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Evition ve Lure 
 
 REDGAUNTLET 
 
 eo PAG) OF STHE) EIGHBREENTH! CENTURY 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 
 VOLT. 
 
 BY SIR, WALTER. SCOTT, BART 
 
 GHith Untrovuctory Hssay and Notes 
 
 By ANDREW LANG 
 
 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 BOSTON 
 ESTES AND LAURIAT 
 
 1894 
 
EDITION DE LUXE. 
 Limited to One Thousand Coptes. 
 
 Noo baa 
 
 Copyright, 1894, 
 By ESTES AND LAURIAT. 
 
 IV POGRAPAYELACLT ROLY PING, (ANG 
 PRINTING BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 
 
Edition de Lure. 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
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REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 A TALE OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
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EDITORS INTRODUCTION 
 TO 
 
 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 ‘¢ REDGAUNTLET”’ is, for at least two reasons, one of 
 the most interesting of Scott’s novels, as far as his 
 novels are revelations of his own history and opinions. 
 Tt is full of matter which may almost be called autobio- 
 graphical : reminiscences of his youth, of his father, of 
 his one love-story ; and again, it illustrates, by its 
 portrait of Prince Charles in his later unhappy years, 
 the sentiment of Jacobitism in Scott. To the friend 
 of forlorn causes the figure of Charles, when all but 
 immortal hope was lost, may have seemed more full of 
 charm than in the days of brief triumph at Holyrood 
 and at Gladsmuir. In the scene of the Council, in 
 ‘‘Redgauntlet,”? Scott had originally written of Charles 
 as ‘‘the King.’? On the margin of the proof-sheet 
 James Ballantyne remarks, ‘‘Is if the King? I sus- 
 pect you will order me to tame it down to ‘Prince.’ ” 
 In the novel as it stands the phrase is ‘their king,’ 
 but the original words express the natural sentiment of 
 the author —a sentiment, as often chanced, at war 
 with his judgment. Had Scott lived in his father’s, 
 or rather in his grandfather’s, days, we cannot say 
 whether he would have mounted the white or the black 
 cockade, whether reason or sentiment would have pre- 
 vailed. But he would assuredly have fought on one 
 
x EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 side or the other, and, the long quarrel once closed, 
 his feelings were entirely with the brave, the beautiful, 
 the kind, the clement Prince Charles of 1745. In this 
 novel he dares to follow him among the mysterious but 
 always audacious adventures of the years after the 
 Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and draws, with a hand pious 
 and atfectionate, the portrait of the last and, in his 
 youth, the most fascinating of a fated line. When old 
 and broken and near his death, Scott made his latest 
 romantic pilgrimage to the mausoleum of the Stuarts 
 in St. Peter’s, and the Palace of Cardinal York in the 
 Piazza de SS. Apostoli. He mentioned how, as he 
 was walking once on the battle-field of Prestonpans, 
 he had heard the minute-guns proclaiming the death of 
 George IV. (Journal, June 27, 1830, where the visit to 
 Prestonpans is noted, but nothing is said of the guns.) 
 It is well known that near the Lake of Avernus, when 
 his companion was expatiating on the Temple of Apollo, 
 Baie, and so forth, he repeated, ‘‘in a grave tone, and 
 with great emphasis — 
 
 Up the craggy mountain, 
 And down the mossy glen, 
 
 We canna gang a-milking 
 For Charlie and his men.” 1 
 
 In fact, Italy, at that sad moment of his life, interested 
 him more as the retreat of his country’s kings than as 
 the scene of ancient history. In ‘‘ Redgauntlet ’’ he 
 writes almost the final page of the forlorn tale, and he 
 blends his devotion to old years with a memory of his 
 first love. In some letters written to him by an 
 unnamed friend of his youth, Lockhart found the fol- 
 lowing passage: ‘Your Quixotism, dear Walter, 
 was highly characteristic. From the description of the 
 
 1 Lockhart, x. 168. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. xi 
 
 blooming fair, as she appeared when she lowered her 
 manteau vert, I am hopeful you have not dropped 
 the acquaintance.”’ ‘‘ This hint,’ says Lockhart, ‘I 
 cannot help connecting with the first scene of the 
 Lady Green Mantle in ‘ Redgauntlet,’ but indeed I 
 could trace many more coincidences between these 
 letters and that novel, though at the same time I. have 
 no sort of doubt that William Clerk was, in the main, 
 Darsie Latimer, while Scott himself unquestionably 
 sat for his own portrait, in Alan Fairford.’ All that 
 is told us of old Mr. Fairford’s political caution or 
 urbanity ‘‘ was true of Mr. Walter Scott, his father,” 
 and the visit of Herries to old Fairford reminds one of 
 the tale of Murray of Broughton and the teacup (Lock- 
 hart, i. 243). Mr. Clerk informed Lockhart that 
 ‘‘nothing could be more exact (excepting as to a few 
 petty circumstances, introduced for obvious reasons) 
 than the resemblance of the Mr. Saunders Fairford of 
 ‘Redgauntlet’ to his friend’s father. . . . The real 
 Darsie” (William Clerk) ‘‘ was present at the real Alan 
 Fairford’s ‘bit chack of dinner,’ and the old Clerk of 
 the Signet was very joyous on the occasion.” ‘‘ Scott’s 
 thesis was not de periculo et commodo rei vendite,”’ 
 but on ‘‘ The Disposal of the dead bodies of Criminals.” 
 It was dedicated, not inappropriately, to the notorious 
 Lord Braxfield. Thus ‘‘ Redgauntlet ’’ is, in part, a 
 memory of first love, first friendship, and of filial affec- 
 tion. In the industrious Alan, so scant of pocket 
 money, so piously obedient and energetic, to please his 
 sire, in uncongenial labour, we have Sir Walter in his 
 youth, and in his neat precise economical parent, so con- 
 temptuous of literary or military or any but legal 
 success, we have the father who feared that the son 
 would prove ‘‘ but a gangrel scrapegut,’’ old Mr. Scott, 
 a man affectionate and reserved, as was the Scottish 
 manner of old. 
 
xii EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 ‘¢ Redgauntlet’’ was originally called ‘‘ Herries,” 
 Lockhart says, until Constable persuaded the author to 
 choose the more striking name. It was published in 
 June 1824, and was ‘‘ received somewhat coldly.” To 
 contemporaries, no doubt, it could not present the 
 interest of autobiography as it does to us. It was 
 Scott’s only novel of the year : he was occupied with 
 the second edition of his ‘‘ Life of Swift,’’ with reviews, 
 with a “ Tribute to the Memory of Lord Byron,” and 
 with the furnishing and decoration of Abbotsford. 
 
 The proof-sheets of ‘‘ Redgauntlet’” exist, and 
 show some noteworthy points, as we see James Ballan- 
 tyne’s suggestions, Scott’s corrections, and an occa- 
 sional aside to Ballantyne.’ It is curious that the 
 opening misquotation from Horace, Cur me exani- 
 mas querelis tuis (for cur me querelis exanimas twis) 
 has been left uncorrected. James clearly was ignorant 
 of Latin, and, when he draws attention later to a Latin 
 passage, Scott not unnaturally asks why, in such a 
 printing establishment, there is nobody who can read 
 a few lines of the language of Rome. James objects 
 to the mixture of ‘‘Thou’’ and “You” in Fairford’s 
 letter (ii.), but Scott does not make any change. The 
 whole allusion to the Fairfords’ possible descent, on 
 the wrong side, from ‘‘ Fairford of that ilk,”’ is an after- 
 thought, added on the margin of the proof. Herries 
 was originally ‘‘ of Dryfesdale,” not of ‘‘ Birrenswork.”’ 
 A marginal addition is old Mr. Fairford’s rebuke to . 
 Darsie for growing merrier instead of graver with the 
 increase of his income. This characteristic ‘‘ brocard” 
 may have been a reminiscence. By far the greater 
 number of additions are made on the margin of that 
 perfect masterpiece, ‘‘ Wandering Willie’s Tale.” 
 
 1 The proof-sheets have been lent to the Editor by the kindness 
 
 of Mr. D. MacRitchie. Unluckily, the margins have been muti- 
 lated by the binder. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. xiii 
 
 ‘‘The finest finger for the back lilt’ is an addition, 
 so is the rumour that Redgauntlet feared the vengeance 
 of the Whigs. So is ‘‘you maun ken he had a way 
 of bending his brows that men saw the visible mark of a 
 horse-shoe on his forehead, deep dinted as if it had been 
 stamped there.” But probably the horse-shoe was 
 already part of the conception of the story. It is bor- 
 rowed from the sister of Major Weir, the warlock, who 
 is said, in the curious old account of herself and her 
 brother, usually accompanying ‘‘ Ravaillac Redivivus,”’ 
 to have possessed a frown like Redgauntlet’s. ‘If I 
 were ever to become a writer of romances,’’ Scott had 
 said long ago, while he lived at Lasswade, ‘‘ I think I 
 would choose Major Weir, if not for my hero, at least 
 for an agent, and a leading one, in my production.”’ 
 This was in 1798, sixteen years before ‘‘ Waverley.” 
 He never introduced Major Weir, the gaoler of Mont- 
 rose, as a character, but he borrowed the frown of the 
 Major’s sister and fellow-sufferer.' The insertion of 
 Bloody Mackenyie in Hell is a marginal addition, so 
 is Steenie’s waking in the parish kirkyard — a romantic 
 thought, and there are other notes of less interest. 
 Most of the costume of the gay fishwife at the dance is 
 an afterthought. James Ballantyne rather timidly sug- 
 gests that Green Mantle at the fishers’ dance reminds 
 him of Di Vernon, so Scott slightly modifies her cava- 
 lier tone. James is scandalised at the mention of 
 young advocates as ‘‘boys.” Scott writes, ‘* Aye, 
 aye !’? Where the old judge speaks of ‘‘the auld 
 b ,” Ballantyne entreats that ‘‘b—h ” may be sub- 
 stituted. ‘I think delicacy itself requires b—h.’’ 
 James was very strong on delicacy. The relentless 
 Scott, therefore, to the primitive ‘“B’’ adds ‘‘itch.” 
 Ballantyne makes a more useful suggestion, which 
 
 
 
 1 Gillies (“ Recollections,” p. 108) tells the anecdote of Major 
 Weir, 
 
xiv EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Scott accepts, when Alan reads the wrong letter in 
 the trial. When one of the characters promises to 
 another ‘‘a day’s work in harvest,” the sensitive James 
 asks, ‘‘Is not this a trifle— vulgar ?’’? But he allows 
 ‘“‘cave ne Bellephontes literas adferres”’ to stand 
 uncorrected. When Scott writes, ‘‘He might have 
 made a pendant to my friend Wilkie’s inimitable blind 
 Crowder,” Ballantyne asks, ‘‘ What does a ‘ pendant ’ 
 mean ?’? To have a corrector whose ignorance fairly 
 represents that of many readers was doubtless useful 
 to Scott. Ballantyne fulfilled the duties of Molieére’s 
 legendary old housekeeper. 
 
 In the historical theme of ‘‘ Redgauntlet ’’ Scott 
 could and did move with considerable freedom. The 
 fortunes of Prince Charles between his return to France 
 after the Forty-five and his marriage are obscure now, 
 and were involved in mystery even as far as contempo- 
 raries were concerned. A sketch of what is known or 
 conjectured about them may therefore be attempted. 
 Some materials exist in the Stuart Papers, the adven- 
 tures of which are a romance in themselves. On the 
 death of Cardinal York (1806), the enormous collection 
 of documents of the exile remained in his palace, unre- 
 garded. They were discovered and purchased for a 
 small sum by Robert Watson, an adventurer whose 
 record is a novel in itself. Born in Elgin about 1746- 
 1750, Watson had been engaged on the colonial side in 
 the American War of Independence. He had been 
 Secretary to Lord George Gordon, of riotous celebrity, 
 and a correspondent of the French Revolutionaries. 
 Driven from England, he entered the service of Napo- 
 leon, probably as a spy. Under Napoleon he was head 
 of the Scots College in Paris, and later went to Italy 
 to try to grow indigo there, during the Continental 
 blockade. In this enterprise he failed, but he obtained 
 the Stuart Papers, and hoped to get a large price for 
 
REDGAUNTLET. XV 
 
 them. The English Government induced the Papal 
 Court to seize the papers, Watson was paid, though 
 not so much as he expected, and, after various vicissi- 
 tudes, the documents reached England. In 1880, 
 Scott was appointed to a commission for editing the 
 Manuscripts, but he did not live to fulfil this congenial 
 duty. Only a single volume, dealing with Atterbury’s 
 intrigues, was published by Government, but Lord 
 Stanhope made some use of the materials, and many 
 letters were published by James Browne, in his 
 ‘History of the Highland Clans” (Glasgow, 1838). 
 Then the papers were removed to Windsor, and since 
 that event they have not been edited. As far as they 
 are concerned, the last years of the Stuarts remain a 
 blank. These Stuart Papers, then, were not known 
 to Scott when he wrote ‘‘ Redgauntlet.’? They make 
 it apparent that, even before the Forty-five, there was 
 a king’s party and a prince’s party in the Jacobite 
 councils. Charles was in the hands of Sheridan, 
 Sullivan, Kelly, and other Irishmen, who are probably 
 responsible for his unexpected descent on Scotland. 
 They it was, apparently, who prejudiced him against 
 his gallant and competent general, Lord George 
 Murray, whom he refused to see in France, after the 
 affair of Forty-five. The Stuart Papers prove that as 
 early as 1747 Charles was acting on his own plans, was 
 concealing them from James, and was on bad terms 
 with the Duke of York, even before the Duke mortally 
 offended him by accepting a Cardinal’s hat.2 The 
 
 1 In the “Tales of the Century,” by John Sobieski and Charles 
 Edward Stuart (London, 1847), “Stuart Papers in our possession ” 
 are often quoted. The history of the Counts Stuart d’Albanie, 
 who represented themselves as descendants of a child born to 
 Charles Edward in wedlock, is in itself a singular problem which 
 has often been discussed with very inadequate knowledge. 
 
 2 James to Charles, Jan. 28, 1748: “ You had already quite 
 broke with him before he was a Cardinal.” 
 
xvi EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Marquis d’Argenson, in his Memoirs, says that accord- 
 ing to report Charles was angry with Henry (the Duke 
 of York) for displaying cowardice in declining to 
 embark for England during the Rising. However 
 this may be, the Scotch and English Jacobites thought 
 the Cardinalship of the Duke a worse blow than Cul- 
 loden to their cause. The hopes of succession were 
 diminished, and the attachment of the Royal Family 
 to Catholicism was accentuated. Charles therefore 
 remained on the worst terms with his brother and 
 father, not improved by his refusal to leave France 
 on the conclusion of the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and 
 by his captivity at Vincennes, and exile to Avignon 
 (1748-49). On the other hand, Charles’s conduct won 
 him great popularity with the French, and threw much 
 shame on the king and his government. From this 
 moment Charles’s dream was a Restoration effected 
 without French aid, and James often reasons with him 
 on the subject. From Avignon (Feb. 24, 1749) Charles 
 wrote to the Landgrave of Hesse Darmstadt, asking 
 for the hand of his daughter. In May 1749 Charles was 
 secretly in Venice. He fled from Avignon, whither 
 is not known, though a letter attributed to Henry 
 Goring, his equerry, published in 1750, tells a strange 
 and romantic tale of his adventures in Strasburg, 
 Poland, where he was to marry the Princess Radzivil, 
 and elsewhere. He is said to have met Frederick the 
 Great at Berlin, and in the collection of the Count 
 Stuart d’Albanie was a remarkable powder-horn, given 
 to Charles by Frederick on this occasion. It is pro- 
 bable that Charles now lived in seclusion at the castle 
 of his friend the Duc de Bouillon, but his incognito 
 was so successful that neither the spies of the English 
 Government nor his own family could penetrate the 
 mystery. He certainly resided much in Switzerland, 
 under an assumed name. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. xvii 
 
 Two points, on which ‘‘ Redgauntlet ”’ turns, are cer- 
 tain. Charles did visit England, and he did contract 
 a liaison with Miss Walkinshaw, a fatal event in his 
 career. In 1750 James writes to Lord George Murray, 
 ‘¢T do not so much as know where he is.” In a mem- 
 orandum of May 3, 1750, Charles writes, ‘‘ye P. is 
 determined to go over at any rate.’? ‘*The grand 
 affair of L. [London ?] to be attempted.’? In Septem- 
 ber 1750 Charles was in London, where Dr. King met 
 him at a party in Lady Primrose’s house. He remained 
 in London from Sept. 5 to Sept. 13, when he returned 
 to Paris. At this time Charles declared himself a 
 Protestant, as is proved by a memorandum in his own 
 hand. It is also asserted in the scraps of writing left 
 by Dr. Archibald Cameron, executed in 1752. In 
 1752-58 it is probable, from the statements of Hume 
 and Lord Elcho’s MS., that Charles was again in Lon- 
 don. There was a plot of Lord Elibank’s to seize 
 George II., carry him off, and proclaim King James. 
 (Letter of David Hume, ‘‘Gentleman’s Magazine,”’ 
 1788. This letter, however, contains some absurd 
 tattle from Helvetius, about the cowardice of the 
 Prince. It also speaks of Charles’s presence at the 
 Coronation of George III. in 1761.) In May 1754 
 Charles was in England, according to Lord Albemarle, 
 the English ambassador at Paris, and, for some reason, 
 he visited Nottingham. (Ewald, ii. 213.) Tradition 
 speaks of other movements. His ghost is said to haunt 
 an old house in Godalming! In a letter written to the 
 Count Stuart d’Albanie, the Editor finds mention of a 
 visit of the Prince to the North of Ireland, given on the 
 authority of an old Mr. Maxwell. Charles is said to 
 have held his last council in England at Mereworth 
 
 1 This is mentioned on a scrap of memorandum, quoted by the 
 Queen’s Librarian, “Times,” Dec. 27, 1864. See Mr. Hwald’s 
 “ History of Prince Charles,” ii. 201. 
 
 b 
 
xviii EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Castle in Kent, where the English Jacobites are also 
 said to have drawn up a remonstrance about Miss 
 Walkinshaw. Miss Warrender informs the Editor 
 that Lady Falmouth, to whom, as Baroness Le De- 
 spenser in her own right, the castle belonged, pointed 
 out Prince Charles’s room, which he occupied at some 
 time between 1750 and 1762, the year of the death of 
 John Earl of Westmoreland, an adherent of the Stuarts. 
 The father and mother of Lady Falmouth well remem- 
 bered an old maid-servant in Mereworth Castle who had 
 seen and known the Prince there, and recollected him 
 perfectly. In Mereworth Castle, then, we may see the 
 original of Fairladies. It was in 1755, when war be- 
 tween France and England seemed inevitable, and when 
 Charles had been visiting King Stanislaus at Nancy, 
 that the Jacobites remonstrated thrice about the Prince’s 
 liaison with Miss Walkinshaw. Dr. King, in his 
 ‘¢ Anecdotes ’’ (p. 207), tells how Macnamara ex- 
 claimed, in despair, ‘‘ What has your family done, 
 sir, thus to draw down the vengeance of Heaven on 
 every branch of it through so many ages ?”” A Memoir 
 of Remonstrance was also drawn up by the Scottish 
 Jacobites.1 They disclaimed any belief in the slanders 
 of ‘‘ Jemmy Dawkins,’’ and others, such as Lord Elcho. 
 It was said that Charles had threatened to publish the 
 names of the gentlemen represented by Macnamara. 
 Writing to the Earl Marischal (May 18, 1754), Charles 
 says, ‘‘ Whoever told you that I gave such a message to 
 Ed. as you mention has told you a damned lie.” ‘I 
 would not do the least hurt to my greatest enemy (were 
 he in my power), much less to any one that professes 
 to be mine.’’ (Browne, iv. 121.) To the Scottish 
 Remonstrance Charles answered, in writing, ‘‘ Reason 
 may, and I hope always shall, prevail, but my own 
 
 1 Browne, iv. 225. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. xix 
 
 heart deceives me if threats or promises ever can.’’ 
 (Browne, iv. 127.) In brief, he could not put away 
 Miss Walkinshaw, because his friends feared that 
 their fortunes were at the mercy of her sister, a woman 
 about the English court. If we may believe Dawkins, 
 Lord Elcho, and Goring as reported by Lord Elcho, 
 Charles’s character was now hopelessly shattered. In 
 his Highland miseries he had learned to drink; a thou- 
 sand disappointments and treacheries had soured him, 
 temper and natural goodness of heart were overthrown, 
 and he would not, in any case, give up a companion 
 whose loyalty he had no reason to doubt. Al] these 
 events are earlier than the assumed date of ‘‘ Red- 
 gauntlet,’’? which is about 1767. 
 
 The true history of Miss Walkinshaw is extremely 
 obscure. It has been examined at length by Charles 
 and John Sobieski Stuart, in Notes to ‘‘ Tales of the 
 Century.” Their motive for studying the matter is 
 obvious. There was another soi-disant Stuart in the 
 field. They quote ‘‘the Arndilly Papers,” as vouch- 
 ing for Charles’s marriage with Miss Walkinshaw, and 
 the Editor has reason to believe that this lady did 
 assure her kindred that she had been married to the 
 Prince. Her letters were borrowed from a surviving 
 descendant, and were never returned. But as Charles, 
 in his latest days, formally legitimated his daughter 
 by Miss Walkinshaw, the Duchess of Albany, and as, 
 during his liaison, he was frequently in treaty for a 
 marriage, it is impossible to believe the story. It was 
 asserted that the Duchess of Albany, before Charles 
 took her up, had married a Swedish Baron Rochenstart, 
 and had by him a son, who was thus the legitimate 
 representative of the Stuarts! This absurd myth is 
 disposed of with great acuteness in the Notes to “Tales 
 of the Century.” There was, however, a gentleman 
 named Stuart who claimed, or was supposed to be, this 
 
to EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 last Stuart, and who died, it is believed in Scotland, 
 about 1850. 
 
 The real history of Miss Walkinshaw, apart from 
 fable, is hard to disentangle. Information which is not 
 correct is derived from the “CXuvres de Saint-Simon,” 
 xii. 144. She is there described as daughter of John 
 Walkinshaw, Baron of ‘‘ Barronsfield,” really Barow- 
 field. The lovers are said to have met at Bannockburn, 
 during the siege of Stirling, but this, again, is more 
 than dubious.! After Culloden, Miss Walkinshaw re- 
 mained in Scotland, and it is not certain when she 
 joined the Prince abroad. Mr. Ewald (ii. 190) thinks 
 it was before his retreat to Avignon. /Pichot, in 
 ‘¢ Histoire de Charles Edouard,’’? makes them meet 
 at Ghent, in 1750, or rather when Charles arrived at 
 Ghent he sent her on to Paris. Now, as her sister, 
 Catherine, was woman of the bedchamber to the mother 
 of George III. of England, the Jacobites believed that 
 Miss Walkinshaw was simply sent abroad as a Hano- 
 verian spy. Hence the final quarrel between Charles 
 and his adherents. It is certain that Miss Walkin- 
 shaw, under the name of Caroline Pitt, lived with - 
 Charles, and bore him two children, of whom the elder, 
 a boy, died early. In 1760, Miss Walkinshaw quitted 
 the Prince, who was at Bouillon, and withdrew, with 
 her daughter, to Paris. Charles never saw her again. 
 The events in ‘‘ Redgauntlet’’ are, therefore, post- 
 dated. The lady is said to have borne the title of 
 Countess of Albertroff, and to have died at Fribourg, in 
 1805. Though described as a fair beauty, with “hair of 
 paly gold,” in ‘‘ Redgauntlet,”’ Miss Walkinshaw, if we 
 may trust a miniature, was dark; the chief beauty of 
 her face being two very large and luminous hazel eyes. 
 Lady Louisa Stuart, writing to Scott on June 29, 1824, 
 
 1 Miss Walkinshaw was descended from Baillie, the Covenant- 
 ing Principal of Glasgow University 1640-60. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. Xxi 
 
 thanks him for ‘‘ Redgauntlet,’”’ and gives a vivid de- 
 scription of Miss Walkinshaw’s sister, ‘‘the faithful 
 Walkie,”’ ‘‘the most eminent and managing gossip in 
 London.”? ‘‘My eldest brother, who knew the sister 
 in Paris, where she resided with her daughter in a 
 convent, described her as a complete Frenchwoman, re- 
 taining no mark of her own country, but Catherine was 
 a genuine auld wife.’’ Lady Louisa complains that 
 ‘‘Redgauntlet’’? has ‘‘no story’’—a singular criti- 
 cism — ‘‘no love, no hero—unless Redgauntlet him- 
 self, who would be such a hero as the Devil in Milton; 
 yet in spite of all these wants the interest is so strong, 
 one cannot lay it down, and I prophesy a great deal of 
 mauling and abuse, and a second edition before the 
 maulers know where they are.”’ 
 
 Lady Louisa remarks that she has read the novel 
 twice, and she regrets that we have not more of Wan- 
 dering Willie. He is, indeed, one of the finest char- 
 acters in a book which, for variety and excellence of 
 character, has never been excelled, save by Shakspeare. 
 Here every one lives, even Peter Peebles. If we think 
 that Redgauntlet himself is exaggerated, and that his 
 wild schemes are scarcely sane, no fault can be found 
 with any of the other persons. They are fresh and 
 vivid as from the mind of nature herself. Nanty Ewart, 
 the scholarly smuggler, is perhaps the most striking 
 and original; but, turn where we will, to Summer- 
 trees, to the Provost, the Quakers, the rustic servants, 
 to the melancholy and dignified form of the king, or to 
 the wicked little Benjie, we find each portrait keenly 
 cut, and largely designed. The conspirators them- 
 selves, so half-hearted, so unlike the gallant adven- 
 turers of ‘‘ Waverley,” are each distinct, each a separate 
 human being. Among the novels of Scott, ‘ Red- 
 gauntlet ’’ will always be one of the dearest, especially 
 to those who love to trace, through his fiction, the hand 
 
xxii EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and the temper of the Master. Incidentally, in the ab- 
 solute perfection of Wandering Willie’s Tale, he shows 
 his complete mastery of brief narrative. Here, for once, 
 we seem admitted to his familiar company, in such a 
 mood as that which inspired him, in his youth, to 
 frighten a stage-coachful of travellers in Fife by the 
 story of Archbishop Sharpe’s murder on Magus Moor. 
 
 ANDREW LANG. 
 January 1894. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO 
 
 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 Tue Jacobite enthusiasm of the eighteenth century, 
 particularly during the rebellion of 1745, afforded a 
 theme, perhaps the finest that could be selected, for 
 fictitious composition, founded upon real or probable 
 incident. This civil war, and its remarkable events, 
 were remembered by the existing generation without 
 any degree of the bitterness of spirit which seldom 
 fails to attend internal dissension. The Highlanders, 
 who formed the principal strength of Charles Edward’s 
 army, were an ancient and high-spirited race, peculiar 
 in their habits of war and of peace, brave to romance, and 
 exhibiting a character turning upon points more adapted 
 to poetry than to the prose of real life. Their Prince, 
 young, valiant, patient of fatigue, and despising 
 danger, heading his army on foot in the most toilsome 
 marches, and defeating a regular force in three battles, 
 —all these were circumstances fascinating to the imagi- 
 nation, and might well be supposed to seduce young 
 and enthusiastic minds to the cause in which they 
 were found united, although wisdom and reason frowned 
 upon the enterprise. 
 
 The adventurous Prince, as is well known, proved to 
 be one of those personages who distinguish themselves 
 during some single and extraordinarily brilliant period 
 of their lives, like the course of a shooting star, at 
 which men wonder, as well on account of the briefness, 
 
XxXiv INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 as the brilliancy of its splendour. A long trace of 
 darkness overshadowed the subsequent life of a man, 
 who, in his youth, showed himself so capable of great 
 undertakings; and, without the painful task of tracing 
 his course further, we may say the latter pursuits and 
 habits of this unhappy Prince, are those painfully 
 evincing a broken heart, which seeks refuge from its 
 own thoughts in sordid enjoyments. 
 
 Still, however, it was long ere Charles Edward 
 appeared to be, perhaps it was long ere he altogether 
 became, so much degraded from his original self; as he 
 enjoyed for a time the lustre attending the progress 
 and termination of his enterprise. ‘Those who thought 
 they discerned in his subsequent conduct an insen- 
 sibility to the distresses of his followers, coupled with 
 that egotistical attention to his own interests, which 
 has been often attributed to the Stewart Family, and 
 which is the natural effect of the principles of divine 
 right in which they were brought up, were now 
 generally considered as dissatisfied and splenetic per- 
 sons, who, displeased with the issue of their adventure, 
 and finding themselves involved in the ruins of a fall- 
 ing cause, indulged themselves in undeserved reproaches 
 against their leader. Indeed, such censures were by no 
 means frequent among those of his followers, who, if 
 what was alleged had been just, had the best right to 
 complain. (a)* Far the greater number of those 
 unfortunate gentlemen suffered with the most dignified 
 patience, and were either too proud to take notice of 
 ill treatment on the part of their Prince, or so prudent 
 as to be aware their complaints would meet with little 
 sympathy from the world. It may be added, that the 
 greater part of the banished Jacobites, and those of 
 
 1 See Editor’s Notes at the end of the Volume. Wherever a 
 similar reference occurs, the reader will understand that the same 
 direction applies. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. XXV 
 
 high rank and consequence, were not much within 
 reach of the influence of the Prince’s character and. con- 
 duct, whether well regulated or otherwise. 
 
 In the meantime, that great Jacobite conspiracy, of 
 which the insurrection of 1745-6 was but a small part, 
 precipitated into action on the failure of a far more 
 general scheme, was resumed and again put into motion 
 by the Jacobites of England, whose force had never 
 been broken, as they had prudently avoided bringing it 
 into the field. The surprising effect which had been 
 produced by small means, in 1745-6, animated their 
 hopes for more important successes, when the whole 
 nonjuring interest of Britain, identified as it then was 
 with great part of the landed gentlemen, should come 
 forward to finish what had been gallantly attempted by 
 a few Highland chiefs. 
 
 It is probable, indeed, that the Jacobites of the day 
 were incapable of considering that the very small scale 
 on which the effort was made, was in one great measure 
 the cause of its unexpected success. The remarkable 
 speed with which the insurgents marched, the singu- 
 larly good discipline which they preserved, the union 
 and unanimity which for some time animated their 
 councils, were all in a considerable degree produced by 
 the smallness of their numbers. Notwithstanding the 
 discomfiture of Charles Edward, the nonjurors of the 
 period long continued to nurse unlawful schemes, and 
 to drink treasonable toasts, until age stole upon them. 
 Another generation arose, who did not share the 
 sentiments which they cherished ; and at length the 
 sparkles of disaffection, which had long smouldered, 
 but had never been heated enough to burst into actual 
 flame, became entirely extinguished. But in propor- 
 tion as the political enthusiasm died gradually away 
 among men of ordinary temperament, it influenced 
 those of warm imaginations and weak understandings, 
 
xxvi INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 and hence wild schemes were formed, as desperate as 
 they were adventurous. 
 
 Thus a young Scotchman of rank (0) is said to have 
 stooped so low as to plot the surprisal of St. James’s 
 palace, and the assassination of the royal family. 
 While these ill-digested and desperate conspiracies 
 were agitated among the few Jacobites who still adhered 
 with more obstinacy to their purpose, there is no ques- 
 tion but that other plots might have been brought to an 
 open explosion, had it not suited the policy of Sir 
 Robert Walpole, rather to prevent or disable the con- 
 spirators in their projects, than to promulgate the tale 
 of danger, which might thus have been believed to be 
 more widely diffused than was really the case. 
 
 In one instance alone this very prudential and 
 humane line of conduct was departed from, and the 
 events seemed to confirm the policy of the general 
 course. Doctor Archibald Cameron, (c) brother of the 
 celebrated Donald Cameron of Lochiel, attainted for 
 the rebellion of 1745, was found by a party of soldiers 
 lurking with a comrade in the wilds of Loch Katrine, 
 five or six years after the battle of Culloden, and was 
 there seized. There were circumstances in his case, so 
 far as was made known to the public, which attracted 
 much compassion, and gave to the judicial proceedings 
 against him an appearance of cold-blooded revenge on 
 the part of government; and the following argument of 
 a zealous Jacobite in his favour was received as con- 
 clusive by Dr. Johnson, and other persons who might 
 pretend to impartiality. Dr. Cameron had never borne 
 arms, although engaged in the Rebellion, but used his 
 medical skill for the service, indifferently, of the 
 wounded of both parties. His return to Scotland was 
 ascribed exclusively to family affairs. His behaviour 
 at the bar was decent, firm, and respectful. His wife 
 threw herself, on three different occasions, before 
 
REDGAUNTLET. XXVIli 
 
 George IJ. and the members of his family, was rudely 
 repulsed from their presence, and at length placed, it 
 was said, in the same prison with her husband, and 
 confined with unmanly severity. 
 
 Dr. Cameron was finally executed, with all the 
 severities of the law of treason; and his death remains 
 in popular estimation a dark blot upon the memory of 
 George II., being almost publicly imputed to a mean 
 and personal hatred of Donald Cameron of Lochiel, the 
 sufferer’s heroic brother. 
 
 Yet the fact was, that whether the execution of 
 Archibald Cameron was political or otherwise, it might 
 certainly have been justified, had the King’s ministers 
 so pleased, upon reasons of a public nature. The 
 unfortunate sufferer had not come to the Highlands 
 solely upon his private affairs, as was the general belief; 
 but it was not judged prudent by the English ministry 
 to let it be generally known that he came to enquire 
 about a considerable sum of money which had been 
 remitted from France to the friends of the exiled 
 family. He had also a commission to hold intercourse 
 with the well known M’Pherson of Cluny, chief of the 
 clan Vourich, whom the Chevalier had left behind at 
 his departure from Scotland in 1746, and who remained 
 during ten years of proscription and danger, skulking 
 from place to place in the Highlands, and maintaining 
 an uninterrupted correspondence between Charles and his 
 friends. That Dr. Cameron should have held a commis- 
 sion to assist this chief in raking together the dispersed 
 embers of disaffection, is in itself sufficiently natural, 
 and, considering his political principles, in no respect 
 dishonourable to his memory. But neither ought it to 
 be imputed to George II., that he suffered the laws to be 
 enforced against a person taken in the act of breaking 
 them. When he lost his hazardous game, Dr. Cameron 
 only paid the forfeit which he must have calculated 
 
xxviii ' INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 upon. The ministers, however, thought it proper to 
 leave Dr. Cameron’s new schemes in concealment, lest 
 by divulging them they had indicated the channel of 
 communication which, it is now well known, they 
 possessed to all the plots of Charles Edward. But it 
 was equally ill advised and ungenerous to sacrifice the 
 character of the king to the policy of the administra- 
 tion. Both points might have been gained by sparing 
 the life of Dr. Cameron after conviction, and limiting 
 his punishment to perpetual exile. 
 
 These repeated and successive Jacobite plots rose 
 and burst like bubbles on a fountain; and one of them, 
 at least, the Chevalier judged of importance enough to 
 induce him to risk himself within the dangerous pre- 
 cincts of the British capital. This appears from Dr. 
 King’s Anecdotes of his Own Times. 
 
 ‘‘September, 1750. — I received a note from my 
 Lady Primrose, who desired to see me immediately. 
 As soon as I waited on her, she led me into her 
 dressing-room, and presented me to ? [the Cheva- 
 ler, doubtless. | ‘‘ If I was surprised to find him there, 
 I was still more astonished when he acquainted me 
 with the motives which had induced him to hazard a 
 journey to England at this juncture. The impatience 
 of his friends who were in exile, had formed a scheme 
 which was impracticable; but although it had been 
 as feasible as they had represented it to him, yet no 
 preparation had been made, nor was any thing ready to 
 carry it into execution. He was soon convinced that 
 he had been deceived; and, therefore, after a stay in 
 London of five days only, he returned to the place from 
 whence he came.” Dr. King was in 1750 a keen Jaco- 
 bite, as may be inferred from the visit made by him to 
 the Prince under such circumstances, and from his 
 being one of that unfortunate person’s chosen corre- 
 spondents. He, as well as other men of sense and 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. b $4 6 
 
 observation, began to despair of making their fortune 
 in the party which they had chosen. It was indeed 
 sufficiently dangerous; for, during the short visit just 
 described, one of Dr. King’s servants remarked the 
 stranger’s likeness to Prince Charles, whom he recog- 
 nised from the common busts. 
 
 The occasion taken for breaking up the Stewart 
 interest, we shall tell in Dr. King’s own words: — 
 ‘¢ When he (Charles Edward) was in Scotland, he had a 
 mistress whose name was Walkinshaw, and whose sister 
 was at that time, and is still, housekeeper at Leicester 
 House. Some years after he was released from his 
 prison, and conducted out of France, he sent for this 
 girl, who soon acquired such a dominion over him, that 
 she was acquainted with all his schemes, and trusted 
 with his most secret correspondence. As soon as this 
 was known in England, all those persons of distinction 
 who were attached to him were greatly alarmed: they 
 imagined that this wench had been placed in his family 
 by the English ministers; and, considering her sister’s 
 situation, they seemed to have some ground for their 
 suspicion; wherefore, they dispatched a gentleman to 
 Paris, where the Prince then was, who had instructions 
 to insist that Mrs. Walkinshaw should be removed to a 
 convent for a certain term; but her gallant absolutely 
 refused to comply with this demand; and although Mr. 
 M’Namara, the gentleman who was sent to him, who 
 has a natural eloquence, and an excellent understand- 
 ing, urged the most cogent reasons, and used all the 
 arts of persuasion, to induce him to part with his 
 mistress, and even proceeded so far as to assure him, 
 according to his instructions, that an immediate 
 interruption of all correspondence with his most power- 
 ful friends in England, and, in short, that the ruin of 
 his interest, which was now daily increasing, would be 
 
 3) 
 the infallible consequence of his refusal; yet he con- 
 
XXX INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 tinued inflexible, and all M’Namara’s entreaties and 
 remonstrances were ineffectual. M’Namara staid in 
 Paris some days beyond the time prescribed him, 
 endeavouring to reason the Prince into a better temper; 
 but finding him obstinately persevere in his first answer, 
 he took his leave with concern and indignation, saying, 
 as he passed out, ‘What has your family done, sir, 
 thus to draw down the vengeance of Heaven on every 
 branch of it, through so many ages?’ It is worthy 
 of remark, that in all the conferences which M’Namara 
 had with the Prince on this occasion, the latter declared 
 that it was not a violent passion, or indeed any partic- 
 ular regard, which attached him to Mrs. Walkinshaw, 
 and that he could see her removed from him without 
 any concern; but he would not receive directions, in 
 respect to his private conduct, from any man alive. 
 When M’Namara returned to London, and reported 
 the Prince’s answer to the gentlemen who had employed 
 him, they were astonished and confounded. However, 
 they soon resolved on the measures which they were to 
 pursue for the future, and determined no longer to serve 
 a man who could not be persuaded to serve himself, 
 and chose rather to endanger the lives of his best and 
 most faithful friends, than part with an harlot, whom, 
 as he often declared, he neither loved nor esteemed.” 
 From this anecdote, the general truth of which is 
 indubitable, the principal fault of Charles Edward’s 
 temper is sufficiently obvious. It was a high sense of 
 his own importance, and an obstinate adherence to 
 what he had once determined on — qualities which, if 
 he had succeeded in his bold attempt, gave the nation 
 little room to hope that he would have been found free 
 from the love of prerogative and desire of arbitrary 
 power, which characterised his unhappy grandfather. 
 He gave a notable instance how far this was the lead- 
 ing feature of his character, when, for no reasonable 
 
REDGAUNTLET. XXxi 
 
 cause that can be assigned, he placed his own single 
 will in opposition to the necessities of France, which, 
 in order to purchase a peace become necessary to the 
 kingdom, was reduced to gratify Britean by prohibiting 
 the residence of Charles within any part of the French 
 dominions. It was in vain that France endeavoured to 
 lessen the disgrace of this step by making the most 
 flattering offers, in hopes to induce the Prince of him- 
 self to anticipate this disagreeable alternative, which, 
 if seriously enforced, as it was likely to be, he had no 
 means whatever of resisting, by leaving the kingdom as 
 of his own free-will. Inspired, however, by the spirit of 
 hereditary obstinacy, Charles preferred a useless resis- 
 tance to a dignified submission, and by a series of idle 
 bravadoes, laid the French court under the necessity 
 of arresting their late ally, and sending him to close 
 confinement in the Bastile, (d@) from which he was 
 afterwards sent out of the French dominions, much in 
 the manner in which a convict is transported to the 
 place of his destination. 
 
 In addition to these repeated instances of a rash and 
 inflexible temper, Dr. King also adds faults alleged to 
 belong to the Prince’s character, of a kind less conso- 
 nant with his noble birth and high pretensions. He is 
 said by this author to have been avaricious, or parsi- 
 monious at least, to such a degree of meanness, as to 
 fail, even when he had ample means, in relieving the 
 sufferers who had lost their fortune, and sacrificed their 
 all in his ill-fated attempt.1 We must receive, how- 
 
 1 The reproach is thus expressed by Dr. King, who brings the 
 charge : — “ But the most odious part of his character is his love 
 of money, a vice which I do not remember to have been imputed 
 by our historians to any of his ancestors, and is the certain index of 
 a base and little mind. I know it may be urged in his vindication, 
 that a Prince in exile ought to be an economist. And so he 
 ought; but, nevertheless, his purse should be always open as long 
 
xxxii INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 ever, with some degree of jealousy what is said by Dr. 
 King on this subject, recollecting that he had left at 
 least, if he did not desert, the standard of the unfortu- 
 nate Prince, and was not therefore a person who was 
 likely to form the fairest estimate of his virtues and 
 faults. We must also remember, that if the exiled 
 Prince gave little, he had but little to give, espe- 
 cially considering how late he nourished the scheme of 
 another expedition to Scotland, for which he was long 
 endeavouring to hoard money. 
 
 The case, also, of Charles Edward must be allowed 
 to have been a difficult one. He had to satisfy numer- 
 ous persons, who, having lost their all in his cause, 
 had, with that all, seen the extinction of hopes which 
 they accounted nearly as good as certainties ; some of 
 these were perhaps clamorous in their applications, 
 and certainly ill pleased with their want of success. 
 Other parts of the Chevalier’s conduct may have 
 afforded grounds for charging him with coldness to the 
 sufferings of his devoted followers. One of these was 
 a sentiment which has nothing in it that is generous, 
 but it was certainly a principle in which the young 
 Prince was trained, and which may be too probably 
 denominated peculiar to his family, educated in all the 
 high notions of passive obedience and non-resistance. 
 If the unhappy Prince gave implicit faith to the pro- 
 fessions of statesmen holding such notions, which is 
 implied by his whole conduct, it must have led to the 
 
 as there is any thing in it, to relieve the necessities of his friends and 
 adherents. King Charles II., during his banishment, would have 
 shared the last pistole in his pocket with his little family. But I 
 have known this gentleman with two thousand louis-d’ors in his 
 strong box, pretend he was in great distress, and borrow money 
 from a lady in Paris who was not in affluent circumstances. His 
 most faithful servants, who had closely attended him in all his 
 difficulties, were ill rewarded.” — Kine’s Memoirs. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. XXxili 
 
 natural, though ungracious inference, that the services 
 of a subject could not, to whatever degree of ruin they 
 might bring the individual, create a debt against his 
 sovereign. Such a person could only boast that he had 
 done his duty ; nor was he entitled to be a claimant 
 for a greater reward than it was convenient for the 
 Prince to bestow, or to hold his sovereign his debtor 
 for losses which he had sustained through his loyalty. 
 To a certain extent the Jacobite principles inevitably 
 led to this cold and egotistical mode of reasoning on 
 the part of the sovereign ; nor, with all our natural 
 pity for the situation of royalty in distress, do we feel 
 entitled to affirm that Charles did not use this opiate 
 to his feelings, on viewing the misery of his follow- 
 ers, while he certainly possessed, though in no great 
 degree, the means of affording them more relief than 
 he practised. His own history, after leaving France, 
 is brief and melancholy. For a time he seems to have 
 held the firm belief that Providence, which had borne 
 him through so many hazards, still reserved him for 
 some distant occasion, in which he should be empowered 
 to vindicate the honours of his birth. But opportunity 
 after opportunity slipt by unimproved, and the death 
 of his father gave him the fatal proof that none of the 
 principal powers of Europe were, after that event, 
 likely to interest themselves in his quarrel. They 
 refused to acknowledge him under the title of the King 
 of England, and, on his part, he declined to be then 
 recognised as the Prince of Wales. 
 
 Family discord came to add its sting to those of 
 disappointed ambition; and, though a humiliating 
 circumstance, itis generally acknowledged, that Charles 
 Edward, the adventurous, the gallant, and the hand- 
 some, the leader of a race of pristine valour, whose 
 romantic qualities may be said to have died along with 
 him, had, in his latter days, yielded to those humiliat- 
 
 c 
 
XXXIV INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 ing habits of intoxication, in which the meanest 
 mortals seek to drown the recollection of their disap- 
 pointments and miseries. Under such circumstances, 
 the unhappy Prince lost the friendship even of those 
 faithful followers who had most devoted themselves to 
 his misfortunes, and was surrounded, with some hon- 
 ourable exceptions, by men of a lower description, 
 regardless of the character which he was himself no 
 longer able to protect. 
 
