to London. I
acquainted my father with my wish to offer my personal service to the Government in any volunteer corps,
several being already spoken of. He readily acquiesced in my proposal; for though he disliked war as a
profession, yet, upon principle, no man would have exposed his life more willingly in defence of civil and
religious liberty.
We travelled in haste and in peril through Dumfriesshire and the neighbouring counties of England. In this
quarter, gentlemen of the Tory interest were already in motion, mustering men and horses, while the Whigs
assembled themselves in the principal towns, armed the inhabitants, and prepared for civil war. We narrowly
escaped being stopped on more occasions than one, and were often compelled to take circuitous routes to
avoid the points where forces were assembling.
When we reached London, we immediately associated with those bankers and eminent merchants who agreed
to support the credit of Government, and to meet that run upon the funds, on which the conspirators had
greatly founded their hopes of furthering their undertaking, by rendering the Government, as it were,
bankrupt. My father was chosen one of the members of this formidable body of the monied interest, as all had
the greatest confidence in his zeal, skill, and activity. He was also the organ by which they communicated
with Government, and contrived, from funds belonging to his own house, or over which he had command, to
find purchasers for a quantity of the national stock, which was suddenly flung into the market at a depreciated
price when the rebellion broke out. I was not idle myself, but obtained a commission, and levied, at my
father's expense, about two hundred men, with whom I joined General Carpenter's army.
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The rebellion, in the meantime, had extended itself to England. The unfortunate Earl of Derwentwater had
taken arms in the cause, along with General Foster. My poor uncle, Sir Hildebrand, whose estate was reduced
to almost nothing by his own carelessness and the expense and debauchery of his sons and household, was
easily persuaded to join that unfortunate standard. Before doing so, however, he exhibited a degree of
precaution of which no one could have suspected himhe made his will!
By this document he devised his estates at Osbaldistone Hall, and so forth, to his sons successively, and their
male heirs, until he came to Rashleigh, whom, on account of the turn he had lately taken in politics, he
detested with all his might,he cut him off with a shilling, and settled the estate on me as his next heir. I
had always been rather a favourite of the old gentleman; but it is probable that, confident in the number of
gigantic youths who now armed around him, he considered the destination as likely to remain a dead letter,
which he inserted chiefly to show his displeasure at Rashleigh's treachery, both public and domestic. There
was an article, by which he, bequeathed to the niece of his late wife, Diana Vernon, now Lady Diana Vernon
Beauchamp, some diamonds belonging to her late aunt, and a great silver ewer, having the arms of Vernon
and Osbaldistone quarterly engraven upon it.
But Heaven had decreed a more speedy extinction of his numerous and healthy lineage, than, most probably,
he himself had reckoned on. In the very first muster of the conspirators, at a place called GreenRigg,
Thorncliff Osbaldistone quarrelled about precedence with a gentleman of the Northumbrian border, to the full
as fierce and intractable as himself. In spite of all remonstrances, they gave their commander a specimen of
how far their discipline might be relied upon, by fighting it out with their rapiers, and my kinsman was killed
on the spot. His death was a great loss to Sir Hildebrand, for, notwithstanding his infernal temper, he had a
grain or two of more sense than belonged to the rest of the brotherhood, Rashleigh always excepted.
Perceval, the sot, died also in his calling. He had a wager with another gentleman (who, from his exploits in
that line, had acquired the formidable epithet of Brandy Swalewell), which should drink the largest cup of
strong liquor when King James was proclaimed by the insurgents at Morpeth. The exploit was something
enormous. I forget the exact quantity of brandy which Percie swallowed, but it occasioned a fever, of which
he expired at the end of three days, with the word, water, water, perpetually on his tongue.
Dickon broke his neck near Warrington Bridge, in an attempt to show off a foundered bloodmare which he
wished to palm upon a Manchester merchant who had joined the insurgents. He pushed the animal at a
fivebarred gate; she fell in the leap, and the unfortunate jockey lost his life.
Wilfred the fool, as sometimes befalls, had the best fortune of the family. He was slain at Proud Preston, in
Lancashire, on the day that General Carpenter attacked the barricades, fighting with great bravery, though I
have heard he was never able exactly to comprehend the cause of quarrel, and did not uniformly remember on
which king's side he was engaged. John also behaved very boldly in the same engagement, and received
several wounds, of which he was not happy enough to die on the spot.
Old Sir Hildebrand, entirely brokenhearted by these successive losses, became, by the next day's surrender,
one of the unhappy prisoners, and was lodged in Newgate with his wounded son John.
I was now released from my military duty, and lost no time, therefore, in endeavouring to relieve the
distresses of these new relations. My father's interest with Government, and the general compassion excited
by a parent who had sustained the successive loss of so many sons within so short a time, would have
prevented my uncle and cousin from being brought to trial for high treason. But their doom was given forth
from a greater tribunal. John died of his wounds in Newgate, recommending to me in his last breath, a cast of
hawks which he had at the Hall, and a black spaniel bitch called Lucy.
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My poor uncle seemed beaten down to the very earth by his family calamities, and the circumstances in
which he unexpectedly found himself. He said little, but seemed grateful for such attentions as circumstances
permitted me to show him. I did not witness his meeting with my father for the first time for so many years,
and under circumstances so melancholy; but, judging from my father's extreme depression of spirits, it must
have been melancholy in the last degree. Sir Hildebrand spoke with great bitterness against Rashleigh, now
his only surviving child; laid upon him the ruin of his house, and the deaths of all his brethren, and declared,
that neither he nor they would have plunged into political intrigue, but for that very member of his family,
who had been the first to desert them. He once or twice mentioned Diana, always with great affection; and
once he said, while I sate by his bedside``Nevoy, since Thorncliff and all of them are dead, I am sorry
you cannot have her.''
The expression affected me much at the time; for it was a usual custom of the poor old baronet's, when
joyously setting forth upon the morning's chase, to distinguish Thorncliff, who was a favourite, while he
summoned the rest more generally; and the loud jolly tone in which he used to hollo, ``Call Thornie call
all of them,'' contrasted sadly with the woebegone and selfabandoning note in which he uttered the
disconsolate words which I have above quoted. He mentioned the contents of his will, and supplied me with
an authenticated copy;the original he had deposited with my old acquaintance Mr. Justice Inglewood,
who, dreaded by no one, and confided in by all as a kind of neutral person, had become, for aught I know, the
depositary of half the wills of the fighting men of both factions in the county of Northumberland.
The greater part of my uncle's last hours were spent in the discharge of the religious duties of his church, in
which he was directed by the chaplain of the Sardinian ambassador, for whom, with some difficulty, we
obtained permission to visit him. I could not ascertain by my own observation, or through the medical
attendants, that Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone died of any formed complaint bearing a name in the science of
medicine. He seemed to me completely worn out and broken down by fatigue of body and distress of mind,
and rather ceased to exist, than died of any positive struggle,just as a vessel, buffeted and tossed by a
succession of tempestuous gales, her timbers overstrained, and her joints loosened, will sometimes spring a
leak and founder, when there are no apparent causes for her destruction.
It was a remarkable circumstance that my father, after the last duties were performed to his brother, appeared
suddenly to imbibe a strong anxiety that I should act upon the will, and represent his father's house, which
had hitherto seemed to be the thing in the world which had least charms for him. But formerly, he had been
like the fox in the fable, contemning what was beyond his reach; and, moreover, I doubt not that the
excessive dislike which he entertained against Rashleigh (now Sir Rashleigh) Osbaldistone, who loudly
threatened to attack his father Sir Hildebrand's will and settlement, corroborated my father's desire to
maintain it.
``He had been most unjustly disinherited,'' he said, ``by his own fatherhis brother's will had repaired the
disgrace, if not the injury, by leaving the wreck of his property to Frank, the natural heir, and he was
determined the bequest should take effect.''
In the meantime, Rashleigh was not altogether a contemptible personage as an opponent. The information he
had given to Government was critically welltimed, and his extreme plausibility, with the extent of his
intelligence, and the artful manner in which he contrived to assume both merit and influence, had, to a certain
extent, procured him patrons among Ministers. We were already in the full tide of litigation with him on the
subject of his pillaging the firm of Osbaldistone and Tresham; and, judging from the progress we made in
that comparatively simple lawsuit, there was a chance that this second course of litigation might be drawn out
beyond the period of all our natural lives.
To avert these delays as much as possible, my father, by the advice of his counsel learned in the law, paid off
and vested in my person the rights to certain large mortgages affecting Osbaldistone Hall. Perhaps, however,
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CHAPTER THIRTYSEVENTH. 248
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the opportunity to convert a great share of the large profits which accrued from the rapid rise of the funds
upon the suppression of the rebellion, and the experience he had so lately had of the perils of commerce,
encouraged him to realise, in this manner, a considerable part of his property. At any rate, it so chanced, that,
instead of commanding me to the desk, as I fully expected, having intimated my willingness to comply with
his wishes, however they might destine me, I received his directions to go down to Osbaldistone Hall, and
take possession of it as the heir and representative of the family. I was directed to apply to Squire Inglewood
for the copy of my uncle's will deposited with him, and take all necessary measures to secure that possession
which sages say makes nine points of the law.
At another time I should have been delighted with this change of destination. But now Osbaldistone Hall was
accompanied with many painful recollections. Still, however, I thought, that in that neighbourhood only I was
likely to acquire some information respecting the fate of Diana Vernon. I had every reason to fear it must be
far different from what I could have wished it. But I could obtain no precise information on the subject.
It was in vain that I endeavoured, by such acts of kindness as their situation admitted, to conciliate the
confidence of some distant relations who were among the prisoners in Newgate. A pride which I could not
condemn, and a natural suspicion of the Whig Frank Osbaldistone, cousin to the doubledistilled traitor
Rashleigh, closed every heart and tongue, and I only received thanks, cold and extorted, in exchange for such
benefits as I had power to offer. The arm of the law was also gradually abridging the numbers of those whom
I endeavoured to serve, and the hearts of the survivors became gradually more contracted towards all whom
they conceived to be concerned with the existing Government. As they were led gradually, and by
detachments, to execution, those who survived lost interest in mankind, and the desire of communicating with
them. I shall long remember what one of them, Ned Shafton by name, replied to my anxious inquiry, whether
there was any indulgence I could procure him? ``Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, I must suppose you mean me
kindly, and therefore I thank you. But, by G, men cannot be fattened like poultry, when they see their
neighbours carried off day by day to the place of execution, and know that their own necks are to be twisted
round in their turn.''
Upon the whole, therefore, I was glad to escape from London, from Newgate, and from the scenes which
both exhibited, to breathe the free air of Northumberland. Andrew Fairservice had continued in my service
more from my father's pleasure than my own. At present there seemed a prospect that his local acquaintance
with Osbaldistone Hall and its vicinity might be useful; and, of course, he accompanied me on my journey,
and I enjoyed the prospect of getting rid of him, by establishing him in his old quarters. I cannot conceive
how he could prevail upon my father to interest himself in him, unless it were by the art, which he possessed
in no inconsiderable degree, of affecting an extreme attachment to his master; which theoretical attachment
he made compatible in practice with playing all manner of tricks without scruple, providing only against his
master being cheated by any one but himself.
We performed our journey to the North without any remarkable adventure, and we found the country, so
lately agitated by rebellion, now peaceful and in good order. The nearer we approached to Osbaldistone Hall,
the more did my heart sink at the thought of entering that deserted mansion; so that, in order to postpone the
evil day, I resolved first to make my visit at Mr. Justice Inglewood's.
That venerable person had been much disturbed with thoughts of what he had been, and what he now was;
and natural recollections of the past had interfered considerably with the active duty which in his present
situation might have been expected from him. He was fortunate, however, in one respect; he had got rid of his
clerk Jobson, who had finally left him in dudgeon at his inactivity, and become legal assistant to a certain
Squire Standish, who had lately commenced operations in those parts as a justice, with a zeal for King
George and the Protestant succession, which, very different from the feelings of his old patron, Mr. Jobson
had more occasion to restrain within the bounds of the law, than to stimulate to exertion.
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Old Justice Inglewood received me with great courtesy, and readily exhibited my uncle's will, which seemed
to be without a flaw. He was for some time in obvious distress, how he should speak and act in my presence;
but when he found, that though a supporter of the present Government upon principle, I was disposed to think
with pity on those who had opposed it on a mistaken feeling of loyalty and duty, his discourse became a very
diverting medley of what he had done, and what he had left undone,the pains he had taken to prevent
some squires from joining, and to wink at the escape of others, who had been so unlucky as to engage in the
affair.
We were te^tea`te^te, and several bumpers had been quaffed by the Justice's special desire, when, on a
sudden, he requested me to fill a bona fide brimmer to the health of poor dear Die Vernon, the rose of the
wilderness, the heathbell of Cheviot, and the blossom that's transplanted to an infernal convent.
``Is not Miss Vernon married, then?'' I exclaimed, in great astonishment. ``I thought his Excellency''
``Pooh! pooh! his Excellency and his Lordship's all a humbug now, you knowmere St. Germains
titlesEarl of Beauchamp, and ambassador plenipotentiary from France, when the Duke Regent of Orleans
scarce knew that he lived, I dare say. But you must have seen old Sir Frederick Vernon at the Hall, when he
played the part of Father Vaughan?''
``Good Heavens! then Vaughan was Miss Vernon's father?''