 It is a fact consistent with the author’s knowledge, 
 that persons totally unentitled to, and unfitted for, 
 such a distinction, were presented to the unfortunate 
 Prince in moments unfit for presentation of any kind. 
 Amid these clouds was at length extinguished the 
 torch which once shook itself over Britain with such 
 terrific glare, and at last sunk in its own ashes, scarce 
 remembered and scarce noted. 
 
 Meantime, while the life of Charles Edward was 
 gradually wasting in disappointed solitude, the number 
 of those who had shared his misfortunes and dangers 
 had shrunk into a small handful of veterans, the heroes 
 of a tale which had been told. Most Scottish readers 
 who can count the number of sixty years, must recol- 
 lect many respected acquaintances of their youth, who, 
 as the established phrase gently worded it, had been 
 out in the Forty-five. It may be said, that their 
 political principles and plans no longer either gained 
 proselytes or attracted terror, —those who held them 
 had ceased to be the subjects either of fear or opposi- 
 tion. Jacobites were looked upon in society as men 
 who had proved their sincerity by sacrificing their 
 interest to their principles; and in well-regulated 
 companies, it was held a piece of ill-breeding to injure 
 their feelings or ridicule the compromises by which 
 they endeavoured to keep themselves abreast of the 
 current of the day. Such, for example, was the eva- 
 
REDGAUNTLET. XXXV 
 
 sion of a gentleman of fortune in Perthshire, who, in 
 having the newspapers read to him, caused the King 
 and Queen to be designated by the initial letters of K. 
 and Q., as if, by naming the full word, he might 
 imply an acquiescence in the usurpation of the family 
 of Hanover. George III., having heard of this gentle- 
 man’s custom in the above and other particulars, 
 commissioned the member for Perthshire to carry his 
 compliments to the steady Jacobite — ‘‘ that is,” said 
 the excellent old King, ‘‘not the compliments of the 
 King of England, but those of the Elector of Hanover, 
 and tell him how much I respect him for the steadiness 
 of his principles.’’ | 
 
 Those who remember such old men, will probably 
 agree that the progress of time, which has withdrawn 
 all of them from the field, has removed, at the same 
 time, a peculiar and striking feature of ancient man- 
 ners. Their love of past times, their tales of bloody 
 battles fought against romantic odds, were all dear to 
 the imagination, and their little idolatry of locks of 
 hair, pictures, rings, ribbons, and other memorials of 
 the time in which -they still seemed to live, was an 
 interesting enthusiasm ; and although their political 
 principles, had they existed in the relation of fathers, 
 might have rendered them dangerous to the existing 
 dynasty, yet, as we now recollect them, there could not 
 be on the earth supposed to exist persons better quali- 
 fied to sustain the capacity of innocuous and respectable 
 grandsires. 
 
 It was while reflecting on these things that the 
 novel of Redgauntlet was undertaken. But various 
 circumstances in the composition induced the author 
 to alter its purport considerably, as it passed through 
 his hands, and to carry the action to that point of 
 time when the Chevalier Charles Edward, though 
 fallen into the sere and yellow leaf, was yet meditating 
 
XXXVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 a second attempt, which could scarcely have been more 
 hopeless than his first ; although one, to which, as we 
 have seen, the unfortunate Prince, at least as late as 
 seventeen hundred and fifty-three, (e) still looked with 
 hope and expectation. 
 
 Ist April, 1832. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 DARSIE LATIMER TO ALAN FAIRFORD. 
 
 Dumfries. 
 
 Cur me exanimas querelis tuis? (f)—In plain 
 English, Why do you deafen me with your croaking ? 
 The disconsolate tone in which you bade me fare- 
 well at Noble-House,! and mounted your miserable 
 hack to return to your law drudgery, still sounds 
 in my ears. It seemed to say, “Happy dog! you 
 can ramble at pleasure over hill and dale, pursue 
 every object of curiosity that presents itself, and 
 relinquish the chase when it loses interest; while I, 
 your senior and your better, must, in this brilliant 
 season, return to my narrow chamber and my musty 
 books.” 
 
 Such was the import of the reflections with which 
 you saddened our parting bottle of claret, and thus 
 I must needs interpret the terms of your melancholy 
 adieu. 
 
 And why should this be so, Alan? Why the 
 deuce should you not be sitting precisely opposite 
 to me at this moment, in the same comfortable 
 George Inn; thy heels on the fender, and thy jurid- 
 
 1 The first stage on the road from Edinburgh to Dumfries, 
 
 via Moffat. 
 VOL. I1.— 1 
 
2 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 ical brow expanding its plications as a pun rose in 
 your fancy? Above all, why, when I fill this 
 very glass of wine, cannot I push the bottle to you, 
 and say, ‘‘ Fairford, you are chased!” Why, I say, 
 should not all this be, except because Alan Fairford 
 has not the same true sense of friendship as 
 Darsie Latimer, and will not regard our purses as 
 ‘common as well as our sentiments ? 
 
 Tam alone in the world; my only guardian writes 
 to me of a large fortune, which will be mine when 
 I reach the age of twenty-five complete; my present 
 income is, thou knowest, more than sufficient for 
 all my wants ; and yet thou — traitor as thou art to 
 the cause of friendship —dost deprive me of the 
 pleasure of thy society, and submittest, besides, to 
 self-denial on thine own part, rather than my wan- 
 derings should cost me a few guineas more! Is this 
 regard for my purse, or for thine own pride? Is it 
 not equally absurd and unreasonable, whichever 
 source it springs from? For myself, I tell thee, I 
 have, and shall have, more than enough for both. 
 This same methodical Samuel Griffiths, of Iron- 
 monger-Lane, Guildhall, London, whose letter 
 arrives as duly as quarter-day, has sent me, as I told 
 thee, double allowance for this my twenty-first birth- 
 day, and an assurance, in his brief fashion, that it 
 will be again doubled for the succeeding years, until 
 I enter into possession of my own property. Still 
 I am to refrain from visiting England until my 
 twenty-fifth year expires; and it is recommended 
 that I shall forbear all enquiries concerning my 
 family, and so forth, for the present. 
 
 Were it not that I recollect my poor mother in 
 her deep widow’s weeds, with a countenance that 
 never smiled but when she looked on me — and then, 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 3 
 
 in such wan and woful sort, as the sun when he 
 glances through an April cloud — were it not, I say, 
 that her mild and matron-like form and countenance 
 forbid such a suspicion, I might think myself the 
 son of some Indian director, or rich citizen, who had 
 more wealth than grace, and a handful of hypocrisy 
 to boot, and who was breeding up privately, and 
 obscurely enriching, one of whose existence he had 
 some reason to be ashamed. But, as I said before, 
 I think on my mother, and am convinced as much 
 as of the existence of my own soul, that no touch 
 of shame could arise from aught in which she was 
 implicated. Meantime, I am wealthy, and I am 
 alone, and why does my friend scruple to share my 
 wealth ? 
 
 Are you not my only friend? and have you not 
 acquired a right to share my wealth? Answer me 
 that, Alan Fairford. When I was brought from the 
 solitude of my mother’s dwelling into the tumult 
 of the Gaits’ Class (g) at the High School — when 
 I was mocked for my English accent — salted with 
 snow as a Southern —rolled in the gutter for a 
 Saxon pock-pudding, — who, with stout arguments, 
 and stouter blows, stood forth my defender ? — why, 
 Alan Fairford. Who beat me soundly when I 
 brought the arrogance of an only son, and of course 
 a spoiled urchin, to the forms of the little republic ? 
 — why, Alan. And who taught me to smoke a 
 cobbler, pin a losen, head a bicker, and hold the 
 bannets ?1— Alan, once more. If I became the 
 pride of the Yards, and the dread of the hucksters 
 in the High-School Wynd, it was under thy patron- 
 
 1 Break a window, head a skirmish with stones, and hold the 
 bonnet or handkerchief, which used to divide high-school boys 
 when fighting. 
 
- REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 age; and, but for thee, I had been contented with 
 humbly passing through the Cowgate-Port, with- 
 out climbing over the top of it, and had never seen 
 the Kittle nine-steps! nearer than from Bareford’s 
 Parks. You taught me to keep my fingers off the 
 weak, and to clench my fist against the strong — to 
 carry no tales out of school — to stand forth like a 
 true man—obey the stern order of a Pande 
 manum, and endure my pawmies without wincing, 
 like one that is determined not to be the better 
 for them. In a word, before I knew thee, I knew 
 nothing. 
 
 At College it was the same. When I was 
 incorrigibly idle, your example and encouragement 
 roused me to mental exertion, and showed me the 
 way to intellectual enjoyment. You made me an 
 historian, a metaphysician, (invita Minerva,) — nay, 
 by Heaven! you had almost made an advocate of 
 me, as well as of yourself. Yes, rather than part 
 with you, Alan, I attended a weary season at the 
 Scotch Law Class; a wearier at the Civil; and with 
 what excellent advantage, my note-book filled with 
 
 1 A pass on the very brink of the Castle-rock to the north, by 
 which it is just possible for a goat, or a high-school boy, to turn 
 the corner of the building where it rises from the edge of the 
 precipice. This was so favourite a feat with the “hell and neck 
 boys” of the higher classes, that at one time sentinels were posted 
 to prevent its repetition. One of the nine-steps was rendered 
 more secure because the climber could take hold of the root of a 
 nettle, so precarious were the means of passing this celebrated 
 spot. The manning the Cowgate Port, especially in snow-ball 
 time, was also a choice amusement, as it offered an inaccessible 
 station for the boys who used these missiles to the annoyance of 
 the passengers. The gateway is now demolished; and probably 
 most of its garrison lie as low as the fortress. To recollect that 
 the author himself, however naturally disqualified, was one of 
 those juvenile dreadnoughts, is a sad reflection to one who cannot 
 now step over a brook without assistance. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 5 
 
 caricatures of the professors and my fellow-students, 
 is it not yet extant to testify ? 
 
 “Thus far have I held on with thee untired ;”’ 
 
 and, to say truth, purely and solely that I might 
 travel the same road with thee. But it will not 
 do, Alan. By my faith, man, I could as soon think 
 of being one of those ingenious traders who cheat 
 little Master Jackies on the outside of the partition 
 with tops, balls, bats, and battledores, as a mem- 
 ber of the long-robed fraternity within, who impose 
 on grown country gentlemen with bouncing bro- 
 cards of law.! Now, don’t you read this to your 
 worthy father, Alan— he loves me well enough, I 
 know, of a Saturday night; but he thinks me but 
 idle company for any other day of the week. And 
 here, I suspect, lies your real objection to taking a 
 ramble with me through the southern counties in 
 this delicious weather. I know the good gentleman 
 has hard thoughts of me for being so unsettled as 
 to leave Edinburgh before the Session rises; per- 
 haps, too, he quarrels a little —I will not say, with 
 my want of ancestry, but with my want of con- 
 nexions. He reckons me a lone thing in this world, 
 Alan, and so in good truth Iam; and it seems a 
 reason to him why you should not attach yourself to 
 ‘me, that I can claim no interest in the general herd. 
 
 1 The Hall of the Parliament House of Edinburgh was, in for- 
 mer days, divided into two unequal portions by a partition, the 
 inner side of which was consecrated to the use of the Courts of 
 Justice and the gentlemen of the law; while the outer division 
 was occupied by the stalls of stationers, toymen, and the like, as in 
 a modern bazaar. From the old play of the Plain Dealer, it seems 
 such was formerly the case with Westminster-Hall. Minos has 
 now purified his courts in both cities from all traffic but his 
 own. 
 
6 REDGAUNTLBET. 
 
 Do not suppose I forget what I owe him, for 
 permitting me to shelter for four years under his 
 roof: My obligations to him are not the less, but 
 the greater, if he never heartily loved me. He is 
 angry, too, that I will not, or cannot, be a lawyer, 
 and, with reference to you, considers my disinclina- 
 tion that way as pessimi exempli, as he might 
 say. 
 But he need not be afraid that a lad of your 
 steadiness will be influenced by such a reed shaken 
 by the winds as I am. You will go on doubting 
 with Dirleton, and resolving those doubts with 
 Stewart, ! until the cramp speech? has been spoken 
 more solito from the corner of the bench, and with 
 covered head — until you have sworn to defend 
 the liberties and privileges of the College of Justice 
 —until the black gown is hung on your shoulders, 
 and you are free as any of the Faculty to sue 
 or defend. Then will I step forth, Alan, and in a 
 character which even your father will allow may be 
 more useful to you than had I shared this splendid 
 
 1“Sir John Nisbett of Dirleton’s Doubts and Questions upon 
 the Law, especially of Scotland; ” and, “ Sir James Stewart’s 
 Dirleton’s Doubts and Questions on the Law of Scotland resolved 
 and answered,” are works of authority in Scottish jurisprudence. 
 As is generally the case, the Doubts are held more in respect than 
 the solution. 
 
 2 Till of late years, every advocate who entered at the Scottish 
 bar made a Latin address to the Court, faculty, and audience, 
 in set terms, and said a few words upona text of the civil law, 
 to show his Latinity and jurisprudence. He also wore his hat 
 for a minute, in order to vindicate his right of being covered 
 before the court, which is said to have originated from the 
 celebrated lawyer, Sir Thomas Hope, having two sons on the 
 Bench while he himself remained at the bar. Of late this ceremony 
 has been dispensed with, as occupying the time of the court 
 unnecessarily. The entrant lawyer merely takes the oaths to 
 government, and swears to maintain the rules and privileges of 
 his order. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 7 
 
 termination of your legal studies. In a word, if I 
 cannot be a counsel, I am determined to be a client, 
 a sort of person without whom a lawsuit would be 
 as dull as a supposed case. Yes, I am determined 
 to give you your first fee. One can easily, | am 
 assured, get into a lawsuit — itis only the getting 
 out which is sometimes found troublesome ; — and, 
 with your kind father for an agent, and you for 
 my counsel learned in the law, and the worshipful 
 Master Samuel Griffiths to back me, a few sessions 
 shall not tire my patience. In short, I will make 
 my way into Court, even if it should cost me the 
 committing a delict, or at least a quasi delict. — You 
 see all is not lost of what Erskine wrote, and Wal- 
 lace taught. 
 
 Thus far I have fooled it off well enough; and 
 yet, Alan, all is not at—ease—within-me- I am 
 affected with a sense of loneliness, the more depress- 
 ing, that it seems to me to be a solitude peculiarly 
 my own. In a country where all the world have 
 a circle of consanguinity, extending to sixth cou- 
 sins at least, I am a solitary individual, having 
 only one kind heart to throb in unison with my 
 own. If I were condemned to labour for my bread, 
 methinks I should less regard this peculiar species 
 of deprivation. The necessary communication of 
 master and servant would be at least a tie which 
 would attach me to the rest of my kind —as it is, 
 my very independence seems to enhance the pecu- 
 larity of my situation. I am in the world as a 
 stranger in the crowded coffeehouse, where he 
 enters, calls for what refreshments he wants, pays 
 his bill, and is forgotten so soon as the waiter’s mouth 
 has pronounced his “ Thank ye, sir.” 
 
 I know your good father would term this sin- 
 
8 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 ning my mercies,+ and ask how I should feel if, 
 instead of being able to throw down my reckoning, 
 I were obliged to deprecate the resentment of the 
 landlord for consuming that which I could not pay 
 for. I cannot tell how itis; but, though this very 
 reasonable reflection comes across me, and though 
 I do confess that four hundred a-year in possession, 
 eight hundred in near prospect, and the L—d knows 
 how many hundreds more in the distance, are very 
 pretty and comfortable things, yet I would freely 
 give one half of them to call your father father, 
 though he should scold me for my idleness every 
 hour of the day, and to call you brother, though a 
 brother whose merits would throw my own so com- 
 pletely into the shade. 
 
 The faint, yet not improbable belief often has 
 come across me, that your father knows something 
 more about my birth and natural condition than he 
 is willing to communicate; it is so unlikely that I 
 should have been left in Edinburgh at six years old, 
 without any other recommendation than the regular 
 payment of my board to old M * of the High 
 School. Before that time, as I have often told you, 
 I have but a recollection of unbounded indulgence 
 on my mother’s part, and the most tyrannical exer- 
 tion of capriceon my own. I remember still how 
 bitterly she sighed, how vainly she strove to soothe 
 me, while, in the full energy of despotism, I roared 
 like ten bull calves, for something which it was 
 impossible to procure for me. She is dead, that 
 
 
 
 1 A peculiar Scottish phrase, expressive of ingratitude for the 
 favours of Providence. 
 
 2 Probably Mathieson, the predecessor of Dr. Adams, to whose 
 memory the author and his contemporaries owe a deep debt of 
 gratitude. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 9 
 
 kind, that ill-rewarded mother! I remember the 
 long faces —the darkened room — the black hang- 
 ings — the mysterious impression made upon my 
 mind by the hearse and mourning coaches, and the 
 difficulty which I had to reconcile all this to the 
 disappearance of my mother. I do not think I had 
 before this event formed any idea of death, or that 
 I had even heard of that final consummation of all 
 that lives. The first acquaintance which I formed 
 with it deprived me of my only relation. 
 
 A clergyman of venerable appearance, our only 
 visitor, was my guide and companion in a journey 
 of considerable length ; and in the charge of another 
 elderly man, substituted in his place, I know not 
 how or why, I completed my journey to Scotland — 
 and this is all I recollect. 
 
 I repeat the little history now, as I have a hun- 
 dred times done before, merely because I would 
 wring some sense out of it. Turn, then, thy sharp, 
 wire-drawing, lawyer-like ingenuity to the same 
 task — make up my history as though thou wert 
 shaping the blundering allegations of some blue- 
 bonneted, hard-headed client, into a condescendence 
 of facts and circumstances, and thou shalt be, not 
 my Apollo — quid tebt cum lyra ?—but my Lord 
 Stair.1 Meanwhile, I have written» myself.out of 
 my melancholy and. blue devils, merely by-—prosing 
 about them; so I will now converse half an hour 
 with Roan Robin in his stall — the rascal knows me 
 already, and snickers whenever I cross the threshold 
 of the stable. 
 
 The black which you bestrode yesterday morn- 
 ing, promises to be an admirable roadster, and 
 ambled as easily with Sam and the portmanteau, 
 
 1 Celebrated as a Scottish lawyer. 
 
10 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 as with you and your load of law-learning. Sam 
 promises to be steady, and has hitherto been so. 
 No long trial, you will say. He lays the blame of 
 former inaccuracies on evil company — the people 
 who were at the livery-stable were too seductive, 
 I suppose — he denies he ever did the horse injus- 
 tice — would rather have wanted his own dinner, he 
 says. In this I believe him, as Roan Robin’s ribs 
 and coat show no marks of contradiction. How- 
 ever, as he will meet with no saints in the inns we 
 frequent, and as oats are sometimes as speedily con- 
 verted into ale as John Barleycorn himself, I shall 
 keep a look-out after Master Sam. Stupid fellow! 
 had he not abused my good nature, 1 might have 
 chatted to him to keep my tongue in exercise ; 
 whereas now, I must keep him at a distance. 
 
 Do you remember what Mr. Fairford said to me 
 on this subject, — it did not become my father’s son 
 to speak in that manner to Sam’s father’s son? I 
 asked you what your father could possibly know 
 of mine; and you answered, ‘As much, you sup- 
 posed, as he knew of Sam’s —it was a proverbial 
 expression.” This did not quite satisfy me, though 
 Iam sure I cannot tell why it should not. But I 
 am returning to a fruitless and exhausted subject. 
 Do not be afraid that I shall come back on this 
 well-trodden yet pathless field of conjecture. I 
 know nothing so useless, so utterly feeble and con- 
 temptible, as the groaning forth one’s helpless 
 lamentations into the ears of our friends. 
 
 I would fain promise you that my letters shall 
 be as entertaining, as I am determined they shall be 
 regular and well filled. We have an advantage 
 over the dear friends of old, every pair of them. 
 Neither David and Jonathan, nor Orestes and 
 
REDGAUNTLET. II 
 
 Pylades, nor Damon and Pythias — although, in the 
 latter case particularly, a letter by post would have 
 been very acceptable — ever corresponded together ; 
 for they probably could not write, and certainly had 
 neither posts nor franks to speed their effusions to 
 each other ; whereas yours, which you had from the 
 old peer, being handled gently, and opened with 
 precaution, may be returned to me again, and serve 
 to make us free of his Majesty’s post-office, during 
 the whole time of my proposed tour.t Mercy upon 
 us, Alan ! what letters I shall have to send you, with 
 an account of all that I can collect, of pleasant or 
 rare, in this wildgoose jaunt of mine! All I stipu- 
 late is, that you do not communicate them to the 
 Scots Magazine; for though you used, in a left- 
 handed way, to compliment me on my attainments 
 in the lighter branches of literature, at the expense 
 of my deficiency in the weightier matters of the 
 law, I am not yet audacious enough to enter the 
 portal which the learned Ruddiman (f) so kindly 
 opened for the acolytes of the Muses.— Vale, sis 
 memor mer. 
 
 DIME 
 
 P. S.— Direct to the. Post-Office here. I shall 
 leave orders to forward your letters wherever I 
 may travel. 
 
 1 Tt is well known and remembered, that when Members of 
 Parliament enjoyed the unlimited privilege of franking by the 
 mere writing the name on the cover, it was extended to the 
 most extraordinary occasions. One noble lord, to express his 
 regard for a particular regiment, franked a letter for every rank 
 and file. It was customary also to save the covers and return 
 them, in order that the correspondence might be carried on as 
 long as the envelopes could hold together. 
 
LETTER II. 
 ALAN FAIRFORD TO DARSIE LATIMER. 
 
 Negatur, my dear Darsie—you have logic and 
 law enough to understand the word of denial. I 
 deny your conclusion. The premises I admit, 
 namely, that when I mounted on that infernal 
 hack, I might utter what seemed a sigh, although 
 IT deemed it lost amid the puffs and groans of the 
 broken-winded brute, matchless in the complication 
 of her complaints by any save she, the poor man’s 
 mare, renowned in song, that died 
 
 ‘¢ A mile aboon Dundee.” 4 
 
 But credit me, Darsie, the sigh which escaped me, 
 concerned thee more than myself, and regarded 
 neither the superior mettle of your cavalry, nor 
 your greater command of the means of travelling. 
 I could certainly have cheerfully ridden on with 
 you for a few days ; and assure yourself I would not 
 have hesitated to tax your better-filled purse for 
 our joint expenses. But you know my father con- 
 siders every moment taken from the law as a step 
 down hill; and I owe much to his anxiety on my 
 account, although its effects are sometimes trouble- 
 some. For example. 
 
 1 Alluding, as all Scotsmen know, to the humorous old 
 song :— 
 
 . “The auld man’s mare’s dead, 
 
 The puir man’s mare’s dead, 
 
 The auld man’s mare’s dead, 
 A mile aboon Dundee.’ 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 13 
 
 I found, on my arrival at the shop in Brown’s 
 Square, that the old gentleman had returned that 
 very evening, impatient, it seems, of remaining a 
 night out of the guardianship of the domestic Lares. 
 Having this information from James, whose brow 
 wore rather an anxious look on the occasion, I dis- 
 patched a Highland chairman to the livery stable 
 with my Bucephalus, and slunk, with as little noise 
 as might be, into my own den, where I began to 
 mumble certain half-gnawed and not half-digested 
 doctrines of our municipal code. I was not long 
 seated, when my father’s visage was thrust, in a 
 peering sort of way, through the half-opened door ; 
 and withdrawn, on seeing my occupation, with a 
 half-articulated humph ! which seemed to convey 
 a doubt of the seriousness of my application. If it 
 were so, I cannot condemn him ; for recollection of 
 thee occupied me so entirely during an hour's 
 reading, that although Stair lay before me, and not- \ 
 withstanding that I turned over three or four pages, 
 the sense of his lordship’s clear and perspicuous 
 style so far escaped me, that I had the mortification 
 to find my labour was utterly in vain. 
 
 Ere I had brought up my lee-way, James appeared 
 with his summons to our frugal supper — radishes, 
 cheese, and a bottle of the old ale—only two 
 plates though —and no chair set for Mr. Darsie, 
 by the attentive James Wilkinson. Said James, 
 with his long face, lank hair, and very long pigtail in} 
 its leathern strap, was placed, as usual, at the back 
 of my father’s chair, upright as a wooden sentinel 
 at the door of a puppet-show. “You may go down, 
 James,” said my father; and exit Wilkinson. — 
 What is to come next ? thought I; for the weather 
 is not clear on the paternal brow. 
 
4 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 My boots encountered his first glance of displea- 
 sure, and he asked me, with a sneer, which way I 
 had been riding. He expected me to answer, “ No- 
 where,” and would then have been at me with his 
 usual sarcasm, touching the humour of walking in 
 shoes at twenty shillings a pair. But I answered 
 with composure, that I had ridden out to dinner as 
 far as Noble-House. He started, (you know his 
 way,) as if I had said that I had dined at Jericho; 
 and as I did not choose to seem to observe his 
 surprise, but continued munching my radishes in 
 tranquillity, he broke forth in ire. 
 
 “To Noble-House, sir! and what had you to do 
 at Noble-House, sir? -—— Do you remember you are 
 studying law, sir? —that your Scots law trials are 
 coming on, sir ?— that every moment of your time 
 just now is worth hours at another time ? — and have 
 you leisure to go to Noble-House, sir? —and to 
 throw your books behind you for so many hours ? 
 — Had it been a turn in the Meadows, or even a 
 game at golf — but Noble-House, sir!” 
 
 “JT went so far with Darsie Latimer, sir, to see 
 him begin his journey.” 
 
 “Darsie Latimer?” he replied in a softened tone 
 — “Humph !— Well, I do not blame you for being 
 kind to Darsie Latimer ; but it would have done as 
 much good if you had walked with him as far as 
 the toll-bar, and then made your farewells — it would 
 have saved horse-hire — and your reckoning, too, at 
 dinner.” 
 
 “Latimer paid that, sir,” I replied, thinking to 
 soften the matter; but I had much better have 
 left it unspoken. 
 
 “The reckoning, sir?” replied my father. “And 
 did you sponge upon any man for a reckoning? Sir, 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 5 
 
 no man should enter the door of a public-house 
 without paying his lawing.” 
 
 “JT admit the general rule, sir,’ I replied; “but 
 this was a parting-cup between Darsie and me; 
 and I should conceive it fell under the exception of 
 Doch an dorroch.” 
 
 “You think yourself a wit,’ said my father, with 
 as near an approach to a smile as ever he per- 
 mits to gild the solemnity of his features; “But I 
 reckon you did not eat your dinner standing, like 
 the Jews at their Passover? and it was decided 
 in a case before the town-bailies of Cupar-Angus, 
 when Luckie Simpson’s cow (7) had drunk up Luckie 
 Jameson’s browst of ale, while it stood in the door 
 to cool, that there was no damage to pay, because 
 the crummie drank without sitting down; such 
 being the very circumstance constituting Doch an 
 dorroch, which is a standing drink, for which no 
 reckoning is paid. Ha, sir! what says your advo- 
 cateship (jiert) to that? Laceptio firmat reqgulam 
 — But come, fill your glass, Alan; I am not sorry 
 ye have shown this attention to Darsie Latimer, 
 who is a good lad, as times go; and having now 
 lived under my roof since he left the school, why, 
 there is really no great matter in coming under this 
 small obligation to him.” 
 
 As I saw my father’s scruples were much softened 
 by the consciousness of his superiority in the legal 
 areument, I took care to accept my pardon as a 
 matter of grace, rather than of justice; and only 
 rephed, we should feel ourselves duller of an even- 
 ing, now that you were absent. I will give you my 
 father’s exact words in reply, Darsie. You know 
 him so well, that they will not offend you; and 
 you are also aware, that there mingles with the 
 
16 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 good man’s preciseness and formality, a fund of 
 shrewd observation and practical good sense. 
 
 “Tt is very true,” he said; “ Darsie was a pleasant 
 companion — but over waggish, over waggish, Alan, 
 and somewhat scatter-brained.— By the way, Wil- 
 kinson must get our ale bottled in English pints 
 now, for a quart bottle is too much, night after 
 night, for you and me, without his assistance. — 
 But Darsie, as I was saying, is an arch lad, and 
 somewhat lght in the upper story—I wish him 
 well through the world; but he has little solidity, 
 Alan, little solidity.” 
 
 I scorn to desert an absent friend, Darsie, so I 
 said for you a little more than my conscience war- 
 ranted: but your defection from your legal studies 
 had driven you far to leeward in my father’s good 
 Opinion. 
 
 “ Unstable as water, he shall not excel,” said my 
 father; “or, as the Septuagint hath it, Hffusa est 
 sicut aqgua—non ecrescat. He goeth to dancing- 
 houses, and readeth novels — sat est.” 
 
 I endeavoured to parry these texts by observing, 
 that the dancing-houses amounted only to one night 
 at La Pique’s ball—the novels (so far as matter 
 of notoriety, Darsie) to an odd volume of Tom 
 Jones. 
 
 “But he danced from night to morning,” replied 
 my father, “and he read the idle trash, which the 
 author should have been scourged for, at least 
 twenty times over. It was never out of his 
 hand.” 
 
 I then hinted, that in all probability your fortune 
 was now so easy as to dispense with your prosecut- 
 ing the law any farther than you had done; and 
 therefore you might think you had some title to 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 17 
 
 amuse yourself. This was the least palatable areu- 
 ment of all. 
 
 “Tf he cannot amuse himself with the law,” said 
 my father, snappishly, “it is the worse for him. If 
 he needs not law to teach him to make a fortune, 
 I am sure he needs it to teach him how to keep 
 one; and it would better become him to be learn- 
 ing this, than to be scouring the country like a 
 landlouper, going he knows not where, to see he 
 knows not what, and giving treats at Noble-House 
 to fools like himself,” (an angry glance at poor me.) 
 “ Noble-House, indeed!” he repeated, with elevated 
 voice and sneering tone, as if there were something 
 offensive to him in the very name, though I will 
 venture to say that any place in which you had 
 been extravagant enough to spend five shillings, 
 would have stood as deep in his reprobation. 
 
 Mindful of your idea, that my father knows 
 more of your real situation than he thinks proper 
 to mention, I thought I would hazard a fishing 
 observation. “I did not see,” I said, “how the 
 Scottish law would be useful to a young gentleman 
 whose fortune would seem to be vested in England.” 
 —JI really thought my father would have beat me. 
 
 “D’ye mean to come round me, sir, per ambages, 
 as Counsellor Pest says? What is it to you where 
 Darsie Latimer’s fortune is vested, or whether he 
 hath any fortune, ay or no ?— And what ill would 
 the Scottish law do to him, though he had as much 
 of it as either Stair or Bankton, sir? Is not the 
 foundation of our municipal law the ancient code of 
 the Roman Empire, devised at a time when it was 
 so much renowned for its civil polity, sir, and wis- 
 dom? Go to your bed, sir, after your expedition to 
 Noble-House, and see that your lamp be burning, 
 
 VOL. I.—2 
 
18 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 and your book before you, ere the sun peeps. Ars 
 longa, vita brevis, — were it not a sin to call the 
 divine science of the law by the inferior name of art.” 
 
 So my lamp did burn, dear Darsie, the next 
 morning, though the owner took the risk of a domi- 
 ciliary visitation, and lay snug in bed, trusting its 
 glimmer might, without farther enquiry, be received 
 as sufficient evidence of his vigilance. And now, 
 upon this the third morning after your departure, 
 things are but little better; for though the lamp 
 burns in my den, and Voet on the Pandects hath 
 his wisdom spread open before me, yet as I only use 
 him as a reading-desk on which to scribble this sheet 
 of nonsense to Darsie Latimer, it is probable the 
 vicinity will be of little furtherance to my studies. 
 
 And now, methinks, I hear thee call me an affected 
 hypocritical varlet, who, living under such a system 
 of distrust and restraint as my father chooses to 
 govern by, nevertheless pretends not to envy you 
 your freedom and independence. 
 
 Latimer, I will tell you no lies. I wish my father 
 would allow me a little more exercise of my free 
 will, were it but that 1 might feel the pleasure of 
 doing what would please him of my own accord. 
 A little more spare time, and a little more money 
 to enjoy it, would, besides, neither misbecome my 
 age nor my condition ; and it is, | own, provoking 
 to see so many in the same situation winging the 
 air at freedom, while I sit here, caged up like a 
 cobbler’s linnet, to chant the same unvaried lesson 
 from sunrise to sunset, not to mention the listening 
 to so many lectures against idleness, as if I enjoyed 
 or was making use of the means of amusement! 
 But then I cannot at heart blame either the motive 
 or the object of this severity. For the motive, it 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 19 
 
 is and can only be my father’s anxious, devoted, 
 and unremitting affection and zeal for my improve- 
 ment, with a laudable sense of the honour of the 
 profession to which he has trained me. 
 
 As we have no near relations, the tie betwixt us 
 is of even unusual closeness, though in itself one of 
 the strongest which nature can form. Iam, and have 
 all along been, the exclusive object of my father’s 
 anxious hopes, and his still more anxious and 
 engrossing fears ; so what title have I to complain, 
 although now and then these fears and hopes lead 
 him to take a troublesome and incessant charge of 
 all my motions? Besides, I ought to recollect, and, 
 Darsie, I do recollect, that my father, upon various 
 important occasions, has shown that he can be 
 indulgent as well as strict. The leaving his old 
 apartments in the Luckenbooths was to him like 
 divorcing the soul from the body; yet Dr. R 
 did but hint that the better air of this new district 
 was more favourable to my health, as I was then 
 suffering under the penalties of too rapid a growth, 
 when he exchanged his old and beloved quarters, 
 adjacent to the very Heart of Mid-Lothian, for one 
 of those new tenements [entire within themselves] 
 which modern taste has so lately introduced. — 
 Instance also the inestimable favour which he con- 
 ferred on me by receiving you into his house, when 
 you had only the unpleasant alternative of remain- 
 ing, though a grown-up lad, in the society of mere 
 boys. This was a thing so contrary to all my 
 
 
 
 1 The diminutive and obscure place called Brown’s Square, was 
 hailed about the time of its erection as an extremely elegant 
 improvement upon the style of designing and erecting Edinburgh 
 residences. Each house was, in the phrase used by appraisers, 
 “finished within itself,” or, in the still newer phraseology, “ self- 
 contained.” It was built about the year 1763-4; and the old part 
 
20 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 father’s ideas of seclusion, of economy, and of the 
 safety to my morals and industry, which he wished 
 to attain, by preserving me from the society of other 
 young people, that, upon my word, I am always 
 rather astonished how I should have had the impu- 
 dence to make the request, than that he should 
 have complied with it. 
 
 Then for the object of his solicitude — Do not 
 laugh, or hold up your hands, my good Darsie; but 
 upon my word I like the profession to which I am 
 in the course of being educated, and am serious in 
 prosecuting the preliminary studies. The law is my 
 vocation — in an especial, and, I may say, in an here- 
 ditary way, my vocation; for although I have not 
 the honour to belong to any of the great families 
 who form in Scotland, as in France, the noblesse of 
 the robe, and with us, at least, carry their heads as 
 high, or rather higher, than the noblesse of the sword, 
 —for the former consist more frequently of the 
 “first-born of Egypt,” — yet my grandfather, who, I 
 dare say, was a most excellent person, had the hon- 
 our to sign a bitter protest against the Union, in the 
 respectable character of town-clerk to the ancient 
 Borough of Birlthegroat; and there is some reason 
 —shall I say to hope, or to suspect ?— that he may 
 have been a natural son of a first cousin of the 
 then Fairford of that Ilk, who had been long num- 
 bered among the minor barons. Now my father 
 mounted a step higher on the ladder of legal promo- 
 , tion, being, as you know as well as I do, an eminent 
 and respected Writer to his Majesty’s Signet; and 
 I myself am destined to mount a round higher still, 
 of the city being near and accessible, this square soon received 
 
 many inhabitants, who ventured to remove to so moderate a dis- 
 tance from the High Street. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 21 
 
 and wear the honoured robe which is sometimes 
 supposed, like Charity, to cover a multitude of sins. 
 I have, therefore, no choice but to climb upwards, 
 since we have mounted thus high, or else to fall 
 down at the imminent risk of my neck. So that I 
 reconcile myself to my destiny ; and while you are 
 looking from mountain peaks at distant lakes and 
 friths, I am, de apicibus juris, consoling myself with 
 visions of crimson and scarlet gowns — with the 
 appendages of handsome cowls, well lined with 
 salary. 
 
 You smile, Darsie, more two, and seem to say it is 
 little worth while to cozen one’s self with such vul- 
 gar dreams: yours being, on the contrary, of a high 
 and heroic character, bearing the same resemblance 
 to mine, that a bench, covered with purple cloth, and 
 plentifully loaded with session papers, does to some 
 Gothic throne, rough with Barbaric pearl and gold. 
 But what would you have?—Sua quemque trahit 
 voluptas. And my visions of preferment, though 
 they may be as unsubstantial at present, are never- 
 theless more capable of being realized, than your 
 aspirations after the Lord knows what. What says 
 my father’s proverb? “ Look to a gown of gold, and 
 you will at least get a sleeve of it.” Such is my 
 pursuit; but what dost thou look to? The chance 
 that the mystery, as you call it, which at present 
 overclouds your birth and connexions, will clear up 
 into something inexpressibly and inconceivably 
 brilliant; and this without any effort or exertion of 
 your own, but purely by the good-will of Fortune. 
 I know the pride and naughtiness of thy heart, and 
 sincerely do I wish that thou hadst more beatings 
 to thank me for, than those which thou dost acknow- 
 ledge so gratefully. Then had I thumped these 
 
22 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 Quixotical expectations out of thee, and thou hadst 
 not, as now, conceived thyself to be the hero of some 
 romantic history, and converted, in thy vain imagin- 
 ation, honest Griffiths, citizen and broker, who never 
 bestows more than the needful upon his quarterly 
 epistles, into some wise Alcander or sage Alquife, 
 the mystical and magical protector of thy peerless 
 destiny. But I know not how it was, thy skull got 
 harder, I think, and my knuckles became softer; 
 not to mention that at length thou didst begin to 
 show about thee a spark of something dangerous, 
 which I was bound to respect at least, if I did not 
 fear it. 
 
 And while I speak of this, it is not much amiss 
 to advise thee to correct a little this cock-a-hoop 
 courage of thine. I fear much that, like a_hot- 
 mettled horse, it will carry the owner into some 
 scrape, out of which he will find it difficult to 
 extricate himself, especially if the daring spirit 
 which bore thee thither should chance to fail thee 
 at a pinch. Remember, Darsie, thou art not natur- 
 ally courageous; on the contrary, we have long 
 since agreed, that, quiet as I am, I have the advan- 
 tage in this important particular. My courage 
 consists, I think, in strength of nerves and consti- 
 tutional indifference to danger; which, though it 
 never pushes me on adventure, secures me in full 
 use of my recollection, and tolerably complete self- 
 possession, when danger actually arrives. Now, — 
 thine seems more what may be called intellectual 
 courage; highness of spirit, and desire of distinc- 
 tion; impulses which render thee alive to the love of 
 fame, and deaf to the apprehension of danger, until 
 it forces itself suddenly upon thee. I own that 
 whether it is from my having caught my father’s 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 23 
 
 apprehensions, or that I have reason to entertain 
 doubts of my own, I often think that this wildfire 
 chase, of romantic situation and adventure, may 
 lead thee into some mischief; and then what would 
 become of Alan Fairford? They might make whom 
 they pleased Lord-Advocate, or Solicitor-General, 
 I should never have the heart to strive for it. All 
 my exertions are intended to vindicate myself one 
 day in your eyes; and [ think I should not care a 
 farthing for the embroidered silk gown, more than 
 for an old woman’s apron, unless I had hopes that 
 thou shouldst be walking the boards to admire, and 
 perhaps to envy me. 
 
 That this may be the case, I prithee — beware! 
 _ See not a Dulcinea in every slipshod girl, who, 
 
 with blue eyes, fair hair, a tattered plaid, and a 
 willow-wand in her gripe, drives out the village 
 cows to the loaning. Do not think you will meet 
 a gallant Valentine in every English rider, or an 
 Orson in every Highland drover. View things as 
 they are, and not as they may be magnified through 
 thy teeming fancy. I have seen thee look at an 
 old gravel pit, till thou madest out capes, and bays, 
 and inlets, crags, and precipices, and the whole stu- 
 pendous scenery of the isle of Feroe, in what was 
 to all ordinary eyes a mere horsepond. Besides, did 
 I not once find thee gazing with respect at a lizard, 
 in the attitude of one who looks upon a crocodile ? 
 Now this is, doubtless, so far a harmless exercise 
 of your imagination, for the puddle cannot drown 
 you, nor the Lilliputian alligator eat you up. But 
 it is different in society, where you cannot mistake 
 the character of those you converse with, or suffer 
 your fancy to exaggerate their qualities, good or 
 bad, without exposing yourself not only to ridicule, 
 
24 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 but to great and serious inconveniencies. Keep 
 guard, therefore, on your imagination, my dear 
 Darsie; and let your old friend assure you, it is 
 the point of your character most pregnant with 
 peril to its good and generous owner. Adieu! let 
 not the franks of the worthy peer remain unem- 
 ployed; above all, Sis memor met. 
 
 A. F. 
 
LETTER III. 
 “DARSIE LATIMER TO ALAN FAIRFORD. 
 
 Shepherd’s Bush. 
 
 I HAVE received thine absurd and most conceited 
 epistle. It is well for thee that, Lovelace and Bel- 
 ford like, we came under a convention to pardon 
 every species of liberty which we may take with © 
 each other; since, upon my word, there are some 
 reflections in your last, which would otherwise 
 have obliged me to return forthwith to Edinburgh, 
 merely to show you I was not what you took me 
 for. 
 
 Why, what a pair of prigs hast thou made of us! 
 —I plunging into scrapes, without having courage 
 to get out of them —thy sagacious self, afraid to 
 put one foot before the other, lest it should run 
 away from its companion; and so standing still hke 
 a post, out of mere faintness and coldness of heart, 
 while all the world were driving full speed past 
 thee. Thou a portrait-painter !—TI tell thee, Alan, 
 I have seen a better seated on the fourth round of 
 a ladder, and painting a bare-breeched Highlander, 
 holding a pint-stoup as big as himself, and a booted 
 Lowlander, in a bobwig, supporting a glass of like 
 dimensions; the whole being designed to represent 
 the sign of the Salutation. 
 
 How hadst thou the heart to represent thine own 
 individual self, with all thy motions, ike those of 
 
26 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 a great Dutch doll, depending on the pressure of 
 certain springs, as duty, reflection, and the lke; 
 without the impulse of which, thou wouldst doubt- 
 less have me believe thou wouldst not budge an inch ? 
 But have I not seen Gravity out of his bed at mid- 
 night? and must I, in plain terms, remind thee of 
 certain mad pranks? Thou hadst ever, with the 
 gravest sentiments in thy mouth, and the most 
 starched reserve in thy manner, a kind of lumber- 
 ing proclivity towards mischief, although with more 
 inclination to set it a-going, than address to carry 
 it through; and I cannot but chuckle internally, 
 when I think of having seen my most venerable 
 monitor, the future President of some high Scottish 
 Court, puffing, blowing, and floundering, like a 
 clumsy cart-horse in a bog, where his efforts to extri- 
 cate himself only plunged him deeper at every 
 awkward struggle, till some one —I myself, for 
 example — took compassion on the moaning monster, 
 and dragged him out by mane and tail. 
 
 As for me, my portrait is, if possible, even more 
 scandalously caricatured. J fail or quail in spirit 
 at the upcome! Where canst thou show me the 
 least symptom of the recreant temper with which 
 thou hast invested me, (as I trust,) merely to set 
 off the solid and impassible dignity of thine own 
 stupid indifference? If you ever saw me tremble, 
 be assured that my flesh, like that of the old Span- 
 ish general, only quaked at the dangers into which 
 my spirit was about to lead it. Seriously, Alan, 
 this imputed poverty of spirit is a shabby charge 
 to bring against your friend. I have examined 
 myself as closely as I can, being, in very truth, a 
 little hurt at your having such hard thoughts of me, 
 and on my life I can see no reason for them. I 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 27 
 
 allow you have, perhaps, some advantage of me in 
 the steadiness and indifference of your temper; but 
 I should despise myself, if I were conscious of the 
 deficiency in courage which you seem willing enough 
 to impute to me. However, I suppose this ungra- 
 cious hint proceeds from sincere anxiety for my 
 safety ; and so viewing it, I swallow it as I would 
 do medicine from a friendly doctor, although I 
 believed in my heart he had mistaken my complaint. 
 
 This offensive insinuation disposed of, I thank 
 thee, Alan, for the rest of thy epistle. I thought I 
 heard your good father pronouncing the word Noble- 
 House, with a mixture of contempt and displeasure, 
 as if the very name of the poor little hamlet were 
 odious to him, or, as if you had selected, out of all 
 Scotland, the very place at which you had no call to 
 dine. But if he had had any particular aversion 
 to that blameless village, and very sorry inn, is it 
 not his own fault that I did not accept the invita- 
 tion of the Laird of Glengallacher, to shoot a buck 
 in what he emphatically calls his “country?” Truth 
 is, I had a strong desire to have complied with his 
 Lairdship’s invitation. To shoot a buck! Think 
 how magnificent an idea to one who never shot any 
 thing but hedge-sparrows, and that with a horse- 
 pistol, purchased at a broker’s stand in the Cowgate ! 
 — You, who stand upon your courage, may remem- 
 ber that I took the risk of firing the said pistol for 
 the first time, while you stood at twenty yards’ 
 distance; and that, when you were persuaded it 
 would go off without bursting, forgetting all law 
 but that of the biggest and strongest, you possessed 
 yourself of it exclusively for the rest of the holydays. 
 Such a day’s sport was no complete introduction to 
 the noble art of deer-stalking, as it is practised in 
 
28 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 the Highlands; but I should not have scrupled to 
 accept honest Glengallacher’s invitation, at the risk 
 of firing a rifle for the first time, had it not been for 
 the outcry which your father made at my proposal, 
 in the full ardour of his zeal for King George, the 
 Hanover succession, and the Presbyterian faith. I 
 wish I had stood out, since I have gained so little 
 upon his good opinion by submission. All his 
 impressions concerning the Highlanders are taken 
 from the recollections of the Forty-five, when he 
 retreated from the West-Port with his brother vol- 
 unteers, each to the fortalice of his own separate 
 dwelling, so soon as they heard the Adventurer 
 was arrived with his clans as near them as Kirk- 
 liston. The flight of Falkirk —parma non bene 
 selecta (k) —in which I think your sire had his 
 share with the undaunted western regiment, does 
 not seem to have improved his taste for the company 
 of the Highlanders ; (quere, Alan, dost thou derive 
 the courage thou makest such boast of from an 
 hereditary source ?) —and stories of Rob Roy Mac- 
 eregor, and Sergeant Alan Mhor Cameron,! have 
 served to paint them in still more sable colours to 
 his imagination. 
 
 Now, from all I can understand, these ideas, as 
 applied to the present state of the country, are 
 absolutely chimerical. The Pretender is no more 
 remembered in the Highlands, than if the poor 
 gentleman were gathered to his hundred and eight 
 fathers, whose portraits adorn the ancient walls of 
 Holyrood; the broadswords have passed into other 
 hands; the targets are used to cover the butter- 
 
 1 Of Rob Roy we have had more than enough. Alan Cameron, 
 
 commonly called Sergeant Mhor, a freebooter of the same period, 
 was equally remarkable for strength, courage, and generosity. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 29 
 
 churns; and the race has sunk, or is fast sinking, 
 from ruffling bullies into tame cheaters. Indeed, 
 it was partly my conviction that there is little to be 
 seen in the north, which, arriving at your father’s 
 conclusion, though from different premises, inclined 
 my course in this direction, where perhaps I shall 
 see as little. 
 
 One thing, however, I have seen; and it was with 
 pleasure the more indescribable, that I was debarred 
 from treading the land which my eyes were per- 
 mitted to gaze upon, like those of the dying prophet 
 from the top of Mount Pisgah, —I have seen, in a 
 word, the fruitful shores of merry England; merry 
 England! of which I boast myself a native, and on 
 which I gaze, even while raging floods and unstable 
 quicksands divide us, with the filial affection of a 
 dutiful son. 
 
 Thou canst not have forgotten, Alan — for when 
 didst thou ever forget what was interesting to thy 
 friend?— that the same letter from my friend 
 Griffiths, which doubled my income, and placed my 
 motions at my own free disposal, contained a pro- 
 hibitory clause, by which, reason none assigned, I 
 was interdicted, as I respected my present safety 
 and future fortunes, from visiting England; every 
 other part of the British dominions, and a tour, if 
 I pleased, on the continent, being left to my own 
 choice. — Where is the tale, Alan, of a covered dish 
 in the midst of a royal banquet, upon which the 
 eyes of every guest were immediately fixed, neglect- 
 ing all the dainties with which the table was loaded ? 
 This clause of banishment from England — from 
 my native country —from the land of the brave, 
 and the wise, and the free — affects me more than 
 I am rejoiced by the freedom and independence 
 
30 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 assigned to me in all other respects. Thus, in seek- 
 ing this extreme boundary of the country which I 
 am forbidden to tread, I resemble the poor tethered 
 horse, which, you may have observed, is always 
 erazing on the very verge of the circle to which if 
 is limited by its halter. 
 
 Do not accuse me of romance for obeying this 
 impulse towards the South; nor suppose that, to 
 gratify the imaginary longing of an idle curiosity, 
 I am in any danger of risking the solid comforts 
 of my present condition. Whoever has hitherto 
 taken charge of my motions, has shown me, by con- 
 vincing proofs, more weighty than the assurances 
 which they have withheld, that my real advantage 
 is their principal object. I should be, therefore, 
 worse than a fool did I object to their authority, 
 even when it seems somewhat capriciously exercised ; 
 for assuredly, at my age, I might —intrusted as I 
 am with the care and management of myself in 
 every other particular — expect that the cause. of 
 excluding me from England should be frankly and 
 fairly stated for my own consideration and guidance. 
 However, I will not grumble about the matter. I 
 shall know the whole story one day, I suppose; and 
 perhaps, as you sometimes surmise, I shall not find 
 there is any mighty matter in it after all. 
 
 Yet one cannot help wondering — but, plague on 
 it, if I wonder any longer, my letter will be as full 
 of wonders as one of Katterfelto’s advertisements. 
 I have a month’s mind, instead of this damnable 
 iteration of guesses and forebodings, to give thee 
 the history of a little adventure which befell me 
 yesterday; though I am sure you will, as usual, 
 turn the opposite end of the spy-glass on my poor 
 narrative, and reduce, more two, to the most petty 
 
=~ ’ u 
 a) rane * s 
 
 are 
 MRE oe 
 
 Doawhys:. yd-bsdgise—1 Hy ogc 
 
 
 
On. the Nitb. 
 Drawn by James Orrock, R.I.— Etched by J. Fullwood. 
 
aa ee 
 
 
 
 Ting Ah 
 lll 
 
 
 
 
 Uy 
 
 LG, 
 
 
 
 LiMo 
 
 MU VL MEL 7a Jul 
 
 
 
 MY Vt i Ma ai Hits | ‘\ 
 
The Library 
 of the 
 University of {Hinols. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 31 
 
 trivialities, the circumstances to which thou accus- 
 est me of giving undue consequence. Hang thee, 
 Alan, thou art as unfit a confidant for a youthful 
 gallant with some spice of imagination, as the 
 old taciturn secretary of Facardin of Trebizond. 
 Nevertheless, we must each perform our separate 
 destinies. I am doomed to see, act, and tell: — 
 thou, like a Dutchman, enclosed in the same 
 Diligence with a Gascon, to hear, and shrug thy 
 shoulders. 
 
 Of Dumfries, the capital town of this county, I 
 have but little to say, and will not abuse your 
 patience by reminding you, that it is built on the 
 gallant river Nith, and that its churchyard, the 
 highest place of the whole town, commands an 
 extensive and fine prospect. Neither will I take 
 the traveller's privilege of inflicting upon you the 
 whole history of Bruce poniarding the Red Comyn 
 in the Church of the Dominicans at this place, and 
 becoming a king and patriot, because he had been 
 a church-breaker and a murderer. The present 
 Dumfriezers remember and justify the deed, observ- 
 ing, it was only a papist church —in evidence 
 whereof, its walls have been so completely demol- 
 ished, that no vestiges of them remain. They are a 
 sturdy set of true-blue Presbyterians, these burghers 
 of Dumfries; men after your father’s own heart, 
 zealous for the Protestant succession —the rather 
 that many of the great families around are suspected 
 to be of a different way of thinking, and shared, a 
 great many of them, in the insurrection of the 
 Fifteen, and some in the more recent business of 
 the Forty-five. The town itself suffered in the latter 
 era; for Lord Elcho, with a large party of the rebels, 
 levied a severe contribution upon Dumfries, on 
 
32 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 account of the citizens having annoyed the rear of 
 the Chevalier during his march into England. (/) 
 
 Many of these particulars I learned from Provost 
 C , who, happening to see me in the market- 
 place, remembered that I was an intimate of your 
 father’s, and very kindly asked me to dinner. Pray 
 tell your father that the effects of his kindness 
 to me follow me every where. I became tired, 
 however, of this pretty town in the course of 
 twenty-four hours, and crept along the coast east- 
 wards, amusing myself with looking out for objects 
 of antiquity, and sometimes making, or attempting to 
 make, use of my new angling-rod. By the way, old 
 Cotton’s instructions, by which I hoped to qualify 
 myself for one of the gentle society of anglers, are 
 not worth a farthing for this meridian. I learned 
 this by mere accident, after I had waited four mor- 
 tal hours. I shall never forget an impudent urchin, 
 a cowherd, about twelve years old, without either 
 brogue or bonnet, barelegged, and with a very indif- 
 ferent pair of breeches — how the villain grinned 
 in scorn at my landing-net, my plummet, and the 
 gorgeous jury of flies (m) which I had assembled to 
 destroy all the fish in the river. I was induced at 
 last to lend the rod to the sneering scoundrel, to 
 see what he would make of it; and he not only half 
 filled my basket in an hour, but literally taught me 
 to kill two trouts with my own hand. This, and 
 Sam having found the hay and oats, not forgetting 
 the ale, very good at this small inn, first made me 
 take the fancy of resting here for a day or two; and 
 I have got my grinning blackeuard of a Piscator 
 leave to attend on me, by paying sixpence a-day for 
 a herdboy in his stead. 
 
 A notably clean Englishwoman keeps this small 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 33 
 
 house, and my bedroom is sweetened with lav- 
 ender, has a clean sash-window, and the walls are, 
 moreover, adorned with ballads of Fair Rosamond 
 and Cruel Barbara Allan. The woman’s accent, 
 though uncouth enough, sounds yet kindly in my 
 ear; for I have never yet forgotten the desolate 
 effect produced on my infant organs, when I heard 
 on all sides your slow and broad northern pronun- 
 ciation, which was to me the tone of a foreign land. 
 Tam sensible I myself have since that time acquired 
 Scotch in perfection, and many a Scotticism withal. 
 Still the sound of the English accentuation comes 
 to my ears as the tones of a friend; and even when 
 heard from the mouth of some wandering beggar, 
 it has seldom failed to charm forth my mite. You 
 Scotch, who are so proud of your own nationality, 
 must make due allowance for that of other folks, 
 
 On the next morning I was about’ to set forth to 
 the stream where I had commenced angler the 
 night before, but was prevented, by a heavy shower 
 of rain, from stirring abroad the whole forenoon; 
 during all which time I heard my varlet of a guide 
 as loud with his blackguard jokes in the kitchen, 
 as a footman in the shilling gallery ;— so little are 
 modesty and innocence the inseparable companions 
 of rusticity and seclusion. 
 
 When after dinner the day cleared, and we at 
 length sallied out to the river side, I found myself 
 subjected to a new trick on the part of my accom- 
 plished preceptor. Apparently, he liked fishing 
 himself better than the trouble of instructing an 
 awkward novice, such asI; and in hopes of exhaust- 
 ing my patience, and inducing me to resign the rod, 
 as I had done on the preceding day, my friend 
 contrived to keep me thrashing the water more than 
 
 VOL. I.—3 
 
34 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 an hour with a pointless hook. I detected this trick 
 at last, by observing the rogue grinning with delight 
 when he saw a large trout rise and dash harmless 
 away from the angle. I gave him a sound cuff, 
 Alan; but the next moment was sorry, and, to 
 make amends, yielded possession of the fishing-rod 
 for the rest of the evening, he undertaking to bring 
 me home a dish of trouts for my supper, in atone- 
 ment for his offences. 
 
 Having thus got honourably rid of the trouble of 
 amusing myself in a way I cared not for, I turned 
 my steps towards the sea, or rather the Solway 
 Frith, which here separates the two sister king- 
 doms, and which lay at about a mile’s distance, by 
 a pleasant walk over sandy knolls, covered with 
 short herbage, which you call Links, and we 
 English, Downs. 
 
 But the rest of my adventure would weary out 
 my fingers, and must be deferred until to-morrow, 
 when you shall hear from me by way of continua- 
 tion; and, in the meanwhile, to prevent overhasty 
 conclusions, I must just hint to you, we are but yet 
 on the verge of the adventure which it is my pur- 
 pose to communicate. 
 
LETTER IV. 
 THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
 
 Shepherd’s Bush. 
 
 I MENTIONED in my last, that having abandoned 
 my fishing-rod as an unprofitable implement, I 
 crossed over the open downs which divided me from 
 the margin of the Solway. WhenI reached the 
 banks of the great estuary, which are here very bare 
 and exposed, the waters had receded from the large 
 and level space of sand, through which a stream, 
 now feeble and fordable, found its way to the ocean. 
 The whole was illuminated by the beams of the low 
 and setting sun, who showed his ruddy front, like 
 a warrior prepared for defence, over a huge battle- 
 mented and turreted wall of crimson and black 
 clouds, which appeared like an immense Gothic for- 
 tress, into which the lord of day was descending. 
 His setting rays glimmered bright upon the wet 
 surface of the sands, and the numberless pools of 
 water by which it was covered, where the inequality 
 of the ground: had occasioned their being left by 
 the tide. 
 
 The scene was animated by the exertions of a 
 number of horsemen, who were actually employed 
 in hunting salmon. Ay, Alan, lift up your hands 
 and eyes as you will, I can give their mode of fish- 
 ing no name so appropriate; for they chased the 
 fish at full gallop, and struck them with their barbed 
 Spears, as you see hunters spearing boars in the 
 
36 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 old tapestry. The salmon, to be sure, take the 
 thing more quietly than the boars; but they are so 
 swift in their own element, that to pursue and strike 
 them is the task of a good horseman, with a quick 
 eye, a determined hand, and full command both of 
 his horse and weapon. The shouts of the fellows 
 as they galloped up and down in the animating 
 exercise — their loud bursts of laughter when any of 
 their number caught a fall —and still louder accla- 
 mations when any of the party made a capital stroke 
 with his lance —gave so much animation to the 
 whole scene, that I caught the enthusiasm of the 
 sport, and ventured forward a considerable space on 
 the sands. The feats of one horseman, in particu- 
 lar, called forth so repeatedly the clamorous applause 
 of his companions, that the very banks rang again 
 with their shouts. He was a tall man, well mounted 
 on a strong black horse, which he caused to turn 
 and wind like a bird in the air, carried a longer 
 spear than the others, and wore a sort of fur cap or 
 bonnet, with a short feather in it, which gave him 
 on the whole rather a superior appearance to the 
 other fishermen. He seemed to hold some sort of 
 authority among them, and occasionally directed 
 their motions both by voice and hand; at which 
 times I thought his gestures were striking, and his 
 voice uncommonly sonorous and commanding. 
 
 The riders began to make for the shore, and the 
 interest of the scene was almost over, while I lin- 
 gered on the sands, with my looks turned to the 
 shores of England, still gilded by the sun’s last rays, 
 and, as it seemed, scarce distant a mile from me. 
 The anxious thoughts which haunt me began to 
 muster in my bosom, and my feet slowly and insen- 
 sibly approached the river which divided me from 
 
REDGAUNTLET, 37 
 
 the forbidden precincts, though without any formed 
 intention, when my steps were arrested by the sound 
 of a horse galloping; and as I turned, the rider (the 
 same fisherman whom I had formerly distinguished) 
 called out to me, in an abrupt manner, “Soho, 
 brother! you are too late for Bowness to-night — 
 the tide will make presently.” 
 
 I turned my head and looked at him without 
 answering; for, to my thinking, his sudden appear- 
 ance (or rather, I should say, his unexpected 
 approach) had, amidst the gathering shadows and 
 lingering light, something in it which was wild and 
 ominous. 
 
 “ Are you deaf?” he added —“ or are you mad ? 
 —or have you a mind for the next world ?” 
 
 “T am a stranger,’ I answered, “and had no 
 other purpose than looking on at the fishing — I am 
 about to return to the side I came from.” 
 
 “Best make haste then,” said he. “He that 
 dreams on the bed of the Solway, may wake in the 
 next world. The sky threatens a blast that will 
 bring in the waves three feet a-breast.” 
 
 So saying, he turned his horse and rode off, while 
 I began to walk back towards the Scottish shore, a 
 little alarmed at what I had heard; for the tide 
 advances with such rapidity upon these fatal sands, 
 that well-mounted horsemen lay aside hopes of 
 safety, if they see its white surge advancing while 
 they are yet at a distance from the bank. 
 
 These recollections grew more agitating, and, 
 instead of walking deliberately, I began a race as 
 fast as I could, feeling, or thinking I felt, each pool 
 of salt water through which I splashed, grow deeper 
 and deeper. At length the surface of the sand did 
 seem considerably more intersected with pools and 
 
38 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 channels full of water —either that the tide was 
 really beginning to influence the bed of the estuary, 
 or, as I must own is equally probable, that I had, 
 in the hurry and confusion of my retreat, involved 
 myself in difficulties which I had avoided in my 
 more deliberate advance. Either way, it was rather 
 an unpromising state of affairs, for the sands at the 
 same time turned softer, and my footsteps, so soon 
 as I had passed, were instantly filled with water. 
 I began to have odd recollections concerning the 
 snugness of your father’s parlour, and the secure 
 footing afforded by the pavement of Brown’s Square 
 and Scot’s close, when my better genius, the tall 
 fisherman, appeared once more close to my side, he 
 and his sable horse looming gigantic in the now 
 darkening twilight. 
 
 «Are you mad?” he said, in the same deep tone 
 which had before thrilled on my ear, “or are you 
 weary of your life ?—— You will be presently amongst 
 the quicksands.” —I professed my ignorance of the 
 way, to which he only replied, ‘There is no time 
 for prating — get up behind me.” 
 
 He probably expected me to spring from the 
 eround with the activity which these Borderers 
 have, by constant practice, acquired in every thing 
 relating to horsemanship ; but as I stood irresolute, 
 he extended his hand, and grasping mine, bid me 
 place my foot on the toe of his boot, and thus raised 
 me in a trice to the croupe of his horse. I was scarce 
 securely seated, ere he shook the reins of his horse, 
 who instantly sprung forward; but annoyed, doubt- 
 less, by the unusual burden, treated us to two or 
 three bounds, accompanied by as many flourishes 
 of his hind heels. The rider sat like a tower, not- 
 withstanding that the unexpected plunging of the 
 
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 Painted by Sam Bough. — Etched by D. Y. Cameron. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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REDGAUNTLET. 39 
 
 animal threw me forward upon him. The horse 
 was soon compelled to submit to the discipline of 
 the spur and bridle, and went off at a steady hand 
 gallop; thus shortening the devious, for it was by 
 no means a direct path, by which the rider, avoid- 
 ing the loose quicksands, made for the northern 
 bank. 
 
 My friend, perhaps I may call him my preserver, 
 — for, to a stranger, my situation was fraught with 
 real danger, —continued to press on at the same 
 speedy pace, but in perfect silence, and I was 
 under too much anxiety of mind to‘disturb him with 
 any questions. At length we arrived at a part of 
 the shore with which I was utterly unacquainted, 
 when I alighted and began to return, in the best 
 fashion I could, my thanks for the important service 
 which he had just rendered me. 
 
 The stranger only replied. by an impatient 
 “pshaw !” and was about. to: ride off, and leave me 
 to my own resources, when I implored him to 
 complete his work of kindness, by directing me to 
 Shepherd’s Bush, which was, as I informed him, my 
 home for the present. 
 
 “To Shepherd’s Bush?” he said; “it is but 
 three miles, but if you know not the land better 
 than the sand, you may break your neck before you 
 get there; for it is no road fora moping boy in a 
 dark night ; and, besides, there are the brook and the 
 fens to cross.” 
 
 I was a little dismayed at this communication of 
 such difficulties as my habits have not called on me 
 to contend with. Once more the idea of thy father’s 
 fireside came across me; and I could have been 
 well contented to have swop’d the romance of my 
 situation, together with the glorious independence 
 
4o REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 of control which I possessed at the moment, for the 
 comforts of the chimney-corner, though I were 
 obliged to keep my eyes chained to Erskine’s Larger 
 Institutes. 
 
 I asked my new friend whether he could not 
 direct me to any house of public entertainment for 
 the night; and, supposing it probable he was him- 
 self a poor man, I added, with the conscious dignity 
 of a well-filled pocketbook, that I could make 
 it worth any man’s while to oblige me. The fisher- 
 man making no answer, I turned away from him 
 with as gallant an appearance of indifference as I 
 could command, and began to take, as I thought, the 
 path which he had pointed out to me. 
 
 His deep voice immediately sounded after me to 
 recall me. “Stay, young man, stay — you have 
 mistaken the road already. —I wonder your friends 
 send out such an inconsiderate youth, without some 
 one wiser than himself to take care of him.” 
 
 “Perhaps they might not have done so,” said 
 I, “if I had any friends who cared about the 
 matter.” 
 
 “Well, sir,” he said, “it is not my custom to 
 open my house to strangers, but your pinch is like 
 to be a smart one; for, besides the risk from bad 
 roads, fords, and broken ground, and the night, 
 which looks both black and gloomy, there is bad 
 company on the road sometimes — at least it has a 
 bad name, and some have come to harm; so that 
 I think I must for once make my rule give way to 
 your necessity, and give you a night’s lodging in my 
 cottage.” 
 
 Why was it, Alan, that I could not help giving 
 an involuntary shudder at receiving an invitation 
 so seasonable in itself, and so suitable to my natu- 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 41 
 
 rally inquisitive disposition? I easily suppressed 
 this untimely sensation; and, as I returned thanks, 
 and expressed my hope that I should not disarrange 
 his family, I once more dropped a hint of my desire 
 to make compensation for any trouble I might 
 occasion. The man answered very coldly, “ Your 
 presence will no doubt give me trouble, sir, but it 
 is of a kind which your purse cannot compensate ; 
 in a word, although I am content to receive you as 
 my guest, I am no publican to call a reckoning.” 
 
 I begged his pardon, and, at his instance, once 
 more seated myself behind him upon the good 
 horse, which went forth steady as before — the moon, 
 whenever she could penetrate the clouds, throwing 
 the huge shadow of the animal, with its double 
 burden, on the wild and bare ground over which we 
 passed. 
 
 Thou mayst laugh till thou lettest the letter fall 
 if thou wilt, but it reminded me of the Magician 
 Atlantes on his hippogriff, with a knight trussed up 
 behind him, in the manner Ariosto has depicted 
 that matter. Thou art, I know, matter-of-fact 
 enough to affect contempt of that fascinating and 
 delicious poem; but think not that, to conform with 
 thy bad taste, I shall forbear any suitable illustra- 
 tion which now or hereafter may occur to me. 
 
 On we went, the sky blackening around us, and 
 the wind beginning to pipe such a wild and melan- 
 choly tune as best suited the hollow sounds of the 
 advancing tide, which I could hear at a distance, 
 like the roar of some immense monster defrauded of 
 its prey. 
 
 At length, our course was crossed by a deep dell 
 or dingle, such as they call in some parts of Scot- 
 land a den, and in others a cleuch, or narrow glen. 
 
42 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 It seemed, by the broken glances which the moon 
 continued to throw upon it, to be steep, precipitous, 
 and full of trees, which are, generally speaking, 
 rather scarce upon these shores. The descent by 
 which we plunged into this dell was both steep and 
 rugged, with two or three abrupt turnings; but 
 neither danger nor darkness impeded the motion 
 of the black horse, who seemed rather to slide upon 
 his haunches, than to gallop down the pass, throw- 
 ing me again on the shoulders of the athletic rider, 
 who, sustaining no inconvenience by the circum- 
 stance, continued to press the horse forward with 
 his heel, steadily supporting him at the same time 
 by raising his bridle-hand, until we stood in safety 
 at the bottom of the steep—not a little to my 
 consolation, as, friend Alan, thou mayst easily 
 conceive. 
 
 A very short advance up the glen, the bottom 
 of which we had attained by this ugly descent, 
 brought us in front of two or three cottages, one 
 of which another blink of moonshine enabled me 
 to rate as rather better than those of the Scottish 
 peasantry in this part of the world; for the sashes 
 seemed glazed, and there were what are called 
 storm-windows in the roof, giving symptoms of 
 the magnificence of a second story. The scene 
 around was very interesting; for the cottages, and 
 the yards or crofts annexed to them, occupied a 
 haugh, or holm, of two acres, which a brook of some 
 consequence (to judge from its roar) had left upon 
 one side of the little glen while finding its course 
 close to the further bank, and which appeared to 
 be covered and darkened with trees, while the 
 level space beneath enjoyed such stormy smiles 
 as the moon had that night to bestow. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 43 
 
 I had little time for observation, for my com- 
 panion’s loud whistle, seconded by an equally loud 
 halloo, speedily brought to the door of the principal 
 cottage a man and a woman, together with two 
 large Newfoundland dogs, the deep baying of which 
 I had for some time heard. A yelping terrier 
 or two, which had joined the concert, were silent 
 at the presence of my conductor, and began to 
 whine, jump up, and fawn upon him. The female 
 drew back when she beheld a stranger; the man, 
 who had a lighted lantern, advanced, and without 
 any observation, received the horse from my host, 
 and led him, doubtless, to stable, while I followed 
 my conductor into the house. When we had passed 
 the hallan,! we entered a well-sized apartment, with 
 a clean brick floor, where a fire blazed (much to 
 my contentment) in the ordinary projecting sort 
 of chimney, common in Scottish houses. There 
 were stone seats within the chimney; and ordinary 
 utensils, mixed with fishing-spears, nets, and similar 
 implements of sport, were hung around the walls of 
 the place. The female who had first appeared at 
 the door, had now retreated into a side apartment. 
 She was presently followed by my guide, after he 
 had silently motioned me to a seat; and their place 
 was supplied by an elderly woman, in a grey stuff 
 gown, with a check apron and toy, obviously a 
 menial, though neater in her dress than is usual in 
 her apparent rank—an advantage which was counter- 
 balanced by a very forbidding aspect. But the most 
 singular part of her attire, in this very Protestant 
 country, was a rosary, in which the smaller beads 
 were black oak, and those indicating the pater- 
 noster of silver, with a crucifix of the same metal. 
 
 1 The partition which divides a Scottish cottage. 
 
44 REDGAUNTLHET. 
 
 This person made preparations for supper, by 
 spreading a clean though coarse cloth over. a large 
 oaken table, placing trenchers and salt upon it, and 
 arranging the fire to receive a gridiron. I observed 
 her motions in silence; for she took no_ sort 
 of notice of me, and as her looks were singularly 
 forbidding, I felt no disposition to commence 
 conversation. 
 
 When this duenna had made all preliminary 
 arrangements, she took from the well-filled pouch of 
 my conductor, which he had hung up by the door, 
 one or two salmon, or grilses, as the smaller sort 
 are termed, and selecting that which seemed best, 
 and in highest season, began to cut it into slices, 
 and to prepare a grillade; the savoury smell of 
 which affected me so powerfully, that I began sin- 
 cerely to hope that no delay would intervene 
 between the platter and the lip. 
 
 As this thought came across me, the man who 
 had conducted the horse to the stable entered the 
 apartment, and discovered to me a countenance yet 
 more uninviting than that of the old crone who was 
 performing with such dexterity the office of cook to 
 the party. He was perhaps sixty years old; yet 
 his brow was not much furrowed, and his jet black 
 hair was only grizzled, not whitened, by the advance 
 of age. All his motions spoke strength unabated ; 
 and, though rather undersized, he had very broad 
 shoulders, was square-made, thin-flanked, and appar- 
 ently combined in his frame muscular strength and 
 activity; the last somewhat impaired perhaps by 
 years, but the first remaining in full vigour. A 
 hard and harsh countenance — eyes far sunk under 
 projecting eyebrows, which were grizzled like his hair 
 —a wide mouth, furnished from ear to ear with a 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 45 
 
 range of unimpaired teeth, of uncommon whiteness, 
 and a size and breadth which might have become 
 the jaws of an ogre, completed this delightful por- 
 trait. He was clad like a fisherman, in jacket and 
 trowsers of the blue cloth commonly used by sea- 
 men, and had a Dutch case-knife, like that of a 
 Hamburgh skipper, stuck into a broad buff belt, 
 which seemed as if it might occasionally sustain 
 weapons of a description still less equivocally 
 calculated for violence. 
 
 This man gave me an inquisitive, and, as [ 
 thought, a sinister look, upon entering the apart- 
 ment; but without any farther notice of me, took 
 up the office of arranging the table, which the old 
 lady had abandoned for that of cooking the fish, 
 and, with more address than I expected from a per- 
 son of his coarse appearance, placed two chairs at 
 the head of the table, and two stools below; accom- 
 modating each seat to a cover, beside which he 
 placed an allowance of barley-bread, and a small 
 jug, which he replenished with ale from a large 
 black jack. Three of these jugs were of ordinary 
 earthenware, but the fourth, which he placed by 
 the right-hand cover at the upper end of the table, 
 was a flagon of silver, and displayed armorial bear- 
 ings. Beside this flagon he placed a saltcellar 
 of silver, handsomely wrought, containing salt of 
 exquisite whiteness, with pepper and other spices. 
 A sliced lemon was also presented on a small sil- 
 ver salver. The two large water-dogs, who seemed 
 perfectly to understand the nature of the prepara- 
 tions, seated themselves one on each side of the 
 table, to be ready to receive their portion of the 
 entertainment. I never saw finer animals, or which 
 seemed to be more influenced by a sense of decorum, 
 
46 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 excepting that they slobbered a little as the rich 
 scent from the chimney was wafted past their noses. 
 The small dogs ensconced themselves beneath the 
 table. 
 
 I am aware that I am dwelling upon trivial and 
 ordinary circumstances, and that perhaps I may 
 weary out your patience in doing so. But conceive 
 me alone in this strange place, which seemed, from 
 the universal silence, to be the very temple of Har- 
 pocrates — remember that this is my first excursion 
 from home — forget not that the manner in which 
 I had been brought hither had the dignity of dan- 
 ger and something the air of an adventure, and that 
 there was a mysterious incongruity in all I had 
 hitherto witnessed; and you will not, I think, be 
 surprised that these circumstances, though trifling, 
 should force themselves on my notice at the time, 
 and dwell in my memory afterwards. 
 
 That a fisher, who pursued the sport perhaps for 
 his amusement as well as profit, should be well 
 mounted and better lodged than the lower class of 
 peasantry, had in it nothing surprising; but there 
 was something about all that I saw which seemed 
 to intimate, that I was rather in the abode of a 
 decayed gentleman, who clung to a few of the forms 
 and observances of former rank, than in that of a 
 common peasant, raised above his fellows by 
 comparative opulence. 
 
 Besides the articles of plate which I have already 
 noticed, the old man now lighted and placed on 
 the table a silver lamp, or cruise, as the Scottish 
 term it, filled with very pure oil, which in burning 
 diffused an aromatic fragrance, and gave me a more 
 perfect view of the cottage walls, which I had 
 hitherto only seen dimly by the light of the fire. The 
 
REDGAUNTLET. a7 
 
 bink,} with its usual arrangement of pewter and 
 earthen-ware, which was most strictly and critically 
 clean, glanced back the flame of the lamp merrily 
 from one side of the apartment. In a recess, formed 
 by the small bow of a latticed window, was a large 
 writing-desk of walnut-tree wood, curiously carved, 
 above which arose shelves of the same, which sup- 
 ported a few books and papers. The opposite side 
 of the recess contained (as far as I could discern, 
 for it lay in shadow, and I could at any rate have 
 seen it but imperfectly from the place where I was 
 seated) one or two guns, together with swords, pis- 
 tols, and other arms — a collection which, in a poor 
 cottage, and in a country so peaceful, appeared 
 singular at least, if not even somewhat suspicious. 
 
 All these observations, you may suppose, were 
 made much sooner than I have recorded, or you 
 (if you have not skipped) have been able to read 
 them. They were already finished, and I was con- 
 sidering how I should open some communication 
 with the mute inhabitants of the mansion, when my 
 conductor re-entered from the side-door by which 
 he had made his exit. 
 
 He had now thrown off his rough riding-cap, and 
 his coarse jockey-coat, and stood before me in a grey 
 jerkin trimmed with black, which sat close to, and 
 set off, his large and sinewy frame, and a pair of 
 trowsers of a lighter colour, cut as close to the body 
 as they are used by Highlandmen. His whole dress 
 was of finer cloth than that of the old man; and his 
 linen, so minute was my observation, clean and 
 unsullied. His shirt was without ruffles, and tied 
 at the collar with a black riband, which showed his 
 
 1 The frame of wooden shelves placed in a Scottish kitchen for 
 holding plates. 
 
48 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 strong and muscular neck rising from it, like that 
 of an ancient Hercules. His head was small, with 
 a large forehead, and well-formed ears. He wore 
 neither peruke nor hair-powder; and his chestnut 
 locks, curling close to his head, like those of an 
 antique statue, showed not the least touch of time, 
 though the owner must have been at least fifty. 
 His features were high and prominent in such a 
 degree, that one knew not whether to term them 
 harsh or handsome. In either case, the sparkling 
 grey eye, aquiline nose, and well-formed mouth, 
 combined to render his physiognomy noble and 
 expressive. An air of sadness, or severity, or of 
 both, seemed to indicate a melancholy, and, at the 
 same time, a haughty temper. I could not help 
 running mentally over the ancient heroes, to whom 
 I might assimilate the noble form and countenance 
 before me. He was too young, and evinced too 
 little resignation to his fate, to resemble Belisarius. 
 Coriolanus, standing by the hearth of Tullus Aufi- 
 dius, came nearer the mark; yet the gloomy 
 and haughty look of the stranger had, perhaps, 
 still more of Marius, seated among the ruins of 
 Carthage. 
 
 While I was lost in these imaginations, my host 
 stood by the fire, gazing on me with the same atten- 
 tion which I paid to him, until, embarrassed by his 
 look, I was about to break silence at all hazards. 
 But the supper, now placed upon the table, reminded 
 me, by its appearance, of those wants which I had 
 almost forgotten while I was gazing on the fine form 
 of my conductor. He spoke at length, and I almost 
 started at the deep rich tone of his voice, though 
 what he said was but to invite me to sit down to 
 the table. He himself assumed the seat of honour, 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 49 
 
 beside which the silver flagon was placed, and 
 beckoned to me to sit beside him. 
 
 Thou knowest thy father’s strict and excellent 
 domestic discipline has trained me to hear the invo- 
 cation of a blessing before we break the daily bread, 
 for which we are taught to pray—HI paused a 
 moment, and, without designing to do so, I suppose 
 my manner made him sensible of what I expected. 
 The two domestics, or inferiors, as I should have 
 before observed, were already seated at the bottom 
 of the table, when my host shot a glance of a very 
 peculiar expression towards the old man, observing, 
 with something approaching to a sneer, “ Cristal 
 Nixon, say grace — the gentleman expects one.” 
 
 “The foul fiend shall be clerk, and say amen, 
 when I turn chaplain,” growled out the party 
 addressed, in tones which might have become the 
 condition of a dying bear; “if the gentleman is a 
 whig, he may please himself with his own mum- 
 mery. My faith is neither in word nor writ, but 
 in barley bread and brown ale.” 
 
 “Mabel Moffat,’ said my guide, looking at the 
 old woman, and raising his sonorous voice, probably 
 because she was hard of hearing, “canst thou ask 
 a blessing upon our victuals ?” 
 
 The old woman shook her head, kissed the cross 
 which hung from her rosary, and was silent. 
 
 “Mabel will say grace for no heretic,” said the 
 master of the house, with the same latent sneer on 
 his brow and in his accent. 
 
 At the same moment, the side-door already men- 
 tioned opened, and the young woman (so she proved) 
 whom I had first seen at the door of the cottage, 
 advanced a little way into the room, then stopped 
 bashfully, as if she had observed that I was looking 
 
 VOL, I.—4 
 
50 REDGAUNTLET, 
 
 at her, and asked the master of the house, “if he 
 had called ?” 
 
 “Not louder than to make old Mabel hear me,” 
 he replied; “and yet,’ he added, as she turned to 
 retire, “it is a shame a stranger should see a house 
 where not one of the family can or will say a grace, 
 — do thou be our chaplain.” 
 
 The girl, who was really pretty, came forward 
 with timid modesty, and apparently unconscious 
 that she was doing any thing uncommon, pro- 
 nounced the benediction in a silver-toned voice, and 
 with affecting simplicity — her cheek colouring just 
 so much as to show, that, on a less solemn occasion, 
 she would have felt more embarrassed. 
 
 Now, if thou expectest a fine description of this 
 young woman, Alan Fairford, in order to entitle 
 thee to taunt me with having found a Dulcinea in 
 the inhabitant of a fisherman’s cottage on the Sol- 
 way Frith, thou shalt be disappointed ; for, having 
 said she seemed very pretty, and that she was a 
 sweet and gentle-speaking creature, I have said all 
 concerning her that I can tell thee. She vanished 
 when the benediction was spoken. 
 
 My host, with a muttered remark on the cold of 
 our ride, and the keen air of the Solway Sands, to 
 which he did not seem to wish an answer, loaded 
 my plate from Mabel’s grillade, which, with a large 
 wooden bowl of potatoes, formed our whole meal. 
 A sprinkling from the lemon gave a much higher 
 zest than the usual condiment of vinegar; and I 
 promise you that whatever I might hitherto have 
 felt, either of curiosity or suspicion, did not prevent 
 me from making a most excellent supper, during 
 which little passed betwixt me and my entertainer, 
 unless that he did the usual honours of the table 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 51 
 
 with courtesy, indeed, but without even the affec- 
 tation of hearty hospitality, which those in his 
 (apparent) condition generally affect on such occa- 
 sions, even when they do not actually feel it. On 
 the contrary, his manner seemed that of a polished 
 landlord towards an unexpected and unwelcome 
 cuest, whom, for the sake of his own credit, he 
 receives with civility, but without either good-will 
 or cheerfulness. | 
 
 If you ask how I learned all this, I cannot tell 
 you; nor, were I to write down at length the insig- 
 nificant intercourse which took place between us, 
 would it perhaps serve to justify these observations. 
 It is sufficient to say, that in helping his dogs, 
 which he did from time to time with great liber- 
 ality, he seemed to discharge a duty much more 
 pleasing to himself, than when he paid the same 
 attention to his guest. Upon the whole, the result 
 on my mind was as [I tell it you. 
 
 When supper was over, a small case-bottle of 
 brandy, in a curious frame of silver filigree, circu- 
 lated to the guests. I had already taken a small 
 glass of the liquor, and, when it had passed to 
 Mabel and to Cristal, and was again returned to the 
 upper end of the table, I could not help taking the 
 bottle in my hand, to look more at the armorial 
 bearings, which were chased with considerable taste 
 on the silver framework. Encountering the eye 
 of my entertainer, I instantly saw that my curiosity 
 was highly distasteful ; he frowned, bit his lip, and 
 showed such uncontrollable signs of impatience, 
 that, setting the bottle immediately down, I 
 attempted some apology. To this he did not deign 
 either to reply, or even to listen; and Cristal, at a 
 signal from his master, removed the object of my 
 
52 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 curiosity, as well as the cup, upon which the same 
 arms were engraved. 
 
 There ensued an awkward pause, which I endea- 
 voured to break by observing, that “I feared my 
 intrusion upon his hospitality had put his family 
 to some inconvenience.” 
 
 “YT hope you see no appearance of it, sir,” he 
 replied, with cold civility. ‘What inconvenience a 
 family so retired as ours may suffer from receiving 
 an unexpected guest, is like to be trifling, in com- 
 parison of what the visitor himself sustains from 
 want of his accustomed comforts. So far, there- 
 fore, aS our connexion stands, our accounts stand 
 clear.” 
 
 Notwithstanding this discouraging reply, I blun- 
 dered on, as is usual in such cases, wishing to 
 appear civil, and being, perhaps, in reality the very 
 reverse. “I was afraid,’ I said, “that my presence 
 had banished one of the family” (looking at the 
 side-door) “ from his table.” 
 
 “Tf,” he coldly replied, “I meant the young 
 woman whom I had seen in the apartment, he bid 
 me observe that there was room enough at the 
 table for her to have seated herself, and meat enough, 
 such as it was, for her supper. I might, therefore, 
 be assured, if she had chosen it, she would have 
 supped with us.” 
 
 There was no dwelling on this or any other topic 
 longer; for my entertainer, taking up the lamp, 
 Observed, that “my wet clothes might reconcile me 
 for the night to their custom of keeping early hours ; 
 that he was under the necessity of going abroad by 
 peep of day to-morrow morning, and would call me 
 up at the same time, to point out the way by which 
 I was to return to the Shepherd’s Bush.” 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 53 
 
 This left no opening for farther explanation; nor 
 was there room for it on the usual terms of civility ; 
 for,as he neither asked my name, nor expressed 
 the least interest concerning my condition, I — the 
 obliged person —had no pretence to trouble him 
 with such enquiries on my part. 
 
 He took up the lamp, and led me through the 
 side-door into a very small room, where a bed had 
 been hastily arranged for my accommodation, and, 
 putting down the lamp, directed me to leave my 
 wet clothes on the outside of the door, that they 
 might be exposed to the fire during the night. He 
 then left me, having muttered something which was 
 meant to pass for good-night. 
 
 I obeyed his directions with respect to my clothes, 
 the rather that, in despite of the spirits which I had 
 drank, I felt my teeth begin to chatter, and received 
 various hints from an aguish feeling, that a town- 
 bred youth, like myself, could not at once rush into 
 all the hardihood of country sports with impunity. 
 But my bed, though coarse and hard, was dry and 
 clean; and I soon was so little occupied with my 
 heats and tremors, as to listen with interest to a 
 heavy foot which seemed to be that of my land- 
 lord, traversing the boards (there was no ceiling, 
 as you may believe) which roofed my apartment. 
 Light glancing through these rude planks, became 
 visible as soon as my lamp was extinguished ; and 
 as the noise of the slow, solemn, and regular step 
 continued, and I could distinguish that the person 
 turned and returned as he reached the end of the 
 apartment, it seemed clear to me that the walker 
 was engaged in no domestic occupation, but merely 
 pacing to and fro for his own pleasure. “An odd 
 amusement this,” I thought, “ for one who had been 
 
54 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 engaged at least a part of the preceding day in vio- 
 lent exercise, and who talked of rising by the peep 
 of dawn on the ensuing morning.” 
 
 Meantime I heard the storm, which had been 
 brewing during the evening, begin to descend with 
 a vengeance; sounds, as of distant thunder, (the 
 noise of the more distant waves, doubtless, on the 
 shore,) mingled with the roaring of the neighbour- 
 ing torrent, and with the crashing, groaning, and 
 even screaming of the trees in the glen, whose 
 boughs were tormented by the gale. Within the 
 house, windows clattered, and doors clapped, and 
 the walls, though sufficiently substantial for a 
 building of the kind, seemed to me to totter in the 
 tempest. 
 
 But still the heavy steps perambulating the apart- 
 ment over my head, were distinctly heard amid the 
 roar and fury of the elements. I thought more than 
 once I even heard a groan; but I frankly own, that, 
 placed in this unusual situation, my fancy may 
 have misled me. I was tempted several times to 
 call aloud, and ask whether the turmoil around us 
 did not threaten danger to the building which we 
 inhabited; but when I thought of the secluded and 
 unsocial master of the dwelling, who seemed to 
 avoid human society, and to remain unperturbed 
 amid the elemental war, it seemed that to speak to 
 him at that moment, would have been to address 
 the spirit of the tempest himself, since no other 
 being, I thought, could have remained calm and 
 tranquil while winds and waters were thus raging 
 around. 
 
 In process of time, fatigue prevailed over anxiety 
 and curiosity. The storm abated, or my senses 
 became deadened to its terrors, and I fell asleep ere 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 55 
 
 yet the mysterious paces of my host had ceased to 
 shake the flooring over my head. 
 
 It might have been expected that the novelty 
 of my situation, although it did not prevent my 
 slumbers, would have at least diminished their 
 profoundness, and shortened their duration. It 
 proved otherwise, however ; for I never slept more 
 soundly in my life, and only awoke when, at morn- 
 ing dawn, my landlord shook me by the shoulder, 
 and dispelled some dream, of which, fortunately for 
 you, I have no recollection, otherwise you would 
 have been favoured with it, in hopes you might 
 have proved a second Daniel upon the occasion. 
 
 “You sleep sound” —said his full deep voice; 
 “ere five years have rolled over your head, your 
 slumbers will be ighter — unless ere then you are 
 wrapped in the sleep which is never broken.” 
 
 “How!” said I, starting up in the bed; “do you 
 know any thing of me —of my prospects — of my 
 views in life?” 
 