``To be sure he was,'' said the Justice coolly;``there's no use in keeping the secret now, for he must be out
of the country by this timeotherwise, no doubt, it would be my duty to apprehend him.Come, off with
your bumper to my dear lost Die!
And let her health go round, around, around, And let her health go round; For though your stocking be of silk,
Your knees near kiss the ground, aground, aground.''*
* This pithy verse occurs, it is believed, in Shadwell's play of Bury Fair.
I was unable, as the reader may easily conceive, to join in the Justice's jollity. My head swam with the shock I
had received. ``I never heard,'' I said, ``that Miss Vernon's father was living.''
``It was not our Government's fault that he is,'' replied Inglewood, ``for the devil a man there is whose head
would have brought more money. He was condemned to death for Fenwick's plot, and was thought to have
had some hand in the Knightsbridge affair, in King William's time; and as he had married in Scotland a
relation of the house of Breadalbane, he possessed great influence with all their chiefs. There was a talk of his
being demanded to be given up at the peace of Ryswick, but he shammed ill, and his death was given
publicly out in the French papers. But when he came back here on the old score, we old cavaliers knew him
well,that is to say, I knew him, not as being a cavalier myself, but no information being lodged against
the poor gentleman, and my memory being shortened by frequent attacks of the gout, I could not have sworn
to him, you know.''
``Was he, then, not known at Osbaldistone Hall?'' I inquired.
``To none but to his daughter, the old knight, and Rashleigh, who had got at that secret as he did at every one
else, and held it like a twisted cord about poor Die's neck. I have seen her one hundred times she would have
spit at him, if it had not been fear for her father, whose life would not have been worth five minutes' purchase
if he had been discovered to the Government. But don't mistake me, Mr. Osbaldistone; I say the
Government is a good, a gracious, and a just Government; and if it has hanged onehalf of the rebels, poor
things, all will acknowledge they would not have been touched had they staid peaceably at home.''
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Waiving the discussion of these political questions, I brought back Mr. Inglewood to his subject, and I found
that Diana, having positively refused to marry any of the Osbaldistone family, and expressed her particular
detestation of Rashleigh, he had from that time begun to cool in zeal for the cause of the Pretender; to which,
as the youngest of six brethren, and bold, artful, and able, he had hitherto looked forward as the means of
making his fortune. Probably the compulsion with which he had been forced to render up the spoils which he
had abstracted from my father's countinghouse by the united authority of Sir Frederick Vernon and the
Scottish Chiefs, had determined his resolution to advance his progress by changing his opinions and
betraying his trust. Perhaps alsofor few men were better judges where his interest was concernedhe
considered their means and talents to be, as they afterwards proved, greatly inadequate to the important task
of overthrowing an established Government. Sir Frederick Vernon, or, as he was called among the Jacobites,
his Excellency Viscount Beauchamp, had, with his daughter, some difficulty in escaping the consequences of
Rashleigh's information. Here Mr. Inglewood's information was at fault; but he did not doubt, since we had
not heard of Sir Frederick being in the hands of the Government, he must be by this time abroad, where,
agreeably to the cruel bond he had entered into with his brotherinlaw, Diana, since she had declined to
select a husband out of the Osbaldistone family, must be confined to a convent. The original cause of this
singular agreement Mr. Inglewood could not perfectly explain; but he understood it was a family compact,
entered into for the purpose of securing to Sir Frederick the rents of the remnant of his large estates, which
had been vested in the Osbaldistone family by some legal manoeuvre; in short, a family compact, in which,
like many of those undertaken at that time of day, the feelings of the principal parties interested were no more
regarded than if they had been a part of the livestock upon the lands.
I cannot tell,such is the waywardness of the human heart, whether this intelligence gave me joy or
sorrow. It seemed to me, that, in the knowledge that Miss Vernon was eternally divided from me, not by
marriage with another, but by seclusion in a convent, in order to fulfil an absurd bargain of this kind, my
regret for her loss was aggravated rather than diminished. I became dull, lowspirited, absent, and unable to
support the task of conversing with Justice Inglewood, who in his turn yawned, and proposed to retire early. I
took leave of him overnight, determining the next day, before breakfast, to ride over to Osbaldistone Hall.
Mr. Inglewood acquiesced in my proposal. ``It would be well,'' he said, ``that I made my appearance there
before I was known to be in the country, the more especially as Sir Rashleigh Osbaldistone was now, he
understood, at Mr. Jobson's house, hatching some mischief, doubtless. They were fit company,'' he added,
``for each other, Sir Rashleigh having lost all right to mingle in the society of men of honour; but it was
hardly possible two such dd rascals should collogue together without mischief to honest people.''
He concluded, by earnestly recommending a toast and tankard, and an attack upon his venison pasty, before I
set out in the morning, just to break the cold air on the words.
CHAPTER THIRTYEIGHTH.
His master's gone, and no one now
Dwells in the halls of Ivor;
Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead,
He is the sole survivor.
Wordsworth.
There are few more melancholy sensations than those with which we regard scenes of past pleasure when
altered and deserted. In my ride to Osbaldistone Hall, I passed the same objects which I had seen in company
with Miss Vernon on the day of our memorable ride from Inglewood Place. Her spirit seemed to keep me
company on the way; and when I approached the spot where I had first seen her, I almost listened for the cry
of the hounds and the notes of the horn, and strained my eye on the vacant space, as if to descry the fair
huntress again descend like an apparition from the hill. But all was silent, and all was solitary. When I
reached the Hall, the closed doors and windows, the grassgrown pavement, the courts, which were now so
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silent, presented a strong contrast to the gay and bustling scene I had so often seen them exhibit, when the
merry hunters were going forth to their morning sport, or returning to the daily festival. The joyous bark of
the foxhounds as they were uncoupled, the cries of the huntsmen, the clang of the horses' hoofs, the loud
laugh of the old knight at the head of his strong and numerous descendants, were all silenced now and for
ever.
While I gazed round the scene of solitude and emptiness, I was inexpressibly affected, even by recollecting
those whom, when alive, I had no reason to regard with affection. But the thought that so many youths of
goodly presence, warm with life, health, and confidence, were within so short a time cold in the grave, by
various, yet all violent and unexpected modes of death, afforded a picture of mortality at which the mind
trembled. It was little consolation to me, that I returned a proprietor to the halls which I had left almost like a
fugitive. My mind was not habituated to regard the scenes around as my property, and I felt myself an
usurper, at least an intruding stranger, and could hardly divest myself of the idea, that some of the bulky
forms of my deceased kinsmen were, like the gigantic spectres of a romance, to appear in the gateway, and
dispute my entrance.
While I was engaged in these sad thoughts, my follower Andrew, whose feelings were of a very different
nature, exerted himself in thundering alternately on every door in the building, calling, at the same time, for
admittance, in a tone so loud as to intimate, that he, at least, was fully sensible of his newly acquired
importance, as squire of the body to the new lord of the manor. At length, timidly and reluctantly, Anthony
Syddall, my uncle's aged butler and majordomo, presented himself at a lower window, well fenced with iron
bars, and inquired our business.
``We are come to tak your charge aff your hand, my auld friend,'' said Andrew Fairservice; ``ye may gie up
your keys as sune as ye likeilka dog has his day. I'll tak the plate and napery aff your hand. Ye hae had
your ain time o't, Mr. Syddall; but ilka bean has its black, and ilka path has its puddle; and it will just set you
henceforth to sit at the boardend, as weel as it did Andrew lang syne.''
Checking with some difficulty the forwardness of my follower, I explained to Syddall the nature of my right,
and the title I had to demand admittance into the Hall, as into my own property. The old man seemed much
agitated and distressed, and testified manifest reluctance to give me entrance, although it was couched in a
humble and submissive tone. I allowed for the agitation of natural feelings, which really did the old man
honour; but continued peremptory in my demand of admittance, explaining to him that his refusal would
oblige me to apply for Mr. Inglewood's warrant, and a constable.
``We are come from Mr. Justice Inglewood's this morning,'' said Andrew, to enforce the menace;``and I
saw Archie Rutledge, the constable, as I came up by;the country's no to be lawless as it has been, Mr.
Syddall, letting rebels and papists gang on as they best listed.''
The threat of the law sounded dreadful in the old man's ears, conscious as he was of the suspicion under
which he himself lay, from his religion and his devotion to Sir Hildebrand and his sons. He undid, with fear
and trembling, one of the postern entrances, which was secured with many a bolt and bar, and humbly hoped
that I would excuse him for fidelity in the discharge of his duty.I reassured him, and told him I had the
better opinion of him for his caution.
``Sae have not I,'' said Andrew; ``Syddall is an auld sneckdrawer; he wadna be looking as white as a sheet,
and his knees knocking thegither, unless it were for something mair than he's like to tell us.''
``Lord forgive you, Mr. Fairservice,'' replied the butler, ``to say such things of an old friend and
fellowservant!Where'' following me humbly along the passage``where would it be your
honour's pleasure to have a fire lighted? I fear me you will find the house very dull and drearyBut
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perhaps you mean to ride back to Inglewood Place to dinner?''
``Light a fire in the library,'' I replied.
``In the library!'' answered the old man;``nobody has sat there this many a day, and the room smokes, for
the daws have built in the chimney this spring, and there were no young men about the Hall to pull them
down.''
``Our ain reekes better than other folk's fire,'' said Andrew. ``His honour likes the library;he's nane o'
your Papishers, that delight in blinded ignorance, Mr. Syddall.''
Very reluctantly as it appeared to me, the butler led the way to the library, and, contrary to what he had given
me to expect, the interior of the apartment looked as if it had been lately arranged, and made more
comfortable than usual. There was a fire in the grate, which burned clearly, notwithstanding what Syddall had
reported of the vent. Taking up the tongs, as if to arrange the wood, but rather perhaps to conceal his own
confusion, the butler observed, ``it was burning clear now, but had smoked woundily in the morning.''
Wishing to be alone, till I recovered myself from the first painful sensations which everything around me
recalled, I desired old Syddall to call the landsteward, who lived at about a quarter of a mile from the Hall.
He departed with obvious reluctance. I next ordered Andrew to procure the attendance of a couple of stout
fellows upon whom he could rely, the population around being Papists, and Sir Rashleigh, who was capable
of any desperate enterprise, being in the neighbourhood. Andrew Fairservice undertook this task with great
cheerfulness, and promised to bring me up from TrinlayKnowe, ``twa trueblue Presbyterians like himself,
that would face and outface baith the Pope, the Devil, and the Pretenderand blythe will I be o' their
company mysell, for the very last night that I was at Osbaldistone Hall, the blight be on ilka blossom in my
bit yard, if I didna see that very picture'' (pointing to the fulllength portrait of Miss Vernon's grandfather)
``walking by moonlight in the garden! I tauld your honour I was fleyed wi' a bogle that night, but ye wadna
listen to meI aye thought there was witchcraft and deevilry amang the Papishers, but I ne'er saw't wi'
bodily een till that awfu' night.''
``Get along, sir,'' said I, ``and bring the fellows you talk of; and see they have more sense than yourself, and
are not frightened at their own shadow.''
``I hae been counted as gude a man as my neighbours ere now,'' said Andrew, petulantly; ``but I dinna
pretend to deal wi' evil spirits.'' And so he made his exit, as Wardlaw the landsteward made his appearance.
He was a man of sense and honesty, without whose careful management my uncle would have found it
difficult to have maintained himself a housekeeper so long as he did. He examined the nature of my right of
possession carefully, and admitted it candidly. To any one else the succession would have been a poor one, so
much was the land encumbered with debt and mortgage. Most of these, however, were already vested in my
father's person, and he was in a train of acquiring the rest; his large gains by the recent rise of the funds
having made it a matter of ease and convenience for him to pay off the debt which affected his patrimony.
I transacted much necessary business with Mr. Wardlaw, and detained him to dine with me. We preferred
taking our repast in the library, although Syddall strongly recommended our removing to the stonehall,
which he had put in order for the occasion. Meantime Andrew made his appearance with his trueblue
recruits, whom he recommended in the highest terms, as ``sober decent men, weel founded in doctrinal
points, and, above all, as bold as lions.'' I ordered them something to drink, and they left the room. I observed
old Syddall shake his head as they went out, and insisted upon knowing the reason.
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``I maybe cannot expect,'' he said, ``that your honour should put confidence in what I say, but it is Heaven's
truth for all thatAmbrose Wingfield is as honest a man as lives, but if there is a false knave in the
country, it is his brother Lancie; the whole country knows him to be a spy for Clerk Jobson on the poor
gentlemen that have been in troubleBut he's a dissenter, and I suppose that's enough nowadays.''
Having thus far given vent to his feelings,to which, however, I was little disposed to pay
attention,and having placed the wine on the table, the old butler left the apartment.
Mr. Wardlaw having remained with me until the evening was somewhat advanced, at length bundled up his
papers, and removed himself to his own habitation, leaving me in that confused state of mind in which we can
hardly say whether we desire company or solitude. I had not, however, the choice betwixt them; for I was left
alone in the room of all others most calculated to inspire me with melancholy reflections.
As twilight was darkening the apartment, Andrew had the sagacity to advance his head at the door,not to
ask if I wished for lights, but to recommend them as a measure of precaution against the bogles which still
haunted his imagination. I rejected his proffer somewhat peevishly, trimmed the woodfire, and placing
myself in one of the large leathern chairs which flanked the old Gothic chimney, I watched unconsciously the
bickering of the blaze which I had fostered. ``And this,'' said I alone, ``is the progress and the issue of human
wishes! Nursed by the merest trifles, they are first kindled by fancynay, are fed upon the vapour of hope,
till they consume the substance which they inflame; and man, and his hopes, passions, and desires, sink into a
worthless heap of embers and ashes!''