 “Nothing,” he answered, with a grim smile; 
 “but it is evident you are entering upon the world 
 young, inexperienced, and full of hopes, and I do 
 but prophesy to you what I would to any one in 
 your condition. — But come; there lie your clothes 
 —a brown crust and a draught of milk wait you, 
 if you choose to break your fast; but you must 
 make haste.” 
 
 “TI must first,’ I said, “take the freedom to 
 spend a few minutes alone, before beginning the 
 ordinary works of the day.” 
 
 “Oh!—humph!—I cry your devotions par- 
 don,” he replied, and left the apartment. 
 
 Alan, there is something terrible about this man. 
 
 I joined him, as I had promised, in the kitchen 
 
56 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 where we had supped over night, where I found 
 the articles which he had offered me for breakfast, 
 without butter or any other addition. 
 
 He walked up and down while I partook of the 
 bread and milk; and the slow measured weighty 
 step seemed identified with those which I had heard 
 last night. His pace, from its funereal slowness, 
 seemed to keep time with some current of internal 
 passion, dark, slow, and unchanged. —“ We run and 
 leap by the side of a lively and bubbling brook,” 
 thought I, internally, “as if we would run a race 
 with it; but beside waters deep, slow, and lonely, 
 our pace is sullen and silent as their course. What 
 thoughts may be now corresponding with that fur- 
 rowed brow, and bearing time with that heavy 
 step !” 
 
 “Tf you have finished,” said he, looking up to me 
 with a glance of impatience, as he observed that I 
 ate no longer, but remained with my eyes fixed 
 upon him, “I wait to show you the way.” 
 
 We went out together, no individual of the family 
 having been visible excepting my landlord. I was 
 disappointed of the opportunity which I watched 
 for of giving some gratuity to the domestics, as they 
 seemed to be. As for offering any recompense to 
 the Master of the Household, it seemed to me 
 impossible to have attempted it. 
 
 What would I have given for a share of thy com- 
 posure, who wouldst have thrust half-a-crown into 
 a man’s hand whose necessities seemed to crave it, 
 conscious that you did right in making the proffer, 
 and not caring sixpence whether you hurt the feel- 
 ings of him whom you meant to serve! I saw thee 
 once give a penny to a man with a long beard, who, 
 from the dignity of his exterior, might have repre- 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 57 
 
 sented Solon. I had not thy courage, and therefore 
 I made no tender to my mysterious host, although, 
 notwithstanding his display of silver utensils, all 
 around the house bespoke narrow circumstances, if 
 not actual poverty. 
 
 We left the place together. But I hear thee 
 murmur thy very new and appropriate ejaculation, 
 Ohe, jam satis !— The rest for another time. Per- 
 haps I may delay farther communication till I learn 
 how my favours are valued. 
 
LETTER V. 
 ALAN FAIRFORD TO DARSIE LATIMER. 
 
 I HAVE thy two last epistles, my dear Darsie, and, 
 expecting the third, have been in no hurry to answer 
 them. Do not think my silence ought to be ascribed 
 to my failing to take interest in them, for, truly, they 
 excel (though the task was difficult) thy usual excel- 
 lings. Since the moon-calf who earliest discovered 
 the Pandemonium of Milton in an expiring wood- 
 fire —since the first ingenious urchin who blew 
 bubbles out of soap and water, thou, my best of 
 friends, hast the highest knack at making histories 
 out of nothing. Wert thou to plant the bean in the 
 nursery-tale, thou wouldst make out, so soon as it 
 began to germinate, that the castle of the giant was 
 about to elevate its battlements on the top of it. 
 All that happens to thee gets a touch of the wonder- 
 ful and the sublime from thy own rich imagination. 
 Didst ever see what artists call a Claude Lorraine 
 glass, which spreads its own particular hue over 
 the whole landscape which you see through it ?— 
 thou beholdest ordinary events just through such a 
 medium. 
 
 I have looked carefully at the facts of thy last 
 long letter, and they are just such as might have 
 befallen any little truant of the High School, who 
 had got down to Leith Sands, gone beyond the 
 prawn-dub, wet his hose and shoon, and, finally, 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 59 
 
 had been carried home, In compassion, by some 
 high-kilted fishwife, cursing all the while the 
 trouble which the brat occasioned her. 
 
 I admire the figure which thou must have made, 
 clinging for dear life behind the old fellow’s back — 
 thy jaws chattering with fear, thy muscles cramped 
 with anxiety. Thy execrable supper of broiled 
 salmon, which was enough to insure the night- 
 mare’s regular visits for a twelvemonth, may be 
 termed a real affliction; but as for the storm of 
 Thursday last, (such, I observe, was the date,) it 
 roared, whistled, howled, and bellowed, as fearfully 
 amongst the old chimney-heads in the Candlemaker- 
 row, as it could on the Solway shore, for the very 
 wind of it — deste me per totam noctem vigilante. 
 And then in the morning again, when — Lord help 
 you —in your sentimental delicacy you bid the poor 
 man adieu, without even tendering him half-a-crown 
 for supper and lodging! 
 
 You laugh at me for giving a penny (to be accu- 
 rate, though, thou shouldst have said sixpence) to an 
 old fellow, whom thou, in thy high flight, wouldst 
 have sent home supperless, because he was like 
 Solon or Belisarius. But you forget that the affront 
 descended like a benediction into the pouch of the 
 old gaberlunzie, who overflowed in blessings upon 
 the generous donor — Long ere he would have 
 thanked thee, Darsie, for thy barren veneration of 
 his beard and his bearing. Then you laugh at my 
 good father’s retreat from Falkirk, just as if it were 
 not time for a man to trudge when three or four 
 mountain knaves, with naked claymores, and heels 
 as light as their fingers, were scampering after him, 
 crying furimish. You remember what he said him- 
 self when the Laird of Bucklivat told him that 
 
60 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 furinish signified “stay a while.” -“ What the 
 devil,” he said, surprised out of his Presbyterian 
 correctness by the unreasonableness of such a 
 request under the circumstances, “would the 
 scoundrels have had me stop to have my head 
 cut off?” | 
 
 Imagine such a train at your own heels, Darsie, 
 and ask yourself whether you would not exert your 
 legs as fast as you did in flying from the Solway 
 tide. And yet you impeach my father’s courage! I 
 tell you he has courage enough to do what is right, 
 and to spurn what is wrong — courage enough to 
 defend a righteous cause with hand and purse, and 
 to take the part of the poor man against his 
 oppressor, without fear of the consequences to him- 
 self. This is civil courage, Darsie; and it is of little 
 consequence to most men in this age and country, 
 whether they ever possess military courage or no. 
 
 Do not think I am angry with you, though I 
 thus attempt to rectify your opinions on my 
 father’s account. I am well aware that, upon the 
 whole, he is scarce regarded with more respect by 
 me than by thee. And while I am in a serious 
 humour, which it is difficult to preserve with one 
 who is perpetually tempting me to laugh at him, 
 pray, dearest Darsie, let not thy ardour for adven- 
 ture carry thee into more such scrapes as that of 
 the Solway Sands. The rest of the story is a mere 
 imagination ; but that stormy evening might have 
 proved, as the clown says to Lear, a “naughty night 
 to swim in.” 
 
 As for the rest, if you can work mysterious and 
 romantic heroes out of old crossgrained fishermen, 
 why, I for one will reap some amusement by 
 the metamorphosis. Yet hold! even there, there 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 61 
 
 is some need of caution. This same female chap- 
 lain—thou sayest so little of her, and so much 
 of every one else, that it excites some doubt in my 
 mind. Very pretty she is, it seems—and that is 
 all thy discretion informs me of. There are cases 
 in which silence implies other things than consent. 
 Wert thou ashamed or afraid, Darsie, to trust thy- 
 self with the praises of the very pretty grace-sayer ? 
 — As I live, thou blushest! Why, do I not know 
 thee an inveterate Squire of Dames? and have I 
 not been in thy confidence? An elegant elbow, 
 displayed when the rest of the figure was mufiled 
 in a cardinal, or a neat well-turned ankle and instep, 
 seen by chance as its owner tripped up the Old 
 Assembly Close,! turned thy brain for eight days. 
 Thou wert once caught, if I remember rightly, with 
 a single glance of a single matchless eye, which, 
 when the fair owner withdrew her veil, proved to 
 be single in the literal sense of the word. And, 
 besides, were you not another time enamoured of 
 a voice—a mere voice, that mingled in the 
 psalmody at the Old Greyfriars’ Church — until 
 you discovered the proprietor of that dulcet organ 
 to be Miss Dolly MaclIzzard, who is both “back 
 and breast,” as our saying goes ? 
 
 All these things considered, and contrasted with 
 thy artful silence on the subject of this grace-saying 
 Nereid of thine, I must beg thee to be more explicit 
 upon that subject in thy next, unless thou wouldst 
 have me form the conclusion that thou thinkest 
 more of her than thou carest to talk of. 
 
 You will not expect much news from this 
 quarter, as you know the monotony of my life, 
 
 1 Of old this almost deserted alley formed the most common 
 access betwixt the High Street and the southern suburbs. 
 
62 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 and are aware it must at present be devoted to 
 uninterrupted study. You have said a thousand 
 times, that I am only qualified to make my way 
 by dint of plodding, and therefore plod I must. 
 
 My father seems to be more impatient of your 
 absence than he was after your first departure. He 
 is sensible, I believe, that our solitary meals want 
 the light which your gay humour was wont to throw 
 over them, and feels melancholy, as men do when 
 the light of the sun is no longer upon the landscape. 
 If it is thus with him, thou mayst imagine it is 
 much more so with me, and canst conceive how 
 heartily I wish that thy frolic were ended, and 
 thou once more our inmate. 
 
 I resume my pen, after a few hours’ interval, to 
 say that an incident has occurred, on which you 
 will yourself be building a hundred castles in the 
 air, and which even I, jealous as I am of such 
 baseless fabrics, cannot but own affords ground 
 for singular conjecture. 
 
 My father has of late taken me frequently along 
 with him when he attends the Courts, in his anxiety 
 to see me properly initiated into the practical forms 
 of business. I own I feel something on his account 
 and my own from this over-anxiety, which, I dare 
 say, renders us both ridiculous. But what signifies 
 my repugnance! my father drags me up to his 
 counsel learned in the law,—“Are you quite 
 ready to come on to-day, Mr. Crossbite ?— This 
 is my son, designed for the bar —I take the liberty 
 to bring him with me to-day to the consultation, 
 merely that he may see how these things are 
 managed.” 
 
 Mr. Crossbite smiles and bows, as a lawyer smiles 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 63 
 
 on the solicitor who employs him, and I dare say, 
 thrusts his tongue into his cheek, and whispers 
 into the first great wig that passes him, “What 
 the d—1 does old Fairford mean by letting loose 
 his whelp on me?” 
 
 As I stood beside them, too much vexed at the 
 childish part Iwas made to play to derive much infor- 
 mation from the valuable arguments of Mr. Crossbite, 
 I observed a rather elderly man, who stood with his 
 eyes firmly bent on my father, as if he only waited 
 an end of the business in which he was engaged, 
 to address him. There was something, I thought, 
 in the gentleman’s appearance, which commanded 
 attention. Yet his dress was not in the present 
 taste, and though it had once been magnificent, 
 was now antiquated and unfashionable. His coat 
 was of branched velvet, with a satin lining, a 
 waistcoat of violet-coloured silk, much embroid- 
 ered; his breeches the same stuff as the coat. He 
 wore square-toed shoes, with foretops, as they are 
 called ; and his silk stockings were rolled up over his 
 knee, as you may have seen in pictures, and here 
 and there on some of those originals who seem to 
 pique themselves on dressing after the mode of 
 Methuselah. <A chapeau bras and sword neces- 
 sarily completed his equipment, which, though 
 out of date, showed that it belonged to a man of 
 distinction. 
 
 The instant Mr. Crossbite had ended what he had 
 to say, this gentleman walked up to my father, with, 
 “ Your servant, Mr. Fairford — it is long since you 
 and I met.” 
 
 My father, whose politeness, you know, is exact 
 and formal, bowed, and hemmed, and was confused, 
 and at length professed that the distance since they 
 
64 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 had met was so great, that though he remembered 
 the face perfectly, the name, he was sorry to say, 
 had — really — somehow — escaped his memory. 
 
 “Have you forgot Herries of Birrenswork?” 
 said the gentleman, and my father bowed even more 
 profoundly than before ; though I think his recep- 
 tion of his old friend seemed to lose some of the 
 respectful civility which he bestowed on him while 
 his name was yet unknown. It now seemed to be 
 something hke the lip-courtesy which the heart 
 would have denied had ceremony permitted. 
 
 My father, however, again bowed low, and hoped 
 he saw him well. 
 
 “So well, my good Mr. Fairford, that I come 
 hither determined to renew my acquaintance with 
 one or two old friends, and with you in the first 
 place.—I halt at my old resting-place — you must 
 dine with me to-day at Paterson’s, at the head of 
 the Horse Wynd —it is near your new fashionable 
 dwelling, and I have business with you.” 
 
 My father excused himself respectfully, and 
 not without embarrassment — “ he was particularly 
 engaged at home.” | 
 
 “Then I will dine with you, man,” said Mr. 
 Herries of Birrenswork; “the few minutes you 
 can spare me after dinner will suffice for my busi- 
 ness; and I will not prevent you a moment from 
 minding your own —I am no bottle-man.” 
 
 You have often remarked that my father, though 
 a scrupulous observer of the rites of hospitality, 
 seems to exercise them rather as a duty than as a 
 pleasure; indeed, but for a conscientious wish to 
 feed the hungry and receive the stranger, his doors 
 would open to guests much seldomer than is the 
 case. I never saw so strong an example of this 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 65 
 
 peculiarity, (which I should otherwise have said is 
 caricatured in your description,) as in his mode of 
 homologating the self-given invitation of Mr. Herries. 
 The embarrassed brow, and the attempt at a smile 
 which accompanied his, “We will expect the hon- 
 our of seeing you in Brown Square at three o’clock,” 
 could not deceive any one, and did not impose upon 
 the old Laird. It was with a look of scorn that he 
 replied, “‘I will relieve you then till that hour, Mr. 
 Fairford;” and his whole manner seemed to say, 
 “It is my pleasure to dine with you, and I care 
 not whether I am welcome or no.” 
 
 When he turned away, I asked my father who 
 he was. 
 
 “ An unfortunate gentleman,” was the reply. 
 
 “ He looks pretty well on his misfortunes,” replied 
 I. “I should not have suspected that so gay an 
 outside was lacking a dinner.” 
 
 “Who told you that he does ?” replied my father; 
 “he is omnt suspicione major, so far as worldly cir- 
 cumstances are concerned —It is to be hoped he 
 makes a good use of them; though, if he does, it 
 will be for the first time in his life.” 
 
 “He has then been an irregular liver ?” insinu- 
 ated I. 
 
 My father replied by that famous brocard with 
 which he silences all unacceptable queries, turning 
 in the slightest degree upon the failings of our 
 neighbours,— “If we mend our own faults, Alan, 
 we shall all of us have enough to do, without sit- 
 ting in judgment upon other folks.” 
 
 Here I was again at fault; but rallying once 
 more, I observed, he had the air of a man of high 
 rank and family. 
 
 “He is well entitled,” said my father, “repre- 
 
 VOL. I.—5 
 
66 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 senting Herries of Birrenswork; a branch of that 
 ereat and once powerful family of Herries, the elder 
 branch whereof merged in the house of Nithesdale 
 at the death of Lord Robin the Philosopher, Anno 
 Domini sixteen hundred and sixty-seven.” 
 
 “Has he still,” said I, “his patrimonial estate 
 of Birrenswork ?” 
 ~ “No,” replied my father; “so far back as his 
 father’s time, it was a mere designation — the prop- 
 erty being forfeited by Herbert Herries following his 
 kinsman the Earl of Derwentwater, to the Preston 
 affair in 1715. But they keep up the designation, 
 thinking, doubtless, that their claims may be revived 
 in more favourable times for Jacobites and for 
 Popery; and folks who in no way partake of their 
 fantastic capriccios, do yet allow it to pass unchal- 
 lenged, ex comitate, if not ex misericordia. — But 
 were he the Pope and the Pretender both, we must 
 get some dinner ready for him, since he has thought 
 fit to offer himself. So hasten home, my lad, and 
 tell Hannah, Cook Epps, and James Wilkinson, to 
 do their best; and do thou look out a pint or two 
 of Maxwell’s best — it is in the fifth bin — there are 
 the keys of the wine-cellar.— Do not leave them 
 in the lock — you know poor James’s failing, though 
 he is an honest creature under all other temptations 
 —and I have but two bottles of the old brandy left 
 —we must keep it for medicine, Alan.” 
 
 Away went I—made my preparations — the 
 hour of dinner came, and so did Mr. Herries of 
 Birrenswork. 
 
 If | had thy power of imagination and descrip- 
 tion, Darsie, I could make out a fine, dark, mysterious, 
 Rembrandt-looking portrait of this same stranger, 
 which should be as far superior to thy fisherman, 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 67 
 
 asa shirt of chain-mail is to a herring-net. I can 
 assure you there is some matter for description 
 about him; but knowing my own imperfections, I 
 ean only say, I thought him eminently disagreeable 
 and ill-bred. — No, «ll-bred is not the proper word ; 
 on the contrary, he appeared to know the rules of 
 good-breeding perfectly, and-only to think that the 
 rank of the company did not require that he should 
 attend to them—a view of the matter infinitely 
 more offensive than if his behaviour had been that 
 of uneducated and proper rudeness. While my 
 father said grace, the Laird did all but whistle 
 aloud; and when I, at my father’s desire, returned 
 thanks, he used his toothpick, as if he had waited 
 that moment for its exercise. 
 
 So much for Kirk —with King, matters went 
 even worse. My father, thou knowest, is particu- 
 larly full of deference to his guests; and in the 
 present case, he seemed more than usually desirous 
 to escape every cause of dispute. He so far com- 
 promised his loyalty, as to announce merely “The 
 King,” as hfs first toast after dinner, instead of the 
 emphatic “King George,’ which is his usual for- 
 mula. Our guest made a motion with his glass, so 
 as to pass it over the water-decanter which stood 
 beside him, and added, “ Over the water.”(n) 
 
 My father coloured, but would not seem to hear 
 this. Much more there was of careless and disre- 
 spectful in the stranger’s manner and tone of 
 conversation ; so that though I know my father’s 
 prejudices in favour of rank and birth, and though I 
 am aware his otherwise masculine understanding has 
 never entirely shaken off the slavish awe of the 
 great, which in his earlier days they had so many 
 modes of commanding, still I could hardly excuse 
 
68 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 him for enduring so much insolence — such it 
 seemed to be —as this self-invited guest was dis- 
 posed to offer to him at his own table. 
 
 One can endure a traveller in the same carriage, 
 if he treads upon your toes by accident, or even 
 through negligence; but it is very different when, 
 knowing that they are rather of a tender descrip- 
 tion, he continues to pound away at them with his 
 hoofs. In my poor opinion—and Iam a man of 
 peace — you can, in that case, hardly avoid a decla- 
 ration of war. 
 
 I believe my father read my thoughts in my eye ; 
 for, pulling out his watch, he said, “Half past-four, 
 Alan — you should be in your own room by this 
 time — Birrenswork will excuse you.” 
 
 Our visitor nodded carelessly, and I had no 
 longer any pretence to remain. But as I left the 
 room I heard this Magnate of Nithesdale distinctly 
 mention the name of Latimer. I lingered; but at 
 length a direct hint from my father obliged me 
 to withdraw; and when, an hour afterwards, I was 
 summoned to partake of a cup of tea, our guest had 
 departed. He had business that evening in the 
 High Street, and could not spare time even to drink 
 tea. I could not help saying, I considered his 
 departure as a relief from incivility. “ What busi- 
 ness has he to upbraid us,” I said, “with the change 
 of our dwelling from a more inconvenient to a better 
 quarter of the town? What was it to him if we 
 chose to imitate some of the conveniences or luxuries 
 of an English dwelling-house, instead of living piled 
 up above each other in flats? Have his patrician 
 birth and aristocratic fortunes given him any right 
 to censure those who dispose of the fruits of their 
 own industry, according to their own pleasure ?” 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 69 
 
 My father took a long pinch of snuff, and replied, 
 “Very well, Alan; very well indeed. I wish Mr. 
 Crossbite or Counsellor Pest had heard you; they 
 must have acknowledged that you have a talent for 
 forensic elocution ; and it may not be amiss to try 
 a little declamation at home now and then, to gather 
 audacity and keep yourself in breath. But touch- 
 ing the subject of this paraffle of words, it’s not 
 worth a pinch of tobacco. D’ye think that I care 
 for Mr. Herries of Birrenswork more than any other 
 gentleman who comes here about business, although 
 I do not care to go tilting at his throat, because he 
 speaks like a grey goose as he is? But to say no 
 more about him, I want to have Darsie Latimer’s 
 present direction; for it is possible I may have to 
 write the lad a line with my own hand—and yet 
 I do not well know — but give me the direction 
 at all events.” 
 
 I did so, and if you have heard from my father 
 accordingly, you know more, probably, about the 
 subject of this letter than I who write it. But if 
 you have not, then shall I have discharged a friend’s 
 duty, in letting you know that there certainly is 
 something afloat between this disagreeable Laird 
 and my father, in which you are considerably 
 interested. 
 
 Adieu! and although I have given thee a sub- 
 ject for waking dreams, beware of building a castle 
 too heavy for the foundation; which, in the pre- 
 sent instance, is barely the word Latimer occurring 
 in a conversation betwixt a gentleman of Dumfries- 
 shire and a W.S. of Edinburgh — Cetera prorsus 
 4gnoro. 
 
LETTER VIL. 
 DARSIE LATIMER TO ALAN FAIRFORD. 
 [In continuation of Letters III. and IV.] 
 
 I TouD thee I walked out into the open air with 
 my grave and stern landlord. I could now see more 
 perfectly than on the preceding night the secluded 
 glen, in which stood the two or three cottages which 
 appeared to be the abode of him and his family. 
 
 It was so narrow, in proportion to its depth, that 
 no ray of the morning sun was likely to reach it 
 till it should rise high in the horizon. Looking up 
 the dell, you saw a brawling brook issuing in foamy 
 haste from a covert of underwood, like a racehorse 
 impatient to arrive at the goal; and, if you gazed 
 yet more earnestly, you might observe part of a 
 high waterfall glimmering through the foliage, 
 and giving occasion, doubtless, to the precipitate 
 speed of the brook. Lower down, the stream became 
 more placid, and opened into a quiet piece of 
 water, which afforded a rude haven to two or three 
 fishermen’s boats, then lying high and dry on the 
 sand, the tide being out. Two or three miserable 
 huts could be seen beside this little haven, inhabited 
 probably by the owners of the boats, but inferior in 
 every respect to the establishment of mine host, 
 though that was miserable enough. 
 
 I had but a minute or two to make these observa- 
 tions, yet during that space my companion showed 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 71 
 
 symptoms of impatience, and more than once 
 shouted, “ Cristal Cristal Nixon,’ until the old 
 man of the preceding evening appeared at the door 
 of one of the neighbouring cottages or outhouses, 
 leading the strong black horse which I before 
 commemorated, ready bridled and saddled. My 
 conductor made Cristal a sign with his finger, and, 
 turning from the cottage door, led the way up the 
 steep path or ravine which connected the seques- 
 tered dell with the open country. 
 
 Had I been perfectly aware of the character of 
 the road down which I had been hurried with so 
 much impetuosity on the preceding evening, I 
 greatly question if I should have ventured the 
 descent; for it deserved no better name than the 
 channel of a torrent, now in a good measure filled 
 with water that dashed in foam and fury into the 
 dell, being swelled with the rains of the preceding 
 night. J ascended this ugly path with some diffi- 
 culty, although on foot, and felt dizzy when I 
 observed, from such traces as the rains had not 
 obliterated, that the horse seemed almost to have 
 shd down it upon his haunches the evening before. 
 
 My host threw himself on his horse’s back, with- 
 out placing a foot in the stirrup — passed me in the 
 perilous ascent, against which he pressed his steed 
 as if the animal had had the footing of a wild cat. 
 The water and mud splashed from his heels in his 
 reckless course, and a few bounds placed him on the 
 top of the bank, where I presently joined him, and 
 found the horse and rider standing still as a statue ; 
 the former panting and expanding his broad nos- 
 trils to the morning wind, the latter motionless, 
 with his eye fixed on the first beams of the rising 
 sun, which already began to peer above the eastern 
 
 
 
72 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 horizon, and gild the distant mountains of Cumber- 
 land and Liddesdale. 
 
 He seemed in a reverie, from which he started 
 at my approach, and putting his horse in motion, 
 led the way at a leisurely pace, through a broken 
 and sandy road, which traversed a waste, level, 
 and uncultivated tract of downs, intermixed with 
 morass, much like that in the neighbourhood of my 
 quarters at Shepherd’s Bush. Indeed the whole 
 open ground of this district, where it approaches 
 the sea, has, except in a few favoured spots, the 
 same uniform and dreary character. 
 
 Advancing about a hundred yards from the brink 
 of the glen, we gained a still more extensive com- 
 mand of this desolate prospect, which seemed even 
 more dreary, as contrasted with the opposite shores 
 of Cumberland, crossed and intersected by ten thou- 
 sand lines of trees growing in hedge-rows, shaded 
 with groves and woods of considerable extent, and 
 animated by hamlets and villas, from which thin 
 clouds of smoke already gave sign of human life 
 and human industry. 
 
 My conductor had extended his arm, and was 
 pointing the road to Shepherd’s Bush, when the 
 step of a horse was heard approaching us. He 
 looked sharply around, and having observed who 
 was approaching, proceeded in his instructions to 
 me, planting himself at the same time in the very 
 middle of the path, which, at the place where we 
 halted, had a slough on the one side, and a sand- 
 bank on the other. 
 
 I observed that the rider who approached us 
 slackened his horse’s pace from a slow trot to a 
 walk, as if desirous to suffer us to proceed, or at 
 least to avoid passing us at a spot where the diffi- 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 73 
 
 culty of doing so must have brought us very close 
 to each other. You know my old failing, Alan, 
 and that I am always willing to attend to any thing 
 in preference to the individual who has for the time 
 possession of the conversation. 
 
 Agreeably to this amiable propensity, I was 
 internally speculating concerning the cause of the 
 rider keeping aloof from us, when my companion, 
 elevating his deep voice so suddenly and so sternly, 
 as at once to recall my wandering thoughts, 
 -exclaimed, “In the name of the devil, young man, do 
 you think that others have no better use for their 
 time than you have, that you oblige me to repeat 
 the same thing to you three times over ?— Do you 
 see, I say, yonder thing at a mile’s distance, that 
 looks like a finger-post, or rather like a gallows? 
 —I would it had a dreaming fool hanging upon 
 it, as an example to all meditative moon-calves ! 
 — Yon gibbet-looking pole will guide you to the 
 bridge, where you must pass the large brook; then 
 proceed straight forwards, till several roads divide 
 at a cairn. — Plague on thee, thou art wandering 
 again !”’ 
 
 It is indeed quite true, that at this moment the 
 horseman approached us, and my attention was 
 again called to him as I made way to let him pass. 
 His whole exterior at once showed that he belonged 
 to the Society of Friends, or, as the world and the 
 world’s law call them, Quakers. A strong and 
 useful iron-grey galloway showed, by its sleek 
 and good condition, that the merciful man was 
 merciful to his beast. His accoutrements were in 
 the usual unostentatious, but clean and serviceable 
 order, which characterises these sectaries. His 
 long surtout of dark-grey superfine cloth descended 
 
74 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 down to the middle of his leg, and was buttoned 
 up to his chin, to defend him against the morning 
 air. As usual, his ample beaver hung down with- 
 out button or loop, and shaded a comely and placid 
 countenance, the gravity of which appeared to con- 
 tain some seasoning of humour, and had nothing in 
 common with the pinched puritanical air affected 
 by devotees in general. The brow was open and 
 free from wrinkles, whether of age or hypocrisy. 
 The eye was clear, calm, and considerate, yet 
 appeared to be disturbed by apprehension, not to say 
 fear, as, pronouncing the usual salutation of “I wish 
 thee a good morrow, friend,’ he indicated, by 
 turning his palfrey close to one side of the path, a 
 wish to glide past us with as little trouble as pos- 
 sible — just as a traveller would choose to pass a 
 mastiff of whose peaceable intentions he is by no 
 means confident. 
 
 But my friend, not meaning, perhaps, that he 
 should get off so easily, put his horse quite across 
 the path, so that, without plunging into the slough, 
 or scrambling up the bank, the Quaker could not 
 have passed him. Neither of these was an expe- 
 riment without hazard greater than the passenger 
 seemed willing to incur. He halted, therefore, as 
 if waiting till my companion should make way for 
 him; and, as they sat fronting each other, I could 
 not help thinking that they might have formed no 
 bad emblem of Peace and War; for although my 
 conductor was unarmed, yet the whole of his 
 manner, his stern look, and his upright seat on horse- 
 back, were entirely those of a soldier in undress. 
 He accosted the Quaker in these words, —“So ho! 
 friend Joshua—thou art early to the road this 
 morning. Has the spirit moved thee and thy 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 75 
 
 righteous brethren to act with some honesty, and 
 pull down yonder tide-nets that keep the fish from 
 coming up the river?” 
 
 “Surely, friend, not so,” answered Joshua, firmly, 
 but good-humouredly at the same time; “ thou canst 
 not expect that our own hands should pull down 
 what our own purses established. Thou killest the 
 fish with spear, line, and coble-net; and we, with 
 snares and with nets, which work by the ebb and 
 the flow of the tide. Each doth what seems best in 
 his eyes to secure a share of the blessing which 
 Providence hath bestowed on the river, and that 
 within his own bounds. I prithee seek no quarrel 
 against us, for thou shalt have no wrong at our 
 hand.” 
 
 “Be assured I will take none at the hand of 
 any man, whether his hat be cocked or broad- 
 brimmed,” answered the fisherman. “T tell you in 
 fair terms, Joshua Geddes, that you and your part- 
 ners are using unlawful craft to destroy the fish in 
 the Solway by stake-nets and wears; and that we, 
 who fish fairly, and like men, as our fathers did, 
 have daily and yearly less sport and less profit. 
 Do not think gravity or hypocrisy can carry it off 
 as you have done. The world knows you, and we 
 know you. You will destroy the salmon which 
 make the livelihood of fifty poor families, and then 
 wipe your mouth, and go to.make a speech at 
 Meeting. But do not hope it will last thus. I 
 give you fair warning, we will be upon you one 
 morning soon, when we will not leave a stake 
 standing in the pools of the Solway ; and down the 
 tide they shall every one go, and wellif we do not 
 send a lessee along with them.” 
 
 “Friend,” replied Joshua, with a constrained 
 
76 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 smile, “but that I know thou dost not mean as 
 thou say’st, I would tell thee we are under the pro- 
 tection of this country’s laws; nor do we the less 
 trust to obtain their protection, that our principles 
 permit us not, by any act of violent resistance, to 
 protect ourselves.” 
 
 “All villainous cant and cowardice,” exclaimed 
 the fisherman, “and assumed merely as a cloak to 
 your hypocritical avarice.” 
 
 “Nay, say not cowardice, my friend,” answered 
 the Quaker, “since thou knowest there may be 
 as much courage in enduring as in acting; and I 
 will be judged by this youth, or by any one else, 
 whether there is not more cowardice — even in the 
 opinion of that world whose thoughts are the breath 
 in thy nostrils — in the armed oppressor, who doth 
 injury, than in the defenceless and patient sufferer, 
 who endureth it with constancy.” 
 
 “T will change no more words with you on the 
 subject,” said the fisherman, who, as if something 
 moved at the last argument which Mr. Geddes had 
 used, now made room for him to pass forward on 
 his journey. — “ Do not forget, however,” he added, 
 “that you have had fair warning, nor suppose that 
 we will accept of fair words in apology for foul play. 
 These nets of yours are unlawful —they spoil our 
 fishings — and we will have them down at all risks 
 and hazards. I am a man of my word, friend 
 Joshua.” 
 
 “T trust thou art,” said the Quaker; “but thou 
 art the rather bound to be cautious in rashly affirm- 
 ing what thou wilt never execute. For I tell thee, 
 friend, that though there is as great a difference 
 between thee and one of our people, as there is 
 between a lion and a sheep, yet I know and believe 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 77 
 
 thou hast so much of the lion in thee, that thou 
 wouldst scarce employ thy strength and thy rage 
 upon that which professeth no means of resistance. 
 Report says so much good of thee, at least, if it says 
 little more.” 
 
 “Time will try,’ answered the fisherman ; “and 
 hark thee, Joshua, before we part I will put thee 
 in the way of doing one good deed, which, credit 
 me, is better than twenty moral speeches. Here 
 is a stranger youth, whom heaven has so scantily 
 gifted with brains, that he will bewilder himself in 
 the Sands, as he did last night, unless thou wilt 
 kindly show him the way to Shepherd’s Bush ; for 
 I have been in vain endeavouring to make him com- 
 prehend the road thither —Hast thou so much 
 charity under thy simplicity, Quaker, as to do this 
 good turn ?” 
 
 “ Nay, it is thou, friend,’ answered Joshua, “that 
 dost lack charity, to suppose any one unwilling to 
 do so simple a kindness.” 
 
 “Thou art right—I should have remembered 
 it can cost thee nothing. — Young gentleman, this 
 pious pattern of primitive simplicity will teach thee 
 the right way to the Shepherd’s Bush —ay, and 
 will himself shear thee like a sheep, if you come to 
 buying and selling with him.” 
 
 He then abruptly asked me, how long I intended 
 to remain at Shepherd’s Bush. 
 
 I replied I was at present uncertain — as 
 long, probably, as I could amuse myself in the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 “You are fond of sport?” he added, in the same 
 tone of brief enquiry. 
 
 I answered in the affirmative, but added, I was 
 totally inexperienced. 
 
78 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 “Perhaps if you reside here for some. days,” he 
 said, “we may meet again, and I may have the 
 chance of giving you a lesson.” 
 
 Ere I could express either thanks or assent, he 
 turned short round with a wave of his hand, by 
 way of adieu, and rode back to the verge of the dell 
 from which we had emerged together; and as he 
 remained standing upon the banks, I could long 
 hear his voice while he shouted down to those 
 within its recesses. 
 
 Meanwhile the Quaker and I proceeded on our 
 journey for some time in silence; he restraining 
 his soberminded steed to a pace which might have 
 suited a much less active walker than myself, and 
 looking on me from time to time with an expres- 
 sion of curiosity, mingled with benignity. For my 
 part, I cared not to speak first. It happened I had 
 never before been in company with one of this par- 
 ticular sect, and, afraid that in addressing him I 
 might unwittingly infringe upon some of their 
 prejudices or peculiarities, I patiently remained 
 silent. At length he asked me, whether I had 
 been long in the service of the Laird, as men 
 called him. | 
 
 I repeated the words “in his service?” with such 
 an accent of surprise, as Induced him to say, “ Nay, 
 but, friend, I mean no offence; perhaps I should 
 have said in his society —an inmate, I mean, in his 
 house ?” 
 
 “J am totally unknown to the person from whom 
 we have just parted,” said I, “and our connexion is 
 only temporary — He had the charity to give me 
 his guidance from the Sands, and a night’s har- 
 bourage from the tempest. So our acquaintance 
 began, and there it is likely to end; for you may 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 79 
 
 observe that our friend is by no means “pt to 
 encourage familiarity.” 
 
 “So little so,” answered my companion, “ “that 
 thy case is, I think, the first in which I ever heard 
 of his receiving any one into his house; that is, if 
 thou hast really spent the night there.” 
 
 “Why should you doubt it?” replied I; “there 
 is no motive I can have to deceive you, nor is the 
 object worth it.” 
 
 “Be not angry with me,” said the Quaker; “but 
 thou knowest that thine own people do not, as we 
 humbly endeavour to do, confine themselves within 
 the simplicity of truth, but employ the language of 
 falsehood, not only for profit, but for compliment, 
 and sometimes for mere diversion. I have heard 
 various stories of my neighbour; of most of which I 
 only believe a small part, and even then they are 
 difficult to reconcile with each other. But this being 
 the first time I ever heard of his receiving a stranger 
 within his dwelling, made me express some doubts. 
 I pray thee let them not offend thee.” 
 
 “He does not,” said I, “appear to possess in much 
 abundance the means of exercising hospitality, and 
 so may be excused from offering it in ordinary 
 cases.” 
 
 “That is to say, friend,” replied Joshua, “thou hast 
 supped ill, and perhaps breakfasted worse. Now my 
 small tenement, called Mount Sharon, is nearer to 
 us by two miles than thine inn; and although going 
 thither may prolong thy walk, as taking thee off the 
 straighter road to Shepherd’s Bush, yet methinks 
 exercise will suit thy youthful limbs, as well as a 
 good plain meal thy youthful appetite. What say’st 
 thou, my young acquaintance ?” 
 
 “Tf it puts you not to inconvenience,” I replied ; 
 
80 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 for the invitation was cordially given, and my bread 
 and milk had been hastily swallowed, and in small 
 quantity. 
 
 “Nay,” said Joshua, “use not the language of 
 compliment with those who renounce it. Had this 
 poor courtesy been very inconvenient, perhaps I had 
 not offered it.” 
 
 “TI accept the invitation then,” said I, “in the 
 same good spirit in which you give it.” 
 
 The Quaker smiled, reached me his hand, I shook 
 it, and we travelled on in great cordiality with each 
 other. The fact is, I was much entertained by con- 
 trasting in my own mind, the open manner of the 
 kind-hearted Joshua Geddes, with the abrupt, dark, 
 and lofty demeanour of my entertainer on the pre- 
 ceding evening. Both were blunt and unceremo- 
 nious; but the plainness of the Quaker had the 
 character of devotional simplicity, and was mingled 
 with the more real kindness, as if honest Joshua 
 was desirous of atoning, by his sincerity, for the 
 lack of external courtesy. On the contrary, the 
 manners of the fisherman were those of one to 
 whom the rules of good behaviour might be famil- 
 iar, but who, either from pride or misanthropy, 
 scorned to observe them. Still I thought of him 
 with interest and curiosity, notwithstanding so 
 much about him that was repulsive; and I prom- 
 ised myself, in the course of my conversation with 
 the Quaker, to learn all that he knew on the sub- 
 ject. He turned the conversation, however, into a 
 different channel, and enquired into my own con- 
 dition of life, and views in visiting this remote 
 frontier. 
 
 I only thought it necessary to mention my name, 
 and add, that I had been educated to the law, but 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 81 
 
 finding myself possessed of some independence, I 
 had of late permitted myself some relaxation, and 
 was residing at Shepherd’s Bush to enjoy the plea- 
 sure of angling. 
 
 “IT do thee no harm, young man,” said my new 
 friend, “in wishing thee a better employment for 
 thy grave hours, and a more humane amusement (if 
 amusement thou must have) for those of a lighter 
 character.” 
 
 “You are severe, sir,’ I replied. “I heard you 
 but a moment since refer yourself to the protection 
 of the laws of the country —if there be laws, there 
 must be lawyers to explain, and judges to adminis- 
 ter them.” 
 
 Joshua smiled, and pointed to the sheep which 
 were grazing on the downs over which we were 
 travelling. —“ Were a wolf,” he said, ‘‘to come even 
 now upon yonder flocks, they would crowd for pro- 
 tection, doubtless, around the shepherd and his dogs; 
 yet they are bitten and harassed daily by the one, 
 shorn, and finally killed and eaten by the other. 
 But I say not this to shock you; for, though laws 
 and lawyers are evils, yet they are necessary evils 
 in this probationary state of society, till man shall 
 learn to render unto his fellows that which is their 
 due, according to the light of his own conscience, 
 and through no other compulsion. Meanwhile, I 
 have known many righteous men who have followed 
 thy intended profession in honesty and uprightness 
 of walk. The greater their merit, who walk erect 
 in a path which so many find slippery.” 
 
 “ And angling,”— said I, “you object to that also 
 as an amusement, you who, if I understood rightly 
 what passed between you and my late landlord, are 
 
 yourself a proprietor of fisheries ?” 
 VOL. I.— 6 
 
82 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 “Not a proprietor,” he replied, “I am only, in 
 copartnery with others, a tacksman or lessee of some 
 valuable salmon-fisheries a little down the coast. 
 But mistake me not. The evil of angling, with 
 which I class all sports, as they are called, which 
 have the sufferings of animals for their end and 
 object, does not consist in the mere catching and 
 kiling those animals with which the bounty of 
 Providence hath stocked the earth for the good of 
 man, but in making their protracted agony a prin- 
 ciple of delight and enjoyment. I do indeed cause 
 these fisheries to be conducted for the necessary 
 taking, killing, and selling the fish; and, in the 
 same way, were I a farmer, I should send my lambs 
 to market. But I should as soon think of contriv- 
 ing myself a sport and amusement out of the trade 
 of the butcher as out of that of the fisher.” 
 
 We argued this point no farther; for though I 
 thought his arguments a little too high-strained, 
 yet as my mind acquitted me of having taken 
 delight in aught but the theory of field-sports, I did 
 not think myself called upon stubbornly to advo- 
 cate a practice which had afforded me so little 
 pleasure. 
 
 We had by this time arrived at the remains of 
 an old finger-post, which my host had formerly 
 pointed out as a landmark. Here, a ruinous wooden 
 bridge, supported by long posts resembling crutches, 
 served me to get across the water, while my new 
 friend sought a ford a good way higher up, for the 
 stream was considerably swelled. 
 
 As I paused for his rejoining me, I observed an 
 angler at a little distance pouching trout after trout, 
 as fast almost as he could cast his line; and I own, 
 in spite of Joshua’s lecture on humanity, I could 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 83 
 
 not but envy his adroitness and success, — so natu- 
 ral is the love of sport to our minds, or so easily 
 are we taught to assimilate success in field-sports 
 with ideas of pleasure, and with the praise due to 
 address and agility. I soon recognised in the suc- 
 cessful angler little Benjie, who had been my guide 
 and tutor in that gentle art, as you have learned 
 from my former letters. I called —I whistled — 
 the rascal recognised me, and, starting like a guilty 
 thing, seemed hesitating whether to approach or to 
 run away ; and when he determined on the former, 
 it was to assail me with a loud, clamorous, and 
 exaggerated report of the anxiety of all at the 
 Shepherd’s Bush for my personal safety ; how my 
 landlady had wept, how Sam and the ostler had not 
 the heart to go to bed, but sat up all night drinking 
 —and how he himself had been up long before day- 
 break to go in quest of me. 
 
 “ And you were switching the water, I suppose,” 
 said I, “ to discover my dead body ?” 
 
 This observation produced a long “ Na —a— a” 
 of acknowledged detection; but, with his natural 
 impudence, and confidence in my good-nature, he 
 immediately added, “ that he thought I would like 
 a fresh trout or twa for breakfast, and the water 
 being in such rare trim for the saumon raun,! (0) 
 he couldna help taking a cast.” 
 
 While we were engaged in this discussion, the 
 honest Quaker returned to the farther end of the 
 wooden bridge to tell me he could not venture to 
 cross the brook in its present state, but would be 
 under the necessity to ride round by the stone 
 
 1 The bait made of salmon-row salted and preserved. In a 
 
 swollen river, and about the month of October, it is a most deadly 
 bait. 
 
84 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 bridge, which was a mile and a half higher up than 
 his own house. He was about to give me directions 
 how to proceed without him, and enquire for his 
 sister, when I suggested to him, that if he pleased 
 to trust his horse to little Benjie, the boy might 
 carry him round by the bridge, while we walked 
 the shorter and more pleasant road. 
 
 Joshua shook his head, for he was well acquainted 
 with Benjie, who, he said, was the naughtiest varlet 
 in the whole neighbourhood. Nevertheless, rather 
 than part company, he agreed to put the pony 
 under his charge for a short season, with many 
 injunctions that he should not attempt to mount, 
 but lead the pony (even Solomon) by the bridle, 
 under the assurances of sixpence in case of proper 
 demeanour, and penalty that if he transgressed 
 the orders given him, “verily he should be 
 scourged.” 
 
 Promises cost Benjie nothing, and he showered 
 them out wholesale; till the Quaker at length 
 yielded up the bridle to him, repeating his charges, 
 and enforcing them by holding up his forefinger. 
 On my part, I called to Benjie to leave the fish he 
 had taken at Mount Sharon, making, at the same 
 time, an apologetic countenance to my new friend, 
 not being quite aware whether the compliment would 
 be agreeable to such a condemner of field-sports. 
 
 He understood me at once, and reminded me of 
 the practical distinction betwixt catching the ani- 
 mals as an object of cruel and wanton sport, and 
 eating them as lawful and gratifying articles of food 
 after they were killed. On the latter point he had 
 no scruples ; but, on the contrary, assured me, that 
 this brook contained the real red trout, so highly 
 esteemed by all connoisseurs, and that, when eaten 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 85 
 
 within an hour of their being caught, they had a 
 peculiar firmness of substance and delicacy of fla- 
 vour, which rendered them an agreeable addition to 
 a morning meal, especially when earned, like ours, 
 by early rising, and an hour or two’s wholesome 
 exercise. 
 
 But to thy alarm be it spoken, Alan, we did not 
 come so far as the frying of our fish without farther 
 adventure. So it is only to spare thy patience, and 
 mine own eyes, that I pull up for the present, and 
 send thee the rest of my story in a subsequent 
 letter. | 
 
LETTER VIL. 
 THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
 [In continuation.] 
 
 LITTLE BENJIE, with the pony, having been sent 
 off on the left side of the brook, the Quaker and I 
 sauntered on, like the cavalry and infantry of the 
 same army occupying the opposite banks of a river, 
 and observing the same line of march. But, while 
 my worthy companion was assuring me of a plea- 
 sant greensward walk to his mansion, little Benjie, 
 who had been charged to keep in sight, chose to 
 deviate from the path assigned him, and, turning 
 to the right, led his charge, Solomon, out of our 
 vision. 
 
 “The villain means to mount him!” cried Joshua, 
 with more vivacity than was consistent with his 
 profession of passive endurance. 
 
 I endeavoured to appease his apprehensions, as 
 he pushed on, wiping his brow with vexation, 
 assuring him, that if the boy did mount, he would, 
 for his own sake, ride gently. 
 
 “You do not know him,” said Joshua, rejecting 
 all consolation ; “he do any thing gently ! — no, he 
 will gallop Solomon — he will misuse the sober 
 patience of the poor animal who has borne me so 
 long! Yes, I was given over to my own devices 
 when I ever let him touch the bridle, for such a 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 87 
 
 little miscreant there never was before him in this 
 country !” 
 
 He then proceeded to expatiate on every sort of 
 rustic enormity of which he accused Benjie. He 
 had been suspected of snaring partridges — was 
 detected by Joshua himself in liming singing birds 
 — stood fully charged with having worried several 
 cats, by aid of a lurcher which attended him, and 
 which was as lean, and ragged, and mischievous, as 
 his master. Finally, Benjie stood accused of hav- 
 ing stolen a duck, to hunt it with the said lurcher, 
 which was as dexterous on water as on land. I 
 chimed in with my friend, in order to avoid giving 
 him farther irritation, and declared, I should be 
 disposed, from my own experience, to give up Benjie 
 as one of Satan’s imps. Joshua Geddes began to 
 censure the phrase as too much exaggerated, and 
 otherwise unbecoming the mouth of a reflecting 
 person; and, just as I was apologizing for it, as 
 being a term of common parlance, we heard certain 
 sounds on the opposite side of the brook, which 
 seemed to indicate that Solomon and Benjie were 
 at issue together. The sand-hills behind which 
 Benjie seemed to take his course, had concealed 
 from us, as doubtless he meant they should, his 
 ascent into the forbidden saddle, and, putting Solo- 
 mon to his mettle, which he was seldom called upon 
 to exert, they had cantered away together in great 
 amity, till they came near to the ford from which 
 the palfrey’s legitimate owner had already turned 
 back. 
 
 Here a contest of opinions took place between the 
 horse and his rider. The latter, according to his 
 instructions, attempted to direct Solomon towards 
 the distant bridge of stone; but Solomon opined 
 
88 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 that the ford was the shortest way to his own 
 stable. The point was sharply contested, and we 
 heard Benjie gee-hupping, tchek-tcheking, and, above 
 all, flogging in great style; while Solomon, who, 
 docile in his general habits, was now stirred beyond 
 his patience, made a great trampling and recalcitra- 
 tion; and it was their joint noise which we heard, 
 without being able to see, though Joshua might too 
 well guess, the cause of it. 
 
 Alarmed at these indications, the Quaker began 
 to shout out, “Benjie — thou varlet! — Solomon 
 —thou fool!” when the couple presented them- 
 selves in full drive, Solomon having now decidedly 
 obtained the better of the conflict, and bringing his 
 unwilling rider in high career down to the ford. 
 Never was there anger changed so fast into humane 
 
 
 
 fear, as that of my good companion. “The varlet 
 will be drowned!” he exclaimed — “a widow’s son ! 
 — her only son !— and drowned! — let me go” 
 
 And he struggled with me stoutly as I hung upon 
 him, to prevent him from plunging into the ford. 
 
 I had no fear whatever for Benjie; for the black- 
 guard vermin, though he could not manage the 
 refractory horse, stuck on his seat like a monkey. 
 Solomon and Benjie scrambled through the. ford 
 with little inconvenience, and resumed their gallop 
 on the other side. 
 
 It was impossible to guess whether on this last 
 occasion Benjie was running off with Solomon, or 
 Solomon with Benjie; but, judging from character 
 and motives, I rather suspected the former. I could 
 not help laughing as the rascal passed me, grinning 
 betwixt terror and delight, perched on the very 
 pommel of the saddle, and holding with extended 
 arms by bridle and mane; while Solomon, the bit 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 89 
 
 secured between his teeth, and his head bored down 
 betwixt his fore-legs, passed his master in this 
 unwonted guise as hard as he could pelt. 
 
 “The mischievous bastard!” exclaimed the 
 Quaker, terrified out of his usual moderation of 
 speech — “the doomed gallows-bird!— he will 
 
 break Solomon’s wind to a certainty.” 
 
 I prayed him to be comforted — assured him a 
 brushing gallop would do his favourite no harm — 
 and reminded him of the censure he had bestowed 
 on me a minute before, for applying a harsh epithet 
 to the boy. 
 
 But Joshua was not without his answer; — 
 “Friend youth,” he said, “thou didst speak of the 
 lad’s soul, which thou didst affirm belonged to the 
 enemy, and of that thou couldst say nothing of thine 
 own knowledge; on the contrary, I did but speak 
 of his outward man, which will assuredly be sus- 
 pended by a cord, if he mendeth not his manners. 
 Men say that, young as he is, he is one of the 
 Laird’s gang.” 
 
 “Of the Laird’s gang!” said I, repeating the 
 words in surprise — “Do you mean the person with 
 whom I slept last night? —I heard you call him 
 the Laird — Is he at the head of a gang?” 
 
 “Nay, I meant not precisely a gang,” said the 
 Quaker, who appeared in his haste to have spoken 
 more than he intended —“a company, or party, I 
 should have said; but thus it is, friend Latimer, 
 with the wisest men, when they permit themselves 
 to be perturbed with passion, and speak as in a 
 fever, or as with the tongue of the foolish and the 
 forward. And although thou hast been hasty to 
 mark my infirmity, yet I grieve not that thou hast 
 been a witness to it, seeing that the stumbles of the 
 
90 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 wise may be no less a caution to youth and inex- 
 perience than is the fall of the foolish.” 
 
 This was a sort of acknowledgment of what I 
 had already begun to suspect — that my new friend’s 
 real goodness of disposition, joined to the acquired 
 quietism of his religious sect, had been unable 
 entirely to check the effervescence of a temper 
 naturally warm and hasty. 
 
 Upon the present occasion, as if sensible he had 
 displayed a greater degree of emotion than became 
 his character, Joshua avoided farther allusion to 
 Benjie and Solomon, and proceeded to solicit my 
 attention to the natural objects around us, which 
 increased in beauty and interest, as, still conducted 
 by the meanders of the brook, we left the common 
 behind us, and entered a more cultivated and 
 enclosed country, where arable and pasture ground 
 was agreeably varied with groves and _ hedges. 
 Descending now almost close to the stream, our 
 course lay through a little gate, into a pathway, kept 
 with great neatness, the sides of which were deco- 
 rated with trees and flowering shrubs of the hardier 
 species ; until, ascending by a gentle slope, we issued 
 from the grove, and stood almost at once in front 
 of a low but very neat building, of an irregular 
 form; and my guide, shaking me cordially by the 
 hand, made me welcome to Mount Sharon. 
 
 The wood through which we had approached this 
 little mansion was thrown around it both on the 
 north and north-west, but, breaking off into differ- 
 ent directions, was intersected by a few fields, well 
 watered and sheltered. The house fronted to the 
 south-east, and from thence the pleasure-ground, or, 
 I should rather say, the gardens, sloped down to 
 the water. I afterwards understood that the father 
 
REDGAUNTLERT. QI 
 
 of the present proprietor had a considerable taste 
 for horticulture, which had been inherited by his 
 son, and had formed these gardens, which, with 
 their shaven turf, pleached alleys, wildernesses, and 
 exotic trees and shrubs, greatly excelled any thing 
 of the kind which had been attempted in the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 If there was a little vanity in the complacent 
 smile with which Joshua Geddes saw me gaze with 
 delight on a scene so different from the naked waste 
 we had that day traversed in company, it might 
 surely be permitted to one, who, cultivating and 
 improving the beauties of nature, had found therein, 
 as he said, bodily health and a pleasing relaxation 
 for the mind. At the bottom of the extended 
 gardens the brook wheeled round in a wide semi- 
 circle, and was itself their boundary. The opposite 
 side was no part of Joshua’s domain, but the brook 
 was there skirted by a precipitous rock of lime- 
 stone, which seemed a barrier of Nature’s own 
 erecting around his little Eden of beauty, comfort, 
 and peace. 
 
 “But I must not let thee forget,” said the kind 
 Quaker, ‘‘amidst thy admiration of these beauties 
 of our little inheritance, that thy breakfast has been 
 a light one.” 
 
 So saying, Joshua conducted me to a small sashed 
 door, opening under a porch amply mantled by 
 honeysuckle and clematis, into a parlour of moder- 
 ate size; the furniture of which, in plainness and 
 excessive cleanliness, bore the characteristic marks 
 of the sect to which the owner belonged. 
 
 Thy father’s Hannah is generally allowed to be 
 an exception to all Scottish housekeepers, and stands 
 unparalleled for cleanliness among the women of 
 
92 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 Auld Reekie; but the cleanliness of Hannah is slut- 
 tishness, compared to the scrupulous purifications 
 of these people, who seem to carry into the minor 
 decencies of life that conscientious rigour which 
 they affect in their morals. 
 
 The parlour would have been gloomy, for the 
 windows were small and the ceiling low; but the 
 present proprietor had rendered it more cheerful by 
 opening one end into a small conservatory, roofed 
 with glass, and divided from the parlour by a parti- 
 tion of the same. I have never before seen this 
 very pleasing manner of uniting the comforts of an 
 apartment with the beauties of a garden, and I 
 wonder it is not more practised by the great. 
 Something of the kind is hinted at in a paper of 
 the Spectator. 
 
 As I walked towards the conservatory to view it 
 more Closely, the parlour chimney engaged my atten- 
 tion. It wasa pile of massive stone, entirely out 
 of proportion to the size of the apartment. On 
 the front had once been an armorial scutcheon ; for 
 the hammer, or chisel, which had been employed 
 to deface the shield and crest, had left uninjured 
 the scroll beneath, which bore the pious motto, 
 “Trust in God.’ Black-letter, you know, was my 
 early passion, and the tombstones in the Greyfriars’ 
 Churchyard early yielded up to my knowledge as 
 a decipherer what little they could tell of the for- 
 gotten dead. | 
 
 Joshua Geddes paused when he saw my eye fixed 
 on this relic of antiquity. “Thou canst read it?” 
 he said. 
 
 I repeated the motto, and added, there seemed 
 vestiges of a date. 
 
 “Tt should be 1537,” said he; “for so long ago, 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 93 
 
 at the least computation, did my ancestors, in the 
 blinded times of Papistry, possess these lands, and 
 in that year did they build their house.” 
 
 “Tt is an ancient descent,” said I, looking with 
 respect upon the monument. “I am sorry the arms 
 have been defaced.” 
 
 It was perhaps impossible for my friend, Quaker 
 as he was, to seem altogether void of respect for the 
 pedigree which he began to recount to me, disclaim- 
 ing all the while the vanity usually connected with 
 the subject; in short, with the air of mingled 
 melancholy, regret, and conscious dignity, with 
 which Jack Fawkes used to tell us, at College, 
 of his ancestor’s unfortunate connexion with the 
 Gunpowder-Plot. 
 
 “Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher,” — thus 
 harangued Joshua Geddes of Mount Sharon ;— “if 
 we ourselves are nothing in the sight of Heaven, 
 how much less than nothing must be our derivation 
 from rotten bones and mouldering dust, whose 
 immortal spirits have long since gone to their pri- 
 vate account! Yes, friend Latimer, my ancestors 
 were renowned among the ravenous and bloodthirsty 
 men who then dwelt in this vexed country; and so 
 much were they famed for successful freebooting, 
 robbery, and bloodshed, that they are said to have 
 been called Geddes, as hkening them to the fish 
 called a Jack, Pike, or Luce, and in our country 
 tongue, a Ged —a goodly distinction truly for Chris- 
 tian men! Yet did they paint this shark of the 
 fresh waters upon their shields, and these profane 
 priests of a wicked idolatry, the empty boasters 
 called heralds, who make engraven images of fishes, 
 fowls, and fourfooted beasts, that men may fall 
 down and worship them, assigned the Ged for the 
 
94 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 device and escutcheon of my fathers, and hewed it 
 over their chimneys, and placed it above their 
 tombs; and the men were elated in mind, and 
 became yet more Ged-like, slaying, leading into cap- 
 tivity, and dividing the spoil, until the place where 
 they dwelt obtained the name of Sharing-Knowe, 
 from the booty which was there divided amongst 
 them and their accomplices. But a better judg- 
 ment was given to my father’s father, Philip Geddes, 
 who, after trying to hght his candle at some of the 
 vain wildfires then held aloft at different meetings 
 and steeple-houses, at length obtained a spark from 
 the lamp of the blessed George Fox, who came 
 into Scotland spreading ight among darkness, as 
 he himself hath written, as plentifully as fly the 
 sparkles from the hoof of the horse which gallops 
 swiftly along the stony road.” — Here the good 
 Quaker interrupted himself with, “And that is 
 very true, I must go speedily to see after the con- 
 dition of Solomon.” 
 
 A Quaker servant here entered the room with a 
 tray, and inclining his head towards his master, but 
 not after the manner of one who bows, said com- 
 posedly, “Thou art welcome home, friend Joshua, 
 we expected thee not so early; but what hath 
 befallen Solomon thy horse?” 
 
 “What hath befallen him, indeed!” said my 
 friend; “hath he not been returned hither by the 
 child whom they call Benjie ?” 
 
 “He hath,” said his domestic, “but it was after 
 a strange fashion; for he came hither at a swift 
 and furious pace, and flung the child Benjie from 
 his back, upon the heap of dung which is in the 
 stable-yard.” 
 
 “Tam glad of it,” said Joshua, hastily, — “glad 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 95 
 
 of it, with all my heart and spirit !— But stay, he 
 is the child of the widow — hath the boy any hurt?” 
 
 “Not so,” answered the servant, “for he rose and 
 fled swiftly.” 
 
 Joshua muttered something about a scourge, and 
 then enquired after Solomon’s present condition. 
 
 “He seetheth lke a steaming caldron,” answered 
 the servant; “and Bauldie, the lad, walketh him 
 about the yard with a halter, lest he take cold.” 
 
 Mr. Geddes hastened to the stable-yard to view 
 personally the condition of his favourite, and I fol- 
 lowed, to offer my counsel as a jockey — Don’t 
 laugh, Alan; sure I have jockeyship enough to 
 assist a Quaker — in this unpleasing predicament. 
 
 The lad who was leading the horse seemed to be 
 no Quaker, though his intercourse with the family 
 had given him a touch of their prim sobriety of look 
 and manner. He assured Joshua that his horse had 
 received no injury, and I even hinted that the exer- 
 cise would be of service to him. Solomon himself 
 neighed towards his master, and rubbed his head 
 against the good Quaker’s shoulder, as if to assure 
 him of his being quit? well; so that Joshua returned 
 in comfort to his parlour, where breakfast was now 
 about to be displayed. 
 
 I have since learned that the affection of Joshua 
 for his pony is considered as inordinate by some of 
 his own sect; and that he has been much blamed 
 for permitting it to be called by the name of 
 Solomon, or any other name whatever; but he has 
 gained so much respect and influence among them 
 that they overlook these foibles. 
 
 I learned from him (whilst the old servant, 
 Jehoiachim, entering and re-entering, seemed to 
 make no end of the materials which he brought in 
 
96 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 for breakfast) that his grandfather Philip, the con- 
 vert of George Fox, had suffered much from the 
 persecution to which these harmless devotees were 
 subjected on all sides during that intolerant period, 
 and much of their family estate had been dilapi- 
 dated. But better days dawned on Joshua’s father, 
 who, connecting himself by marriage with a wealthy 
 family of Quakers in Lancashire, engaged suc- 
 cessfully in various branches of commerce, and 
 redeemed the remnants of the property, changing 
 its name in sense, without much alteration of sound, 
 from the Border appellation of Sharing-Knowe, to 
 the evangelical appellation of Mount Sharon. 
 
 This Philip Geddes, as I before hinted, had 
 imbibed the taste for horticulture and the pursuits 
 of the florist, which are not uncommon among the 
 peaceful sect he belongs to. He had destroyed 
 the remnants of the old peel-house, substituting 
 the modern mansion in its place; and while he 
 reserved the hearth of his ancestors, in memory of 
 their hospitality, as also the pious motto which they 
 had chanced to assume, he failed not to obliterate 
 the worldly and military emblems displayed upon 
 the shield and helmet, together with all their 
 blazonry. 
 
 In a few minutes after Mr. Geddes had concluded 
 the account of himself and his family, his sister 
 Rachel, the only surviving member of it, entered 
 the room. Her appearance is remarkably pleasing, 
 and although her age is certainly thirty at least, 
 she still retains the shape and motion of an earlier 
 period. The absence of every thing lke fashion or 
 ornament was, as usual, atoned for by the most 
 perfect neatness and cleanliness of her dress; and 
 her simple close cap was particularly suited to eyes 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 97 
 
 which had the softness and simplicity of the dove’s. 
 Her features were also extremely agreeable, but 
 had suffered a little through the ravages of that 
 professed enemy to beauty, the small-pox; a dis- 
 advantage which was in part counterbalanced by 
 a well-formed mouth, teeth lke pearls, and a 
 pleasing sobriety of smile, that seemed to wish 
 good here and hereafter to every one she spoke to. 
 You cannot make any of your vile inferences here, 
 Alan, for I have given a full-length picture of 
 Rachel Geddes; so that you cannot say in this 
 case, as in the letter I have just received, that she 
 was passed over as a subject on which I feared 
 to dilate. More of this anon. 
 
 Well, we settled to our breakfast after a blessing, 
 or rather an extempore prayer, which Joshua made 
 upon the occasion, and which the spirit moved him 
 to prolong rather more than I felt altogether agree- 
 able. Then, Alan, there was such a dispatching of 
 the good things of the morning, as you have not 
 witnessed since you have seen Darsie Latimer at 
 breakfast. Tea and chocolate, eggs, ham, and 
 pastry, not forgetting the broiled fish, disappeared 
 with a celerity which seemed to astonish the good- 
 humoured Quakers, who kept loading my plate with 
 supplies, as if desirous of seeing whether they could 
 by any possibility tire me out. One hint, however, 
 IT received, which put me in mind where I was. 
 Miss Geddes had offered me some_ sweet-cake, 
 which, at the moment, I declined; but presently 
 afterwards, seeing it within my reach, I naturally 
 enough helped myself to a slice, and had just depos- 
 ited it beside my plate, when Joshua, mine host, 
 not with the authoritative air of Sancho’s doctor, 
 Tirtea Fuera, but in a very calm and quiet manner, 
 
 VOL. 1.-——7 
 
98 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 lifted it away and replaced it on the dish, observing 
 only, “Thou didst refuse it before, friend Latimer.” 
 
 These good folks, Alan, make no allowance for 
 what your father calls the Aberdeen-man’s privi- 
 lege of “taking his word again ;” or what the wise 
 call second thoughts. 
 
 Bating this slight hint, that I was among a pre- 
 cise generation, there was nothing in my reception 
 that was peculiar — unless, indeed, I were to notice 
 the solicitous and uniform kindness with which all 
 the attentions of my new friends were seasoned, as 
 if they were anxious to assure me that the neglect 
 of worldly compliments interdicted by their sect, 
 only served to render their hospitality more sincere. 
 At length my hunger was satisfied, and the worthy 
 Quaker, who, with looks of great good-nature, had 
 watched my progress, thus addressed his sister : — 
 
 “This young man, Rachel, hath last night 
 sojourned in the tents of our neighbour, whom men 
 call the Laird. JI am sorry I had not met him the 
 evening before, for our neighbour’s hospitality is 
 too unfrequently exercised to be well prepared with 
 the means of welcome.” 
 
 “Nay, but, Joshua,” said Rachel, “if our neigh- 
 bour hath done a kindness, thou shouldst not grudge 
 him the opportunity ; and if our young friend hath 
 fared ill for a night, he will the better relish what 
 Providence may send bim of better provisions.” 
 
 “And that he may do so at leisure,” said Joshua, 
 “we will pray him, Rachel, to tarry a day or twain 
 with us; he is young, and is but now entering 
 upon the world, and our habitation may, if he will, 
 be like a resting-place, from which he may look 
 abroad upon the pilgrimage which he must make, 
 and the path which he has to travel. — What sayest 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 99 
 
 thou, friend Latimer? We constrain not our friends 
 to our ways, and thou art, I think, too wise to quar- 
 rel with us for following our own fashions; and if 
 we should even give thee a word of advice, thou 
 wilt not, I think, be angry, so that it is spoken in 
 season.” 
 
 You know, Alan, how easily I am determined by 
 any thing resembling cordiality — and so, though a 
 little afraid of the formality of my host and hostess, 
 I accepted their invitation, provided I could get 
 some messenger to send to Shepherd’s Bush for my 
 servant and portmanteau. 
 
 “Why, truly, friend,” said Joshua, “thine out- 
 ward frame would be improved by cleaner garments ; 
 but I will do thine errand myself to the Widow 
 Gregson’s house of reception, and send thy lad 
 hither with thy clothes. Meanwhile, Rachel will 
 show thee these little gardens, and then will put thee 
 in some way of spending thy time usefully, till our 
 meal calls us together at the second hour afternoon. 
 I bid thee farewell for the present, having some 
 space to walk, seeing I must leave the animal 
 Solomon to his refreshing rest.” 
 
 With these words, Mr. Joshua Geddes withdrew. 
 Some ladies we have known would have felt, or at 
 least affected, reserve or embarrassment, at being 
 left to do the honours of the grounds to — (it will 
 be out, Alan)—a smart young fellow —an entire 
 stranger. She went out for a few minutes, and 
 returned in her plain cloak and bonnet, with her 
 beaver-gloves, prepared to act as my guide, with as 
 much simplicity as if she had been to wait upon thy 
 father. So forth I sallied with my fair Quaker. 
 
 If the house at Mount Sharon be merely a plain 
 and convenient dwelling, of moderate size, and small 
 
100 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 pretensions, the gardens and offices, though not 
 extensive, might rival an earl’s in point of care and 
 expense. Rachel carried me first to her own favour- 
 ite resort, a poultry-yard, stocked with a variety of 
 domestic fowls, of the more rare as well as the 
 more ordinary kinds, furnished with every accom- 
 modation which may suit their various habits. 
 A rivulet which spread into a pond for the conve- 
 nience of the aquatic birds, trickled over gravel as 
 it passed through the yards dedicated to the land 
 poultry, which were thus amply supplied with the 
 means they use for digestion. 
 
 All these creatures seemed to recognise the pre- 
 sence of their mistress, and some especial favourites 
 hastened to her feet, and continued to follow her 
 as far as their limits permitted. She pointed out 
 their peculiarities and qualities, with the discrimi- 
 nation of one who had made natural history her 
 study ; and I own I never looked on barn-door 
 fowls with so much interest before —at least until 
 they were boiled or roasted. I could not help ask- 
 ing the trying question, how she could order the 
 execution of any of the creatures of which she 
 seemed so careful. 
 
 “It was painful,” she said, “ but it was according 
 to the law of their being. They must die; but 
 they knew not when death was approaching; and 
 in making them comfortable while they lived, we 
 contributed to their happiness as much as the con- 
 ditions of their existence permitted to us.” 
 
 I am not quite of her mind, Alan. I do not 
 believe either pigs or poultry would admit that the 
 chief end of their being was to be killed and eaten. 
 However, I did not press the areument, from which 
 my Quaker seemed rather desirous to escape ; for, 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 101 
 
 conducting me to the greenhouse, which was exten- 
 sive, and filled with the choicest plants, she pointed 
 out an aviary which occupied the farther end, where, 
 she said, she employed herself with attending the 
 inhabitants, without being disturbed with any pain- 
 ful recollections concerning their future destination. 
 
 I will not trouble you with any account of the 
 various hothouses and gardens, and their contents. 
 No small sum of money must have been expended 
 in erecting and maintaining them in the exquisite 
 degree of good order which they exhibited. The 
 family, I understood, were connected with that of 
 the celebrated Millar, and had imbibed his taste 
 for flowers and for horticulture. But instead of 
 murdering botanical names, I will rather conduct 
 you to the policy, or pleasure-garden, which the 
 taste of Joshua or his father had extended on the 
 banks betwixt the house and river. This also, in 
 contradistinction to the prevailing simplicity, was 
 ornamented in an unusual degree. There were 
 various compartments, the connexion of which was 
 well managed, and although the whole ground did 
 not exceed five or six acres, it was so much varied 
 as to seem four times larger. The space contained 
 close alleys and open walks; a very pretty artificial 
 waterfall; a fountain also, consisting of a consider- 
 able jet-d’eau, whose streams glittered in the 
 sunbeams, and exhibited a continual rainbow. There 
 was a cabinet of verdure, as the French call it, to 
 cool the summer heat, and there was a terrace shel- 
 tered from the north-east by a noble holly hedge, 
 with all its glittering spears, where you might have 
 the full advantage of the sun in the clear frosty 
 days of winter. 
 
 I know that you, Alan, will condemn all this as 
 
102 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 bad and antiquated; for, ever since Dodsley has 
 described the Leasowes, and talked of Brown’s 
 imitations of nature, and Horace Walpole’s late 
 Essay on Gardening, you are all for simple nature 
 —condemn walking up and down stairs in the 
 open air, and declare for wood and wilderness. 
 But ne guid nimis. I would not deface a scene of 
 natural grandeur or beauty, by the introduction of 
 crowded artificial decorations; yet such may, I 
 think, be very interesting, where the situation, in its 
 natural state, otherwise has no particular charms. 
 
 So that when I have a country-house, (who can 
 say how soon?) you may look for grottoes, and 
 cascades, and fountains; nay, if you vex me by con- 
 tradiction, perhaps I may go the length of a temple 
 — so provoke me not, for you see of what enormi- 
 ties | am capable. 
 
 At any rate, Alan, had you condemned as arti- 
 ficial the rest of Friend Geddes’s grounds, there is 
 a willow walk by the very verge of the stream, so | 
 sad, so solemn, and so silent, that it must have 
 commanded youradmiration. The brook, restrained 
 at the ultimate boundary of the grounds by a 
 natural dam-dike or ledge of rocks, seemed, even 
 in its present swoln state, scarcely to glide along; 
 and the pale willow-trees, dropping their long 
 branches into the stream, gathered around them 
 little coronals of the foam that floated down from 
 the more rapid streamabove. The high rock, which 
 formed the opposite bank of the brook, was seen 
 dimly through the branches, and its pale and splin- 
 tered front, garlanded with long streamers of briers 
 and other creeping plants, seemed a barrier between 
 the quiet path which we trode, and the toiling and 
 bustling world beyond. The path itself, following 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 103 
 
 the sweep of the stream, made a very gentle curve ; 
 enough, however, served by its inflection completely 
 to hide the end of the walk, until you arrived at it. 
 A deep and sullen sound, which increased as you pro- 
 ceeded, prepared you for this termination, which was 
 indeed only a plain root-seat, from which you looked 
 on afall of about six or seven feet, where the brook 
 flung itself over the ledge of natural rock I have 
 already mentioned, which there crossed its course. 
 
 The quiet and twilight seclusion of this walk 
 rendered it a fit scene for confidential communing ; 
 and having nothing more interesting to say to my 
 fair Quaker, I took the liberty of questioning her 
 about the Laird; for you are, or ought to be, aware, 
 that next to discussing the affairs of the heart, the 
 fair sex are most interested in those of their 
 neighbours. 
 
 I did not conceal either my curiosity, or the 
 check which it had received from Joshua, and I 
 saw that my companion answered with embarrass- 
 ment. “I must not speak otherwise than truly,” 
 she said; “and therefore I tell thee, that my bro- 
 her dislikes, and that I fear, the man of whom 
 thou hast asked me. Perhaps we are both wrong 
 —but he is a man of violence, and hath great 
 influence over many, who, following the trade of 
 sailors and fishermen, become as rude as the ele- 
 ments with which they contend. He hath no 
 certain name among them, which is not unusual, 
 their rude fashion being to distinguish each other by 
 nicknames ; and they have called him the Laird of 
 the Lakes, (not remembering there should be no 
 one called Lord, save one only,) in idle derision ; 
 the pools of salt water left by the tide among the 
 sands being called the Lakes of Solway.” 
 
104 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 “Has he no other revenue than he derives from 
 these sands?” I asked. 
 
 “That I cannot answer,” replied Rachel; “men 
 say that he wants not money, though he lives like 
 an ordinary fisherman, and that he imparts freely 
 of his means to the poor around him. They inti-. 
 mate that he is a man of consequence, once deeply 
 engaged in the unhappy affair of the rebellion, and 
 even still too much in danger from the government 
 to assume his own name. He is often absent from 
 his cottage at Broken-burn-cliffs, for weeks and 
 months.” 
 
 “JT should have thought,” said I, “that the 
 government would scarce, at this time of day, be 
 likely to proceed against any one even of the 
 most obnoxious rebels. Many years have passed 
 away ” 
 
 “Tt is true,” she replied; “ yet such persons may 
 understand that their being connived at depends on 
 their living in obscurity. But indeed there can noth- 
 ing certain be known among these rude people. 
 The truth is not in them — most of them participate 
 in the unlawful trade betwixt these parts and the 
 neighbouring shore of England ; and they are familiar 
 with every species of falsehood and deceit.” 
 
 “Tt is a pity,” I remarked, “that your brother 
 should have neighbours of such a description, espe- 
 cially as I understand he is at some variance with 
 them.” : 
 
 “Where, when, and about what matter?” 
 answered Miss Geddes, with an eager and timorous 
 anxiety, which made me regret having touched on 
 the subject. 
 
 I told her, in a way as little alarming as I could 
 devise, the purport of what had passed betwixt this 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 105 
 
 Laird of the Lakes and her brother, at their morn- 
 ing’s interview. 
 
 “You affright me much,” answered she; “it is 
 this very circumstance which has scared me in the 
 watches of the night. When my brother Joshua 
 withdrew from an active sharein the commercial 
 concerns of my father, being satisfied with the por- 
 tion of ‘worldly substance which he already possessed, 
 there were one or two undertakings in which 
 he retained an interest, either because his with- 
 drawing might have been prejudicial to friends, or 
 because he wished to retain some mode of occupy- 
 ing his time. Amongst the more important of 
 these, is a fishing station on the coast, where, by 
 certain improved modes of erecting snares, opening 
 at the advance of the tide, and shutting at the reflux, 
 many more fish are taken than can be destroyed 
 by those who, like the men of Broken-burn, use 
 only the boat-net and spear, or fishing-rod. They 
 complain of these tide-nets, as men call them, as an 
 innovation, and pretend to a right to remove and 
 destroy them by the strong hand. I fear me, this 
 man of violence, whom they call the Laird, will 
 execute these his threats, which cannot be without 
 both loss and danger to my brother.” 
 
 “Mr. Geddes,” said I, “ought to apply to the 
 civil magistrate ; there are soldiers at Dumfries who 
 would be detached for his protection.” 
 
 “Thou speakest, friend Latimer,’ answered the 
 lady, “as one who is still in the gall of bitterness 
 and bond of iniquity. God forbid that we should 
 endeavour to preserve nets of flax and stakes of 
 wood, or the Mammon of gain which they procure 
 for us, by the hands of men of war, and at the risk 
 of spilling human blood!” 
 
106 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 “T respect your scruples,” I replied; “ but since 
 such is your way of thinking, your brother ought to 
 avert the danger by compromise or submission.” 
 
 “Perhaps it would be best,’ answered Rachel; 
 “but what can J say? Even in the best-trained 
 temper there may remain some leaven of the old 
 Adam; and I know not whether it is this or a 
 better spirit that maketh my brother Joshua deter- 
 mine, that though he will not resist force by force, 
 neither will he yield up his right to mere threats, 
 or encourage wrong to others by yielding to 
 menaces. His partners, he says, confide in his 
 steadiness ; and that he must not disappoint them 
 by yielding up their right for the fear of the threats 
 of man, whose breath is in his nostrils.” 
 
 This observation convinced me that the spirit of 
 the old sharers of the spoil was not utterly departed 
 even from the bosom of the peaceful Quaker; and 
 I could not help confessing internally that Joshua 
 had the right, when he averred that there was as 
 much courage in sufferance as in exertion. 
 
 As we approached the further end of the willow 
 walk, the sullen and continuous sound of the dash- 
 ing waters became still more and more audible, and 
 at length rendered it difficult for us to communicate 
 with each other. The conversation dropped, but 
 apparently my companion continued to dwell upon 
 the apprehensions which it had excited. At the 
 bottom of the walk, we obtained a view of the cas- 
 cade, where the swoln brook flung itself in foam 
 and tumult over the natural barrier of rock, which 
 seemed in vain to attempt to bar its course. I 
 gazed with delight, and, turning to express my sen- 
 timents to my companion, I observed that she had 
 folded her hands in an attitude of sorrowful resig- 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 107 
 
 nation, which showed her thoughts were far from 
 the scene which lay before her. When she saw 
 that her abstraction was observed, she resumed her 
 former placidity of manner; and having given me 
 sufficient time to admire this termination of our 
 sober and secluded walk, proposed that we should 
 return to the house through her brother’s farm. 
 «Even we Quakers, as we are called, have our little 
 pride,” she said; “and my brother Joshua would 
 not forgive me, were I not to show thee the fields 
 which he taketh delight to cultivate, after the new- 
 est and best fashion; for which, I promise thee, he 
 hath received much praise from good judges, as well 
 as some ridicule from those who think it folly to 
 improve on the customs of our ancestors.” 
 
 As she spoke, she opened a low door, leading 
 through a moss and ivy-covered wall, the bound- 
 ary of the pleasure-ground, into the open fields; 
 through which we moved by a convenient path, 
 leading, with good taste and simplicity, by stile and 
 hedge-row, through pasturage, and arable, and 
 woodland ; so that, in all ordinary weather, the good 
 man might, without even soiling his shoes, perform 
 his perambulation round the farm. There were 
 seats also, on which to rest; and though not adorned 
 with inscriptions, nor quite so frequent in occur- 
 rence as those mentioned in the account of the 
 Leasowes, their situation was always chosen with 
 respect to some distant prospect to be commanded, 
 or some home-view to be enjoyed. 
 
 But what struck me most in Joshua’s domain, 
 was the quantity and the tameness of the game. 
 The hen partridge scarce abandoned the roost at 
 the foot of the hedge where she had assembled her 
 covey, though the path went close beside her; and 
 
108 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 the hare, remaining on her form, gazed at us as we 
 passed, with her full dark eye, or, rising lazily and 
 hopping to a little distance, stood erect to look at us 
 with more curiosity than apprehension. I observed 
 to Miss Geddes the extreme tameness of these 
 timid and shy animals, and she informed me that 
 their confidence arose from protection in the sum- 
 mer, and relief during the winter. 
 
 “They are pets,” she said, “of my brother, who 
 considers them as the better entitled to this kind- 
 ness that they are a race persecuted by the world 
 in general. He denieth himself,” she said, ‘‘even 
 the company of a dog, that these creatures may 
 here at least enjoy undisturbed security. Yet this 
 harmless or humane propensity, or humour, hath 
 given offence,” she added, “to our dangerous 
 neighbour.” 
 
 She explained this, by telling me that my host of 
 the preceding night was remarkable for his attach- 
 ment to field sports, which he pursued without much 
 regard to the wishes of the individuals over whose 
 property he followed them. The undefined mixture 
 of respect and fear with which he was generally 
 regarded, induced most of the neighbouring land- 
 holders to connive at what they would perhaps in 
 another have punished as a trespass; but Joshua 
 Geddes would not permit the intrusion of any one 
 upon his premises, and as he had before offended 
 several country neighbours, who, because he would 
 neither shoot himself nor permit others to do so, 
 compared him to the dog in the manger, so he now 
 ageravated the displeasure which the Laird of the 
 Lakes had already conceived against him, by posi- 
 tively debarring him from pursuing his sport over 
 his grounds — “So that,” said Rachel Geddes, “I 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 109 
 
 sometimes wish our lot had been cast elsewhere than 
 in these pleasant borders, where, if we had less of 
 beauty around us, we might have had a neighbour- 
 hood of peace and good-will.” 
 
 We at length returned to the house, where Miss 
 Geddes showed me a small study, containing a little 
 collection of books, in two separate presses. 
 
 “These,” said she, pointing to the smaller press, 
 “will, if thou bestowest thy leisure upon them, do 
 thee good; and these,” pointing to the other and 
 larger cabinet, “can, I believe, do thee little harm. 
 Some of our people do indeed hold, that every writer 
 who is not with us is against us ; but brother Joshua 
 is mitigated in his opinions, and correspondeth with 
 our friend John Scott of Amwell, who hath himself 
 constructed verses well approved of even in the 
 world. — I wish thee many good thoughts till our 
 family meet at the hour of dinner.” 
 
 Left alone, I tried both collections; the first 
 consisted entirely of religious and controversial 
 tracts, and the latter formed a small selection of 
 history, and of moral writers, both in prose and 
 verse. 
 
 Neither collection promising much amusement, 
 thou hast, in these close pages, the fruits of my 
 tediousness; and truly, I think, writing history 
 (one’s self being the subject) is as amusing as read- 
 ing that of foreign countries, at any time. 
 
 Sam, still more drunk than sober, arrived in due 
 time with my portmanteau, and enabled me to put 
 my dress into order, better befitting this temple of 
 cleanliness and decorum, where (to conclude) I 
 believe I shall be a sojourner for more days than 
 
 one. 
 1 Note I. 
 
110 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 P.S. — I have noted your adventure, as you home- 
 bred youths may perhaps term it, concerning the 
 visit of your doughty Laird. We travellers hold 
 such an incident of no great consequence, though it 
 may serve to embellish the uniform life of Brown’s 
 Square. But art thou not ashamed to attempt to 
 interest one who is seeing the world at large, and 
 studying human nature on a large scale, by so bald 
 a narrative? Why, what does it amount to, after 
 all, but that a Tory Laird dined with a Whig Law- 
 yer? no very uncommon matter, especially as you 
 state Mr. Herries to have lost the estate, though 
 retaining the designation. The Laird behaves 
 with haughtiness and impertinence — nothing out 
 of character in that: Is not kicked down stairs, 
 as he ought to have been, were Alan Fairford half 
 the man that he would wish his friends to think 
 him. — Ay, but then, as the young lawyer, instead 
 of showing his friend the door, chose to make use 
 of it himself, he overheard the Laird aforesaid ask 
 the old lawyer concerning Darsie Latimer — no 
 doubt earnestly enquiring after the handsome, 
 accomplished inmate of his family, who has so 
 lately made Themis his bow, and declined the 
 honour of following her farther. You laugh at 
 me for my air-drawn castles; but confess, have 
 they not surer footing, in general, than two words 
 spoken by such a man as Herries? And yet — 
 and yet—I would rally the matter off, Alan; 
 but in dark nights, even the glow-worm becomes 
 an object of lustre, and to one plunged in my 
 uncertainty and ignorance, the slightest gleam that 
 promises intelligence, is interesting. My life is 
 like the subterranean river in the Peak of Derby, 
 visible only where it crosses the celebrated cavern. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. It 
 
 I am here, and this much I know; but where I 
 have sprung from, or whither my course of life is 
 like to tend, who shall tell me? Your father, 
 too, seemed interested and alarmed, and talked of 
 writing; would to Heaven he may!—TI send daily 
 to the post-town for letters. 
 
LETTER VIII. 
 ALAN FAIRFORD TO DARSIE LATIMER. 
 
 THou mayst clap thy wings and crow as thou 
 pleasest. You go in search of adventures, but 
 adventures come to me unsought for; and oh! in 
 what a pleasing shape came mine, since it arrived 
 in the form of a chent —and a fair client to boot ! 
 What think you of that, Darsie, you who are such 
 a sworn squire of dames? Will this not match my 
 adventures with thine, that hunt salmon on horse- 
 back, and will it not, besides, eclipse the history of 
 a whole tribe of Broadbrims ?— But I must proceed 
 methodically. 
 
 When I.returned to-day from the College, I was 
 surprised to see a broad grin distending the adust 
 countenance of the faithful James Wilkinson, which, 
 as the circumstance seldom happens above once 
 a-year, was matter of some surprise. Moreover, he 
 had a knowing glance with his eye, which I should 
 have as soon expected from a dumb-waiter —an 
 article of furniture to which James, in his usual 
 state, may be happily assimilated. “What the 
 devil is the matter, James?” 
 
 “The devil may be in the matter, for aught I ken,” 
 said James, with another provoking grin; “for here 
 has been a woman calling for you, Maister Alan.” 
 
 «A woman calling for me?” said I in surprise; 
 for you know well, that excepting old Aunt Peggy, 
 who comes to dinner of a Sunday, and the still older 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 113 
 
 Lady Bedrooket, who calls ten times a-year for the 
 quarterly payment of her jointure of four hundred 
 merks, a female scarce approaches our threshold, as 
 my father visits all his female clients at their own 
 lodgings. James protested, however, that there had 
 been a lady calling, and for me. “As bonny a lass 
 as I have seen,” added James, “since I was in the 
 Fusileers, and kept company with Peg Baxter.” Thou 
 knowest all James’s gay recollections go back to the 
 period of his military service, the years he has spent 
 in ours having probably been dull enough. 
 
 “ Did the lady leave no name nor place of address ?” 
 
 “No,” replied James; “but she asked when you 
 wad be at hame, and I appointed her for twelve o’ 
 clock, when the house wad be quiet, and your father 
 at the Bank.” 
 
 “For shame, James! how can you think my 
 father’s being at home or abroad could be of conse- 
 quence ?— The lady is of course a decent person ? ” 
 
 “T’se uphaud her that, sir —she is nane of your 
 — whew” — [Here James supplied a blank with a 
 low whistle] —“but I didna ken — my maister 
 makes an unco wark if a woman comes here.” 
 
 I passed into my own room, not ill-pleased that 
 my father was absent, notwithstanding I had thought 
 it proper to rebuke James for having so contrived it. 
 I disarranged my books, to give them the appearance 
 of a graceful confusion on the table, and laying my 
 foils (useless since your departure) across the man- 
 telpiece, that the lady might see I was tam Marte 
 quam Mercurio — I endeavoured to dispose my dress 
 so as to resemble an elegant morning dishabille — 
 gave my hair the general shade of powder which 
 marks the gentleman — laid my watch and seals on 
 the table, to hint that I understood the value of time ; 
 
 VOL.I.—8 
 
114 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 —and when I had made all these arrangements — 
 of which I am a little ashamed when I think of them 
 — I had nothing better to do than to watch the dial- 
 plate till the index pointed to noon. Five minutes 
 elapsed, which I allowed for variation of clocks — 
 five minutes more rendered me anxious and doubtful 
 —and five minutes more would have made me 
 impatient. 
 
 Laugh as thou wilt; but remember, Darsie, I was 
 a lawyer, expecting his first client—a young man, 
 how strictly bred up I need not remind you, expect- 
 ing a private interview with a young and beautiful 
 woman. But ere the third term of five minutes had 
 elapsed, the door-bell was heard to tinkle low and 
 modestly, as if touched by some timid hand. 
 
 James Wilkinson, swift in nothing, is, as thou 
 knowest, peculiarly slow in answering the door- 
 bell; and I reckoned on five minutes good, ere his 
 solemn step should have ascended the stair. Time 
 enough, thought I, for a peep through the blinds, 
 and was hastening to the window accordingly. But 
 I reckoned without my host; for James, who had 
 his own curiosity as well as I, was lying perdu in 
 the lobby, ready to open at the first tinkle; and 
 there was, “This way, ma’am— Yes, ma’am — The 
 lady, Mr. Alan,” before I could get to the chair in 
 which I proposed to be discovered, seated in all legal 
 dignity. The consciousness of being half caught in 
 the act of peeping, joined to that native air of awk- 
 ward bashfulness of which I am told the law will 
 soon free me, kept me standing on the floor in some 
 confusion ; while the lady, disconcerted on her part, 
 remained on the threshold of the room. James 
 Wilkinson, who had his senses most about him, and 
 was perhaps willing to prolong his stay in the apart- 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 115 
 
 ment, busied himself in setting a chair for the lady, 
 and recalled me to my good breeding by the hint. 
 I invited her to take possession of it, and bid James 
 withdraw. 
 