There was a deep sigh from the opposite side of the room, which seemed to reply to my reflections. I started
up in amazement Diana Vernon stood before me, resting on the arm of a figure so strongly resembling
that of the portrait so often mentioned, that I looked hastily at the frame, expecting to see it empty. My first
idea was, either that I had gone suddenly distracted, or that the spirits of the dead had arisen and been placed
before me. A second glance convinced me of my being in my senses, and that the forms which stood before
me were real and substantial. It was Diana herself, though paler and thinner than her former self; and it was
no tenant of the grave who stood beside her, but Vaughan, or rather Sir Frederick Vernon, in a dress made to
imitate that of his ancestor, to whose picture his countenance possessed a family resemblance. He was the
first that spoke, for Diana kept her eyes fast fixed on the ground, and astonishment actually riveted my tongue
to the roof of my mouth.
``We are your suppliants, Mr. Osbaldistone,'' he said, ``and we claim the refuge and protection of your roof
till we can pursue a journey where dungeons and death gape for me at every step.''
``Surely,'' I articulated with great difficulty``Miss Vernon cannot supposeyou, sir, cannot believe,
that I have forgot your interference in my difficulties, or that I am capable of betraying any one, much less
you?''
``I know it,'' said Sir Frederick; ``yet it is with the most inexpressible reluctance that I impose on you a
confidence, disagreeable perhapscertainly dangerousand which I would have specially wished to
have conferred on some one else. But my fate, which has chased me through a life of perils and escapes, is
now pressing me hard, and I have no alternative.''
At this moment the door opened, and the voice of the officious Andrew was heard``A'm bringin' in the
caunlesYe can light them gin ye likeCan do is easy carried about wi' ane.''
I ran to the door, which, as I hoped, I reached in time to prevent his observing who were in the apartment, I
turned him out with hasty violence, shut the door after him, and locked itthen instantly remembering his
two companions below, knowing his talkative humour, and recollecting Syddall's remark, that one of them
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was supposed to be a spy, I followed him as fast as I could to the servants' hall, in which they were
assembled. Andrew's tongue was loud as I opened the door, but my unexpected appearance silenced him.
``What is the matter with you, you fool?'' said I; ``you stare and look wild, as if you had seen a ghost.''
``Nnnonothing,'' said Andrew.``but your worship was pleased to be hasty.''
``Because you disturbed me out of a sound sleep, you fool. Syddall tells me he cannot find beds for these
good fellows tonight, and Mr. Wardlaw thinks there will be no occasion to detain them. Here is a
crownpiece for them to drink my health, and thanks for their goodwill. You will leave the Hall
immediately, my good lads.''
The men thanked me for my bounty, took the silver, and withdrew, apparently unsuspicious and contented. I
watched their departure until I was sure they could have no further intercourse that night with honest Andrew.
And so instantly had I followed on his heels, that I thought he could not have had time to speak two words
with them before I interrupted him. But it is wonderful what mischief may be done by only two words. On
this occasion they cost two lives.
Having made these arrangements, the best which occurred to me upon the pressure of the moment, to secure
privacy for my guests, I returned to report my proceedings, and added, that I had desired Syddall to answer
every summons, concluding that it was by his connivance they had been secreted in the Hall. Diana raised her
eyes to thank me for the caution.
``You now understand my mystery,'' she said;``you know, doubtless, how near and dear that relative is,
who has so often found shelter here; and will be no longer surprised that Rashleigh, having such a secret at
his command, should rule me with a rod of iron.''
Her father added, ``that it was their intention to trouble me with their presence as short a time as was
possible.''
I entreated the fugitives to waive every consideration but what affected their safety, and to rely on my utmost
exertions to promote it. This led to an explanation of the circumstances under which they stood.
``I always suspected Rashleigh Osbaldistone,'' said Sir Frederick; ``but his conduct towards my unprotected
child, which with difficulty I wrung from her, and his treachery in your father's affairs, made me hate and
despise him. In our last interview I concealed not my sentiments, as I should in prudence have attempted to
do; and in resentment of the scorn with which I treated him, he added treachery and apostasy to his catalogue
of crimes. I at that time fondly hoped that his defection would be of little consequence. The Earl of Mar had a
gallant army in Scotland, and Lord Derwentwater, with Forster, Kenmure, Winterton, and others, were
assembling forces on the Border. As my connections with these English nobility and gentry were extensive, it
was judged proper that I should accompany a detachment of Highlanders, who, under Brigadier MacIntosh of
Borlum, crossed the Firth of Forth, traversed the low country of Scotland, and united themselves on the
Borders with the English insurgents. My daughter accompanied me through the perils and fatigues of a march
so long and difficult.''
``And she will never leave her dear father!'' exclaimed Miss Vernon, clinging fondly to his arm.
``I had hardly joined our English friends, when I became sensible that our cause was lost. Our numbers
diminished instead of increasing, nor were we joined by any except of our own persuasion. The Tories of the
High Church remained in general undecided, and at length we were cooped up by a superior force in the little
town of Preston. We defended ourselves resolutely for one day. On the next, the hearts of our leaders failed,
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and they resolved to surrender at discretion. To yield myself up on such terms, were to have laid my head on
the block. About twenty or thirty gentlemen were of my mind: we mounted our horses, and placed my
daughter, who insisted on sharing my fate, in the centre of our little party. My companions, struck with her
courage and filial piety, declared that they would die rather than leave her behind. We rode in a body down a
street called Fishergate, which leads to a marshy ground or meadow, extending to the river Ribble, through
which one of our party promised to show us a good ford. This marsh had not been strongly invested by the
enemy, so that we had only an affair with a patrol of Honeywood's dragoons, whom we dispersed and cut to
pieces. We crossed the river, gained the high road to Liverpool, and then dispersed to seek several places of
concealment and safety. My fortune led me to Wales, where there are many gentlemen of my religious and
political opinions. I could not, however, find a safe opportunity of escaping by sea, and found myself obliged
again to draw towards the North. A welltried friend has appointed to meet me in this neighbourhood, and
guide me to a seaport on the Solway, where a sloop is prepared to carry me from my native country for ever.
As Osbaldistone Hall was for the present uninhabited, and under the charge of old Syddall, who had been our
confidant on former occasions, we drew to it as to a place of known and secure refuge. I resumed a dress
which had been used with good effect to scare the superstitious rustics, or domestics, who chanced at any
time to see me; and we expected from time to time to hear by Syddall of the arrival of our friendly guide,
when your sudden coming hither, and occupying this apartment, laid us under the necessity of submitting to
your mercy.''
Thus ended Sir Fredericks story, whose tale sounded to me like one told in a vision; and I could hardly bring
myself to believe that I saw his daughter's form once more before me in flesh and blood, though with
diminished beauty and sunk spirits. The buoyant vivacity with which she had resisted every touch of
adversity, had now assumed the air of composed and submissive, but dauntless resolution and constancy. Her
father, though aware and jealous of the effect of her praises on my mind, could not forbear expatiating upon
them.
``She has endured trials,'' he said, ``which might have dignified the history of a martyr;she has faced
danger and death in various shapes;she has undergone toil and privation, from which men of the strongest
frame would have shrunk;she has spent the day in darkness, and the night in vigil, and has never breathed
a murmur of weakness or complaint. In a word, Mr. Osbaldistone,'' he concluded, ``she is a worthy offering
to that God, to whom'' (crossing himself) ``I shall dedicate her, as all that is left dear or precious to Frederick
Vernon.''
There was a silence after these words, of which I well understood the mournful import. The father of Diana
was still as anxious to destroy my hopes of being united to her now as he had shown himself during our brief
meeting in Scotland.
``We will now,'' said he to his daughter, ``intrude no farther on Mr. Osbaldistone's time, since we have
acquainted him with the circumstances of the miserable guests who claim his protection.''
I requested them to stay, and offered myself to leave the apartment. Sir Frederick observed, that my doing so
could not but excite my attendant's suspicion; and that the place of their retreat was in every respect
commodious, and furnished by Syddall with all they could possibly want. ``We might perhaps have even
contrived to remain there, concealed from your observation; but it would have been unjust to decline the most
absolute reliance on your honour.''
``You have done me but justice,'' I replied.``To you, Sir Frederick, I am but little known; but Miss
Vernon, I am sure, will bear me witness that''
``I do not want my daughter's evidence,'' he said, politely, but yet with an air calculated to prevent my
addressing myself to Diana, ``since I am prepared to believe all that is worthy of Mr. Francis Osbaldistone.
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Permit us now to retire; we must take repose when we can, since we are absolutely uncertain when we may
be called upon to renew our perilous journey.''
He drew his daughter's arm within his, and with a profound reverence, disappeared with her behind the
tapestry.
CHAPTER THIRTYNINTH.
But now the hand of fate is on the curtain,
And gives the scene to light.
Don Sebastian.
I felt stunned and chilled as they retired. Imagination, dwelling on an absent object of affection, paints her not
only in the fairest light, but in that in which we most desire to behold her. I had thought of Diana as she was,
when her parting tear dropped on my cheekwhen her parting token, received from the wife of
MacGregor, augured her wish to convey into exile and conventual seclusion the remembrance of my
affection. I saw her; and her cold passive manner, expressive of little except composed melancholy,
disappointed, and, in some degree, almost offended me.
In the egotism of my feelings, I accused her of indifferenceof insensibility. I upbraided her father with
pridewith cruelty with fanaticism,forgetting that both were sacrificing their interest, and Diana
her inclination, to the discharge of what they regarded as their duty.
Sir Frederick Vernon was a rigid Catholic, who thought the path of salvation too narrow to be trodden by an
heretic; and Diana, to whom her father's safety had been for many years the principal and moving spring of
thoughts, hopes, and actions, felt that she had discharged her duty in resigning to his will, not alone her
property in the world, but the dearest affections of her heart. But it was not surprising that I could not, at such
a moment, fully appreciate these honourable motives; yet my spleen sought no ignoble means of discharging
itself.
``I am contemned, then,'' I said, when left to run over the tenor of Sir Frederick's communications``I am
contemned, and thought unworthy even to exchange words with her. Be it so; they shall not at least prevent
me from watching over her safety. Here will I remain as an outpost, and, while under my roof at least, no
danger shall threaten her, if it be such as the arm of one determined man can avert.''
I summoned Syddall to the library. He came, but came attended by the eternal Andrew, who, dreaming of
great things in consequence of my taking possession of the Hall and the annexed estates, was resolved to lose
nothing for want of keeping himself in view; and, as often happens to men who entertain selfish objects,
overshot his mark, and rendered his attentions tedious and inconvenient.
His unrequired presence prevented me from speaking freely to Syddall, and I dared not send him away for
fear of increasing such suspicions as he might entertain from his former abrupt dismissal from the library. ``I
shall sleep here, sir,'' I said, giving them directions to wheel nearer to the fire an oldfashioned daybed, or
settee. ``I have much to do, and shall go late to bed.''
Syddall, who seemed to understand my look, offered to procure me the accommodation of a mattress and
some bedding. I accepted his offer, dismissed my attendant, lighted a pair of candles, and desired that I might
not be disturbed till seven in the ensuing morning.
The domestics retired, leaving me to my painful and illarranged reflections, until nature, worn out, should
require some repose.
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I endeavoured forcibly to abstract my mind from the singular circumstances in which I found myself placed.
Feelings which I had gallantly combated while the exciting object was remote, were now exasperated by my
immediate neighbourhood to her whom I was so soon to part with for ever. Her name was written in every
book which I attempted to peruse; and her image forced itself on me in whatever train of thought I strove to
engage myself. It was like the officious slave of Prior's Solomon,
Abra was ready ere I named her name, And when I called another, Abra came.
I alternately gave way to these thoughts, and struggled against them, sometimes yielding to a mood of
melting tenderness of sorrow which was scarce natural to me, sometimes arming myself with the hurt pride of
one who had experienced what he esteemed unmerited rejection. I paced the library until I had chafed myself
into a temporary fever. I then threw myself on the couch, and endeavoured to dispose myself to sleep;but
it was in vain that I used every effort to compose myselfthat I lay without movement of finger or of
muscle, as still as if I had been already a corpsethat I endeavoured to divert or banish disquieting
thoughts, by fixing my mind on some act of repetition or arithmetical process. My blood throbbed, to my
feverish apprehension, in pulsations which resembled the deep and regular strokes of a distant fullingmill,
and tingled in my veins like streams of liquid fire.
At length I arose, opened the window, and stood by it for some time in the clear moonlight, receiving, in part
at least, that refreshment and dissipation of ideas from the clear and calm scene, without which they had
become beyond the command of my own volition. I resumed my place on the couch with a heart, Heaven
knows, not lighter but firmer, and more resolved for endurance. In a short time a slumber crept over my
senses; still, however, though my senses slumbered, my soul was awake to the painful feelings of my
situation, and my dreams were of mental anguish and external objects of terror.
I remember a strange agony, under which I conceived myself and Diana in the power of MacGregor's wife,
and about to be precipitated from a rock into the lake; the signal was to be the discharge of a cannon, fired by
Sir Frederick Vernon, who, in the dress of a Cardinal, officiated at the ceremony. Nothing could be more
lively than the impression which I received of this imaginary scene. I could paint, even at this moment, the
mute and courageous submission expressed in Diana's features the wild and distorted faces of the
executioners, who crowded around us with ``mopping and mowing;'' grimaces ever changing, and each more
hideous than that which preceded. I saw the rigid and inflexible fanaticism painted in the face of the
fatherI saw him lift the fatal matchthe deadly signal exploded It was repeated again and again
and again, in rival thunders, by the echoes of the surrounding cliffs, and I awoke from fancied horror to real
apprehension.
The sounds in my dream were not ideal. They reverberated on my waking ears, but it was two or three
minutes ere I could collect myself so as distinctly to understand that they proceeded from a violent knocking
at the gate. I leaped from my couch in great apprehension, took my sword under my arm, and hastened to
forbid the admission of any one. But my route was necessarily circuitous, because the library looked not upon
the quadrangle, but into the gardens. When I had reached a staircase, the windows of which opened upon the
entrance court, I heard the feeble and intimidated tones of Syddall expostulating with rough voices, which
demanded admittance, by the warrant of Justice Standish, and in the King's name, and threatened the old
domestic with the heaviest penal consequences if he refused instant obedience. Ere they had ceased, I heard,
to my unspeakable provocation, the voice of Andrew bidding Syddall stand aside, and let him open the door.
``If they come in King George's name, we have naething to fearwe hae spent baith bluid and gowd for
himWe dinna need to darn ourselves like some folks, Mr. Syddallwe are neither Papists nor
Jacobites, I trow.''
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It was in vain I accelerated my pace down stairs; I heard bolt after bolt withdrawn by the officious scoundrel,
while all the time he was boasting his own and his master's loyalty to King George; and I could easily
calculate that the party must enter before I could arrive at the door to replace the bars. Devoting the back of
Andrew Fairservice to the cudgel so soon as I should have time to pay him his deserts, I ran back to the
library, barricaded the door as I best could, and hastened to that by which Diana and her father entered, and
begged for instant admittance. Diana herself undid the door. She was ready dressed, and betrayed neither
perturbation nor fear.
``Danger is so familiar to us,'' she said, ``that we are always prepared to meet it. My father is already
uphe is in Rashleigh's apartment. We will escape into the garden, and thence by the posterngate (I have
the key from Syddall in case of need.) into the woodI know its dingles better than any one now alive.
Keep them a few minutes in play. And, dear, dear Frank, once more faretheewell!''
She vanished like a meteor to join her father, and the intruders were rapping violently, and attempting to
force the library door by the time I had returned into it.
``You robber dogs!'' I exclaimed, wilfully mistaking the purpose of their disturbance, ``if you do not instantly
quit the house I will fire my blunderbuss through the door.''
``Fire a fule's bauble!'' said Andrew Fairservice; ``it's Mr. Clerk Jobson, with a legal warrant''
``To search for, take, and apprehend,'' said the voice of that execrable pettifogger, ``the bodies of certain
persons in my warrant named, charged of high treason under the 13th of King William, chapter third.''
And the violence on the door was renewed. ``I am rising, gentlemen,'' said I, desirous to gain as much time as
possible ``commit no violencegive me leave to look at your warrant, and, if it is formal and legal, I
shall not oppose it.''
``God save great George our King!'' ejaculated Andrew. ``I tauld ye that ye would find nae Jacobites here.''
Spinning out the time as much as possible, I was at length compelled to open the door, which they would
otherwise have forced.
Mr. Jobson entered, with several assistants, among whom I discovered the younger Wingfield, to whom,
doubtless, he was obliged for his information, and exhibited his warrant, directed not only against Frederick
Vernon, an attainted traitor, but also against Diana Vernon, spinster, and Francis Osbaldistone, gentleman,
accused of misprision of treason. It was a case in which resistance would have been madness; I therefore,
after capitulating for a few minutes' delay, surrendered myself a prisoner.
I had next the mortification to see Jobson go straight to the chamber of Miss Vernon, and I learned that from
thence, without hesitation or difficulty, he went to the room where Sir Frederick had slept. ``The hare has
stolen away,'' said the brute, ``but her form is warmthe greyhounds will have her by the haunches yet.''
A scream from the garden announced that he prophesied too truly. In the course of five minutes, Rashleigh
entered the library with Sir Frederick Vernon and his daughter as prisoners.
``The fox,'' he said, ``knew his old earth, but he forgot it could be stopped by a careful huntsman.I had
not forgot the gardengate, Sir Frederickor, if that title suits you better, most noble Lord Beauchamp.''
``Rashleigh,'' said Sir Frederick, ``thou art a detestable villain!''
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``I better deserved the name, Sir Knight, or my Lord, when, under the direction of an able tutor, I sought to
introduce civil war into the bosom of a peaceful country. But I have done my best,'' said he, looking upwards,
``to atone for my errors.''
I could hold no longer. I had designed to watch their proceedings in silence, but I felt that I must speak or die.
``If hell,'' I said, ``has one complexion more hideous than another, it is where villany is masked by
hypocrisy.''
``Ha! my gentle cousin,'' said Rashleigh, holding a candle towards me, and surveying me from head to foot;
``right welcome to Osbaldistone Hall!I can forgive your spleenIt is hard to lose an estate and a
mistress in one night; for we shall take possession of this poor manorhouse in the name of the lawful heir,
Sir Rashleigh Osbaldistone.''
While Rashleigh braved it out in this manner, I could see that he put a strong force upon his feelings, both of
anger and shame. But his state of mind was more obvious when Diana Vernon addressed him. ``Rashleigh,''
she said, ``I pity you for, deep as the evil is which you have laboured to do me, and the evil you have
actually done, I cannot hate you so much as I scorn and pity you. What you have now done may be the work
of an hour, but will furnish you with reflection for your lifeof what nature I leave to your own
conscience, which will not slumber for ever.''
Rashleigh strode once or twice through the room, came up to the sidetable, on which wine was still
standing, and poured out a large glass with a trembling hand; but when he saw that we observed his tremor,
he suppressed it by a strong effort, and, looking at us with fixed and daring composure, carried the bumper to
his head without spilling a drop. ``It is my father's old burgundy,'' he said, looking to Jobson; ``I am glad
there is some of it left.You will get proper persons to take care of old butler, and that foolish Scotch
rascal. Meanwhile we will convey these persons to a more proper place of custody. I have provided the old
family coach for your convenience,'' he said, ``though I am not ignorant that even the lady could brave the
nightair on foot or on horseback, were the errand more to her mind.''
Andrew wrung his hands.``I only said that my master was surely speaking to a ghaist in the
libraryand the villain Lancie to betray an auld friend, that sang aff the same Psalmbook wi' him every
Sabbath for twenty years!''
He was turned out of the house, together with Syddall, without being allowed to conclude his lamentation.
His expulsion, however, led to some singular consequences. Resolving, according to his own story, to go
down for the night where Mother Simpson would give him a lodging for old acquaintance' sake, he had just
got clear of the avenue, and into the old wood, as it was called, though it was now used as a pastureground
rather than woodland, when he suddenly lighted on a drove of Scotch cattle, which were lying there to repose
themselves after the day's journey. At this Andrew was in no way surprised, it being the wellknown custom
of his countrymen, who take care of those droves, to quarter themselves after night upon the best unenclosed
grassground they can find, and depart before daybreak to escape paying for their night's lodgings. But he
was both surprised and startled, when a Highlander, springing up, accused him of disturbing the cattle, and
refused him to pass forward till he had spoken to his master. The mountaineer conducted Andrew into a
thicket, where he found three or four more of his countrymen. ``And,'' said Andrew, ``I saw sune they were
ower mony men for the drove; and from the questions they put to me, I judged they had other tow on their
rock.''
They questioned him closely about all that had passed at Osbaldistone Hall, and seemed surprised and
concerned at the report he made to them.
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``And troth,'' said Andrew, ``I tauld them a' I ken'd; for dirks and pistols were what I could never refuse
information to in a' my life.''
They talked in whispers among themselves, and at length collected their cattle together, and drove them close
up to the entrance of the avenue, which might be half a mile distant from the house. They proceeded to drag
together some felled trees which lay in the vicinity, so as to make a temporary barricade across the road,
about fifteen yards beyond the avenue. It was now near daybreak, and there was a pale eastern gleam mingled
with the fading moonlight, so that objects could be discovered with some distinctness. The lumbering sound
of a coach drawn by four horses, and escorted by six men on horseback, was heard coming up the avenue.
The Highlanders listened attentively. The carriage contained Mr. Jobson and his unfortunate prisoners. The
escort consisted of Rashleigh, and of several horsemen, peaceofficers and their assistants. So soon as we
had passed the gate at the head of the avenue, it was shut behind the cavalcade by a Highlandman, stationed
there for that purpose. At the same time the carriage was impeded in its farther progress by the cattle,
amongst which we were involved, and by the barricade in front. Two of the escort dismounted to remove the
felled trees, which they might think were left there by accident or carelessness. The others began with their
whips to drive the cattle from the road.
``Who dare abuse our cattle?'' said a rough voice.``Shoot him, Angus!''
Rashleigh instantly called out``A rescue! a rescue!'' and, firing a pistol, wounded the man who spoke.
``Claymore!'' cried the leader of the Highlanders, and a scuffle instantly commenced. The officers of the law,
surprised at so sudden an attack, and not usually possessing the most desperate bravery, made but an
imperfect defence, considering the superiority of their numbers. Some attempted to ride back to the Hall, but
on a pistol being fired from behind the gate, they conceived themselves surrounded, and at length galloped of
in different directions. Rashleigh, meanwhile, had dismounted, and on foot had maintained a desperate and
singlehanded conflict with the leader of the band. The window of the carriage, on my side, permitted me to
witness it. At length Rashleigh dropped.
``Will you ask forgiveness for the sake of God, King James, and auld friendship?'' said a voice which I knew
right well.
``No, never!'' said Rashleigh, firmly.
``Then, traitor, die in your treason!'' retorted MacGregor, and plunged his sword in his prostrate antagonist.
In the next moment he was at the carriage doorhanded out Miss Vernon, assisted her father and me to
alight, and dragging out the attorney, head foremost, threw him under the wheel.
``Mr. Osbaldistone,'' he said, in a whisper, ``you have nothing to fearI must look after those who
haveYour friends will soon be in safetyFarewell, and forget not the MacGregor.''
He whistledhis band gathered round him, and, hurrying Diana and her father along with him, they were
almost instantly lost in the glades of the forest. The coachman and postilion had abandoned their horses, and
fled at the first discharge of firearms; but the animals, stopped by the barricade, remained perfectly still; and
well for Jobson that they did so, for the slightest motion would have dragged the wheel over his body. My
first object was to relieve him, for such was the rascal's terror that he never could have risen by his own
exertions. I next commanded him to observe, that I had neither taken part in the rescue, nor availed myself of
it to make my escape, and enjoined him to go down to the Hall, and call some of his party, who had been left
there, to assist the wounded.But Jobson's fears had so mastered and controlled every faculty of his mind,
that he was totally incapable of moving. I now resolved to go myself, but in my way I stumbled over the body
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of a man, as I thought, dead or dying. It was, however, Andrew Fairservice, as well and whole as ever he was
in his life, who had only taken this recumbent posture to avoid the slashes, stabs, and pistolballs, which for a
moment or two were flying in various directions. I was so glad to find him, that I did not inquire how he
came thither, but instantly commanded his assistance.
Rashleigh was our first object. He groaned when I approached him, as much through spite as through pain,
and shut his eyes, as if determined, like Iago, to speak no word more. We lifted him into the carriage, and
performed the same good office to another wounded man of his party, who had been left on the field. I then
with difficulty made Jobson understand that he must enter the coach also, and support Sir Rashleigh upon the
seat. He obeyed, but with an air as if he but half comprehended my meaning. Andrew and I turned the horses'
heads round, and opening the gate of the avenue, led them slowly back to Osbaldistone Hall.
Some fugitives had already reached the Hall by circuitous routes, and alarmed its garrison by the news that
Sir Rashleigh, Clerk Jobson, and all their escort, save they who escaped to tell the tale, had been cut to pieces
at the head of the avenue by a whole regiment of wild Highlanders. When we reached the mansion, therefore,
we heard such a buzz as arises when bees are alarmed, and mustering in their hives. Mr. Jobson, however,
who had now in some measure come to his senses, found voice enough to make himself known. He was the
more anxious to be released from the carriage, as one of his companions (the peaceofficer) had, to his
inexpressible terror, expired by his side with a hideous groan.
Sir Rashleigh Osbaldistone was still alive, but so dreadfully wounded that the bottom of the coach was filled
with his blood, and long traces of it left from the entrancedoor into the stonehall, where he was placed in a
chair, some attempting to stop the bleeding with cloths, while others called for a surgeon, and no one seemed
willing to go to fetch one. ``Torment me not,'' said the wounded man``I know no assistance can avail
meI am a dying man.'' He raised himself in his chair, though the damps and chill of death were already on
his brow, and spoke with a firmness which seemed beyond his strength. ``Cousin Francis,'' he said, ``draw
near to me.'' I approached him as he requested.``I wish you only to know that the pangs of death do not
alter I one iota of my feelings towards you. I hate you!'' he said, the expression of rage throwing a hideous
glare into the eyes which were soon to be closed for ever``I hate you with a hatred as intense, now while I
lie bleeding and dying before you, as if my foot trode on your neck.''