 My visitor was undeniably a lady, and probably 
 considerably above the ordinary rank — very modest, 
 too, judging from the mixture of grace and timidity 
 with which she moved, and at my entreaty sat 
 down. Her dress was, I should suppose, both 
 handsome and fashionable; but it was much con- 
 cealed by a walking-cloak of green silk, fancifully 
 embroidered; in which, though heavy for the sea- 
 son, her person was enveloped, and which, moreover, 
 was furnished with a hood. 
 
 The devil take that hood, Darsie! for I was just 
 able to distinguish that, pulled as it was over the 
 face, it concealed from me, as I was convinced, one 
 of the prettiest countenances I have seen, and which, 
 from a sense of embarrassment, seemed to be crim- 
 soned with a deep blush. I could see her complexion 
 was beautiful —her chin finely turned — her lips 
 coral — and her teeth rivals to ivory. But further 
 the deponent sayeth not; for a clasp of gold, orna- 
 mented with a sapphire, closed the envious mantle 
 under the incognita’s throat, and the cursed hood 
 concealed entirely the upper part of the face. 
 
 I ought to have spoke first, that is certain; but 
 ere I could get my phrases well arranged, the young 
 lady, rendered desperate, I suppose, by my hesitation, 
 opened the conversation herself. 
 
 “Tfear I am an intruder, sir—I expected to 
 meet an elderly gentleman.” 
 
 This brought me tomyself. “My father, madam, 
 perhaps. But you enquired for Alan Fairford — 
 my father’s name is Alexander.” 
 
116 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 “Tt is Mr. Alan Fairford, undoubtedly, with 
 whom I wished to speak,” she said, with greater 
 confusion ; “but I was told that he was advanced 
 in life.” 
 
 “Some mistake, madam, I presume, betwixt my 
 father and myself — our Christian names have the 
 same initials, though the terminations are different, 
 — I—I—I would esteem it a most fortunate mis- 
 take if I could have the honour of supplying my 
 father’s place in any thing that could be of service 
 to you.” 
 
 “You are very obliging, sir.” A pause, during 
 which she seemed undetermined whether to rise or 
 sit still. 
 
 “Tam just about to be called to the bar, madam,” 
 said I, in hopes to remove her scruples to open her 
 case to me; “and if my advice or opinion could be 
 of the slightest use, although I cannot presume to 
 say that they are much to be depended upon, 
 
 et 99 
 The lady arose. “I am truly sensible of your 
 kindness, sir; and I have no doubt of your talents. 
 I will be very plain with you—it 7s you whom I 
 came to visit; although, now that we have met, I 
 find it will be much better that I should commit my 
 communication to writing.” 
 
 “T hope, madam, you will not be so cruel —so 
 tantalizing, I would say. Consider, you are my first 
 client — your business my first consultation — do not 
 do me the displeasure of withdrawing your confi- 
 dence because I am a few years younger than you 
 seem to have expected — My attention shall make 
 amends for my want of experience.” 
 
 “J have no doubt of either,’ said the lady, in 
 a grave tone, calculated to restrain the air of 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 117 
 
 gallantry with which I had endeavoured to address 
 her. “But when you have received my letter, you 
 will find good reasons assigned why a written com- 
 munication will best suit my purpose. I wish you, 
 sir, a good morning.” And she left the apartment, 
 her poor baffled counsel scraping, and bowing, and 
 apologizing for any thing that might have been dis- 
 agreeable to her, although the front of my offence 
 seems to be my having been discovered to be younger 
 than my father. 
 
 The door was opened — out she went — walked 
 along the pavement, turned down the close, and 
 put the sun, I believe, into her pocket when she dis- 
 appeared, so suddenly did dulness and darkness sink 
 down on the square, when she was no longer visible. 
 I stood for a moment as if I had been senseless, 
 not recollecting what a fund of entertainment I 
 must have supplied to our watchful friends on the 
 other side of the green. Then it darted on my 
 mind that I might dog her, and ascertain at least 
 who or what she was. Off I set —ran down the 
 close where she was no longer to be seen, and 
 demanded of one of the dyer’s lads whether he had 
 seen a lady go down the close, or had observed which 
 way she turned. 
 
 “A leddy !” — said the dyer, staring at me with 
 his rainbow countenance. “Mr. Alan, what takes 
 you out, rinning like daft, without your hat?” 
 
 “The devil take my hat!” answered I, running 
 back, however, in quest of it; snatched it up, and 
 again sallied forth. But as I reached the head of 
 the close once more, I had sense enough to recol- 
 lect that all pursuit would be now in vain. Besides, 
 I saw my friend, the journeyman dyer, in close con- 
 fabulation with a pea-green personage of his own 
 
118 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 profession, and was conscious, like Scrub, that they 
 talked of me, because they laughed consumedly. I 
 had no mind, by a second sudden appearance, to con- 
 firm the report that Advocate Fairford was “gaen 
 daft,” which had probably spread from Campbell’s 
 close-foot to the Mealmarket Stairs; and so slunk 
 back within my own hole again. 
 
 My first employment was to remove all traces 
 of that elegant and fanciful disposition of my effects, 
 from which I had hoped for so much credit; for I 
 was now ashamed and angry at having thought an 
 instant upon the mode of receiving a visit which 
 had commenced so agreeably, but terminated in a 
 manner so unsatisfactory. I put my folios in their 
 places — threw the foils into the dressing-closet — 
 tormenting myself all the while with the fruitless 
 doubt, whether I had missed an opportunity or 
 escaped a stratagem, or whether the young person 
 had been really startled, as she seemed to intimate, 
 by the extreme youth of her intended legal adviser. 
 The mirror was not unnaturally called in to aid; 
 and that cabinet-counsellor pronounced me rather 
 short, thick-set, with a cast of features fitter, I trust, 
 for the bar than the ball — not handsome enough for 
 blushing virgins to pine for my sake, or even to 
 invent sham cases to bring them to my chambers 
 —yet not ugly enough, either, to scare those away 
 who came on real business — dark, to be sure, but 
 nigri sunt hyacintht — there are pretty things to be 
 said in favour of that complexion. 
 
 At length — as common sense will get the better 
 in all cases, when a man will but give it fair play 
 — | began to stand convicted in my own mind, as 
 an ass before the interview, for having expected 
 too much — an ass during the interview, for having 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 11g 
 
 failed to extract the lady’s real purpose — and an 
 especial ass, now that it was over, for thinking so 
 much about it. But I can think of nothing else, 
 and therefore I am determined to think of this to 
 some good purpose. 
 
 You remember Murtough O’Hara’s defence of 
 the Catholic doctrine of confession ; because, ‘by 
 his soul, his sins were always a great burden to his 
 mind, till he had told them to the priest; and once 
 confessed, he never thought more about them.” [I 
 have tried his receipt, therefore ; and having poured 
 my secret mortification into thy trusty ear, I will 
 think no more about this maid of the mist, 
 
 ‘¢ Who, with no face, as ’twere, outfaced me.” 
 
 Four o’clock. 
 Plague on her green mantle, she can be nothing 
 better than a fairy ; she keeps possession of my head 
 yet! All during dinner-time I was terribly absent ; 
 but, luckily, my father gave the whole credit of my 
 reverie to the abstract nature of the doctrine, Vinco 
 vincentem, ergo vinco te; upon which brocard of 
 law the Professor this morning lectured. So I got 
 an early dismissal to my own crib, and here am I 
 studying, in one sense, vincere vincentem, to get the 
 better of the silly passion of curiosity —I think — I 
 think it amounts to nothing else — which has taken 
 such possession of my imagination, and is perpet- 
 ually worrying me with the question — will she 
 write or no? She will not — she will not! So says 
 Reason, and adds, Why should she take the trouble 
 to enter into correspondence with one, who, instead 
 of a bold, alert, prompt gallant, proved a chicken- 
 hearted boy, and left her the whole awkwardness 
 
 
 
120 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 of explanation, which he should have met half-way ? 
 But then, says Fancy, she will write, for she was 
 not a bit that sort of person whom you, Mr. Reason, 
 in your wisdom, take her to be. She was discon- 
 certed enough, without my adding to her distress 
 by any impudent conduct on my part. And she 
 will write, for | 
 
 By Heaven, she HAS written, Darsie, and with 
 a vengeance ! — Here is her letter, thrown into the 
 kitchen by a cadie, too faithful to be bribed, either 
 by money or whisky, to say more than that he 
 received it, with sixpence, from an ordinary-looking 
 woman, as he was plying on his station near the 
 Cross. 
 
 
 
 ‘‘¥OR ALAN FAIRFORD, ESQUIRE, BARRISTER. 
 
 ‘¢ Sir, — Excuse my mistake of to-day. I had acci- 
 dentally learned that Mr. Darsie Latimer had an 
 intimate friend and associate in a Mr. A. Fairford. 
 When I enquired for such a person, he was pointed out 
 to me at the Cross, (as I think the Exchange of your 
 city is called,) in the character of a respectable elderly 
 man — your father, as | now understand. On enquiry 
 at Brown’s Square, where I understood he resided, 
 I used the full name of Alan, which naturally occa- 
 sioned you the trouble of this day’s visit. Upon fur- 
 ther enquiry, I am led to believe that you are likely 
 to be the person most active in the matter to which I 
 am now about to direct your attention ; and I regret 
 much that circumstances, arising out of my own par- 
 ticular situation, prevent my communicating to you 
 personally what I now apprize you of in this manner. 
 ‘‘Your friend, Mr. Darsie Latimer, is in a situation 
 of considerable danger. You are doubtless aware, that 
 he has been cautioned not to trust himself in England 
 
REDGAUNTLET. toe 
 
 — Now, if he has not absolutely transgressed this 
 friendly injunction, he has at least approached as 
 nearly to the menaced danger as he could do, consist- 
 ently with the letter of the prohibition. He has 
 chosen his abode in a neighbourhood very perilous to 
 him ; and it is only by a speedy return to Edinburgh, 
 or at least by a removal to some more remote part of 
 Scotland, that he can escape the machinations of those 
 whose enmity he has to fear. I must speak in mystery, 
 but my words are not the less certain ; and, I believe, 
 you know enough of your friend’s fortunes to be aware, 
 that I could not write this much without being even 
 more intimate with them than you are. 
 
 ‘‘If he cannot, or will not, take the advice here 
 given, it is my opinion that you should join him, if 
 possible, without delay, and urge, by your personal 
 presence and entreaty, the arguments which may prove 
 ineffectual in writing. One word more, and I implore 
 of your candour to take it as it is meant. No one sup- 
 poses that Mr. Fairford’s zeal in his friend’s service, 
 needs to be quickened by mercenary motives. But 
 report says that Mr. Alan Fairford not having yet 
 entered on his professional career, may, in such a case 
 as this, want the means, though he cannot want the 
 inclination, to act with promptitude. The enclosed 
 note, Mr. Alan Fairford must be pleased to consider as 
 his first professional emolument ; and she who sends it 
 hopes it will be the omen of unbounded success, though 
 the fee comes from a hand so unknown as that of 
 
 ‘(GREEN MANTLE.”’ 
 
 A bank note of L.20 was the enclosure, and the 
 whole incident left me speechless with astonish- 
 ment. Jam not able to read over the beginning of 
 my own letter, which forms the introduction to this 
 extraordinary communication. I only know that, 
 though mixed with a quantity of foolery, (God 
 
122 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 knows, very much different from my present feel- 
 ings,) it gives an account sufficiently accurate, of the 
 mysterious person from whom this letter comes, and 
 that I have neither time nor patience to separate 
 the absurd commentary from the text, which it is 
 so necessary you should know. 
 
 Combine this warning, so strangely conveyed, with 
 the caution impressed on you by your London corre- 
 spondent, Griffiths, against your visiting England — 
 with the character of your Laird of the Solway 
 Lakes — with the lawless habits of the people on 
 that frontier country, where warrants are not easily 
 executed, owing to the jealousy entertained by either 
 country of the legal interference of the other; 
 remember, that even Sir John Fielding said to my 
 father, that he could never trace a rogue beyond 
 the Briggend of Dumfries — think that the distinc- 
 tions of Whig and Tory, Paptist and Protestant, 
 still keep that country in a loose and comparatively 
 lawless state — think of all this, my dearest Darsie, 
 and remember that, while at this Mount Sharon of 
 yours, you are residing with a family actually 
 menaced with forcible interference, and who, while 
 their obstinacy provokes violence, are by principle 
 bound to abstain from resistance. 
 
 Nay, let me tell you, professionally, that the 
 legality of the mode of fishing practised by your 
 friend Joshua, is greatly doubted by our best 
 lawyers ; and that, if the stake-nets be considered 
 as actually an unlawful obstruction raised in the 
 channel of the estuary,an assembly of persons who 
 shall proceed, via facti, to pull down and destroy 
 them, would not, in the eye of the law, be esteemed 
 guilty of a riot. So, by remaining where you are, 
 you are likely to be engaged in a quarrel with 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 123 
 
 which you have nothing to do, and thus to enable 
 your enemies, whoever these may be, to execute, 
 amid the confusion of a general hubbub, whatever 
 designs they may have against your personal safety. 
 Black-fishers, poachers, and smugglers, are a sort of 
 gentry that will not be much checked, either by 
 your Quakeyr’s texts, or by your chivalry. If you 
 are Don Quixote enough to lay lance in rest, in 
 defence of those of the stake-net, and of the sad- 
 coloured garment, I pronounce you but a lost 
 knight; for, as I said before, I doubt if these 
 potent redressers of wrongs, the justices and con- 
 stables, will hold themselves warranted to interfere. 
 In a word, return, my dear Amadis; the adventure 
 of the Solway-nets is not reserved for your worship. 
 Come back, and I will be your faithful Sancho 
 Panza upon a more hopeful quest. We will beat 
 about together, in search of this Urganda, the 
 Unknown She of the Green Mantle, who can read 
 this, the riddle of thy fate, better than wise Eppie 
 of Buckhaven,! or Cassandra herself. 
 
 I would fain trifle, Darsie; for in debating with 
 you, jests will sometimes go farther than areu- 
 ments ; but I am sick at heart, and cannot keep the 
 ball up. If you have a moment’s regard for the 
 friendship we have so often vowed to each other, 
 let my wishes for once prevail over your own ven- 
 turous and romantic temper. Iam quite serious in 
 thinking, that the information communicated to my 
 father by this Mr. Herries, and the admonitory 
 letter of the young lady, bear upon each other; 
 and that, were you here, you might learn something 
 from one or other, or from both, that might throw 
 
 1 Well known in the Chap-Book, called the History of 
 Buckhaven. 
 
124 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 light on your birth and parentage. You will not, 
 surely, prefer an idle whim to the prospect which 
 is thus held out to you? 
 
 I would, agreeably to the hint I have received 
 in the young lady’s letter, (for I am confident that 
 such is her condition,) have ere now been with you 
 to urge these things, instead of pouring them out 
 upon paper. But you know that the day for my 
 trial is appointed; I have already gone through 
 the form of being introduced to the examinators, 
 and have gotten my titles assigned me. All this 
 should not keep me at home, but my father would 
 view any irregularity upon this occasion as a mortal 
 blow to the hopes which he has cherished most 
 fondly during his life; viz. my being called to the 
 bar with some credit. For my own part, 1 know 
 there is no great difficulty in passing these formal 
 examinations, else how have some of our acquaint- 
 ance got through them? But, to my father, these 
 formalities compose an august and serious solem- 
 nity, to which he has long looked forward, and my 
 absenting myself at this moment would wellnigh 
 drive him distracted. Yet I shall go altogether 
 distracted myself, if I have not an instant assurance 
 from you that you are hastening hither — Mean- 
 while I have desired Hannah to get your little crib 
 into the best order possible. I cannot learn that my 
 father has yet written to you; nor has he spoken 
 more of his communication with Birrenswork ; but 
 when I let him have some inkling of the dangers 
 you are at present incurring, 1 know my request 
 that you will return immediately, will have his 
 cordial support. 
 
 Another reason yet—-I must give a dinner, as 
 usual, upon my admission, to our friends; and my 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 125 
 
 father, laying aside all his usual considerations of 
 economy, has desired it may be in the best style 
 possible. Come hither then, dear Darsie! or, I 
 protest to you, I shall send examination, admission- 
 dinner, and guests, to the devil, and come, in 
 person, to fetch you with a vengeance. Thine, in 
 
 much anxiety, 
 A. F. 
 
LETTER JX. 
 
 ALEXANDER FAIRFORD, W.S., TO MR. DARSIE 
 LATIMER. 
 
 Dear Mr. Darstz,— Having been your factor loco | 
 tutoris, or rather, I ought to say, in correctness, | 
 (since I acted without warrant from the Court,) 
 your negotiorum gestor ; that connexion occasions 
 my present writing. And although having ren- 
 dered an account of my intromissions, which have 
 been regularly approved of, not only by yourself, 
 (whom I could not prevail upon to look at more 
 than the docket and sum total,) but also by the 
 worthy Mr. Samuel Griffiths of London, being the 
 hand through whom the remittances were made, I 
 may, in some sense, be considered as to you functus 
 officio; yet, to speak facetiously, I trust you will 
 not hold me accountable as a vicious intromitter, 
 should I still consider myself as occasionally inter- 
 ested in your welfare. My motives for writing, at 
 this time, are twofold. 
 
 I have met with a Mr. Herries of Birrenswork, a 
 gentleman of very ancient descent, but who hath in 
 time past been in difficulties, nor do I know if his 
 affairs are yet well redd. Birrenswork says, that 
 he believes he was very familiar with your father, 
 whom he states to have been called Ralph Latimer 
 of Langcote-Hall, in Westmoreland; and he men- 
 tioned family affairs, which it may be of the highest 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 127 
 
 importance to you to be acquainted with ; but as he 
 seemed to decline communicating them to me, I 
 could not civilly urge him thereanent. Thus much 
 I know, that Mr. Herries had his own share in the 
 late desperate and unhappy matter of 1745, and 
 was in trouble about it, although that is probably 
 now over. Moreover, although he did not profess 
 the Popish religion openly, he had an eye that way. 
 And both of these are reasons why I have hesitated 
 to recommend him to a youth who maybe hath not 
 altogether so well founded his opinions concerning 
 Kirk and State, that they might not be changed by 
 some sudden wind of doctrine. For I have observed 
 ye, Master Darsie, to be rather tinctured with the 
 old leaven of prelacy —this under your leave; and 
 although God forbid that you should be in any man- 
 ner disaffected to the Protestant Hanoverian line, 
 yet ye have ever loved to hear the blawing, bleez- 
 ing stories which the Hieland gentlemen tell of 
 those troublous times, which, if it were their will, 
 they had better pretermit, as tending rather to 
 shame than to honour. Jt is come to me also by 
 a side-wind, as I may say, that you have been neigh- 
 bouring more than was needful among some of the 
 pestilent sect of Quakers —a people who own neither 
 priest, nor king, nor civil magistrate, nor the fabric 
 of our law, and will not depone either in civilibus or 
 ereminalibus, be the loss to the lieges what it may. 
 Anent which heresies, it were good ye read “the 
 Snake in the Grass,” or ‘‘the Foot out of the 
 Snare,” being both well-approved tracts touching 
 these doctrines. 
 
 Now, Mr. Darsie, ye are to judge for yourself 
 whether ye can safely to your soul’s weal remain 
 longer among these Papists and Quakers, — these 
 
128 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 defections on the right hand, and fallings away on 
 the left; and truly if you can confidently resist these 
 evil examples of doctrine, I think ye may as well 
 tarry in the bounds where ye are, until you see Mr. 
 Herries of Birrenswork, who does assuredly know 
 more of your matters than I thought had been com- 
 municated to any man in Scotland. I would fain 
 have precognosced him myself on these affairs, but 
 found him unwilling to speak out, as I have partly 
 intimated before. 
 
 To call a new cause —I have the pleasure to tell 
 you, that Allan has passed his private Scots Law 
 examinations with good approbation —a great relief 
 to my mind; especially as worthy Mr. Pest told 
 me in my ear there was no fear of the “callant,” - 
 as he familiarly called him, which gives me great 
 heart. His public trials, which are nothing in com- 
 parison save a mere form, are to take place, by order 
 of the Honourable Dean of Faculty, on Wednesday 
 first; and on Friday he puts on the gown, and gives 
 a bit chack of dinner to his friends and acquaint- 
 ances, as is, you know, the custom. Your company 
 will be wished for there, Master Darsie, by more 
 than him, which I regret to think is impossible to 
 have, as well by your engagements, as that our 
 cousin, Peter Fairford, comes from the west on pur- 
 pose, and we have no place to offer him but your 
 chamber in the wall. And, to be plain with you, 
 after my use and wont, Master Darsie, it may be as 
 well that Alan and you do not meet till he is hefted 
 as it were to his new calling. You are a pleasant 
 gentleman, and full of daffing, which may well 
 become you, as you have enough (as I understand) 
 to uphold your merry humour. If you regard the 
 matter wisely, you would perchance consider that a 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 129 
 
 man of substance should have a douce and staid 
 demeanour; yet you are so far from growing grave 
 and considerate with the increase of your annual 
 income, that the richer you become, the merrier I 
 think you grow. But this must be at your own 
 pleasure, so far as you are concerned. Alan, how- 
 ever, (overpassing my small savings,) has the world 
 to win; and louping and laughing, as you and he 
 were wont to do, would soon make the powder flee 
 out of his wig, and the pence out of his pocket. 
 Nevertheless, I trust you will meet when you return 
 from your rambles; for there is a time, as the wise 
 man sayeth, for gathering, and a time for casting 
 away; it is always the part of a man of sense to 
 take the gathering time first. I remain, dear sir, 
 your well-wishing friend, and obedient to command, 
 ALEXANDER FAIRFORD. 
 
 P.S. — Alan’s Thesis is upon the title De periculo 
 et commodo rei vendite, and is a very pretty piece of 
 Latinity. — Ross-House, in our neighbourhood, is 
 nearly finished, and is thought to excel Duff-House 
 in ornature. 
 
 VOL. I.—9 
 
LETTER X. 
 DARSIE LATIMER TO ALAN FAIRFORD. 
 
 Tue plot thickens, Alan. I have your letter, 
 and also one from your father. The last makes it 
 impossible for me to comply with the kind request 
 which the former urges. No—TI cannot be with 
 you, Alan; and that, for the best of all reasons — 
 I cannot and ought not to counteract your father’s 
 anxious wishes. I do not take it unkind of him 
 that he desires my absence. It is natural that he 
 should wish for his son, what his son so well 
 deserves — the advantage of a wiser and steadier 
 companion than I seem to him. And yet I amsure 
 I have often laboured hard enough to acquire that 
 decency of demeanour which can no more be sus- 
 pected of breaking bounds, than an owl of catching 
 a butterfly. 
 
 But it was in vain that I have knitted my brows 
 till I had the headache, in order to acquire the 
 reputation of a grave, solid, and well-judging youth. 
 Your father always has discovered, or thought that 
 he discovered, a harebrained eccentricity lying folded 
 among the wrinkles of my forehead, which rendered 
 me a perilous associate for the future counsellor 
 and ultimate judge. Well, Corporal Nym’s philoso- 
 phy must be my comfort—“Things must be as 
 they may.” — I cannot come to your father’s house, 
 where he wishes not to see me; and as to your 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 131 
 
 coming hither, — by all that is dear to me, I vow 
 that if you are guilty of such a piece of reckless 
 folly —not to say undutiful cruelty, considering 
 your father’s thoughts and wishes —I will never 
 speak to you again as long asI live! I am perfectly 
 serious. And besides, your father, while he in a 
 manner prohibits me from returning to Edinburgh, 
 gives me the strongest reasons for continuing a little 
 while longer in this country, by holding out the 
 hope that I may receive from your old friend, Mr. 
 Herries of Birrenswork, some particulars concerning 
 my origin, with which that ancient recusant seems 
 to be acquainted. 
 
 That gentleman mentioned the name of a family 
 in Westmoreland, with which he supposes me con- 
 nected. My enquiries here after such a family have 
 been ineffectual, for the borderers, on either side, 
 know little of each other. But I shall doubtless 
 find some English person of whom to make enquiries, 
 since the confounded fetterlock clapped on my 
 movements by old Griffiths, prevents me repairing 
 to England in person. At least, the prospect of 
 obtaining some information is greater here than 
 elsewhere; it will be an apology for my making 
 a longer stay in this neighbourhood, a line of con- 
 duct which seems to have your father’s sanction, 
 whose opinion must be sounder than that of your 
 wandering damoiselle. 
 
 If the road were paved with dangers which leads 
 to such a discovery, I cannot for a moment hesitate 
 to tread it. But in fact there is no peril in the 
 case. If the Tritons of the Solway shall proceed 
 to pull down honest Joshua’s tide-nets, [am neither 
 Quixote enough in disposition, nor Goliath enough 
 in person, to attempt their protection. I have no 
 
132 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 idea of attempting to prop a falling house, by 
 putting my shoulders against it. And indeed 
 Joshua gave me a hint, that the company which 
 he belongs to, injured in the way threatened, (some 
 of them being men who thought after the fashion 
 of the world,) would pursue the rioters at law, and 
 recover damages, in which probably his own ideas 
 of non-resistance will not prevent his participating. 
 Therefore the whole affair will take its course as 
 law will, as I only mean to interfere when it may 
 be necessary to direct the course of the plaintiffs 
 to thy chambers; and I request they may find 
 thee intimate with all the Scottish statutes con- 
 cerning salmon-fisheries, from the Lex <Aquarum, 
 downward. 
 
 As for the Lady of the Mantle, I will lay a wager 
 that the sun so bedazzled thine eyes on that memo- 
 rable morning, that every thing thou didst look 
 upon seemed green; and notwithstanding James 
 Wilkinson’s experience in the Fusileers, as well as 
 his negative whistle, I will venture to hold a crown 
 that she is but a what-shall-call’um after all. Let 
 not even the gold persuade you to the contrary. 
 She may make a shift to cause you to disgorge that, 
 and (immense spoil !) a session’s fees to boot, if you 
 look not all the sharper about you. Or if it should 
 be otherwise, and if indeed there lurk some mystery 
 under this visitation, credit me, it is one which thou 
 canst not penetrate, nor can I as yet even attempt 
 to explain it; since, if I prove mistaken, and mis- 
 taken I may easily be, I would be fain to creep 
 into Phalaris’s bull, were it standing before me 
 ready heated, rather than be roasted with thy rail- 
 lery. Do not tax me with want of confidence; for 
 the instant I can throw any light on the matter 
 
REDGAUNTLET, 133 
 
 thou shalt have it; but while I am only blundering 
 about in the dark, I do not choose to call wise folks 
 to see me, perchance, break my nose against a post. 
 So if you marvel at this, 
 
 ‘¢ H’en marvel on till time makes all things plain.” 
 
 In the meantime, kind Alan, let me proceed in 
 my diurnal. 
 
 On the third or fourth day after my arrival at 
 Mount Sharon, Time, that bald sexton to whom I 
 have just referred you, did certainly limp more 
 heavily along with me than he had done at first. 
 The quaint morality of Joshua, and Huguenot sim- 
 plicity of his sister, began to lose much of their 
 raciness with their novelty, and my mode of life, by 
 dint of being very quiet, began to feel abominably 
 dull. It was, as thou say’st, as if the Quakers had 
 put the sun in their pockets — all around was soft 
 and mild, and even pleasant ; but there was, in the 
 whole routine, a uniformity, a want of intcrest, a 
 helpless and hopeless languor, which rendered life 
 insipid. No doubt, my worthy host and hostess felt 
 none of this void, this want of excitation, which was 
 becoming oppressive to their guest. They had their 
 little round of occupations, charities, and pleasures ; 
 Rachel had her poultry-yard and conservatory, and 
 Joshua his garden. Besides this, they enjoyed, 
 doubtless, their devotional meditations ; and, on the 
 whole, time glided softly and imperceptibly on with 
 them, though to me, who long for stream and cata- 
 ract, it seemed absolutely to stand still. I meditated 
 returning to Shepherd’s Bush, and began to think, 
 with some hankering, after little Benjie and the 
 rod. The imp has ventured hither, and hovers 
 
134 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 about to catch a peep of me now and then; I sup- 
 pose the little sharper is angling for a few more 
 sixpences. But this would have been, in Joshua’s 
 eyes, a return of the washed sow to wallowing in 
 the mire, and I resolved, while I remained his guest, 
 to spare him so violent a shock to his prejudices. 
 The next point was, to shorten the time of my 
 proposed stay; but, alas! that I felt to be equally 
 impossible. I had named a week; and however 
 rashly my promise had been pledged, it must be 
 held sacred, even according to the letter, from which 
 the Friends permit no deviation. 
 
 All these considerations wrought me up to a 
 kind of impatience yesterday evening; so that I 
 snatched up my hat, and prepared fora sally beyond 
 the cultivated farm and ornamented grounds of 
 Mount Sharon, just as if I were desirous to escape 
 from the realms of art, into those of free and uncon- 
 strained nature. 
 
 I was scarcely more delighted when I first entered 
 this peaceful demesne, than I now was — such is the 
 instability and inconsistency of human nature ! — 
 when I escaped from it to the open downs, which 
 had formerly seemed so waste and dreary. The air 
 I breathed felt purer and more bracing. The clouds, 
 riding high upon a summer breeze, drove, in gay 
 succession, over my head, now obscuring the sun, 
 now letting its rays stream in transient flashes upon 
 various parts of the landscape, and especially upon 
 the broad mirror of the distant Frith of Solway. 
 
 J advanced on the scene with the light step of a 
 liberated captive; and, like John Bunyan’s Pil- 
 grim, could have found in my heart to sing as I 
 went on my way. It seemed asif my gaiety had 
 accumulated while suppressed, and that I was, in 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 135 
 
 my present joyous mood, entitled to expend the 
 savines of the previous week. But just as I was 
 about to uplift a merry stave, I heard, to my joyful 
 surprise, the voices of three or more choristers, sing- 
 ing, with considerable success, the lively old catch, 
 
 ‘¢ For all our men were very very merry, 
 And all our men were drinking : 
 
 There were two men of mine, 
 
 Three men of thine, 
 
 And three that belong’d to old Sir Thom o’ Lyne ; 
 
 As they went to the ferry, they were very very merry, 
 And all our men were drinking.” 1 
 
 As the chorus ended, there followed a loud and 
 hearty laugh by way ofcheers. Attracted by sounds 
 which were so congenial to my present feelings, I 
 made towards the spot from which they came, — 
 cautiously however, for the downs, as had been 
 repeatedly hinted to me, had no good name ; and the 
 attraction of the music, without rivalling that of 
 the Syrens in melody, might have been followed by 
 
 1 The original of this catch is to be found in Cowley’s witty 
 comedy of the Guardian, the first edition. It does not exist 
 in the second and revised edition, called the Cutter of Coleman 
 Street. 
 
 “CAPTAIN BLADE. Ha, ha, boys, another catch. 
 And all our men were very very merry, 
 And all our men were drinking. 
 
 CurTER. One man of mone. 
 
 DoGREL. Two men of mine. 
 
 BiaDE. Three men of mine. 
 
 CuTTER. And one man of mine. 
 
 Omnes. As we went by the way we were drunk, drunk, damnably 
 drunk. 
 
 And all our men were very very merry, gc.” 
 
 Such are the words, which are somewhat altered and amplified 
 in the text. The play was acted in presence of Charles II., then 
 Prince of Wales, in 1641. The catch in the text has been happily 
 set to music. 
 
136 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 similarly inconvenient consequences to an incautious 
 amateur. 
 
 I crept on, therefore, trusting that the sinuosities 
 of the ground, broken as it was into knolls and 
 sand-pits, would permit me to obtain a sight of the 
 musicians before I should be observed by them. 
 As I advanced, the old ditty was again raised. The 
 voices seemed those of a man and two boys; they 
 were rough, but kept good time, and were managed 
 with too much skill to belong to the ordinary coun- 
 try people. 
 
 “‘ Jack look’d at the sun, and cried, Fire, fire, fire; 
 Jem stabled his keffel in Birkendale mire; 
 Tom startled a calf, and halloo’d for a stag; 
 Will mounted a gate-post instead of his nag: 
 For all our men were very very merry, 
 And all our men were drinking ; 
 There were two men of mine, 
 Three men of thine, 
 And three that belong’d to old Sir Thom o’ Lyne; 
 As they went to the ferry they were very very merry, 
 For all our men were drinking.” 
 
 The voices, as they mixed in their several parts, 
 and ran through them, untwisting and again entwin- 
 ing all the links of the merry old catch, seemed 
 to have a little touch of the bacchanalian spirit 
 which they celebrated, and showed plainly that the 
 musicians were engaged in the same joyous revel 
 as the menyte of old Sir Thom o’ Lyne. At length 
 I came within sight of them, three in number, 
 where they sat cosily niched into what you might 
 call a bunker, a little sand-pit, dry and snug, and 
 surrounded by its banks, and a screen of whins in 
 full bloom. 
 
 The only one of the trio whom I recognised as a 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 137 
 
 personal acquaintance was the notorious little Benjie, 
 who, having just finished his stave, was cramming 
 a huge luncheon of pie-crust into his mouth with 
 one hand, while in the other he held a foaming 
 tankard, his eyes dancing with all the glee of a for- 
 bidden revel; and his features, which have at all 
 times a mischievous archness of expression, con- 
 fessing the full sweetness of stolen waters, and bread 
 eaten in secret. 
 
 There was no mistaking the profession of the 
 male and female, who were partners with Benjie in 
 these merry doings. The man’s long loose-bodied 
 great-coat, (wrap-rascal as the vulgar term it,) the 
 fiddle-case, with its straps, which lay beside him, 
 and a small knapsack which might contain his few 
 necessaries; a clear grey eye; features which, in 
 contending with many a storm, had not lost a wild 
 and careless expression of glee, animated at present, 
 when he was exercising for his own pleasure the 
 arts which he usually practised for bread, — all 
 announced one of those peripatetic followers of 
 Orpheus, whom the vulgar call a strolling fiddler. 
 Gazing more attentively, I easily discovered that 
 though the poor musician’s eyes were open, their 
 sense was shut, and that the ecstasy with which he 
 turned them up to Heaven, only derived its appa- 
 rent expression from his own internal emotions, 
 but received no assistance from the visible objects 
 around. Beside him sat his female companion, in a 
 man’s hat, a blue coat, which seemed also to have 
 been an article of male apparel, and a red petticoat. 
 She was cleaner, in person and in clothes, than such 
 itinerants generally are; and, having been in her 
 day a strapping bona roba, she did not even yet 
 neglect some attention to her appearance; wore a 
 
 ¥ 
 
138 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 large amber necklace, and silver ear-rings, and had 
 her plaid fastened across her breast with a brooch 
 of the same metal. 
 
 The man also looked clean, notwithstanding the 
 meanness of his attire, and hada decent silk hand- 
 kerchief well knotted about his throat, under which 
 peeped a clean owrelay. His beard, also, instead of 
 displaying a grizzly stubble, unmowed for several 
 days, flowed in thick and comely abundance over 
 the breast, to the length of six inches, and mingled 
 with his hair, which was but beginning to exhibit 
 a touch of age. To sum up his appearance, the 
 loose garment which I have described, was secured 
 around him by a large old-fashioned belt, with brass 
 studs, in which hung a dirk, with a knife and fork, 
 its usual accompaniments. Altogether, there was 
 something more wild and adventurous-looking about 
 the man, than I could have expected to see in an 
 ordinary modern crowder; and the bow which he 
 now and then drew across the violin, to direct his 
 little choir, was decidedly that of no ordinary 
 performer. 
 
 You must understand, that many of these obser- 
 vations were the fruits of after remark; for I had 
 scarce approached so near as to get a distinct view 
 of the party, when my friend Benjie’s lurching 
 attendant, which he calls by the appropriate name 
 of Hemp, began to cock his tail and ears, and, sen- 
 sible of my presence, flew, barking lke a fury, to 
 the place where I had meant to lie concealed till I 
 heard another song. I was obliged, however, to 
 jump on my feet, and intimidate Hemp, who would 
 otherwise have bit me, by two sound kicks on the 
 ribs, which sent him howling back to his master. 
 
 Little Benjie seemed somewhat dismayed at my 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 139 
 
 appearance; but, calculating on my placability, and 
 remembering, perhaps, that the ill-used Solomon 
 was no palfrey of mine, he speedily affected great 
 glee, and almost in one breath assured the itinerants 
 that I was “a grand gentleman, and had plenty 
 of money, and was very kind to poor folk;” and 
 informed me that this was “ Willie Steenson — 
 Wandering Willie—the best fiddler that ever 
 kittled thairm with horse-hair.” 
 
 The woman rose and curtsied; and Wandering 
 Willie sanctioned his own praises with a nod, and 
 the ejaculation, “ All is true that the little boy says.” 
 
 I asked him if he was of this country. 
 
 “ This country !”’ replied the bind man —“ I am 
 of every country in broad Scotland, and a wee bit 
 of England to the boot. But yet I am, in some 
 sense, of this country ; for I was born within hear- 
 ing of the roar of Solway. Will I give your honour 
 a touch of the auld bread-winner ? ” 
 
 He preluded as he spoke, in a manner which 
 really excited my curiosity; and then taking the 
 old tune of Galashiels for his theme, he graced it 
 with a number of wild, complicated, and beautiful 
 variations; during which, it was wonderful to 
 observe how his sightless face was lighted up under 
 the conscious pride and heartfelt delight in the 
 exercise of his own very considerable powers. 
 
 “What think you of that, now, for threescore 
 and twa?” 
 
 I expressed my surprise and pleasure. 
 
 “A rant, man—an auld rant,” said Willie; 
 “naething like the music ye hae in your ball- 
 houses and your playhouses in Edinbro’; but it’s 
 weel aneugh anes in a way at a dike-side. — Here’s 
 another — it’s no a Scots tune, but it passes for ane 
 
140 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 — Oswald made it himsell, I reckon — he has 
 cheated mony ane, but he canna cheat Wandering 
 Willie.” 
 
 He then played your favourite air of Roslin 
 Castle, with a number of beautiful variations, some 
 of which I am certain were almost extempore. 
 
 “You have another fiddle there, my friend,” said 
 I—“Have you acomrade?” But Willie’s ears were 
 deaf, or his attention was still busied with the tune. 
 
 The female replied in his stead, “O ay, sir— 
 troth we have a partner — a gangrel body like our- 
 sells. No but my hinny might have been better if 
 he had liked; for mony a bein nook in mony a 
 braw house has been offered to my hinny Wille, if 
 he wad but just bide still and play to the gentles.” 
 
 “Whisht, woman! whisht!” said the blind man, 
 angrily, shaking his locks ; “dinna deave the gen- 
 tleman wi your havers. Stay in a house and play 
 to the gentles !— strike up when my leddy pleases, 
 and lay down the bow when my lord bids! Na, na, 
 that’s nae life for Willie. — Look out, Maggie — 
 peer out, woman, and see if ye can see Robin com- 
 ing. — Deil be in him! he has got to the lea-side of 
 some smuggler’s punch-bowl, and he wunna budge 
 the night, I doubt.” 
 
 “That is your consort’s instrument,” said I[— 
 “Will you give me leave to try my skill?” I 
 slipped at the same time a shilling into the woman’s 
 hand. 
 
 “T dinna ken whether I dare trust Robin’s fiddle 
 to ye,’ said Willie, bluntly. His wife gave him a 
 twitch. “Hout awa, Maggie,” he said, in con- 
 tempt of the hint; “though the gentleman may 
 hae gien ye siller, he may have nae bow-hand for 
 a’ that, and Pll no trust Robin’s fiddle wi’ an igno- 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 141 
 
 ramus. — But that’s no sae muckle amiss,” he added, 
 as I began to touch the instrument; “I am think- 
 ing ye have some skill o’ the craft.” 
 
 To confirm him in this favourable opinion, I 
 began to execute such a complicated flourish as I 
 thought must have turned Crowdero into a pillar of 
 stone with envy and wonder. I scaled the top of 
 the finger-board, to dive at once to the bottom — 
 skipped with flying fingers, like Timotheus, from 
 shift to shift — struck arpeggios and harmonic 
 tones, but without exciting any of the astonishment 
 which I had expected. 
 
 Wille indeed listened to me with considerable 
 attention; but I was no sooner finished, than he 
 immediately mimicked on his own instrument the 
 fantastic complication of tones which I had pro- 
 duced, and made so whimsical a parody of my 
 performance, that, although somewhat angry, I 
 could not help laughing heartily, in which I was 
 joined by Benjie, whose reverence for me held him 
 under no restraint; while the poor dame, fearful, 
 doubtless, of my taking offence at this familiarity, 
 seemed divided betwixt her conjugal reverence for 
 her Willie, and her desire to give him a hint for 
 his guidance. 
 
 At length the old man stopped of his own accord, 
 and, as if he had sufficiently rebuked me by his 
 mimicry, he said, “ But for a’ that, ye will play very 
 weel wi’ a little practice and some gude teaching. 
 But ye maun learn to put the heart into it, man — 
 to put the heart into it.” 
 
 I played an air in simpler taste, and received 
 more decided approbation. 
 
 “That's something like it, man. Od, ye are a 
 clever birkie!” 
 
 ¥ 
 
142 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 The woman touched his coat again. “The gentle- 
 man is a gentleman, Willie — ye maunna speak that 
 gate to him, hinny.” 
 
 “The deevil I maunna!” said Willie; “and what 
 for maunna I? — If he was ten gentles, he canna 
 draw a bow like me, can he?” 
 
 “Indeed I cannot, my honest friend,” said I; 
 “and if you will go with me to a house hard by, I 
 would be glad to have a night with you.” 
 
 Here I looked round, and observed Benjie 
 smothering a laugh, which I was sure had mis- 
 chief in it. I seized him suddenly by the ear, 
 and made him confess that he was laughing at the 
 thoughts of the reception which a fiddler was 
 likely to get from the Quakers at Mount Sharon. 
 I chucked him from me, not sorry that his mirth 
 had reminded me in time of what I had for the 
 moment forgotten ; and invited the itinerant to go 
 with me to Shepherd’s Bush, from which I proposed 
 to send word to Mr. Geddes that I should not 
 return home that evening. But the minstrel 
 declined this invitation also. He was engaged for 
 the night, he said, to a dance in the neighbourhood, 
 and vented a round execration on the laziness or 
 drunkenness of his comrade, who had not appeared 
 at the place of rendezvous. 
 
 “JT will go with you instead of him,” said I, in 
 a sudden whim; “and I will give you a crown to 
 introduce me as your comrade.” 
 
 “You gang instead of Rob the Rambler! My 
 certie, freend, ye are no blate!” answered Wander- 
 ing Willie, in a tone which announced death to 
 my frolic. 
 
 But Maggie, whom the offer of the crown had 
 not escaped, began to open on that scent with a 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 143 
 
 maundering sort of lecture. “O Willie! hinny 
 Willie, whan will ye learn to be wise? There’s a 
 crown to be win for naething but saying ae man’s 
 name instead of anither. And, wae’s me! I hae 
 just a shilling of this gentleman’s gieing, and a 
 bodle of my ain; and ye wunna bend your will 
 sae muckle as to take up the siller that’s flung 
 at your feet! Ye will die the death of a cadger’s 
 powney in a wreath of drift! and what can I 
 do better than lie doun and die wi you? for ye 
 winna let me win siller to keep either you or mysell 
 leevin.” | 
 
 “Haud your nonsense tongue, woman,” said 
 Willie, but less absolutely than before. “Is he a 
 real gentleman, or ane of the player-men ?” 
 
 “Tse uphaud him a real gentleman,” said the 
 woman. 
 
 “Tse uphaud ye ken little of the matter,’ said 
 Willie; “let us see haud of your hand, neebor, 
 gin ye like.” 
 
 I gave him my hand. He said to himself, “ Ay, 
 ay, here are fingers that have seen canny service.” 
 Then running his hand over my hair, my face, and 
 my dress, he went on with his soliloquy; “ Ay, ay, 
 muisted hair, braid-claith o’ the best, and seenteen 
 hundred linen on his back, at the least o’ it. — And 
 how do you think, my braw birkie, that ye are to 
 pass for a tramping fiddler?” 
 
 “ My dress is plain,’ said I,—indeed I had chosen 
 my most ordinary suit, out of compliment to my 
 Quaker friends, — “and I can easily pass for a young 
 farmer out upon a frolic. Come, I will double the 
 crown I promised you.” 
 
 “Damn your crowns!” said the disinterested 
 man of music. “I would like to have a round wi’ 
 
 ‘ 
 
144 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 you, that’s certain; — but a farmer, and with a 
 hand that never held pleugh-stilt or pettle, that 
 will never do. Ye may pass for a trades-lad from 
 Dumfries, or a student upon the ramble, or the like 
 o that.— But hark ye, lad; if ye expect to be 
 ranting amang the queans o’ lasses where ye are 
 gaun, ye will come by the waur, I can tell ye; 
 for the fishers are wild chaps, and will bide nae 
 taunts.” 
 
 I promised to be civil and cautious; and, to 
 smooth the good woman, I slipped the promised 
 piece into her hand. The acute organs of the blind 
 man detected this little manceuvre. 
 