``I have given you no cause, sir,'' I replied,``and for your own sake I could wish your mind in a better
temper.''
``You have given me cause,'' he rejoined. ``In love, in ambition, in the paths of interest, you have crossed and
blighted me at every turn. I was born to be the honour of my father's houseI have been its
disgraceand all owing to you. My very patrimony has become yoursTake it,'' he said, ``and may the
curse of a dying man cleave to it!''
In a moment after he had uttered this frightful wish, he fell back in the chair; his eyes became glazed, his
limbs stiffened, but the grin and glare of mortal hatred survived even the last gasp of life. I will dwell no
longer on so painful a picture, nor say any more of the death of Rashleigh, than that it gave me access to my
rights of inheritance without farther challenge, and that Jobson found himself compelled to allow, that the
ridiculous charge of misprision of high treason was got up on an affidavit which he made with the sole
purpose of favouring Rashleigh's views, and removing me from Osbaldistone Hall. The rascal's name was
struck off the list of attorneys, and he was reduced to poverty and contempt.
I returned to London when I had put my affairs in order at Osbaldistone Hall, and felt happy to escape from a
place which suggested so many painful recollections. My anxiety was now acute to learn the fate of Diana
and her father. A French gentleman who came to London on commercial business, was intrusted with a letter
to me from Miss Vernon, which put my mind at rest respecting their safety.
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It gave me to understand that the opportune appearance of MacGregor and his party was not fortuitous. The
Scottish nobles and gentry engaged in the insurrection, as well as those of England, were particularly anxious
to further the escape of Sir Frederick Vernon, who, as an old and trusted agent of the house of Stuart, was
possessed of matter enough to have ruined half Scotland. Rob Roy, of whose sagacity and courage they had
known so many proofs, was the person whom they pitched upon to assist his escape, and the place of meeting
was fixed at Osbaldistone Hall. You have already heard how nearly the plan had been disconcerted by the
unhappy Rashleigh. It succeeded, however, perfectly; for when once Sir Frederick and his daughter were
again at large, they found horses prepared for them, and, by MacGregor's knowledge of the countryfor
every part of Scotland, and of the north of England, was familiar to himwere conducted to the western
seacoast, and safely embarked for France. The same gentleman told me that Sir Frederick was not expected
to survive for many months a lingering disease, the consequence of late hardships and privations. His
daughter was placed in a convent, and although it was her father's wish she should take the veil, he was
understood to refer the matter entirely to her own inclinations.
When these news reached me, I frankly told the state of my affections to my father, who was not a little
startled at the idea of my marrying a Roman Catholic. But he was very desirous to see me ``settled in life,'' as
he called it; and he was sensible that, in joining him with heart and hand in his commercial labours, I had
sacrificed my own inclinations. After a brief hesitation, and several questions asked and answered to his
satisfaction, he broke out with``I little thought a son of mine should have been Lord of Osbaldistone
Manor, and far less that he should go to a French convent for a spouse. But so dutiful a daughter cannot but
prove a good wife. You have worked at the desk to please me, Frank; it is but fair you should wive to please
yourself.''
How I sped in my wooing, Will Tresham, I need not tell you. You know, too, how long and happily I lived
with Diana. You know how I lamented her; but you do notcannot know, how much she deserved her
husband's sorrow.
I have no more of romantic adventure to tell, nor, indeed, anything to communicate farther, since the latter
incidents of my life are so well known to one who has shared, with the most friendly sympathy, the joys, as
well as the sorrows, by which its scenes have been chequered. I often visited Scotland, but never again saw
the bold Highlander who had such an influence on the early events of my life. I learned, however, from time
to time, that he continued to maintain his ground among the mountains of Loch Lomond, in despite of his
powerful enemies, and that he even obtained, to a certain degree, the connivance of Government to his
selfelected office of protector of the Lennox, in virtue of which he levied blackmail with as much
regularity as the proprietors did their ordinary rents. It seemed impossible that his life should have concluded
without a violent end. Nevertheless he died in old age and by a peaceful death, some time about the year
1733, and is still remembered in his country as the Robin Hood of Scotlandthe dread of the wealthy, but
the friend of the poorand possessed of many qualities, both of head and heart, which would have graced a
less equivocal profession than that to which his fate condemned him.
Old Andrew Fairservice used to say, that ``There were many things ower bad for blessing, and ower gude for
banning, like Rob Roy.''
Here the original manuscript ends somewhat abruptly. I have reason to think that what followed related to
private a affairs.
POSTSCRIPT.
The second article of the Appendix to the Introduction to Rob Roy contains two curious letters respecting the
arrest of Mr. Grahame of Killearn by that daring freebooter, while levying the Duke of Montrose's rents.
These were taken from scroll copies in the possession of his Grace the present Duke, who kindly permitted
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the use of them in the present publication.The Novel had but just passed through the press, when the
Right Honourable Mr. Peelwhose important state avocations do not avert his attention from the interests
of literaturetransmitted to the author copies of the original letters and enclosure, of which he possessed
only the rough draught. The originals were discovered in the State Paper Office, by the indefatigable
researches of Mr. Lemon, who is daily throwing more light on that valuable collection of records. From the
documents with which the Author has been thus kindly favoured, he is enabled to fill up the addresses which
were wanting in the scrolls. That of the 21st Nov. 1716 is addressed to Lord Viscount Townshend, and is
accompanied by one of the same date to Robert Pringle, Esquire, UnderSecretary of State, which is here
inserted as relative to so curious an incident:
Letter from the Duke of Montrose, to Robert Pringle, Esq., UnderSecretary to Lord Viscount Townshend.
``Sr, Glasgow, 21 Nov. 1716.
``Haveing had so many dispatches to make this night, I hope ye'l excuse me that I make use of another hand
to give yow a short account of the occasion of this express, by which I have written to my Ld. Duke of
Roxburgh, and my Lord Townshend, which I hope ye'l gett carefully deleivered.
``Mr. Graham, younger of Killearn, being on Munday last in Menteith att a country house, collecting my
rents, was about nine o'clock that same night surprised by Rob Roy with a party of his men in arms, who
haveing surrounded the house and secured the avenues, presented their guns in at the windows, while he
himself entered the room with some others with cokt pistolls, and seased Killearn with all his money, books,
papers, and bonds, and carryed all away with him to the hills, at the same time ordering Killearn to write a
letter to me (of which ye have the copy inclosed), proposeing a very honourable treaty to me. I must say this
story was as surprising to me as it was insolent; and it must bring a very great concern upon me, that this
gentleman, my near relation, should be brought to suffer all the barbaritys and crueltys, which revenge and
mallice may suggest to these miscreants, for his haveing acted a faithfull part in the service of the
Government, and his affection to me in my concerns.
``I need not be more particular to you, since I know that my Letter to my Lord Townshend will come into
your hands, so shall only now give you the assurances of my being, with great sincerity,
``Sr, yr most humble servant,
(Signed) ``Montrose.
``I long exceedingly for a return of my former dispatches to the Secretary's about Methven and Colll
Urquhart, and my wife's cousins, Balnamoon and Phinaven.
``I must beg yow'll give my humble service to Mr. Secretary Methven, and tell him that I must referr him to
what I have written to My Lord Townshend in this affair of Rob Roy, believing it was needless to trouble
both with letters.''
Examined, Robt. Lemon,
Deputy Keeper of State Papers.
STATE PAPER OFFICE, Nov. 4, 1829
Note.The enclosure referred to in the preceding letter is another copy of the letter which Mr. Grahame of
Killearn was compelled by Rob Roy to write to the Duke of Montrose, and is exactly the same as the one
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enclosed in his Grace's letter to Lord Townshend, dated November 21st, 1716.
R. L.
The last letter in the Appendix No. II. (28th November), acquainting the Government with Killearn's being
set at liberty, is also addressed to the UnderSecretary of State, Mr. Pringle.
The Author may also here remark, that immediately previous to the insurrection of 1715, he perceives, from
some notes of information given to Government, that Rob Roy appears to have been much employed and
trusted by the Jacobite party, even in the very delicate task of transporting specie to the Earl of Breadalbane,
though it might have somewhat resembled trusting Don Raphael and Ambrose de Lamela with the church
treasure.
NOTES TO ROB ROY.
Note A.The Grey Stone of MacGregor.
I have been informed that, at no very remote period, it was proposed to take this large stone, which marks the
grave of Dugald Ciar Mhor, and convert it to the purpose of the lintel of a window, the threshold of a door, or
some such mean use. A man of the clan MacGregor, who was somewhat deranged, took fire at this insult; and
when the workmen came to remove the stone, planted himself upon it, with a broad axe in his hand, swearing
he would dash out the brains of any one who should disturb the monument. Athletic in person, and insane
enough to be totally regardless of consequences, it was thought best to give way to his humour; and the poor
madman kept sentinel on the stone day and night, till the proposal of removing it was entirely dropped.
Note B.Dugald Ciar Mhor.
The above is the account which I find in a manuscript history of the clan MacGregor, of which I was indulged
with a perusal by Donald MacGregor, Esq., late Major of the 33d regiment, where great pains have been
taken to collect traditions and written documents concerning the family. But an ancient and constant tradition,
preserved among the inhabitants of the country, and particularly those of the clan MacFarlane, relieves
Dugald Ciar Mhor of the guilt of murdering the youths, and lays the blame on a certain Donald or Duncan
Lean, who performed the act of cruelty, with the assistance of a gillie who attended him, named Charlioch, or
Charlie. They say that the homicides dared not again join their clan, but that they resided in a wild and
solitary state as outlaws, in an unfrequented part of the MacFarlanes' territory. Here they lived for some time
undisturbed, till they committed an act of brutal violence on two defenceless women, a mother and daughter
of the MacFarlane clan. In revenge of this atrocity, the MacFarlanes hunted them down, and shot them. It is
said that the younger ruffian, Charlioch, might have escaped, being remarkably swift of foot. But his crime
became his punishment, for the female whom he had outraged had defended herself desperately, and had
stabbed him with his own dirk in the thigh. He was lame from the wound, and was the more easily overtaken
and killed.
I always inclined to think this last the true edition of the story, and that the guilt was transferred to Dugald
Ciar Mhor, as a man of higher name, but I have learned that Dugald was in truth dead several years before the
battlemy authority being his representative, Mr. Gregorson of Ardtornish. [See also note to introduction,
``Legend of Montrose,'' vol. vi.]
Note C.The Loch Lomond Expedition.
The Loch Lomond expedition was judged worthy to form a separate pamphlet, which I have not seen; but, as
quoted by the historian Rae, it must be delectable.
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``On the morrow, being Thursday the 13th, they went on their expedition, and about noon came to Inversnaid,
the place of danger, where the Paisley men and those of Dumbarton, and several of the other companies, to
the number of an hundred men, with the greatest intrepidity leapt on shore, got up to the top of the mountains,
and stood a considerable time, beating their drums all the while; but no enemy appearing, they went in quest
of their boats, which the rebels had seized, and having casually lighted on some ropes and oars hid among the
shrubs, at length they found the boats drawn up a good way on the land, which they hurled down to the loch.
Such of them as were not damaged they carried off with them, and such as were, they sank and hewed to
pieces. That same night they returned to Luss, and thence next day to Dumbarton, from whence they had at
first set out, bringing along with them the whole boats they found in their way on either side of the loch, and
in the creeks of the isles, and mooring them under the cannon of the castle. During this expedition, the
pinnaces discharging their patararoes, and the men their smallarms, made such a thundering noise, through
the multiplied rebounding echoes of the vast mountains on both sides of the loch, that the MacGregors were
cowed and frighted away to the rest of the rebels who were encamped at Strath Fillan.''Rae's History of
the Rebellion, 4to, p. 287.
Note D.Author's Expedition against the MacLarens.
The Author is uncertain whether it is worth while to mention, that he had a personal opportunity of observing,
even in his own time, that the king's writ did not pass quite current in the Brass of Balquhidder. There were
very considerable debts due by Stewart of Appin (chiefly to the author's family), which were likely to be lost
to the creditors, if they could not be made available out of this same farm of Invernenty, the scene of the
murder done upon MacLaren.
His family, consisting of several strapping deerstalkers, still possessed the farm, by virtue of a long lease,
for a trifling rent. There was no chance of any one buying it with such an encumbrance, and a transaction was
entered into by the MacLarens, who, being desirous to emigrate to America, agreed to sell their lease to the
creditors for L500, and to remove at the next term of Whitsunday. But whether they repented their bargain, or
desired to make a better, or whether from a mere point of honour, the MacLarens declared they would not
permit a summons of removal to be executed against them, which was necessary for the legal completion of
the bargain. And such was the general impression that they were men capable of resisting the legal execution
of warning by very effectual means, no king's messenger would execute the summons without the support of
a military force. An escort of a sergeant and six men was obtained from a Highland regiment lying in Stirling;
and the Author, then a writer's apprentice, equivalent to the honourable situation of an attorney's clerk, was
invested with the superintendence of the expedition, with directions to see that the messenger discharged his
duty fully, and that the gallant sergeant did not exceed his part by committing violence or plunder. And thus
it happened, oddly enough, that the Author first entered the romantic scenery of Loch Katrine, of which he
may perhaps say he has somewhat extended the reputation, riding in all the dignity of danger, with a front and
rear guard, and loaded arms. The sergeant was absolutely a Highland Sergeant Kite, full of stories of Rob
Roy and of himself, and a very good companion. We experienced no interruption whatever, and when we
came to Invernenty, found the house deserted. We took up our quarters for the night, and used some of the
victuals which we found there. On the morning we returned as unmolested as we came.
The MacLarens, who probably never thought of any serious opposition, received their money and went to
America, where, having had some slight share in removing them from their paupera regna, I sincerely hope
they prospered.
The rent of Invernenty instantly rose from œ10 to œ70 or œ80; and when sold, the farm was purchased (I
think by the late Laird of MacNab) at a price higher in proportion than what even the modern rent authorised
the parties interested to hope for.
Note E.Allan Breck Stewart.
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Allan Breck Stewart was a man likely in such a matter to keep his word. James Drummond MacGregor and
he, like Katherine and Petruchio, were well matched ``for a couple of quiet ones.'' Allan Breck lived till the
beginning of the French Revolution. About 1789, a friend of mine, then residing at Paris, was invited to see
some procession which was supposed likely to interest him, from the windows of an apartment occupied by a
Scottish Benedictine priest. He found, sitting by the fire, a tall, thin, rawboned, grimlooking, old man, with
the petit croix of St. Louis. His visage was strongly marked by the irregular projections of the cheekbones
and chin. His eyes were grey. His grizzled hair exhibited marks of having been red, and his complexion was
weatherbeaten, and remarkably freckled. Some civilities in French passed between the old man and my
friend, in the course of which they talked of the streets and squares of Paris, till at length the old soldier, for
such he seemed, and such he was, said with a sigh, in a sharp Highland accent, ``Deil ane o' them a' is worth
the Hie Street of Edinburgh!'' On inquiry, this admirer of Auld Reekie, which he was never to see again,
proved to be Allan Breck Stewart. He lived decently on his little pension, and had, in no subsequent period of
his life, shown anything of the savage mood in which he is generally believed to have assassinated the enemy
and oppressor, as he supposed him, of his family and clan.
Note F.The Abbess of Wilton.
The nunnery of Wilton was granted to the Earl of Pembroke upon its dissolution, by the magisterial authority
of Henry VIII., or his son Edward VI. On the accession of Queen Mary, of Catholic memory, the Earl found
it necessary to reinstate the Abbess and her fair recluses, which he did with many expressions of his remorse,
kneeling humbly to the vestals, and inducting them into the convent and possessions from which he had
expelled them. With the accession of Elizabeth, the accommodating Earl again resumed his Protestant faith,
and a second time drove the nuns from their sanctuary. The remonstrances of the Abbess, who reminded him
of his penitent expressions on the former occasion, could wring from him no other answer than that in the
text``Go spin, you jade!Go spin!''
Note G.Mons Meg.
Mons Meg was a large oldfashioned piece of ordnance, a great favourite with the Scottish common people;
she was fabricated at Mons, in Flanders, in the reign of James IV. or V. of Scotland. This gun figures
frequently in the public accounts of the time, where we find charges for grease, to grease Meg's mouth withal
(to increase, as every schoolboy knows, the loudness of the report), ribands to deck her carriage, and pipes to
play before her when she was brought from the Castle to accompany the Scottish army on any distant
expedition. After the Union, there was much popular apprehension that the Regalia of Scotland, and the
subordinate Palladium, Mons Meg, would be carried to England to complete the odious surrender of national
independence. The Regalia, sequestered from the sight of the public, were generally supposed to have been
abstracted in this manner. As for Mons Meg, she remained in the Castle of Edinburgh, till, by order of the
Board of Ordnance, she was actually removed to Woolwich about 1757. The Regalia, by his Majesty's special
command, have been brought forth from their place of concealment in 1818, and exposed to the view of the
people, by whom they must be looked upon with deep associations; and, in this very winter of 18289, Mons
Meg has been restored to the country, where that, which in every other place or situation was a mere mass of
rusty iron, becomes once more a curious monument of antiquity.
Note H.Fairy Superstition.
The lakes and precipices amidst which the AvonDhu, or River Forth, has its birth, are still, according to
popular tradition, haunted by the Elfin people, the most peculiar, but most pleasing, of the creations of Celtic
superstitions. The opinions entertained about these beings are much the same with those of the Irish, so
exquisitely well narrated by Mr. Crofton Croker. An eminently beautiful little conical hill, near the eastern
extremity of the valley of Aberfoil, is supposed to be one of their peculiar haunts, and is the scene which
awakens, in Andrew Fairservice, the terror of their power. It is remarkable, that two successive clergymen of
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this parish of Aberfoil have employed themselves in writing about this fairy superstition. The eldest of these
was Robert Kirke, a man of some talents, who translated the Psalms into Gaelic verse. He had formerly been
minister at the neighbouring parish of Balquhidder, and died at Aberfoil in 1688, at the early age of
fortytwo.
He was author of the Secret Commonwealth, which was printed after his death in 1691(an edition which I
have never seen)and was reprinted in Edinburgh, 1815. This is a work concerning the fairy people, in
whose existence Mr. Kirke appears to have been a devout believer. He describes them with the usual powers
and qualities ascribed to such beings in Highland tradition.
But what is sufficiently singular, the Rev. Robert Kirke, author of the said treatise, is believed himself to have
been taken away by the fairies, in revenge, perhaps, for having let in too much light upon the secrets of
their commonwealth. We learn this catastrophe from the information of his successor, the late amiable and
learned Dr. Patrick Grahame, also minister at Aberfoil, who, in his Sketches of Perthshire, has not forgotten
to touch upon the Daoine Schie, or men of peace.
The Rev. Robert Kirke was, it seems, walking upon a little eminence to the west of the present manse, which
is still held a Dun Shie, or fairy mound, when he sunk down, in what seemed to mortals a fit, and was
supposed to be dead. This, however, was not his real fate.
``Mr. Kirke was the near relation of Graham of Duchray, the ancestor of the present General Graham Stirling.
Shortly after his funeral, he appeared, in the dress in which he had sunk down, to a medical relation of his
own, and of Duchray. `Go,' said he to him, `to my cousin Duchray, and tell him that I am not dead. I fell
down in a swoon, and was carried into Fairyland, where I now am. Tell him, that when he and my friends are
assembled at the baptism of my child (for he had left his wife pregnant), I will appear in the room, and that if
he throws the knife which he holds in his hand over my head, I will be released and restored to human
society.' The man, it seems, neglected, for some time, to deliver the message. Mr. Kirke appeared to him a
second time, threatening to haunt him night and day till he executed his commission, which at length he did.
The time of the baptism arrived. They were seated at table; the figure of Mr. Kirke entered, but the Laird of
Duchray, by some unaccountable fatality, neglected to perform the prescribed ceremony. Mr. Kirke retired by
another door, and was seen no wore. It is firmly believed that he is, at this day, in Fairyland.''(Sketches of
Perthshire, p. 254.)
[The treatise by Robert Kirke, here mentioned, was written in the year 1691, but not printed till 1815.]
Note I.Clachan of Aberfoil.
I do not know how this might stand in Mr. Osbaldistone's day, but I can assure the reader, whose curiosity
may lead him to visit the scenes of these romantic adventures, that the Clachan of Aberfoil now affords a
very comfortable little inn. If he chances to be a Scottish antiquary, it will be an additional recommendation
to him, that he will find himself in the vicinity of the Rev. Dr. Patrick Grahame, minister of the gospel at
Aberfoil, whose urbanity in communicating information on the subject of national antiquities, is scarce
exceeded even by the stores of legendary lore which he has accumulated.Original Note. The respectable
clergyman alluded to has been dead for some years. [See note H.]
APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION.
No. I.ADVERTISEMENT FOR THE APPREHENSION OF ROB ROY.
(From the Edinburgh Evening Courant, June 18 to June 21, A.D. 1732. No. 1058.)
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYNINTH. 268
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``That Robert Campbell, commonly known by the name of Rob Roy MacGregor, being lately intrusted by
several noblemen and gentlemen with considerable sums for buying cows for them in the Highlands, has
treacherously gone off with the money, to the value of L1000 sterling, which he carries along with him. All
Magistrates and Officers of his Majesty's forces are intreated to seize upon the said Rob Roy, and the money
which he carries with him, until the persons concerned in the money be heard against him; and that notice be
given, when he is apprehended, to the keepers of the Exchange Coffeehouse at Edinburgh, and the keeper of
the Coffeehouse at Glasgow, where the parties concerned will be advertised, and the seizers shall be very
reasonably rewarded for their pains.''
It is unfortunate that this Hue and Cry, which is afterwards repeated in the same paper, contains no
description of Rob Roy's person, which, of course, we must suppose to have been pretty generally known. As
it is directed against Rob Roy personally, it would seem to exclude the idea of the cattle being carried off by
his partner, MacDonald, who would certainly have been mentioned in the advertisement, if the creditors
concerned had supposed him to be in possession of the money.
No. II.LETTERS FROM AND TO THE DUKE OF MONTROSE RESPECTING ROB ROY'S ARREST
OF MR. GRAHAME OF KILLEARN.
The Duke of Montrose to*
* It does not appear to whom this letter was addressed. Certainly, from its * style and tenor, It was designed
for some person high in rank and officeperhaps * the King's Advocate for the time.
``Glasgow, the 21st November, 1716.
``My Lord,I was surprised last night with the account of a very remarkable instance of the insolence of
that very notorious rogue Rob Roy, whom your lordship has often heard named. The honour of his Majesty's
Government being concerned in it, I thought it my duty to acquaint your lordship of the particulars by an
express.
``Mr. Grahame of Killearn (whom I have had occasion to mention frequently to you, for the good service he
did last winter during the rebellion) having the charge of my Highland estate, went to Monteath, which is a
part of it, on Monday last, to bring in my rents, it being usual for him to be there for two or three nights
together at this time of the year, in a country house, for the conveniency of meeting the tenants, upon that
account. The same night, about 9 of the clock, Rob Roy, with a party of those ruffians whom he has still kept
about him since the late rebellion, surrounded the house where Mr. Grahame was with some of my tenants
doing his business, ordered his men to present their guns in att the windows of the room where he was sitting,
while he himself at the same time with others entered at the door, with cocked pistols, and made Mr.
Grahame prisoner, carreing him away to the hills with the money he had got, his books and papers, and my
tenants' bonds for their fines, amounting to above a thousand pounds sterling, whereof the onehalf had been
paid last year, and the other was to have been paid now; and att the same time had the insolence to cause him
to write a letter to me (the copy of which is enclosed) offering me terms of a treaty.
``That your Lordship may have the better view of this matter, it will be necessary that I should inform you,
that this fellow has now, of a long time, put himself at the head of the Clan M`Gregor, a race of people who
in all ages have distinguished themselves beyond others, by robberies, depredations, and murders, and have
been the constant harbourers and entertainers of vagabonds and loose people. From the time of the
Revolution he has taken every opportunity to appear against the Government, acting rather as a robber than
doing any real service to those whom he pretended to appear for, and has really done more mischief to the
countrie than all the other Highlanders have done.
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYNINTH. 269
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``Some three or four years before the last rebellion broke out, being overburdened with debts, he quitted his
ordinary residence, and removed some twelve or sixteen miles farther into the Highlands, putting himself
under the protection of the Earl of Bredalbin. When my Lord Cadogan was in the Highlands, he ordered his
house att this place to be burnt, which your Lordship sees he now places to my account.
``This obliges him to return to the same countrie he went from, being a most rugged inaccessible place, where
he took up his residence anew amongst his own friends and relations; but well judging that it was possible to
surprise him, he, with about fortyfive of his followers, went to Inverary, and made a sham surrender of their
arms to Coll. Campbell of Finab, Commander of one of the Independent Companies, and returned home with
his men, each of them having the Coll.'s protection. This happened in the beginning of summer last; yet not
long after he appeared with his men twice in arms, in opposition to the King's troops: and one of those times
attackt them, rescued a prisoner from them, and all this while sent abroad his party through the countrie,
plundering the countrie people, and amongst the rest some of my tenants.
``Being informed of these disorders after I came to Scotland, I applied to Lieut.Genll. Carpenter, who
ordered three parties from Glasgow, Stirling, and Finlarig, to march in the night by different routes, in order
to surprise him and his men in their houses, which would have its effect certainly, if the great rains that
happened to fall that verie night had not retarded the march of the troops, so as some of the parties came too
late to the stations that they were ordered for. All that could be done upon the occasion was to burn a countrie
house, where Rob Roy then resided, after some of his clan had, from the rocks, fired upon the king's troops,
by which a grenadier was killed.
``Mr. Grahame of Killearn, being my deputysheriff in that countrie, went along with the party that marched
from Stirling; and doubtless will now meet with the worse treatment from that barbarous people on that
account. Besides, that he is my relation, and that they know how active he has been in the service of the
Governmentall which, your Lordship may believe, puts me under very great concern for the gentleman,
while, at the same time, I can foresee no manner of way how to relieve him, other than to leave him to chance
and his own management.
``I had my thoughts before of proposing to Government the building of some barracks as the only expedient
for suppressing these rebels, and securing the peace of the countrie; and in that view I spoke to Genll.
Carpenter, who has now a scheme of it in his hands; and I am persuaded that will be the true method for
restraining them effectually; but, in the meantime, it will be necessary to lodge some of the troops in those
places, upon which I intend to write to the Generall.