 “Are ye at it again wi’ the siller, ye jaud? I'll 
 be sworn ye wad rather hear ae twalpenny clink 
 against another, than have a spring from Rory 
 Dall,! if he was coming alive again, anes errand. 
 Gang doun the gate to Lucky Gregson’s and get 
 the things ye want, and bide there till ele’en hours 
 in the morn; and if ye see Robin, send him on to 
 me 
 
 “ Am I no gaun to the ploy, then?” said Maggie, 
 in a disappointed tone. 
 
 “And what for should ye?” said her lord and 
 master; “to dance a’ night, Tse warrant, and no 
 to be fit to walk your tae’s-length the morn, and 
 we have ten Scots miles afore us? Na, na. Stable 
 the steed, and pit your wife to bed, when there’s 
 night wark to do.” 
 
 “ Aweel, aweel, Willie hinnie, ye ken best; but 
 O, take an unco care o’ yoursell, and mind ye hae 
 nae the blessing o’ sight.” 
 
 “Your tongue gars me whiles tire of the blessing 
 
 1 Blind Rorie, a famous performer, according to tradition. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 145 
 
 of hearing, woman,” replied Willie, in answer to this 
 tender exhortation. 
 
 But I now put in for my interest. “Hollo, good 
 folks, remember that I am to send the boy to Mount 
 Sharon, and if you go to the Shepherd’s Bush, hon- 
 est woman, how the deuce am I to guide the blind 
 man where he is going? I know little or nothing 
 of the country.” 
 
 “An ye ken mickle less of my hinnie, sir,” 
 replied Maggie, “that think he needs ony guiding; 
 he’s the best guide himsell, that ye’ll find between 
 Criffell and Carlisle. Horse-road and footpath, 
 parish-road and kirk-road, high-road and cross-road, 
 he kens ilka foot of ground in Nithsdale.” 
 
 “ Ay, ye might have said in braid Scotland, gude- 
 wife,” added the fiddler. “ But gang your ways, 
 Maggie, that’s the first wise word ye hae spoke the 
 day. I wish it was dark night, and rain, and wind, 
 for the gentleman’s sake, that I might show him 
 there is whiles when ane had better want een than 
 have them ; for I am as true a guide by darkness as 
 by daylight.” 
 
 Internally as well pleased that my companion was 
 not put to give me this last proof of his skill, I 
 wrote a note with a pencil, desiring Samuel to bring 
 my horses at midnight, when I thought my frolic 
 would be wellnigh over, to the place to which the 
 bearer should direct him, and I sent little Benjie 
 with an apology to the worthy Quakers. 
 
 As we parted in different directions, the good 
 woman said, “Oh, sir, if ye wad but ask Willie to 
 tell ye ane of his tales to shorten the gate! He can 
 speak like ony minister frae the pu’pit, and he might 
 have been a minister himsell, but ” —— 
 
 “Had your tongue, ye fule!” said Wille, — 
 
 VOL. I.— 10 ¢ 
 
146 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 “ But stay, Meg —gie me a kiss, we maunna part in 
 anger, neither.’ — And thus our society separated. 4 
 
 1 It is certain that in many cases the blind have, by constant 
 exercise of their other organs, learned to overcome a defect 
 which one would think incapable of being supplied. Every reader 
 must remember the celebrated Blind Jack of Knaresborough, who 
 lived by laying out roads. ( p) 
 
LETTER XI. 
 THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
 
 You are now to conceive us proceeding in our 
 different directions across the bare downs. Yonder . 
 flies little Benjie to the northward, with Hemp 
 scampering at his heels, both running as if for dear 
 life, so long as the rogue is within sight of his 
 employer, and certain to take the walk very easy, 
 so soon as he is out of ken. Stepping westward, 
 you see Maggie’s tall form and high-crowned hat, 
 relieved by the fluttering of her plaid upon the left 
 shoulder, darkening as the distance diminishes her 
 size, and as the level sunbeams begin to sink upon 
 the sea. She is taking her quiet journey to the 
 Shepherd’s Bush. | 
 
 Then, stoutly striding over the lea, you have a 
 full view of Darsie Latimer, with his new acquaint- 
 ance, Wandering Willie, who, bating that he touched 
 the ground now and then with his staff, not in 
 a doubtful groping manner, but with the confident 
 air of an experienced pilot, heaving the lead when 
 he has the soundings by heart, walks as firmly 
 and boldly as if he possessed the eyes of Argus. 
 There they go, each with his violin slung at his 
 back, but one of them at least totally ignorant 
 whither their course is directed. 
 
 And wherefore did you enter so keenly into such 
 a mad frolic? says my wise counsellor — Why, I 
 think, upon the whole, that as a sense of loneliness, 
 
148 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 and a longing for that kindness which is inter- 
 changed in society, led me to take up my temporary 
 residence at Mount Sharon, the monotony of my 
 life there, the quiet simplicity of the conversation 
 of the Geddeses, and the uniformity of their amuse- 
 ments and employments, wearied out my impatient 
 temper, and prepared me for the first escapade which 
 chance might throw in my way. 
 
 What would I have given that I could have pro- 
 cured that solemn grave visage of thine, to dignify 
 this joke, as it has done full many a one of thine 
 own! Thou hast so happy a knack of doing the 
 most foolish things in the wisest manner, that thou 
 mightst pass thy extravagancies for rational actions, 
 even in the eyes of prudence herself. 
 
 From the direction which my guide observed, I 
 began to suspect that the dell at Brokenburn was 
 our probable destination ; and it became important 
 to me to consider whether I could, with propriety, 
 or even perfect safety, intrude myself again upon 
 the hospitality of my former host. I therefore 
 asked Willie, whether we were bound for the 
 Laird’s, as folk called him. 
 
 “Do ye ken the Laird?” said Willie, interrupt- 
 ing a sonata of Corelli, of which he had whistled 
 several bars with great precision. 
 
 “T know the Laird a little,” said I; “and there- 
 fore, I was doubting whether I ought to go to his 
 town in disguise.” 
 
 “And I should doubt, not a little only, but a 
 great deal, before I took ye there, my chap,” said 
 Wandering Willie; “for I am thinking it wad be 
 worth little less than broken banes baith to you and 
 me. Na, na, chap, we are no ganging to the Laird’s, 
 but to a blithe birling at the Brokenburn-foot, where 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 149 
 
 there will be mony a braw lad and lass ; and maybe 
 there may be some of the Laird’s folk, for he never 
 comes to sic splores himsell. He is all for fowling- 
 piece and salmon spear, now that pike and musket 
 are out of the question.” 
 
 “He has been a soldier, then?” said I. 
 
 “T’se warrant him a soger,” answered Willie; 
 “but take my advice, and speer as little about him 
 as he does about you. Best to let sleeping dogs 
 le. Better say naething about the Laird, my man, 
 and tell me instead, what sort of a chap ye are, 
 that are sae ready to cleik in with an auld gaber- 
 lunzie fiddler? Maggie says ye’re gentle, but a 
 shilling maks a’ the difference that Maggie kens, 
 between a gentle and a semple, and your crowns 
 wad mak ye a prince of the blood in her een. But 
 I am ane that kens full weel that ye may wear 
 good claithes, and have a saft hand, and yet that 
 may come of idleness as weel as gentrice.” 
 
 I told him my name, with the same addition I 
 had formerly given to Mr. Joshua Geddes; that I 
 was a law-student, tired of my studies, and rambling 
 about for exercise and amusement. 
 
 “And are ye in the wont of drawing up wi a’ 
 the gangrel bodies that ye meet on the high-road, 
 or find cowering in a sand-bunker upon the links?” 
 demanded Wille. 
 
 “Oh no; only with honest folks lke yourself, 
 Willie,’ was my reply. 
 
 “Honest folks hke me!—How do ye ken 
 whether I am honest, or what Iam?— I may be 
 the deevil himsell for what ye ken; for he has 
 power to come disguised like an angel of lght; 
 and besides, he is a prime fiddler. He played a 
 sonata to Corelli, ye ken.” 
 
150 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 There was something odd in this speech, and the 
 tone in which it was said. It seemed as if my 
 companion was not always in his constant mind, or 
 that he was willing to try if he could frighten me. 
 I laughed at the extravagance of his language, 
 however, and asked him in reply, if he was fool 
 enough to believe that the foul fiend would play so 
 silly a masquerade. 
 
 “Ye ken little about it — little about it,” said the 
 old man, shaking his head and beard, and knitting 
 his brows — “I could tell ye something about that.” 
 
 What his wife mentioned of his being a tale- 
 teller, as well as a musician, now occurred to me; 
 and as you know I like tales of superstition, I 
 begged to have a specimen of his talent as we 
 went along. 
 
 “Tt is very true,” said the blind man, “that when 
 I am tired of scraping thairm or singing ballants, I 
 whiles make a tale serve the turn among the coun- 
 try bodies; and I have some fearsome anes, that 
 make the auld carlines shake on the settle, and the 
 bits o’ bairns skirl on their minnies out frae their 
 beds. But this that I am gaun to tell you was a 
 thing that befell in our ain house in my father’s 
 time — that is, my father was then a hafflins callant; 
 and I tell it to you, that it may be a lesson to you, 
 that are but a young, thoughtless chap, wha ye 
 draw up wi’ on a lonely road; for muckle was the 
 -dool and care that came o’t to my gudesire.” 
 
 He commenced his tale accordingly, in a distinct 
 narrative tone of voice, which he raised and 
 depressed with considerable skill; at times sinking 
 almost into a whisper, and turning his clear but 
 sightless eyeballs upon my face, as if it had been 
 possible for him to witness the impression which 
 
REDGAUNTLET. ISI 
 
 his narrative made upon my features. I will not 
 spare you a syllable of it, although it be of the 
 longest; so I make a dash and begin 
 
 
 
 WANDERING WILLIE’S TALE. 
 
 Ye maun have heard of Sir Robert Redgauntlet of 
 that Ik, who lived in these parts before the dear years. 
 The country will lang mind him; and our fathers 
 used to draw breath thick if ever they heard him 
 named. He was out wi’ the Hielandmen in Montrose’s 
 time; and again he was in the hills wi’ Glencairn (¢) 
 in the saxteen hundred and fifty-twa; and sae when 
 King Charles the Second came in, wha was in sic 
 favour as the Laird of Redgauntlet? He was knighted 
 at Lonon court, wi’ the King’s ain sword; and being 
 a redhot prelatist, he came down here, rampauging like 
 a lion, with commissions of lieutenancy, (and of lunacy, 
 for what I ken,) to put down a’ the Whigs and Coven- 
 anters in the country. Wild wark they made of it; 
 for the Whigs were as dour as the Cavaliers were fierce, 
 and it was which should first tire the other. Red- 
 gauntlet was aye for the strong hand; and his name 
 is kend as wide in the country as Claverhouse’s or 
 Tam Dalyell’s. Glen, nor dargle, nor mountain, nor 
 cave, could hide the puir hill-folk when Redgauntlet 
 was out with bugle and bloodhound after them, as if 
 they had been sae mony deer. And troth when they 
 fand them, they didna mak muckle mair ceremony 
 than a Hielandman wi’ a roebuck — It was just, ‘‘ Will 
 ye tak the test?’’? —if not, ‘‘Make ready — present 
 — fire! ’”? — and there lay the recusant. 
 
 Far and wide was Sir Robert hated and feared. 
 Men thought he had a direct compact with Satan — 
 that he was proof against steel— and that bullets 
 happed aff his buff-coat like hailstanes from a hearth 
 —that he hada mear that would turn a hare on the 
 
152 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 side of Carrifra-gawns 1— and muckle to the same pur- 
 pose, of whilk mair anon. The best blessing they 
 wared on him was, ‘‘Deil scowp wi’ Redgauntlet! ”’ 
 He wasna a bad maister to his ain folk though, and 
 was weel aneugh liked by his tenants; and as for the 
 lackies and troopers that raid out wi’ him to the persecu- 
 tions, as the Whigs caa’d those killing times, they wad 
 hae drunken themsells blind to his health at ony time. 
 
 Now you are to ken that my gudesire lived on Red- 
 gauntlet’s grund —they ca’ the place Primrose-Knowe. 
 We had lived on the grund, and under the Redgauntlets, 
 since the riding days, and lang before. It was a plea- 
 sant bit; and I think the air is callerer and fresher there 
 than ony whereelse in the country. It’s a’ deserted 
 now; and I sat on the broken door-cheek three days 
 since, and was glad I couldna see the plight the place 
 was in; but that’s a’ wide o’ the mark. There dwelt 
 my gudesire, Steenie Steenson, a rambling, rattling 
 chiel he had been in his young days, and could play 
 weel on the pipes; he was famous at ‘‘ Hoopers and 
 Girders’?’ — a’ Cumberland couldna touch him at 
 ‘¢ Jockie Lattin’? —and he had the finest finger for the 
 backlilt between Berwick and Carlisle. The like 0’ 
 Steenie wasna the sort that they made Whigs 0’. And 
 so he became a Tory, as they ca’ it, which we now 
 ca’ Jacobites, just out of a kind of needcessity, that he 
 might belang to some side or other. He had nae ill- 
 will to the Whig bodies, and liked little to see the 
 blude rin, though, being obliged to follow Sir Robert 
 in hunting and hosting, watching and warding, he 
 saw muckle mischief, and maybe did some, that he 
 couldna avoid. 
 
 Now Steenie was a kind of favourite with his master, 
 and kend a’ the folks about the castle, and was often 
 sent for to play the pipes when they were at their 
 merriment. Auld Dougal MacCallum, the butler, 
 that had followed Sir Robert through gude and ill, 
 
 1 A precipitous side of a mountain in Moffatdale. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 153 
 
 thick and thin, pool and stream, was specially fond of 
 the pipes, and aye gae my gudesire his gude word wi’ the 
 Laird; for Dougal could turn his master round his 
 finger. 
 
 Weel, round came the Revolution, and it had like 
 to have broken the hearts baith of Dougal and his 
 master. But the change was not a’thegether sae great 
 as they feared, and other folk thought for. The 
 Whigs made an unco crawing what they wad do with 
 their auld enemies, and in special wi’ Sir Robert 
 Redgauntlet. But there were ower mony great folks 
 dipped in the same doings, to mak a spick and span 
 new warld. So parliament passed it a’ ower easy; and 
 Sir Robert, bating that he was held to hunting foxes 
 instead of Covenanters, remained just the man he was. 
 His revel was as loud, and his hall as weel lighted, as 
 ever it had been, though maybe he lacked the fines of 
 the non-conformists, that used to come to stock his 
 larder and cellar; for it is certain he began to be keener 
 about the rents than his tenants used to find him 
 before, and they behoved to be prompt to the rent-day, 
 or else the Laird wasna pleased. And he was sic an 
 awsome body, that naebody cared to anger him; for the 
 oaths he swore, and the rage that he used to get into, 
 and the looks that he put on, made men sometimes 
 think him a devil incarnate. 
 
 Weel, my gudesire was nae manager—no that he 
 was a very great misguider — but he hadna the saving 
 gift, and he got twa terms’ rent in arrear. He got the 
 first brash at Whitsunday put ower wi’ fair word and 
 
 1 The caution and moderation of King William III., and his 
 principles of unlimited toleration, deprived the Cameronians of the 
 opportunity they ardently desired, to retaliate the injuries which 
 they had received during the reign of prelacy, and purify the 
 land, as they called it, from the pollution of blood. They esteemed 
 the Revolution, therefore, only a half measure, which neither com- 
 prehended the rebuilding the Kirk in its full splendour, nor the 
 revenge of the death of the Saints on their persecutors. 
 
154 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 piping; but when Martinmas came, there was a sum- 
 mons from the grund-officer to come wi’ the rent on a 
 day preceese, or else Steenie behoved to flit. Sair 
 wark he had to get the siller; but he was weel-freended, 
 and at last he got the haill scraped thegither—a 
 thousand merks — the maist of it was from a neighbour 
 they caa’d Laurie Lapraik—a sly tod. Laurie had 
 walth o’ gear —could hunt wi’ the hound and rin wi’ 
 the hare— and be Whig or Tory, saunt or sinner, as 
 the wind stood. He was a professor in this Revolution 
 warld, but he liked an orra sough of this warld; and a 
 tune on the pipes weel aneugh at a bytime, and abune 
 a’, he thought he had gude security for the siller he 
 lent my gudesire ower the stocking at Primrose-Knowe. 
 
 Away trots my gudesire to Redgauntlet Castle, wi’ 
 a heavy purse and a light heart, glad to be out of the 
 Laird’s danger. Weel, the first thing he learned at 
 the Castle was, that Sir Robert had fretted himself 
 into a fit of the gout, because he did not appear before 
 twelve o’clock. It wasna a’thegether for sake of the 
 money, Dougal thought; but because he didna like 
 to part wi’ my gudesire aff the grund. Dougal was 
 glad to see Steenie, and brought him into the great oak 
 parlour, and there sat the Laird his leesome lane, 
 excepting that he had beside him a great, ill-favoured 
 jackanape, that was a special pet of his; a cankered 
 beast it was, and mony an ill-natured trick it played 
 — ill to please it was, and easily angered —ran about 
 the haill castle, chattering and yowling, and pinching 
 and biting folk, especially before 111 weather, or dis- 
 turbances in the state. Sir Robert caa’d it Major 
 Weir, (7) after the warlock that was burnt;! and few 
 folk liked either the name or the conditions of the 
 creature — they thought there was something in it by 
 ordinar —and my gudesire was not just easy in his 
 mind when the door shut on him, and he saw himself 
 
 1 A celebrated wizard, executed at Edinburgh for sorcery and 
 other crimes. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 155 
 
 in the room wi’ naebody but the Laird, Dougal Mac- 
 Callum, and the Major, a thing that hadna chanced 
 to him before. 
 
 Sir Robert sat, or, I should say, lay, in a great 
 armed chair, wi’ his grand velvet gown, and his feet on 
 a cradle; for he had baith gout and gravel, and his 
 face looked as gash and ghastly as Satan’s. Major 
 Weir sat opposite to him, in a red laced coat, and the 
 Laird’s wig on his head; and aye as Sir Robert girned 
 wi’ pain, the jackanape girned too, like a sheep’s- 
 head between a pair of tangs — an ill-faured, fearsome 
 couple they were. The Laird’s buff-coat was hung on a 
 pin behind him, and his broadsword and his pistols 
 within reach; for he keepit up the auld fashion of having 
 the weapons ready, and a horse saddled day and night, 
 just as he used to do when he was able to loup on horse- 
 back, and.away after ony of the hill-folk he could get 
 speerings of. Some said it was for fear of the Whigs tak- 
 ing vengeance, but I judge it was just his auld custom 
 —he wasna gien to fear ony thing. The rental-book, 
 wi’ its black cover and brass clasps, was lying beside 
 him; and a book of sculduddry sangs was put betwixt 
 the leaves, to keep it open at the place where it bore 
 evidence against the Goodman of Primrose-Knowe, as 
 behind the hand with his mails and duties. Sir 
 Robert gave my gudesire a look, as if he would have 
 withered his heart in his bosom. Ye maun ken he had 
 a way of bending his brows, that men saw the visible 
 mark of a horse-shoe in his forehead, deep-dinted, as if 
 it had been stamped there. 
 
 ‘Are ye come light-handed, ye son of a toom 
 whistle ?’’? said Sir Robert. ‘‘Zounds! if you 
 are ”’ 
 
 My gudesire, with as gude a countenance as he 
 could put on, made a leg, and placed the bag of money 
 on the table wi’ a dash, like a man that does some- 
 thing clever. The Laird drew it to him hastily — ‘Is 
 it all here, Steenie, man ?’’ 
 
 
 
156 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 ‘Your honour will find it right,” said my gudesire. 
 
 ‘‘ Here, Dougal,’? said the Laird, ‘‘gie Steenie 
 a tass of brandy down stairs, till I count the siller 
 and write the receipt.’’ 
 
 But they werena weel out of the room, when Sir 
 Robert gied a yelloch that garr’d the Castle rock! 
 Back ran Dougal—in flew the livery-men—yell on 
 yell gied the Laird, ilk ane mair awfw’ than the 
 ither. My gudesire knew not whether to stand or flee, 
 but he ventured back into the parlour, where a’ was 
 gaun hirdy-girdie — naebody to say ‘‘come in,”’ or ‘‘ gae 
 out.’’? Terribly the Laird roared for cauld water to his 
 feet, and wine to cool his throat ; and hell, hell, hell, 
 and its flames, was aye the word in his mouth. They 
 brought him water, and when they plunged his swoln 
 feet into the tub, he cried out it was burning; and 
 folk say that it did bubble and sparkle like a seething 
 caldron. He flung the cup at Dougal’s head, and said 
 he had given him blood instead of burgundy ; and, sure 
 aneugh, the lass washed clotted blood aff the carpet the 
 neist day. The jackanape they caa’d Major Weir, it 
 jibbered and cried as if it was mocking its master ; 
 my gudesire’s head was like to turn—he forgot baith 
 siller and receipt, and down stairs he banged ; but as 
 he ran, the shrieks came faint and fainter ; there was 
 a deep-drawn shivering groan, and word gaed through 
 the Castle, that the Laird was dead. 
 
 Weel, away came my gudesire, wi’ his finger in his 
 mouth, and his best hope was, that Dougal had seen 
 the money-bag, and heard the Laird speak of writing 
 the receipt. The young Laird, now Sir John, came 
 from Edinburgh, to see things put torights. Sir John 
 and his father never gree’d weel. Sir John had been 
 bred an advocate, and afterwards sat in the last Scots 
 Parliament and voted for the Union, having gotten, it 
 was thought, a rug of the compensations — if his father 
 could have come out of his grave, he would have brained 
 him for it on his awn hearthstane. Some thought it 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 157 
 
 was easier counting with the auld rough Knight than 
 the fairspoken young ane — but mair of that anon. 
 
 Dougal MacCallum, poor body, neither grat nor 
 graned, but gaed about the house looking like a corpse, 
 but directing, as was his duty, a’ the order of the grand 
 funeral. Now, Dougal looked aye waur and waur when 
 night was coming, and was aye the last to gang to his 
 bed, whilk was in a little round just opposite the 
 chamber of dais, whilk his master occupied while he 
 was living, and where he now lay in state, as they caa’d 
 it, weel-a-day ! The night before the funeral, Dougal 
 could keep his awn counsel nae langer ; he came doun 
 with his proud spirit, and fairly asked auld Hutcheon 
 to sit in his room with him for an hour. When they 
 were in the round, Dougal took ae tass of brandy 
 to himsell, and gave another to Hutcheon, and wished 
 him all health and lang life, and said that, for himsell, 
 he wasna lang for this world; for that, every night 
 since Sir Robert’s death, his silver call had sounded 
 from the state chamber, just as it used to do at nights 
 in his lifetime, to call Dougal to help to turn him in 
 his bed. Dougal said, that being alone with the dead 
 on that floor of the tower, (for naebody cared to wake 
 Sir Robert Redgauntlet like another corpse,) he had 
 never daured to answer the call, but that now his con- 
 science checked him for neglecting his duty ; for, 
 ‘‘though death breaks service,’’? said MacCallum, ‘it 
 shall never break my service to Sir Robert ; and I will 
 answer his next whistle, so be you will stand by me, 
 Hutcheon.”’ 
 
 Hutcheon had nae will to the wark, but he had stood 
 by Dougal in battle and broil, and he wad not fail him 
 at this pinch ; so down the carles sat ower a stoup of 
 brandy, and Hutcheon, who was something of a clerk, 
 would have read a chapter of the Bible ; but Dougal 
 would hear naething but @ blaud of Davie Lindsay, 
 whilk was the waur preparation. 
 
 When midnight came, and the house was quiet as 
 
158 REDGAUNTLET.. 
 
 the grave, sure aneugh the silver whistle sounded as 
 sharp and shrill as if Sir Robert was blowing it, and 
 up gat the twa auld serving-men, and tottered into the 
 room where the dead man lay. Hutcheon saw 
 aneugh at the first glance ; for there were torches in the 
 room, which showed him the foul fiend in his ain shape, 
 sitting on the Laird’s coffin! Over he cowped as if he had 
 been dead. He could not tell how lang he lay in a 
 trance at the door, but when he gathered himself, he 
 cried on his neighbour, and getting nae answer, raised 
 the house, when Dougal was found lying dead within 
 twa steps of the bed where his master’s coffin was placed. 
 As for the whistle, it was gaen anes and aye ; but mony 
 a time was it heard at the top of the house on the bar- 
 tizan, and amang the auld chimneys and turrets, where 
 the howlets have their nests. Sir John hushed the 
 matter up, and the funeral passed over without mair 
 bogle-wark. 
 
 But when a’ was ower, and the Laird was beginning 
 to settle his affairs, every tenant was called up for his 
 arrears, and my gudesire for the full sum that stood 
 against him in the rental-book. Weel, away he trots 
 to the Castle, to tell his story, and there he is introduced 
 to Sir John, sitting in his father’s chair, in deep 
 mourning, with weepers and hanging cravat, and a 
 small walking rapier by his side, instead of the auld 
 broadsword that had a hundred-weight of steel about it, 
 what with blade, chape, and basket-hilt. . I have heard 
 their communing so often tauld ower, that I almost 
 think I was there mysell, though I couldna be born at 
 the time. (In fact, Alan, my companion mimicked, 
 with a good deal of humour, the flattering, conciliating 
 tone of the tenant’s address, and the hypocritical 
 melancholy of the Laird’s reply. Huis grandfather, he 
 said, had, while he spoke, his eye fixed on the rental- 
 book, as if it were a mastiff-dog that he was afraid 
 would spring up and bite him.) 
 
 ‘©T wuss ye joy, sir, of the head seat, and the white 
 
bile, WE iy ae Sak 
 
 
 
Dougal MacCallum and Hutcheon. 
 Original Etching by George Cruikshank. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 —S 
 
 
 
 
 
 pl Ii 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 lll 
 
 PUTT 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
4 
 
 h af 
 jowhy 
 Nee 
 A 
 
 ' 
 iy : 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 159 
 
 loaf, and the braid lairdship. Your father was a kind 
 man to friends and followers ; muckle grace to you, 
 Sir John, to fill his shoon — his boots, I suld say, for 
 he seldom wore shoon, unless it were muils when he 
 had the gout.’’ 
 
 ‘¢Ay, Steenie,’’? quoth the Laird, sighing deeply, 
 and putting his napkin to his een, ‘‘his was a sudden 
 call, and he will be missed in the country ; no time to 
 set his house in order —weel prepared Godward, no 
 doubt, which is the root of the matter — but left us 
 behind a tangled hesp to wind, Steenie.— Hem ! hem ! 
 We maun go to business, Steenie; much to do, and 
 little time to do it in.” 
 
 Here he opened the fatal volume. I have heard of a 
 thing they call Doomsday-book —I am clear it has 
 been a rental of back-ganging tenants. 
 
 ‘‘Stephen,”’ said Sir John, still in the same soft, 
 sleekit tone of voice — ‘‘ Stephen Stevenson, or Steen- 
 son, ye are down here for a year’s rent behind the 
 hand — due at last term.” 
 
 Stephen. ‘* Please--your honour, Sir John, I paid 
 it to your father.” 
 
 Sir John. “Ye took a receipt then, doubtless, 
 Stephen ; and can produce it ?” 
 
 Stephen. ‘Indeed I hadna time, an it like your 
 honour ; for nae sooner had I set doun the siller, and 
 just as his honour Sir Robert, that’s gaen, drew it till 
 him to count it, and write out the receipt, he was ta’en 
 wi’ the pains that removed him.” 
 
 ‘That was unlucky,”’ said Sir John, after a pause. 
 ‘But ye maybe paid it in the presence of somebody. 
 I want but a talis qualis evidence, Stephen. I would 
 go ower strictly to work with no poor man.”’ 
 
 Stephen. ‘‘Troth, Sir John, there was naebody in 
 the room but Dougal MacCallum, the butler. But, 
 as your honour kens, he has e’en followed his auld 
 master.’’ 
 
 ‘Very unlucky again, Stephen,” said Sir John, 
 
160 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 without altering his voice a single note. ‘‘The man 
 to whom ye paid the money is dead—and the man 
 who witnessed the payment is dead too—and the sil- 
 ler, which should have been to the fore, is neither seen 
 nor heard tell of in the repositories. How am I to 
 believe a’ this ? ”’ 
 
 Stephen. ‘I dinna ken, your honour ; but there 
 is a bit memorandum note of the very coins ; for, God 
 help me! I had to borrow out of twenty purses ; and 
 I am sure that ilka man there set down will take his 
 grit oath for what purpose I borrowed the money.”’ 
 
 Sir John. ‘I have little doubt ye borrowed the 
 money, Steenie. It is the payment to my father that 
 I want to have some proof of.” 
 
 Stephen. ‘*The siller maun be about the house, 
 Sir John. And since your honour never got it, and 
 his honour that was canna have ta’en it wi’ him, 
 maybe some of the family may have seen it.’’ 
 
 Sir John. ‘*We will examine the servants, 
 Stephen; that is but reasonable.” 
 
 But lackey and lass, and page and groom, all denied 
 stoutly that they had ever seen such a bag of money as 
 my gudesire described. What was waur, he had 
 unluckily not mentioned to any living soul of them his 
 purpose of paying his rent. Ae quean had noticed 
 something under his arm, but she took it for the pipes. 
 
 Sir John Redgauntlet ordered the servants out of 
 the room, and then said to my gudesire, ‘ Now, 
 Steenie, ye see you have fair play; and, as I have 
 little doubt ye ken better where to find the siller than 
 ony other body, I beg, in fair terms, and for your own 
 sake, that you will end this fasherie ; for, Stephen, 
 ye maun pay or flit.”’ 
 
 ‘The Lord forgie your opinion,’’ said Stephen, 
 driven almost to his wit’s end — ‘‘ 1am an honest man.” 
 
 ‘“‘So am I, Stephen,’’ said his honour; ‘‘and so 
 are all the folks in the house, I hope. But if there be 
 a knave amongst us, it must be he that tells the story 
 
REDGAUNTLET, 161 
 
 he cannot prove.’’ He paused, and then added, mair 
 sternly, ‘‘If I understand your trick, sir, you want 
 to take advantage of some malicious reports concerning 
 things in this family, and particularly respecting my 
 father’s sudden death, thereby to cheat me out of the 
 money, and perhaps take away my character, by insin- 
 uating that I have received the rent I am demanding. 
 — Where do you suppose this money to be ? — I insist 
 upon knowing.” 
 
 My gudesire saw every thing look sae muckle against 
 him that he grew nearly desperate — however, he 
 shifted from one foot to another, looked to every corner 
 of the room, and made no answer. 
 
 ‘‘Speak out, sirrah,’’? said the Laird, assuming a 
 leok of his father’s, a very particular ane, which he 
 had when he was angry — it seemed as if the wrinkles 
 of his frown made that selfsame fearful shape of a 
 horse’s shoe in the middle of his brow ; — “ Speak out, 
 sir! I will know your thoughts ;—do you suppose 
 that I have this money ?”’ 
 
 ‘‘Far be it frae me to say so,’’ said Stephen. 
 
 ** Do you charge any of my people with having taken 
 Wee 
 
 ‘¢ T wad be laith to charge them that may be inno- 
 cent,” said my gudesire ; ‘‘and if there be any one 
 that is guilty, I have nae proof.’’ 
 
 ‘¢ Somewhere the money must be, if there is a word 
 of truth in your story,”’ said Sir John; “Task where 
 you think it is — and demand a correct answer ?”’ 
 
 ‘Tn hell, if you will have my thoughts of it,’”’ said 
 my gudesire, driven to extremity, — ‘‘in hell! with 
 your father, his jackanape, and his silver whistle.” 
 
 Down the stairs he ran, (for the parlour was nae 
 place for him after such a word, ) and he heard the Laird 
 swearing blood and wounds behind him, as fast as ever 
 did Sir Robert, and roaring for the bailie and the 
 baron-officer. 
 
 Away rode my gudesire to his chief creditor, (him 
 
 VOL. 1—-i1 
 
162 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 they caa’d Laurie Lapraik,) to try if he could make 
 ony thing out of him; but when he tauld his story, he 
 got but the warst word in his wame — thief, beggar, 
 and dyvour, were the saftest terms; and to the boot of 
 these hard terms, Laurie brought up the auld story of 
 his dipping his hand in the blood of God’s saunts, just 
 as if a tenant could have helped riding with the Laird, 
 and that a laird like Sir Robert Redgauntlet. My 
 gudesire was, by this time, far beyond the bounds of 
 patience, and while he and Laurie were at deil speed the 
 liars, he was wanchancie aneugh to abuse Lapraik’s 
 doctrine as weel as the man, and said things that 
 garr’d folk’s flesh grue that heard them; —he wasna 
 just himsell, and he had lived wi’ a wild set in his 
 day. 
 
 At last they parted, and my gudesire was to ride 
 hame through the wood of Pitmurkie, that is a’ fou of 
 black firs, as they say. —I ken the wood, but the firs 
 may be black or white for what I can tell. — At the 
 entry of the wood there is a wild common, and on the 
 edge of the common, a little lonely change-house, that 
 was keepit then by an ostler-wife, they suld hae caa’d 
 her Tibbie Faw, and there puir Steenie cried for a 
 mutchkin of brandy, for he had had no refreshment the 
 haill day. Tibbie was earnest wi’ him to take a bite 
 of meat, but he couldna think o’t, nor would he take 
 his foot out of the stirrup, and took off the brandy 
 wholely at twa draughts, and named a toast at each: — 
 the first was, the memory of Sir Robert Redgauntlet, 
 and might he never lie quiet in his grave till he had 
 righted his poor bond-tenant; and the second was, a 
 health to Man’s Enemy, if he would but get him back 
 the pock of siller, or tell him what came o’t, for he saw 
 the haill world was like to regard him as a thief and a 
 cheat, and he took that waur than even the ruin of his 
 house and hauld. 
 
 On he rode, little caring where. It wasa dark night 
 turned, and the trees made it yet darker, and he let the 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 163 
 
 beast take its ain road through the wood; when, all of 
 a sudden, from tired and wearied that it was before, the 
 nag began to spring, and flee, and stend, that my 
 gudesire could hardly keep the saddle— Upon the 
 whilk, a horseman, suddenly riding up beside him, 
 said, ‘‘ That’s a mettle beast of yours, freend; will you 
 sell him? ”?—So saying, he touched the horse’s neck 
 with his riding-wand, and it fell into its auld heigh-ho 
 of a stumbling trot. ‘But his spunk’s soon out of 
 him, I think,’’? continued the stranger, ‘‘and that is 
 like mony a man’s courage, that thinks he wad do great 
 things till he come to the proof.”’ 
 
 My gudesire scarce listened to this, but spurred his 
 horse, with ‘‘ Gude e’en to you, freend.”’ 
 
 But it’s like the stranger was ane that doesna lightly 
 yield his point; for, ride as Steenie liked, he was aye 
 beside him at the selfsame pace. At last my gudesire, 
 Steenie Steenson, grew half angry; and, to say the 
 truth, half feared. 
 
 ‘What is it that ye want with me, freend?”’ he 
 said. ‘If ye be arobber, I have nae money; if ye be 
 a leal man, wanting company, I have nae heart to 
 mirth or speaking; and if ye want to ken the road, I 
 scarce ken it mysell.’’ 
 
 ‘Tf you will tell me your grief,’ said the stranger, 
 ‘“‘T am one that, though I have been sair miscaa’d 
 in the world, am the only hand. for helping my 
 freends.” 
 
 So my gudesire, to ease his ain heart, mair than from 
 any hope of help, told him the story from beginning to 
 end. 
 
 ‘It’s a hard pinch,” said the stranger; ‘but I 
 think I can help you.’’ 
 
 ‘Tf you could lend the money, sir, and take a lang 
 day —I ken nae other help on earth,” said my 
 gudesire. 
 
 ‘¢ But there may be some under the earth,”’ aid the 
 stranger. ‘‘Come, Ill be frank wi’ you; I could lend 
 
164 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 you the money on bond, but you would maybe scruple 
 my terms. Now, I can tell you, that your auld Laird 
 is disturbed in his grave by your curses, and the wail- 
 ing of your family, and if ye daur venture to go to see 
 him, he will give you the receipt.” 
 
 My gudesire’s hair stood on end at this proposal, but 
 he thought his companion might be some humorsome 
 chield that was trying to frighten him, and might end 
 with lending him the money. Besides, he was bauld 
 wi’ brandy, and desperate wi’ distress; and he said, 
 he had courage to go to the gate of hell, and a step 
 farther, for that receipt. — The stranger laughed. 
 
 Weel, they rode on through the thickest of the wood, 
 when, all of a sudden, the horse stopped at the door of a 
 great house; and, but that he knew the place was ten 
 miles off, my father would have thought he was at 
 Redgauntlet Castle. They rode into the outer court- 
 yard, through the muckle faulding yetts, and aneath the 
 auld porteullis; and the whole front of the house was 
 lighted, and there were pipes and fiddles, and as much 
 dancing and deray within as used to be in Sir Robert’s 
 house at Pace and Yule, and such high seasons. They 
 lap off, and my gudesire, as seemed to him, fastened 
 his horse to the very ring he had tied him to that 
 morning, when he gaed to wait on the young Sir 
 John. 
 
 ‘God !’? said my gudesire, ‘‘if Sir Robert’s death 
 be but a dream!’’ 
 
 He knocked at the ha’ door just as he was wont, 
 and his auld acquaintance, Dougal MacCallum, — just 
 after his wont, too, — came to open the door, and said, 
 ‘‘Piper Steenie, are ye there, lad ? Sir Robert has 
 been crying for you.” 
 
 My gudesire was like a man in a dream — he looked 
 for the stranger, but he was gane for the time. At 
 last he just tried to say, ‘‘ Ha! Dougal Driveower, are 
 ye living ? I thought ye had been dead.” 
 
 ‘‘Never fash yoursell wi’ me,” said Dougal, ‘ but 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 165 
 
 look to yoursell; and see ye tak naething frae ony 
 body here, neither meat, drink, or siller, except just 
 the receipt that is your ain.” 
 
 So saying, he led the way out through halls and 
 trances that were weel kend to my gudesire, and into 
 the auld oak parlour; and there was as much singing 
 of profane sangs, and birling of red wine, and speak- 
 ing blasphemy and sculduddry, as had ever been in 
 Redgauntlet Castle when it was at the blithest. 
 
 But, Lord take us in keeping! what a set of ghastly 
 revellers they were that sat round that table! — My 
 gudesire kend mony that had long before gane to 
 their place, for often had he piped to the most part 
 in the hall of Redgauntlet. There was the fierce 
 Middleton, and the dissolute Rothes, (s) and the 
 crafty Lauderdale; and Dalyell, with his bald head 
 and a beard to his girdle; and Earlshall, (¢) with 
 Cameron’s blude on his hand; and wild Bonshaw, (w) 
 that tied blessed Mr. Cargill’s limbs till the blude 
 sprung; and Dumbarton Douglas, the twice-turned 
 traitor baith to country and king. There was the 
 Bluidy Advocate MacKenyie, who, for his worldly 
 wit and wisdom, had been to the rest asa god. And 
 there was Claverhouse, as beautiful as when he lived, 
 with his long, dark, curled locks, streaming down 
 over his laced buff-coat, and his left hand always on 
 his right spule-blade, to hide the wound that the sil- 
 ver bullet had made.’ He sat apart from them all, and 
 looked at them with a melancholy, haughty counte- 
 nance; while the rest hallooed, and sung, and laughed, 
 that the room rang. But their smiles were fearfully 
 contorted from time to time; and their laughter passed 
 into such wild sounds, as made my gudesire’s very 
 nails grow blue, and chilled the marrow in his banes. 
 
 They that waited at the table were just the wicked 
 serving-men and troopers, that had done their work 
 and cruel bidding on earth. ‘There was the Lang Lad 
 
 1 Note II. 
 
166 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 of the Nethertown, that helped to take Argyle; (v) 
 and the Bishop’s summoner, that they called the Deil’s 
 Rattle-bag; (w) and the wicked guardsmen, in their 
 laced coats; and the savage Highland Amorites, that 
 shed blood like water; and many a proud serving-man, 
 haughty of heart and bloody of hand, cringing to the 
 rich, and making them wickeder than they would be; 
 grinding the poor to powder, when the rich had broken 
 them to fragments. And mony, mony mair were 
 coming and ganging, a’ as busy in their vocation as 
 if they had been alive. 
 
 Sir Robert Redgauntlet, in the midst of a’ this fear- 
 ful riot, cried, wi’ a voice like thunder, on Steenie 
 Piper, to come to the board-head where he was sitting; 
 his legs stretched out before him, and swathed up with 
 flannel, with his holster pistols aside him, while the 
 great broadsword rested against his chair, just as my 
 gudesire had seen him the last time upon earth — the 
 very cushion for the jackanape was close to him, but 
 the creature itsell was not there —it wasna its hour, 
 it’s likely; for he heard them say as he came forward, 
 ‘Ts not the Major come yet?” And another answered, 
 ‘‘The jackanape will be here betimes the morn.” 
 And when my gudesire came forward, Sir Robert, or 
 his ghaist, or the deevil in his likeness, said, ‘* Weel, 
 piper, hae ye settled wi’ my son for the year’s rent? ”’ 
 
 With much ado my father gat breath to say, that 
 Sir John would not settle without his honour’s receipt. 
 
 ‘¢Ye shall hae that for a tune of the pipes, Steenie,” 
 said the appearance of Sir Robert —‘‘ Play us up, ‘ Weel 
 hoddled, Luckie.’ ” 
 
 Now this was a tune my gudesire learned frae a war- 
 lock, that heard it when they were worshipping Satan 
 at their meetings; and my gudesire had sometimes 
 played it at the ranting suppers in Redgauntlet Castle, 
 but never very willingly; and now he grew cauld at the 
 very name of it, and said, for excuse, he hadna his 
 pipes wi’ him. 
 
i oo: fy Co 
 
 erica 
 ‘st YY +34 
 
 ae 
 
 a AWN % 
 
 ‘ ts 
 oe > 
 ” 
 
 shat hak 
 
 
 
Steenie getting bis Receipt. 
 Drawn and Etched by W. Hole, R.S. A. 
 
SS 
 
 RO = 
 
 Cr 
 
 MOIS. 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 f ue . of the ueet Se 
 University of Iilinale, 
 
 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 167 
 
 ‘¢ MacCallum, ye limb of Beelzebub,’’ said the fearfu’ 
 Sir Robert, ‘‘ bring Steenie the pipes that I am keep- 
 ing for him!’’ 
 
 MacCallum brought a pair of pipes might have served 
 the piper of Donald of the Isles. But he gave my 
 gudesire a nudge as he offered them; and looking 
 secretly and closely, Steenie saw that the chanter was 
 of steel, and heated toa white heat; so he had fair 
 warning not to trust his fingers with it. So he excused 
 himself again, and said, he was faint and frightened, 
 and had not wind aneugh to fill the bag. 
 
 ‘Then ye maun eat and drink, Steenie,’’ said the 
 figure; ‘‘for we do little else here; and it’s ill speak- 
 ing between a fou man and a fasting.” 
 
 Now these were the very words that the bloody 
 Earl of Douglas said to keep the King’s messenger 
 in hand, while he cut the head off Maclhellan of 
 Bombie, at the Threave Castle;! and that put Steenie 
 mair and mair on his guard. So he spoke up like a 
 man, and said he came neither to eat, or drink, or 
 make minstrelsy; but simply for his ain— to ken what 
 was come o’ the money he had paid, and to get a dis- 
 charge for it; and he was so stout-hearted by this 
 time, that he charged Sir Robert for conscience-sake — 
 (he had no power to say the holy name) —and as he 
 hoped for peace and rest, to spread no snares for him, 
 but just to give him his ain. 
 
 The appearance gnashed its teeth and laughed, but 
 it took from a large pocketbook the receipt, and handed 
 it to Steenie. ‘‘There is your receipt, ye pitiful cur; 
 and for the money, my dog-whelp of a son may go look 
 for it in the Cat’s Cradle.”’ 
 
 My gudesire uttered mony thanks, and was about to 
 retire, when Sir Robert roared aloud, ‘‘Stop though, 
 thou sack-doudling son of a whore! Iam not done with 
 thee. Here we do nothing for nothing; and you must 
 
 1 The reader is referred for particulars to Pitscottie’s History 
 of Scotland, 
 
168 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 return on this very day twelvemonth, to pay your mas- 
 ter the homage that you owe me for my protection.” 
 
 My father’s tongue was loosed of a suddenty, and 
 he said aloud, “TJ refer mysell to God’s pleasure, and 
 not to yours.” 
 
 He had no sooner uttered the word than all was 
 dark around him; and he sunk on the earth with such 
 a sudden shock, that he lost both breath and sense. 
 