``I am sensible I have troubled your Lordship with a very long letter, which I should be ashamed of, were I
myself singly concerned; but where the honour of the King's Government is touched, I need make no
apologie, and I shall only beg leave to add, that I am, with great respect, and truth,
`` My Lord,
``yr. Lords. most humble and obedient servant,
``MONTROSE''
COPY OF GRAHAME OF KILLEARN'S LETTER, ENCLOSED IN THE PRECEDING.
``Chappellarroch, Nov. 19th, 1716.
``May it please your Grace,I am obliged to give your Grace the trouble of this, by Robert Roy's
commands, being so unfortunate at present as to be his prisoner. I refer the way and manner I was
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apprehended, to the bearer, and shall only, in short, acquaint your Grace with the demands, which are, that
your Grace shall discharge him of all soumes he owes your Grace, and give him the soume of 3400 merks for
his loss and damages sustained by him, both at Craigrostown and at his house, Auchinchisallen; and that your
Grace shall give your word not to trouble or prosecute him afterwards; till which time he carries me, all the
money I received this day, my books and bonds for entress, not yet paid, along with him, with assurance of
hard usage, if any party are sent after him. The soume I received this day, conform to the nearest computation
I can make before several of the gentlemen, is 3227L. 2sh. 8d. Scots, of which I gave them notes. I shall wait
your Grace's return, and ever am,
``Your Grace's most obedient, faithful,
``humble servant,
Sic subscribitur, ``John Grahame.''
THE DUKE OF MONTROSE TO
28th Nov. 1716Killearn's Release.
``Glasgow, 28th Nov. 1716.
``Sir,Having acquainted you by my last, of the 21st instant, of what had happened to my friend, Mr.
Grahame of Killearn, I'm very glad now to tell you, that last night I was very agreeably surprised with Mr.
Grahame's coming here himself, and giving me the first account I had had of him from the time of his being
carried away. It seems Rob Roy, when he came to consider a little better of it, found that, he could not mend
his matters by retaining Killearn his prisoner, which could only expose him still the more to the justice of the
Government; and therefore thought fit to dismiss him on Sunday evening last, having kept him from the
Monday night before, under a very uneasy kind of restraint, being obliged to change continually from place to
place. He gave him back the books, papers, and bonds, but kept the money.
``I am, with great truth, Sir,
``your most humble servant,
``MONTROSE.''
[Some papers connected with Rob Roy Macgregor, signed ``Ro. Campbell,'' in 1711, were lately presented to
the Society of Antiquaries. One of these is a kind of contract between the Duke of Montrose and Rob Roy, by
which the latter undertakes to deliver within a given time ``Sixtie good and sufficient Kintaill highland
Cowes, betwixt the age of five and nine years, at fourtene pounds Scotts per peice, with ane bull to the
bargane, and that at the head dykes of Buchanan upon the twentyeight day of May next.'' Dated
December 1711.See Proceedings, vol. vii. p. 253.]
No. III.CHALLENGE BY ROB ROY.
``Rob Roy to ain hie and mighty Prince, James Duke of Montrose.
``In charity to your Grace's couradge and conduct, please know, the only way to retrive both is to treat Rob
Roy like himself, in appointing tyme, place, and choice of arms, that at once you may extirpate your
inveterate enemy, or put a period to your punny (puny?) life in falling gloriously by his hands. That
impertinent criticks or flatterers may not brand me for challenging a man that's repute of a poor dastardly
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CHAPTER THIRTYNINTH. 271
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soul, let such know that I admit of the two great supporters of his character and the captain of his bands to
joyne with him in the combat. Then sure your Grace wont have the impudence to clamour att court for
multitudes to hunt me like a fox, under pretence that I am not to be found above ground. This saves your
Grace and the troops any further trouble of searching; that is, if your ambition of glory press you to embrace
this unequald venture offerd of Rob's head. But if your Grace's piety, prudence, and cowardice, forbids
hazarding this gentlemanly expedient, then let your desire of peace restore what you have robed from me by
the tyranny of your present cituation, otherwise your overthrow as a man is determined; and advertise your
friends never more to look for the frequent civility payed them, of sending them home without their arms
only. Even their former cravings wont purchase that favour; so your Grace by this has peace in your offer, if
the sound of wax be frightful, and chuse you whilk, your good friend or mortal enemy.''
This singular rhodomontade is enclosed in a letter to a friend of Rob Roy, probably a retainer of the Duke of
Argyle in Isle, which is in these words:
``Sir,Receive the enclosd paper, qn you are takeing yor Botle it will divert yorself and comrad's. I gote
noe news since I seed you, only qt wee had before about the Spainyard's is like to continue. If I'll get any
further account about them I'll be sure to let you know of it, and till then I will not write any more till I'll have
more sure account. and I am
``Sir, your most affectionate Cn [cousin],
``and most humble servant,
``Ro: Roy.''
``Apryle 16th, 1719.
``To Mr. Patrick Anderson, at HayThese.'
The seal, a stagno bad emblem of a wild cateran.
It appears from the envelope that Rob Roy still continued to act as Intelligencer to the Duke of Argyle, and
his agents. The war he alludes to is probably some vague report of invasion from Spain. Such rumours were
likely enough to be afloat, in consequence of the disembarkation of the troops who were taken at Glensheal in
the preceding year, 1718.
No. IV.LETTER
FROM ROBERT CAMPBELL, alias M`GREGOR, COMMONLY CALLED ROB ROY, TO
FIELDMARSHAL WADE,
Then receiving the submission of disaffected Chieftains and Clans.*
* This curious epistle is copied from an authentic narrative of Marshal Wade's * proceedings in the
Highlands, communicated by the late eminent antiquary, George * Chalmers, Esq., to Mr. Robert Jamieson,
of the Register House, Edinburgh, and * published in the Appendix to an Edition of Burt's Letters from the
North of Scotland, * 2 vols. 8vo, Edinburgh, 1818.
Sir,The great humanity with which you have constantly acted in the discharge of the trust reposed in you,
and your ever having made use of the great powers with which you were vested as the means of doing good
and charitable offices to such as ye found proper objects of compassion, will, I hope, excuse my importunity
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYNINTH. 272
Page No 275
in endeavouring to approve myself not absolutely unworthy of that mercy and favour which your Excellency
has so generously procured from his Majesty for others in my unfortunate circumstances. I am very sensible
nothing can be alledged sufficient to excuse so great a crime as I have been guilty of it, that of Rebellion. But
I humbly beg leave to lay before your Excellency some particulars in the circumstance of my guilt, which, I
hope, will extenuate it in some measure. It was my misfortune, at the time the Rebellion broke out, to be
liable to legal diligence and caption, at the Duke of Montrose's instance, for debt alledged due to him. To
avoid being flung into prison, as I must certainly have been, had I followed my real inclinations in joining the
King's troops at Stirling, I was forced to take party with the adherents of the Pretender; for the country being
all in arms, it was neither safe nor indeed possible for me to stand neuter. I should not, however, plead my
being forced into that unnatural rebellion against his Majesty, King George, if I could not at the same time
assure your Excellency, that I not only avoided acting offensively against his Majesty's forces upon all
occasions, but on the contrary, sent his Grace the Duke of Argyle all the intelligence I could from time to
time, of the strength and situation of the rebels; which I hope his Grace will do me the justice to
acknowledge. As to the debt to the Duke of Montrose, I have discharged it to the utmost farthing. I beg your
Excellency would be persuaded that, had it been in my power, as it was in my inclination, I should always
have acted for the service of his Majesty King George, and that one reason of my begging the favour of your
intercession with his Majesty for the pardon of my life, is the earnest desire I have to employ it in his service,
whose good ness, justice, and humanity, are so conspicuous to all mankind.I am, with all duty and
respect, your Excellency's most,
``Robert Campbell.''
No. V.LETTER.
ESCAPE OF ROB ROY FROM THE DUKE OF ATHOLE.
The following copy of a letter which passed from one clergyman of the Church of Scotland to another, was
communicated to me by John Gregorson, Esq. of Ardtornish. The escape of Rob Roy is mentioned, like other
interesting news of the time with which it is intermingled. The disagreement between the Dukes of Athole
and Argyle seems to have animated the former against Rob Roy, as one of Argyle's partisans.
``Rev. and dear Brother,
Yrs of the 28th Jun I had by the bearer. Im pleased yo have got back again yr Delinquent which may probably
safe you of the trouble of her child. I'm sory I've yet very little of certain news to give you from Court tho'
I've seen all the last weekes prints, only I find in them a pasage which is all the account I can give you of the
Indemnity yt when the estates of forfaulted Rebells Comes to be sold all Just debts Documented are to be
preferred to Officers of the Court of enquiry. The Bill in favours of that Court against the Lords of Session in
Scotland in past the house of Commons and Come before the Lords which is thought to be considerably more
ample yn formerly wt respect to the Disposeing of estates Canvassing and paying of Debts. It's said yt the
examinations of Cadugans accounts is droped but it wants Confirmations here as yet. Oxford's tryals should
be entered upon Saturday last. We hear that the Duchess of Argyle is wt child. I doe not hear yt the Divisions
at Court are any thing abated or of any appearance of the Dukes having any thing of his Maj: favour. I
heartily wish the present humours at Court may not prove an encouragmt to watchfull and restles enemies.
My accounts of Rob Roy his escape are yt after severall Embassies between his Grace (who I hear did
Correspond wt some at Court about it) and Rob he at length upon promise of protectione Came to waite upon
the Duke being presently secured his Grace sent post to Edr to acquent the Court of his being aprehended call
his friends at Edr and to desire a party from Gen Carpinter to receive and bring him to Edr which party came
the length of Kenross in Fife, he was to be delivered to them by a party his Grace had demanded from the
Governour at Perth, who when upon their march towards Dunkell to receive him, were mete wt and returned
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CHAPTER THIRTYNINTH. 273
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by his Grace having resolved to deliver him by a party of his own men and left Rob at Logierate under a
strong guard till yt party should be ready to receive him. This space of time Rob had Imployed in taking the
other dram heartily wt the Guard qn all were pretty hearty, Rob is delivering a letter for his wife to a servant
to whom he most needs deliver some private instructions at the Door (for his wife) where he's attended wt on
the Guard. When serious in this privat Conversations he is making some few steps carelessly from the Door
about the house till he comes close by this horse which he soon mounted and made off. This is no small
mortifican to the guard because of the delay it give to there hopes of a Considerable additionall charge agt
John Roy.* my wife was upon
* i.e. John the RedJohn Duke of Argyle, so called from his complexion, more * commonly styled ``Red
John the Warriour.''
Thursday last delivered of a Son after sore travell of which she still continues very weak. I give yl Lady
hearty thanks for the Highland plaid. It's good cloath but it does not answer the sett I sent some time agae wt
McArthur tho it had I told in my last yt my wife was obliged to provid herself to finish her bed before she
was lighted but I know yt letr came not timely to yr handI'm sory I had not mony to send by the
bearer having no thought of it being exposed to some little expenses last week but I expect some sure
occasion when order by a letter to receive it. excuse this freedom from
``Manse of Comrie, July 2d, 1717.
``I salute yr lady I wish my . . . . . . . . . . . . her Daughter much Joy.''
No. VI.HIGHLAND WOOING.
There are many productions of the Scottish Ballad Poets upon the lionlike mode of wooing practised by the
ancient Highlanders when they had a fancy for the person (or property) of a Lowland damsel. One example is
found in Mr. Robert Jamieson's Popular Scottish Songs:
Bonny Babby Livingstone Gaed out to see the kye, And she has met with Glenlyon, Who has stolen her
away.
He took free her her sattin coat, But an her si1ken gown, Syne roud her in his tartan plaid, And happd her
round and roun'.
In another ballad we are told how
Fourandtwenty Hieland men, Came doun by Fiddoch Bide, And they have sworn a deadly aith, Jean Muir
suld be a bride:
And they have sworn a deadly aith, Ilke man upon his durke, That she should wed with Duncan Ger, Or
they'd make bloody works.
This last we have from tradition, but there are many others in the collections of Scottish Ballads to the same
purpose.
The achievement of Robert Oig, or young Rob Roy, as the Lowlanders called him, was celebrated in a ballad,
of which there are twenty different and various editions. The tune is lively and wild, and we select the fol
lowing words from memory:
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYNINTH. 274
Page No 277
Rob Roy is frae the Hielands come, Down to the Lowland border; And he has stolen that lady away, To haud
his house in order.
He set her on a milkwhite steed, Of none he stood in awe; Untill they reached the Hieland hills, Aboon the
Balmaha'!*
* A pass on the eastern margin of Loch Lomond, and an entrance to the Highlands.
Saying, Be content, be content, Be content with me, lady; Where will ye find in Lennox land, Sae braw a man
as me, lady?
Rob Roy he was my father called, MacGregor was his name, lady; A' the country, far and near, Have heard
MaeGregor's fame, lady.
He was a hedge about his friends, A heckle to his foes, lady; If any man did him gainsay, He felt his deadly
blows, lady.
I am as bold, I am as bold, I am as bold and more, lady; Any man that doubts my word, May try my gude
claymore, lady.
Then be content, be content. Be content with me, lady; For now you are my wedded wife, Until the day you
die, lady.
No. VIGHLUNE DHU.
The following notices concerning this Chief fell under the Author's eye while the sheets were in the act of
going through the press. They occur in manuscript memoirs, written by a person intimately acquainted with
the incidents of 1745.
This Chief had the important task intrusted to him of defending the Castle of Doune, in which the Chevalier
placed a garrison to protect his communication with the Highlands, and to repel any sallies which might be
made from Stirling CastleGhlune Dhu distinguished himself by his good conduct in this charge.
Ghlune Dhu is thus described:``Glengyle is, in person, a tall handsome man, and has more of the mien of
the ancient heroes than our modern fine gentlemen are possessed of. He is honest and disinterested to a
proverb extremely modestbrave and intrepidand born one of the best partisans in Europe. In
short, the whole people of that country declared that never did men live under so mild a government as
Glengyle's, not a man having so much as lost a chicken while he continued there.''
It would appear from this curious passage, that Glengylenot Stewart of Balloch, as averred in a note on
Waverleycommanded the garrison of Doune. Balloch might, no doubt, succeed MacGregor in the
situation.
GLOSSARY OF CERTAIN SCOTCH WORDS AND PHRASES, AS APPLIED IN ROB ROY.
Aiblins, perhaps. Aik, oak. Airn, iron. Aits, oats. An, if. Andrea Ferrara, Highland broadsword. Auldfarran,
sagacious.
Bailie, a Scotch magistrate. Bairn, a child. Ban, curse. Barkit aik snag, barked oak stick. Barkit, tanned.
Barm, yeast. Bawbee, halfpenny. Baudron, a cat, Bent, the moor or hillside. Bicker, a wooden vessel.
Bicker, to throw stones, to quarrel. Bide, wait. Bield, shelter. Bigging, building. Bike, nest. Birkie, lively
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYNINTH. 275
Page No 278
fellow. Birl, toss. Bittock, more than a bit. Blether, rattling nonsense. Blether, to spout nonsense. Blythe,
happy, Boddle, a farthing. Bogle, ghost, scarecrow, Bole, an aperture. Bonnie, pretty. Braw, fine, brave.
Breeks, breeches Brig, bridge. Brocan, Gaelic for porridge, Brogue, Highland shoe. Brose, a sort of pottage.
Brownie, ghost.
Callant, a lad Caller, fresh. Calm sough, a quiet mind or tongue. Canny, quiet, sensible. Cannelmas, Scotch
term, 2d February. Cateran, a robber. Caunle, candle. Caup, a shell. Chack, sneck. Chap, strike. Chappin,
choppin, a liquid measure. Chiel, a fellow. Chimley, chimney. Chuckiestanes, small pebbles. Clachan,
Gaelic, village. Clash, scandal Claut, clot. Clavers, gossip, scandal. Clerkit, written. Cloot, a rag, cloth.
Codlings, baking apples. Cogue, wooden vessel. Coost, cast. Corbie, crow. Coup, upset. Cowe, stalk. Crack,
to gossip, jaw. Craig, the neck. Creagh, Gaelic, pillage. Creel, basket. Crouse, confident, cheery. Crowdy, a
sort of pottage made of oatmeal. Cuitle up, tickle up, to do for. Curle, a fellow. CurlieWurlie, twisting.
Daffin', frolicking. Daft, crazy. Daiker, (toil) up the gate (way). Darn, conceal. Deil's ower Jock Wabster, all
to the devil. Ding, pull down. Dirdum, an ado. Divot, a turf. Dour, stubborn. Dourlach, Gaelic, satchel.
Douse, quiet. Dew, can. Downa, do not like. Dree, to suffer. Duinhewassel, Gaelic, gentleman.
Een, eyes. E'en, evening. Ettle, intend.
Fa', Highland, who. Fashious, troublesome. Fa'ard, favoured. Feal, faithful. Feck, part. Ferlie, wonderful.
Fizzinless, tasteless, useless. Flae, flea. Fleech, wheedle. Fleg, fright. Fley, frighten. Flit, remove.
Flowmoss, wet moss. Flyte, scold. Forbye, besides. Forfoughen, blown, breathless. Forgather, make friends
with, take up with. Forpit, fourth part of a peck. Fozy, soft. Fushionless, tasteless, useless.
Gabble, absurd talk. Galla Glass, an armed retainer ``The merciless Macdonald From the
Western Isles Of Kernes and Gallowglasses is supplied.'' Macbeth, Act I., Scene 2. Gangthereout,
wandering. Gar, make, oblige. Gash, sourlooking. Gate, way, manner. Gauger, exciseman. Gaun, going.
Gillie, Highland footboy. Gilravaging, devouring. Gleed, twisted. Gleg, quick, active. Gliff, an instant.
Glisk, a spark. Gloamin, twilight. Gloom, a frown. Glower, gaze. Glum, sourlooking. Gomeril, fool, lout.
Gowd, gold. Gowk, fool. Gree, agree. Greet, cry, weep. Grew, shiver. Grewsome, illomened, bitter. Grieve,
a bailiff, or steward. Gudeman, husband, head of the house. Guide, use, employ.
Ha niel Sassenach (corrupt Gaelic), I have no English. Ha nun Gregarach (corrupt Gaelic), It is a MacGregor.
Haggis, a Scotch pudding of minced meat, oatmeal, etc. Hail, whole. Hallion, rascal Harns, brains. Harst,
harvest. Haud, hold. Hantle, a number of Her, Highland, my. Hernainsel, Highland, myself. Hership,
plunder. het, hot. Hinderlans, buttocks. Hosenet, a small net used for rivulet fishing; also an entanglement or
confusion. Hough, thigh, ham. Howe, hollow. Howlet, owl. Hurdies, buttocks. Hussy, jade.
Ilk, each. Ingan, onion. Ivytod, ivybush
Jalouse, suspect. Jannock, bannock. Joctaleg, claspknife. Joseph, a riding cloak. Jouk, (dive) and let the jaw
(wave) go by.
Kail through the Reek, the soup through the smoke: to suffer reproof, blame, or retribution. Kailyard,
cabbagegarden. Kale, greens, sometimes broth. Kaim, comb. Kemp, strive and fight. Ken, know. Kerne, a
retainer or gillie. Kraem, a stall or shop, Kyloes, Highland cattle. Kythe, seem.
Lassock, girl. Lave, the remainder. Lawing, reckoning. Limmer, jade. Loon, fellow. Loup, leap. Luckie,
goodie! addressed to a woman. Lug, the ear.
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CHAPTER THIRTYNINTH. 276
Page No 279
Malison, curse. Manse, house, parsonage. Maun, must. Maw, to mow. Mense, sense. Mint, aim, intend.
Mistryst, disappoint, deceive. Moul, the sod. Muckle, much. Mutch, cap.
Napery, tablelinen. Natheless, nevertheless. Nowte, black cattle.
Opensteek, open stich. Opine, suppose, presume. Orra, odd. Ower, over. Owsen, oxen.
Paiks, chastisement, a kicking. Parochine, parish. Parritch, porridge. Pat, pot. Peers, pears. Pirn, a reel. Plack,
third of a penny. Pliskie, trick. Pock, a poke, bag. Pockneuk, one's own means or exertions. Pootry, poultry.
Pow, head. Pretty, Highland, brave, smart. Provost, a Scotch Mayor.
Quean, a flirt. Queez madan, a French pear.
Rathe, ready, quick. Rax, stretch. Redd, clear up. Reek, smoke. Reft, seized. Reisted, roasted, smoked. Reive,
to break, pillage. Roose, praise. Roup, auction.
Sark, a shirt. Sau, sow. Scart, a cormorant. Seamaw, a gall. Searcher, a town officer. Sell o't, itself. Ser'ing,
serving. Shanks, legs. Shaw, a green blade. She, Highland, I or he. Shear, clip, cut, reap. Sic, such. Siller,
money. Skart, scratch. Skirl, scream. Skreigh, scream. Skyte, a wretched fellow. Slabber, froth. Slink,
worthless. Smaik, a fool, or spoon. Sneckdrawer, a sly cunning person. Snell, sharp, severe, terrible. Snag, a
stick, branch. Soothfast, honest. Sough, sigh. Spang, to spring. Sparrygrass, asparagus. Speer, enquire.
Splore, a row. Sporran, Gaelic, purse. Spreagh, cattlelifting. Spune, a spoon. Steek, shut. Steer, molest.
Stibbler, a poor preacher. Stint, stop. Stot, a bullock. Stoup, a liquid measure. Strae, straw. Sybo, a kind of
onion, or raddish. Syne, since, ago.
Tae, the one. Tass, a glass, cup, Tatty, potato. Thrang, thronged, busy. Thrapple, throat. Thraw, thwart, twist.
Throughgaun, a downsetting. Thrum, a story. Toom, empty. Tow, a rope. Troke, transact, dabble witlb.
Trotcosie, ridinghood. Troth, truth! sure! Trow, trust. Tuilzie, scuffle. Tup, a ram. Twal, twelve.
Unco, very particularly. Unco think, a sad thing. Usquebaugh, Gaelic, whisky.
Vivers, victuals.
Wabster, a weaver. Wally draigh, a feeble person. Wame, belly, hollow. Wappin, stout, clever. Warstle,
wrestle. Waur, worse. Wean, an infant. Wee, little. Weird, destiny. Weise, guide. Wheen, a few.
Wigmaleerie, gimcrack. Whilk, which. Whin, gorse. Whummle, turn over. Will to Cupar maun to Cupar, a
wilful man must have his way. Winnle, turning frame. Wud, mad. Wuddie, gallowsrope. Wuss, wish. Wyte,
blame.
Yill, ale.
This electronic transcription of Scott's `Rob Roy' is based on the Centenary Edition of the Waverley Novels,
published in 1870 by Adam Charles Black, Edinburgh, and printed by R. Clark, Edinburgh.
* The following changes have been made to the text:
Page divisions and column titles have been removed.
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYNINTH. 277
Page No 280
All endofline hyphenation have been removed, and the de hyphenated words placed at the end of the first
line. The guide for whether to keep or remove the hyphen has been the text itself.
Internal page references (mainly references to the appendixes to the introduction) have been removed.
The following misprints have been corrected:
p. 97, l.10: ... thy cousin Thornie, ... (was: Cousin) p. 115, l. 3: ...sonsdaughters... (was: danghters) p.
156, l. 23: writing Tristia.'' (missing quotes) p. 172, l.11: gentleman,'' I said, ``I (missing quotes) p. 328,
l.1:``You are, I suppose (missing quotes) p. 350, l. 2: Mrs. MacGregor Campbell (was: MacGregor) p.
360, l. 32: to set out directly. I took (was: directly.'') p. 361m l. 7: ... she said; ``for (missing quotes) p. 411,
l.23: such a subject. (was: subject.'') p. 415, l.24: as this narrative now does. (was: narative)
p. 413, l.20:''and Andrew hated conceit`` (was: missing quotes?)
This sentence seems to read better with quotes than without. Scott seems to use that kind of construction for
parenthetical remarks, so it seems a reasonable correction.
* Some oddities, left for future textual archaeologists:
Craig Royston vs. CraigRoyston Loch Ard vs. LochArd Benlomond vs. Ben Lomond trotcosey vs.
trotcosie (glossary) kraemes vs. kraem (glossary)
dhuinewassell vs. duinh'ewassel vs. duinhewassel
The first may be a misprint for one of the other forms.
* Markup:
The following markup has been added:
Each paragraph begins with two spaces indentation.
indicates an em dash. Longer sequences represent correspondingly longer dashes.
a: a umlaut a` a grave ae ae ligature e' e acute a` e grave e^ e circumflex i: i dieresis l l superscript ll ll
superscript L Pounds sterling m m superscript n n suprescript oe oe ligature r r superscript rs rs superscript s s
superscript t t superscript
* footnote
Revision history:
Version: 1.0 19950403 Version: 1.1 19950915 Some extra spaces removed, one mistranscription
Version: 1.2 19961104 Moved text to correct place, added advertisement and introduction
Rob Roy
CHAPTER THIRTYNINTH. 278
Bookmarks
1. Table of Contents, page = 3
2. Rob Roy, page = 4
3. Walter Scott, page = 4
4. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION, page = 5
5. INTRODUCTION---(1829), page = 5
6. CHAPTER FIRST., page = 35
7. CHAPTER SECOND., page = 40
8. CHAPTER THIRD., page = 47
9. CHAPTER FOURTH., page = 50
10. CHAPTER FIFTH., page = 55
11. CHAPTER SIXTH., page = 60
12. CHAPTER SEVENTH., page = 67
13. CHAPTER EIGHTH., page = 73
14. CHAPTER NINTH., page = 80
15. CHAPTER TENTH., page = 89
16. CHAPTER ELEVENTH., page = 96
17. CHAPTER TWELFTH., page = 101
18. CHAPTER THIRTEENTH., page = 105
19. CHAPTER FOURTEENTH., page = 112
20. CHAPTER FIFTEENTH., page = 118
21. CHAPTER SIXTEENTH., page = 121
22. CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH., page = 125
23. CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH., page = 131
24. CHAPTER NINETEENTH., page = 137
25. CHAPTER TWENTIETH., page = 141
26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST., page = 145
27. CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND., page = 150
28. CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD., page = 157
29. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH., page = 163
30. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH., page = 167
31. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH., page = 172
32. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH., page = 182
33. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH., page = 187
34. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH., page = 194
35. CHAPTER THIRTIETH., page = 200
36. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIRST., page = 208
37. CHAPTER THIRTY-SECOND., page = 215
38. CHAPTER THIRTY-THIRD., page = 222
39. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOURTH., page = 228
40. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIFTH., page = 236
41. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXTH., page = 244
42. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVENTH., page = 248
43. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHTH., page = 254
44. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINTH., page = 260