 How lang Steenie lay there, he could not tell; but 
 when he came to himsell, he was lying in the auld 
 kirkyard of Redgauntlet parochine, just at the door 
 of the family aisle, and the scutcheon of the auld 
 knight, Sir Robert, hanging over his head. There 
 was a deep morning fog on grass and gravestane 
 around him, and his horse was feeding quietly beside 
 the minister’s twa cows. Steenie would have thought 
 the whole was a dream, but he had the receipt in his 
 hand, fairly written and signed by the auld Laird ; 
 only the last letters of his name were a little dis- 
 orderly, written like one seized with sudden pain. 
 
 Sorely troubled in his mind, he left that dreary 
 place, rode through the mist to Redgauntlet Castle, 
 and with much ado he got speech of the Laird. 
 
 ‘¢ Well, you dyvour bankrupt,’’ was the first word, 
 ‘‘have you brought me my rent?” 
 
 “‘No,’’ answered my gudesire, ‘‘I have not; but 
 I have brought your honour Sir Robert’s receipt 
 foriib.”* 
 
 ‘¢ How, sirrah ? — Sir Robert’s receipt ! — You told 
 me he had not given you one.”’ 
 
 ‘¢Will your honour please to see if that bit line 
 is right ?” 
 
 Sir John looked at every line, and at every letter, 
 with much attention ; and at last, at the date, which 
 my gudesire had not observed, — ‘‘ From my appointed 
 place,” he read, ‘‘this twenty-fifth of November.” — 
 ‘¢What !— That is yesterday !— Villain, thou must 
 have gone to hell for this ! ” 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 169 
 
 <‘T got it from your honour’s father — whether he be 
 in heaven or hell, I know not,” said Steenie. 
 
 “JT will delate you for a warlock to the Privy 
 Council !”? said Sir John. ‘I will send you to your 
 master, the devil, with the help of a tar-barrel and 
 a torch!” 
 
 ‘‘T intend to delate mysell to the Presbytery,’ 
 said Steenie, ‘‘and tell them all I have seen last 
 night, whilk are things fitter for them to judge of than 
 a borrel man like me.” 
 
 Sir John paused, composed himsell, and desired to 
 hear the full history ; and my gudesire told it him 
 from point to point, as I have told it you — word for 
 word, neither more nor less. 
 
 Sir John was silent again for a long time, and at 
 last he said, very composedly, ‘‘Steenie, this story 
 of yours concerns the honour of many a noble family 
 besides mine ; and if it be a leasing-making, to keep 
 yourself out of my danger, the least you can expect is 
 to have a redhot iron driven through your tongue, and 
 that will be as bad as scauding your fingers with a 
 redhot chanter. But yet it may be true, Steenie ; 
 and if the money cast up, I shall not know what to 
 think of it. — But where shall we find the Cat’s 
 Cradle ? There are cats enough about the old house, but 
 I think they kitten without the ceremony of bed or 
 cradle.”’ 
 
 ‘¢ We were best ask Hutcheon,” said my gudesire ; 
 ‘che kens a’ the odd corners about as weel as — 
 another serving-man that is now gane, and that I 
 wad not like to name.” 
 
 Aweel, Hutcheon, when he was asked, told them, 
 that a ruinous turret, lang disused, next to the clock- 
 house, only accessible by a ladder, for the opening 
 was on the outside, and far above the battlements, was 
 called of old the Cat’s Cradle. 
 
 ‘‘There will I go immediately,’’ said Sir John; 
 and he took (with what purpose, Heaven kens) one 
 
170 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 of his father’s pistols from the hall-table, where they 
 had lain since the night he died, and hastened to the 
 battlements. 
 
 It was a dangerous place to climb, for the ladder 
 was auld and frail, and wanted ane or twa rounds. 
 However, up got Sir John, and entered at the turret 
 door, where his body stopped the only little light 
 that was in the bit turret. Something flees at him 
 wi’ a vengeance, maist dang him back ower— bang 
 gaed the knight’s pistol, and Hutcheon, that held 
 the ladder, and my gudesire that stood beside him, 
 hears a loud skelloch. A minute after, Sir John 
 flings the body of the jackanape down to them, and 
 eries that the siller is fund, and that they should 
 come up and help him. And there was the bag of 
 siller sure aneugh, and mony orra things besides, 
 that had been missing for mony a day. And Sir 
 John, when he had riped the turret weel, led my gude- 
 sire into the dining-parlour, and took him by the hand, 
 and spoke kindly to him, and said he was sorry he 
 should have doubted his word, and that he would 
 hereafter be a good master to him, to make amends. 
 
 ‘‘And now, Steenie,” said Sir John, ‘although 
 this vision of yours tends, on the whole, to my father’s 
 credit, as an honest man, that he should, even after 
 his death, desire to see justice done to a poor man like 
 you, yet you are sensible that ill-dispositioned men 
 might make bad constructions upon it, concerning his 
 soul’s health. So, I think, we had better lay the 
 haill dirdum on that ill-deedie creature, Major Weir, 
 and say naething about your dream in the wood of 
 Pitmurkie. You had taken ower muckle brandy to 
 be very certain about ony thing ; and, Steenie, this 
 receipt,’’ (his hand shook while he held it out,) — 
 ‘‘its but a queer kind of document, and we will do 
 best, I think, to put it quietly in the fire.” 
 
 ‘¢Od, but for as queer as it is, it’s a’ the voucher 
 I have for my rent,” said my gudesire, who was 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 17! 
 
 afraid, it may be, of losing the benefit of Sir Robert’s 
 discharge. 
 
 ‘‘T will bear the contents to your credit in the 
 rental-book, and give you a discharge under my own 
 hand,’”’ said Sir John, ‘‘and that on the spot. And, 
 Steenie, if you can hold your tongue about this mat- 
 ter, you shall sit, from this term downward, at an 
 easier rent.” 
 
 ‘‘Mony thanks to your honour,” said Steenie, who 
 saw easily in what corner the wind was ; ‘‘ doubtless 
 I will be conformable to all your honour’s commands ; 
 only I would willingly speak wi’ some powerful min- 
 ister on the subject, for I do not like the sort 
 of soumons of appointment whilk your honour’s 
 father ’? —— 
 
 ‘‘Do not call the phantom my father!” said Sir 
 John, interrupting him. 
 
 ‘¢ Weel, then, the thing that was so like him,’? — 
 said my gudesire; ‘‘he spoke of my coming back to 
 him this time twelvemonth, and it’s a weight on my 
 conscience.” 
 
 ‘¢ Aweel, then,” said Sir John, ‘‘if you be so much 
 distressed in mind, you may speak to our minister of 
 the parish; he is a douce man, regards the honour of 
 our family, and the mair that he may look for some 
 patronage from me.” 
 
 Wi’ that my gudesire readily agreed that the receipt 
 should be burnt, and the Laird threw it into the chim- 
 ney with his ain hand. Burn it would not for them, 
 though; but away it flew up the lum, wi’ a lang train 
 of sparks at its tail, and a hissing noise like a squib. 
 
 _ My gudesire gaed down to the manse, and the min- 
 ister, when he had heard the story, said, it was his real 
 opinion, that though my gudesire had gaen very far in 
 tampering with dangerous matters, yet, as he had 
 refused the devil’s arles, (for such was the offer of 
 meat and drink,) and had refused to do homage by 
 piping at his bidding, he hoped, that if he held a cir- 
 
 ) 
 
172 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 cumspect walk hereafter, Satan could take little advan- 
 tage by what was come and gane. And, indeed, my 
 gudesire, of his ain accord, lang forswore baith the 
 pipes and the brandy —it was not even till the year 
 was out, and the fatal day passed, that he would so 
 much as take the fiddle, or drink usquebaugh or 
 tippenny. 
 
 Sir John made up his story about the jackanape as 
 he liked himsell; and some believe till this day there 
 was no more in the matter than the filching nature of 
 the brute. Indeed, ye’ll no hinder some to threap, 
 that it was nane o’ the Auld Enemy that Dougal and 
 my gudesire saw in the Laird’s room, but only that 
 wanchancy creature, the Major, capering on the coffin; 
 and that as to the blawing on the Laird’s whistle that 
 was heard after he was dead, the filthy brute could do 
 that as weel as the Laird himsell, if no better. But 
 Heaven kens the truth, whilk first came out by the 
 minister’s wife, after Sir John and her ain gudeman 
 were baith in the moulds. And then, my gudesire, 
 wha was failed in his limbs, but not in his judgment 
 or memory — at least nothing to speak of — was obliged 
 to tell the real narrative to his freends, for the credit 
 of his good name. He might else have been charged 
 for a warlock. 
 
 The shades of evening were growing thicker 
 around us as my conductor finished his long nar- 
 rative with this moral — “ Ye see, birkie, it is nae 
 chancy thing to tak a stranger traveller for a guide, 
 when ye are in an uncouth land.” 
 
 “T should not have made that inference,” said I. 
 “Your grandfather’s adventure was fortunate for 
 himself, whom it saved from ruin and distress; and 
 fortunate for his landlord also, whom it prevented 
 from committing a gross act of Injustice.” 
 
 1 Note III. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 173 
 
 “Ay, but they had baith to sup the sauce o’'t 
 sooner or later,” said Wandering Willie — ‘‘ What 
 was fristed wasna forgiven. Sir John died before 
 he was much over threescore; and it was just like 
 of a moment’s illness. And for my gudesire, though 
 he departed in fulness of years, yet there was my 
 father, a yauld man of forty-five, fell down betwixt 
 the stilts of his pleugh, and raise never again, and 
 left nae bairn but me, a puir sightless, fatherless, 
 motherless creature, could neither work nor want. 
 Things gaed weel aneugh at first; for Sir Redwald 
 Redgauntlet, the only son of Sir John, and the oye 
 of auld Sir Robert, and, waes me! the last of the 
 honourable house, took the farm off our hands, and 
 brought me into his household to have care of me. 
 He liked music, and I had the best teachers baith 
 England and Scotland could gie me. Mony a merry 
 year was I wi him; but waes me! he gaed out 
 with other pretty men in the forty-five —TIl say 
 nae mair about it— My head never settled weel 
 since I lost him; and if I say another word about 
 it, deil a bar will I have the heart to play the night. 
 — Look out, my gentle chap,” he resumed in a 
 different tone, “ye should see the lights in Broken- 
 burn Glen by this time.” 
 
LETTER XII. 
 THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
 
 Tam Luter was their minstrel meet, 
 Gude Lord as he could lance, 
 He played sae shrill and sang sae sweet, 
 Till Towsie took a trance. 
 Auld Lightfoot there he did forleet, 
 And counterfeited France ; 
 He used himself as man discreet, 
 And took up Morrice danse 
 Sae loud, 
 At Christ’s Kirk on the Green that day. 
 
 Kine JAMES I. 
 
 I CONTINUE to scribble at length, though the subject 
 may seem somewhat deficient in interest. Let the 
 erace of the narrative, therefore, and the concern we 
 take in each other’s matters, make amends for its 
 tenuity. We fools of fancy, who suffer ourselves, 
 like Malvolio, to be cheated with our own visions, 
 have, nevertheless, this advantage over the wise ones 
 of the earth, that we have our whole stock of enjoy- 
 ments under our own command, and can dish 
 for ourselves an intellectual banquet with most 
 moderate assistance from external objects. It is, 
 to be sure, something like the feast which the 
 Barmecide served up to Alnaschar; and we cannot 
 be expected to get fat upon such diet. But then, 
 neither is there repletion nor nausea, which often 
 succeed. the grosser and more material revel. On 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 175 
 
 the whole, I still pray, with the Ode to Castle 
 Building — 
 
 ‘¢ Give me thy hope which sickens not the heart ; 
 Give me thy wealth which has no wings to fly ; 
 Give me the bliss thy visions can impart ; 
 Thy friendship give me, warm in poverty! ” 
 
 And so, despite thy solemn smile and sapient shake 
 of the head, I will go on picking such interest as I 
 can out of my trivial adventures, even though that 
 interest should be the creation of my own fancy ; 
 nor will I cease to inflict on thy devoted eyes the 
 labour of perusing the scrolls in which I shall 
 record my narrative. 
 
 My last broke off as we were on the point of 
 descending into the glen at Brokenburn, by the 
 dangerous track which I had first travelled en 
 croupe, behind a furious horseman, and was now 
 again to brave under the precarious guidance of 
 a blind man. 
 
 It was now getting dark; but this was no 
 inconvenience to my guide, who moved on, as 
 formerly, with instinctive security of step, so that 
 we soon reached the bottom, and I could see 
 lights twinkling in the cottage which had been 
 my place of refuge on a former occasion. It 
 was not thither, however, that our course was 
 directed. We left the habitation of the Laird 
 to the left, and turning down the brook, soon 
 approached the small hamlet which had been 
 erected at the mouth of the stream, probably on 
 account of the convenience which it afforded as 
 a harbour to the fishing-boats. A large low cot- 
 tage, full in our front, seemed highly illuminated ; 
 for the light not only glanced from every window 
 
176 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 and aperture in its frail walls, but was even visible 
 from rents and fractures in the roof, composed of 
 tarred shingles, repaired in part by thatch and 
 divot. 
 
 While these appearances engaged my attention, that 
 of my companion was attracted by a regular succes- 
 sion of sounds, like a bouncing on the floor, mixed 
 with avery faint noise of music, which Wilhe’s acute 
 organs at once recognised and accounted for, while to 
 me it was almost inaudible. The old man struck the 
 earth with his staffin aviolent passion. “The whore- 
 son fisher rabble! They have brought another violer 
 upon my walk! They are such smuggling black- 
 guards, that they must run in their very music; 
 but Pll sort them waur than ony gauger in the 
 country. — Stay — hark —it’s no a fiddle neither — 
 it’s the pipe and tabor bastard, Simon of Sowport, 
 frae the Nicol forest; but I'll pipe and tabor him! 
 — Let me hae ance my left hand on his cravat, 
 and ye shall see what my right will do. Come 
 away, chap—come away, gentle chap — nae time 
 to be picking and waling your steps.” And on he 
 passed with long and determined strides, dragging 
 me along with him. 
 
 I was not quite easy in his company; for, now 
 that his minstrel pride was hurt, the man had 
 changed from the quiet, decorous, I might almost 
 say respectable person, which he seemed while he 
 told his tale, into the appearance of a fierce, brawl- 
 ing, dissolute stroller. So that when he entered 
 the large hut, where a great number of fishers, with 
 their wives and daughters, were engaged in eating, 
 drinking, and dancing, I was somewhat afraid that 
 the impatient violence of my companion might 
 procure us an indifferent reception. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 177 
 
 But the universal shout of welcome with which 
 Wandering Willie was received —the hearty con- 
 eratulation —the repeated “Here’s t’ye, Willie!” 
 —‘“Whare hae ye been, ye blind deevil?” and the 
 call upon him to pledge them — above all, the speed 
 with which the obnoxious pipe and tabor were put 
 to silence, gave the old man such effectual assurance 
 of undiminished popularity and importance, as at 
 once put his jealousy to rest, and changed his tone 
 of offended dignity, into one better fitted to receive 
 such cordial greetings. Young men and women 
 crowded round, to tell how much they were afraid 
 some mischance had detained him, and how two or 
 three young fellows had set out in quest of him. 
 
 “Tt was nae mischance, praised be Heaven,” said 
 Willie, “but the absence of the lazy loon Rob the 
 Rambler, my comrade, that didna come to meet 
 me on the Links; but I hae gotten a braw consort 
 in his stead, worth a dozen of him, the unhanged 
 blackguard.” 
 
 “And wha is’'t tou’s gotten, Wullie, lad?” said 
 half a score of voices, while all eyes were turned 
 on your humble servant, who kept the best coun- 
 tenance he could, though not quite easy at 
 becoming the centre to which all eyes were pointed. 
 
 “T ken him by his hemmed cravat,’ said one 
 fellow; ‘it’s Gil Hobson, the souple tailor frae 
 Burgh. — Ye are welcome to Scotland, ye prick- 
 the-clout loon,” he said, thrusting forth a paw 
 much the colour of a badger’s back, and of most 
 portentous dimensions. 
 
 “Gil Hobson? Gil whoreson!” exclaimed Wan- 
 dering Willie; “it’s a gentle chap that I judge to 
 be an apprentice wi auld Joshua Geddes, to the 
 quaker-trade.” 
 
 VOL. I.-—12 
 
178 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 “What trade be’s that, man?” said he of the 
 badger-coloured fist. 
 
 “Canting and lying,”’— said Wille, which pro- 
 duced a thundering laugh; “but I am _ teaching 
 the callant a better trade, and that is feasting and 
 fiddling.” 
 
 Willie’s conduct in thus announcing something 
 like my real character, was contrary to compact; 
 and yet I was rather glad he did so, for the conse- 
 quence of putting a trick upon these rude and 
 ferocious men, might, in case of discovery, have been 
 dangerous to us both, and I was at the same time 
 delivered from the painful effort to support a ficti- 
 tious character. The good company, except perhaps 
 one or two of the young women, whose looks 
 expressed some desire for better acquaintance, gave 
 themselves no farther trouble about me; but, while 
 the seniors resumed their places near an immense 
 bowl, or rather reeking caldron of brandy-punch, 
 the younger arranged themselves on the floor, and 
 called loudly on Wille to strike up. 
 
 With a brief caution to me, to “mind my credit, 
 for fishers have ears, though fish have none,” Willie 
 led off in capital style, and I followed, certainly not 
 so as to disgrace my companion, who, every now 
 and then, gave me a nod of approbation. The 
 dances were, of course, the Scottish jigs, and reels, 
 and “twasome dances,” with a strathspey or horn- 
 pipe for interlude; and the want of grace, on the 
 part of the performers, was amply supplied by truth 
 of ear, vigour and decision of step, and the agility 
 proper to the northern performers. My own spirits 
 rose with the mirth around me, and with old Willie’s 
 admirable execution, and frequent “weel dune, gentle 
 chap, yet!” —and, to confess the truth, I felt a 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 179 
 
 great deal more pleasure in this rustic revel, than 
 I have done at the more formal balls and concerts 
 in your famed city, to which I have sometimes 
 made my way. Perhaps this was, because I was 
 a person of more importance to the presiding 
 matron of Brokenburn-foot, than I had the means 
 of rendering myself to the far-famed Miss Nickie 
 Murray, (x) the patroness of your Edinburgh assem- 
 bles. The person I mean was a buxom dame of 
 about thirty, her fingers loaded with many a silver 
 ring, and three or four of gold; her ankles liberally 
 displayed from under her numerous blue, white, 
 and scarlet short petticoats, and attired in hose of 
 the finest and whitest lamb’s-wool, which arose from 
 shoes of Spanish cordwain, fastened with silver 
 buckles. She took the lead in my favour, and 
 declared, “that the brave young gentleman should 
 not weary himself to death wi’ playing, but take 
 the floor for a dance or twa.” 
 
 “And what’s to come of me, Dame Martin?” 
 said Willie. 
 
 “Come o’ thee?” said the dame; “ mischanter 
 on the auld beard o’ ye! ye could play for twenty 
 hours on end, and tire out the haill country-side wi’ 
 dancing before ye laid down your bow, saving for 
 a by-drink or the like o’ that.” 
 
 “In troth, dame,” answered Willie, “ye are nae 
 sae far wrang ;sae if my comrade is to take his 
 dance, ye maun gie me my drink, and then bob it 
 away like Madge of Middlebie.” 
 
 The drink was soon brought; but while Willie 
 was partaking of it, a party entered the hut, which 
 arrested my attention at once, and intercepted the 
 intended gallantry with which I had proposed to 
 present my hand to the fresh-coloured, well-made, 
 
180 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 white-ankled Thetis, who had obtained me manu- 
 mission from my musical task. 
 
 This was nothing less than the sudden appear- 
 ance of the old woman whom the Laird had termed 
 Mabel; Cristal Nixon, his male attendant; and the 
 young person who had said grace to us when I supped 
 with him. 
 
 This young person — Alan, thou art in thy way 
 a bit of a conjurer —this young person whom I did 
 not describe, and whom you, for that very reason, 
 suspected was not an indifferent object to me —is, 
 I am sorry to say it, in very fact not so much so as 
 in prudence she ought. I will not use the name 
 of dove on this occasion; for I have applied it too 
 often to transient whims and fancies to escape your 
 satire, should I venture to apply it now. For it is 
 a phrase, I must confess, which I have used —a 
 romancer would say, profaned —a little too often, 
 considering how few years have passed over my 
 head. But seriously, the fair chaplain of Broken- 
 burn has been oftenin my head when she had no 
 business there; and if this can give thee any clew 
 for explaining my motives in lingering about the 
 country, and assuming the character of Willie’s 
 companion, why, hang thee, thou art welcome to 
 make use of it —a permission for which thou need’st 
 not thank me much, as thou wouldst not have failed 
 to assume it, whether it were given or no. 
 
 Such being my feelings, conceive how they must 
 have been excited, when, like a beam upon a cloud, 
 I saw this uncommonly beautiful girl enter the 
 apartment in which they were dancing; not, how- 
 ever, with the air of an equal, but that of a superior, 
 come to grace with her presence the festival of her 
 dependants. The old man and woman attended, 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 181 
 
 with looks as sinister as hers were lovely, ike two 
 of the worst winter months waiting upon the bright- 
 eyed May. 
 
 When she entered — wonder if thou wilt — she 
 wore a green mantle, such as thou hast described 
 as the garb of thy fair client, and confirmed what I 
 had partly guessed from thy personal description, 
 that my chaplain and thy visitor were the same 
 person. There was an alteration on her brow the 
 instant she recognised me. She gave her cloak 
 to her female attendant, and, after a momentary 
 hesitation, as if uncertain whether to advance or 
 retire, she walked into the room with dignity and 
 composure, all making way, the men unbonneting, 
 and the women curtsying respectfully, as she assumed 
 a chair which was reverently placed for her accom- 
 modation, apart from others. 
 
 There was then a pause, until the bustling mis- 
 tress of the ceremonies, with awkward, but kindly 
 courtesy, offered the young lady a glass of wine, 
 which was at first declined, and at length only thus 
 far accepted, that, bowing round to the festive com- 
 pany, the fair visitor wished them all health and 
 mirth, and, just touching the brim with her lip, 
 replaced it on the salver. There was another pause; 
 and I did not immediately recollect, confused as I 
 was by this unexpected apparition, that it belonged 
 to me to break it. At length a murmur was heard 
 around me, being expected to exhibit,—nay, to lead 
 down the dance, — in consequence of the previous 
 conversation. 
 
 “Deil’s in the fiddler lad,’ was muttered from 
 more quarters than one — “saw folk ever sic a 
 thing as a shamefaced fiddler before ?” 
 
 At length a venerable Triton, seconding his remon- 
 
182 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 strances with a hearty thump on my shoulder, cried 
 out, “To the floor — to the floor, and let us see how 
 ye can fling — the lasses are a’ waiting.” 
 
 Up I jumped, sprung from the elevated station 
 which constituted our orchestra, and, arranging 
 my ideas as rapidly as I could, advanced to the 
 head of the room, and, instead of offering my 
 hand to the white-footed Thetis aforesaid, I ven- 
 turously made the same proposal to her of the 
 Green Mantle. 
 
 The nymph’s lovely eyes seemed to open with 
 astonishment at the audacity of this offer; and, 
 from the murmurs I heard around me, I also under- 
 stood that it surprised, and perhaps offended, the 
 bystanders. But after the first moment’s emotion, 
 she wreathed her neck, and drawing herself haughtily 
 up, like one who was willing to show that she was 
 sensible of the full extent of her own condescension, 
 extended her hand towards me, like a princess grac- 
 ing a squire of low degree. 
 
 There is affectation in all this, thought I to 
 myself, if the Green Mantle has borne true evi- 
 dence — for young ladies do not make visits, or 
 write letters to counsel learned in the law, to inter- 
 fere in the motions of those whom they hold as 
 cheap as this nymph seems to do me; and if Iam 
 cheated by a resemblance of cloaks, still I am inter- 
 ested to show myself, in some degree, worthy of the 
 favour she has granted with so much state and 
 reserve. — The dance to be performed was the old 
 Scots Jigg, in which you are aware I used to play 
 no sorry figure at La Pique’s, when thy clumsy 
 movements used to be rebuked by raps over the 
 knuckles with that great professor’s fiddlestick. 
 The choice of the tune was left to my comrade 
 
REDGAUNTLET. e 183 
 
 Willie, who, having finished his drink, feloniously 
 struck up to the well-known and popular measure, 
 
 “ Merrily danced the Quaker’s wife, 
 And merrily danced the Quaker.”’ 
 
 An astounding laugh arose at my expense, and I 
 should have been annihilated, but that the smile 
 which mantled on the lip of my partner, had a dif- 
 ferent expression from that of ridicule, and seemed 
 to say, “Do not take this to heart.” And I did 
 not, Alan. My partner danced admirably, and I 
 like one who was determined, if outshone, which I 
 could not help, not to be altogether thrown into the 
 shade. 
 
 I assure you our performance, as well as Willie’s 
 music, deserved more polished spectators and audi- 
 tors ; but we could not then have been greeted with 
 such enthusiastic shouts of applause as attended 
 while I handed my partner to her seat, and took 
 my place by her side, as one who had a right to 
 offer the attentions usual on such an occasion. She 
 was visibly embarrassed, but I was determined not 
 to observe her confusion, and to avail myself of 
 the opportunity of learning whether this beautiful 
 creature’s mind was worthy of the casket in which 
 Nature had lodged it. 
 
 Nevertheless, however courageously I formed this 
 resolution, you cannot but too well guess the diffi- 
 culties | must needs have felt in carrying it into 
 execution; since want of habitual intercourse with 
 the charmers of the other sex has rendered me a 
 sheepish cur, only one grain less awkward than thy- 
 self. Then she was so very beautiful, and assumed 
 an air of so much dignity, that I was like to fall 
 
184 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 under the fatal error of supposing she should only 
 be addressed with something very clever; and in 
 the hasty racking which my brains underwent in 
 this persuasion, not a single idea occurred that com- 
 mon sense did not reject as fustian on the one hand, 
 or weary, flat, and stale triticism on the other. I 
 felt as if my understanding were no longer my own, 
 but was alternately under the dominion of Aldibo- 
 rontiphoscophornio, and that of his facetious friend 
 - Rigdum-Funnidos. How did I envy at that moment 
 our friend Jack Oliver, who produces with such happy 
 complacence his fardel of small talk, and who, as he 
 never doubts his own powers of affording amusement, 
 passes them current with every pretty woman he 
 approaches, and fills up the intervals of chat by his 
 complete acquaintance with the exercise of the fan, 
 the flacon, and the other duties of the Cavaliere 
 Serviente. Some of these I attempted, but I sup- 
 pose it was awkwardly; at least the Lady Green- 
 mantle received them as a princess accepts the 
 homage of a clown. 
 
 Meantime the floor remained empty, and as the 
 mirth of the good meeting was somewhat checked, 
 I ventured, as a dernier resort, to propose a minuet. 
 She thanked me, and told me haughtily enough, 
 “she was here to encourage the harmless pleasures 
 of these good folks, but was not disposed to make 
 an exhibition of her own indifferent dancing for 
 their amusement.” 
 
 She paused a moment, as if she expected me to 
 suggest something; and as I remained silent and 
 rebuked, she bowed her head more graciously, and 
 said, “ Not to affront you, however, a country-dance, 
 if you please.” 
 
 What an ass was I, Alan, not to have anticipated 
 
hod 
 
 10 
 
 t 
 $ 
 ; 
 
 
 
At the Dance. 
 Drawn and Etched by W. Boucher. 
 

 
 CALE 
 
 CD 
 Ax 
 
 Lge 
 
 \ 
 
 
 
 
 

 
REDGAUNTLET. 185 
 
 her wishes! Should I not have observed that the 
 ill-favoured couple, Mabel and Cristal, had placed 
 themselves on each side of her seat, like the support- 
 ers of the royal arms? the man, thick, short, shaggy, 
 and hirsute, as the lon; the female, skin-dried, tight- 
 laced, long, lean, and hungry-faced, like the unicorn. 
 I ought to have recollected, that under the close 
 inspection of two such watchful salvages, our com- 
 munication, while in repose, could not have been 
 easy; that the period of dancing a minuet was not 
 the very choicest time for conversation; but that 
 the noise, the exercise, and the mazy confusion of a 
 country-dance, where the inexperienced performers 
 were every now and then running against each other, 
 and compelling the other couples to stand still for a 
 minute at a time, besides the more regular repose 
 afforded by the intervals of the dance itself, gave the 
 best possible openings for a word or two spoken in 
 season, and without being liable to observation. 
 
 We had but just led down, when an opportunity 
 of the kind occurred, and my partner said, with 
 ereat gentleness and modesty, “It is not perhaps 
 very proper in me to acknowledge an acquaintance 
 that is not claimed; but I believe I speak to Mr. 
 Darsie Latimer ?” 
 
 “Darsie Latimer was indeed the person that had 
 now the honour and happiness” 
 
 I would have gone on in the false gallop of com- 
 pliment, but she cut me short. ‘And why,” she 
 said, “is Mr. Latimer here, and in disguise, or at 
 least assuming an office unworthy of a man of 
 education ?—I beg pardon,” she continued, — “I 
 would not give you pain, but surely making an asso- 
 ciate of a person of that description ” 
 
 She looked towards my friend Willie, and was 
 
 
 
 
 
186 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 silent. I felt heartily ashamed of myself, and has- 
 tened to say it was an idle frolic, which want of 
 occupation had suggested, and which I could not 
 regret, since it had procured me the pleasure I at 
 present enjoyed. 
 
 Without seeming to notice my compliment, she 
 took the next opportunity to say, “ Will Mr. Latimer 
 permit a stranger who wishes him well to ask, 
 whether it is right that, at his active age, he should 
 be in so far void of occupation, as to be ready to 
 adopt low society for the sake of idle amusement ?” 
 
 “You are severe, madam,” I answered; “but I 
 cannot think myself degraded by mixing with any 
 society where I meet” 
 
 Here I stopped short, conscious that I was giving 
 my answer an unhandsome turn. The argumentum 
 ad hominem, the last to which a polite man has 
 recourse, may, however, be justified by circumstances, 
 but seldom or never the argumentum ad feminam. 
 
 She filled up the blank herself which I had left. 
 “Where you meet me, I suppose you would say ? 
 But the case is different. I am, from my unhappy 
 fate, obliged to move by the will of others, and to 
 be in places which I would by my own will gladly 
 avoid. Besides, I am, except for these few minutes, 
 no participator of the revels —a spectator only, and 
 attended by my servants. Your situation is differ- 
 ent—you are here by choice, the partaker and 
 minister of the pleasures of a class below you in 
 education, birth, and fortunes. — If I speak harshly, 
 Mr. Latimer,” she added, with much sweetness of 
 manner, “I mean kindly.” 
 
 I was confounded by her speech, “severe in youth- 
 ful wisdom ;” all of naive or lively, suitable to such 
 a dialogue, vanished from my recollection, and I 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 187 
 
 answered, with gravity like her own, “I am, indeed, 
 better educated than these poor people; but you, 
 madam, whose kind admonition I am grateful for, 
 must know more of my condition than I do myself 
 — I dare not say I am their superior in birth, since 
 I know nothing of my own, or in fortunes, over 
 which hangs an impenetrable cloud.” 
 
 “ And why should your ignorance on these points 
 drive you into low society and idle habits ?” answered 
 my female monitor. “Is it manly to wait till for- 
 tune cast her beams upon you, when by exertion of 
 your own energy you might distinguish yourself ? — 
 Do not the pursuits of learning lie open to you — of 
 manly ambition — of war ?— But no—not of war, 
 that has already cost you too dear.” 
 
 “T will be what you wish me to be,’ I replied 
 with eagerness — “ You have but to choose my path, 
 and you shall see if I do not pursue it with energy, 
 were it only because you command me.” 
 
 “Not because I command you,” said the maiden, 
 “but because reason, common sense, manhood, and, 
 in one word, regard for your own safety, give the 
 same counsel.” 
 
 “ At least permit me to reply, that reason and 
 sense never assumed a fairer form — of persuasion,” 
 I hastily added; for she turned from me —nor did 
 she give me another opportunity of continuing what 
 I had to say till the next pause of the dance, when, 
 determined to bring our dialogue to a point, I said, 
 “You mentioned manhood also, madam, and, in the 
 same breath, personal danger. My ideas of manhood 
 suggest that it is cowardice to retreat before dan- 
 gers of a doubtful character. You, who appear to 
 know so much of my fortunes that I might call you 
 my guardian angel, tell me what these dangers are, 
 
188 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 that I may judge whether manhood calls on me to 
 face or to fly them.” 
 
 She was evidently perplexed by this appeal. 
 
 “You make me pay dearly for acting as your 
 humane adviser,’ she replied at last: “I acknow- 
 ledge an interest in your fate, and yet I dare not 
 tell you whence it arises; neither am I at liberty 
 to say why, or from whom, you are in danger; but 
 it is not less true that danger is near and imminent. 
 Ask me no more, but, for your own sake, begone 
 from this country. Elsewhere you are safe — here 
 you do but invite your fate.” 
 
 “But, am I doomed to bid thus farewell to almost 
 the only human being who has showed an interest 
 in my welfare?— Do not say so—say that we 
 shall meet again, and the hope shall be the leading 
 star to regulate my course!” | 
 
 “Tt is more than probable,’ she said — “much 
 more than probable, that we may never meet again. 
 The help which I now render you is all that may 
 be in my power; it is such as I should render to a 
 blind man whom I might observe approaching the 
 verge of a precipice; it ought to excite no surprise, 
 and requires no gratitude.” 
 
 So saying, she again turned from me, nor did she 
 address me until the dance was on the point of end- 
 ing, when she said, “Do not attempt to speak to, 
 or approach me again in the course of the night; 
 leave the company as soon as you can, but not 
 abruptly, and God be with you.” 
 
 I handed her to her seat, and did not quit the 
 fair palm I held, without expressing my feelings by 
 a gentle pressure. She coloured slightly, and with- 
 drew her hand, but not angrily. Seeing the eyes 
 of Cristal and Mabel sternly fixed on me, I bowed 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 189 
 
 deeply, and withdrew from her; my heart sadden- 
 ing, and my eyes becoming dim in spite of me, as 
 the shifting crowd hid us from each other. 
 
 It was my intention to have crept back to my 
 comrade Willie, and resumed my bow with such 
 spirit as I might, although at the moment I would 
 have given half my income for an instant’s solitude. 
 But my retreat was cut off by Dame Martin, with 
 the frankness —if it is not an inconsistent phrase 
 —of rustic coquetry, that goes straight up to the 
 point. 
 
 “ Ay, lad, ye seem unca sune weary, to dance sae 
 lightly? Better the nag that ambles a’ the day, 
 than him that makes a brattle for a mile, and then’s 
 dune wi’ the road.” 
 
 This was a fair cialleres and I could not decline 
 accepting it. Besides, I could see Dame Martin 
 was queen of the revels; and so many were the rude 
 and singular figures about me, that I was by no 
 means certain whether I might not need some pro- 
 tection. I seized on her willing hand, and we took 
 our places in the dance, where, if I did not acquit 
 myself with all the accuracy of step and movement 
 which I had before attempted, I at least came up 
 to the expectations of my partner, who said, and 
 almost swore, “I was prime at it;” while, stimu- 
 lated to her utmost exertions, she herself frisked 
 lke a kid, snapped her fingers like castanets, whooped 
 like a Bacchanal, and bounded from the floor like a 
 tennis-ball, — ay, till the colour of her garters was 
 no particular mystery. She made the less secret of 
 this, perhaps, that they were sky-blue, and fringed 
 with silver. 
 
 The time has been that this would have been 
 special fun; or rather, last night was the only time 
 
190 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 I can recollect these four years when it would not 
 have been so; yet, at this moment, I cannot tell 
 you how I longed to be rid of Dame Martin. I 
 almost wished she would sprain one of those “ many- 
 twinkling ” ankles, which served her so alertly; and 
 when, in the midst of her exuberant caprioling, I 
 saw my former partner leaving the apartment, and 
 with eyes, as I thought, turning towards me, this 
 unwillingness to carry on the dance increased to 
 such a point, that I was almost about to feign a 
 sprain or a dislocation myself, in order to put an 
 end to the performance. But there were around 
 me scores of old women, all of whom looked as if 
 they might have some sovereign recipe for such an 
 accident; and, remembering Gil Blas and his pre- 
 tended disorder in the robbers’ cavern, I thought 
 it as wise to play Dame Martin fair, and dance till 
 she thought proper to dismiss me. What I did I 
 resolved to do strenuously, and in the latter part of 
 the exhibition, I cut and sprang from the floor as 
 high and as perpendicularly as Dame Martin her- 
 self; and received, I promise you, thunders of 
 applause, for the common people always prefer exer- 
 tion and agility to grace. At length Dame Martin 
 could dance no more, and, rejoicing at my release, 
 I led her toa seat, and took the privilege of a partner 
 to attend her. 
 
 “Hegh, sirs,” exclaimed Dame Martin, “I am 
 sair forfoughen! Troth, callant, I think ye hae 
 been amaist the death o’ me.” 
 
 I could only atone for the alleged offence by 
 fetching her some refreshment, of which she readily 
 partook. | 
 
 “TI have been lucky in my partners,” I said, 
 “first that pretty young lady, and then you, Mrs. 
 Martin.” 
 
REDGAUNTLET. IQ! 
 
 “Hout wi’ your fleeching,” said Dame Martin. 
 “Gae wa —gae wa, lad; dinna blaw in folk’s lugs 
 that gate; me and Miss Lilias even’d thegither! 
 Na, na, lad —od, she is maybe four or five years 
 younger than the like o’ me,— by and attour her 
 gentle havings.” 
 
 “She is the Laird’s daughter?” said I, in as 
 careless a tone of enquiry as I could assume. 
 
 “His daughter, man? Na, na, only his niece 
 —and sib aneugh to him, I think.” 
 
 “Ay, indeed,” I replied; “I thought she had 
 borne his name ?” 
 
 “She bears her ain name, and that’s Lilias.” 
 
 “ And has she no other name ?” asked I. 
 
 “What needs she another till she gets a gude- 
 man ?” answered my Thetis, a little miffed perhaps 
 —to use the women’s phrase —that I turned the 
 conversation upon my former partner, rather than 
 addressed it to herself. 
 
 There was a short pause, which was interrupted 
 by Dame Martin observing, “They are standing up 
 again.” 
 
 “True,” said I, having no mind to renew my late 
 violent capriole, “and I must go help old Willie.” 
 
 Ere I could extricate myself, I heard poor Thetis 
 address herself to a sort of Mer-man in a jacket of 
 seaman’s blue, and a pair of trowsers, (whose hand, 
 by the way, she had rejected at an earlier part of 
 the evening,) and intimate that she was now dis- 
 posed to take a trip. 
 
 “Trip away then, dearie,” said the vindictive man 
 of the waters, without offering his hand; “ there,” 
 pointing to the floor, “is a roomy berth for you.” 
 
 Certain I had made one enemy, and perhaps two, 
 I hastened to my original seat beside Wille, and 
 
192 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 began to handle my bow. But I could see that my 
 conduct had made an unfavourable impression ; the 
 words, “‘ flory conceited chap,” — “ hafflins gentle,” 
 and at length, the still more alarming epithet of 
 “spy,” began to be buzzed about, and I was heartily 
 glad when the apparition of Sam’s visage at the 
 door, who was already possessed of and draining a 
 can of punch, gave me assurance that my means of 
 retreat were at hand. I intimated as much to 
 Willie, who probably had heard more of the mur- 
 murs of the company than I had, for he whispered, 
 “ Ay, ay — awa wi’ ye — ower lang here — slide out 
 canny — dinna let them see ye are on the tramp.” 
 
 I slipped half-a-cuinea into the old man’s hand, 
 who answered, “ Truts! pruts! nonsense! but I’se 
 no refuse, trusting ye can afford it. — Awa wi’ ye — 
 and if ony body stops ye, cry on me.” 
 
 I glided, by his advice, along the room as if look- 
 ing for a partner, joined Sam, whom I disengaged 
 with some difficulty from his can, and we left the 
 cottage together in a manner to attract the least 
 possible observation. The horses were tied in a 
 neighbouring shed, and as the moon was up and I 
 was now familiar with the road, broken and com- 
 plicated as it is, we soon reached the Shepherd’s 
 Bush, where the old landlady was sitting up wait- 
 ing for us, under some anxiety of mind, to account 
 for which she did not hesitate to tell me that some 
 folks had gone to Brokenburn from her house, or 
 neighbouring towns, that did not come so safe back 
 again. ‘“ Wandering Willie,” she said, “ was doubt- 
 less a kind of protection.” 
 
 Here Willie’s wife, who was smoking in the 
 chimney corner, took up the praises of her “ hinnie,” 
 as she called him, and endeavoured to awaken my 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 193 
 
 generosity afresh, by describing the dangers from 
 which, as she was pleased to allege, her husband’s 
 countenance had assuredly been the means of pre- 
 serving me. I was not, however, to be fooled out 
 of more money at this time, and went to bed in 
 haste, full of various cogitations. 
 
 I have since spent a couple of days betwixt Mount 
 Sharon and this place, and betwixt reading, writing 
 to thee this momentous history, forming plans for 
 seeing the lovely Lilias, and— partly, I think, for 
 the sake of contradiction — angling a little in spite 
 of Joshua’s scruples — though I am rather liking 
 the amusement better as I begin to have some suc- 
 cess in it. 
 
 And now, my dearest Alan, you are in full pos- 
 session of my secret —let me as frankly into the 
 recesses of your bosom. How do you feel towards 
 this fair ignis fatuus, this lily of the desert? Tell 
 me honestly ; for however the recollection of her 
 may haunt my own mind, my love for Alan Fair- 
 ford surpasses the love of woman. I know, too, 
 that when you do love, it will be to 
 
 “ Love once and love no more.” 
 
 A deep-consuming passion, once kindled in a breast 
 so steady as yours, would never be extinguished 
 but with life. I am of another and more volatile 
 temper, and though I shall open your next with a 
 trembling hand, and uncertain heart, yet let it bring 
 a frank confession that this fair unknown has made 
 a deeper impression on your gravity than you rec- 
 koned for, and you will see I can tear the arrow from 
 my own wound, barb and all. In the meantime, 
 
 though I have formed schemes once more to see 
 VOL. Io 
 
194 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 her, I will, you may rely on it, take no step for 
 putting them into practice. I have refrained from 
 this hitherto, and’ I give you my word of honour, 
 I shall continue to do so; yet why should you need 
 any further assurance from one whois so entirely 
 
 yours as 
 ioe 
 
 P. 8.—I shall be on thorns till I receive your 
 answer. I read, and re-read your letter, and can- 
 not for my soul discover what your real sentiments 
 are. Sometimes I think you write of her as one in 
 jest — and sometimes I think that cannot be. Put 
 me at ease as soon as possible. 
 
LETTER XIII. 
 ALAN FAIRFORD TO DARSIE LATIMER. 
 
 I write on the instant, as you direct; and in a 
 tragi-comic humour, for I have a tear in my eye, 
 and a smile on my cheek. Dearest Darsie, sure 
 never a being but yourself could be so generous — 
 sure never a being but yourself could be so absurd! 
 I remember when you were a boy you wished to 
 make your fine new whip a present to old aunt 
 Peggy, merely because she admired it ; and now, with 
 like unreflecting and unappropriate liberality, you 
 would resign your beloved to a smoke-dried young 
 sophister, who cares not one of the hairs which it 
 is his occupation to split, for all the daughters of 
 Eve. J in love with your Lilias — your green- 
 mantle — your unknown enchantress! — why I 
 scarce saw her for five minutes, and even then 
 only the tip of her chin was distinctly visible. 
 She was well made, and the tip of her chin was 
 of a most promising cast for the rest of the face; 
 but, Heaven save you! she came upon business! 
 and for a lawyer to fall in love with a pretty client 
 on a single consultation, would be as wise as if he 
 became enamoured of a particularly bright sunbeam 
 which chanced for a moment to gild his bar-wig. I 
 give you my word I am heart-whole; and, more- 
 over, I assure you, that before I suffer a woman to 
 sit near my heart’s core, I must see her full face, 
 without mask or mantle, ay, and know a good deal 
 of her mind into the bargain. So never fret your- 
 
196 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 self on my account, my kind and generous Darsie ; 
 but, for your own sake, have a care, and let not an 
 idle attachment, so lightly taken up, lead you into 
 serious danger. 
 
 On this subject I feel so apprehensive, that now 
 when I am decorated with the honours of the gown, 
 I should have abandoned my career at the very 
 starting to come to you, but for my father having 
 contrived to clog my heels with fetters of a profes- 
 sional nature. I will tell you the matter at length, 
 for it is comical enough ; and why should not you 
 list to my juridical adventures, as well as I to those 
 of your fiddling knight-errantry ? 
 
 It was after dinner, and I was considering how I 
 might best introduce to my father the private resolu- 
 tion I had formed to set off for Dumfries-shire, 
 or whether I had not better run away at once, and 
 plead my excuse by letter, when, assuming the 
 peculiar look with which he communicates any of 
 his intentions respecting me, that he suspects may 
 not be altogether acceptable, “Alan,” he said, “ ye’ 
 now wear a gown — ye have opened shop, as 
 we would say of a more mechanical profession ; 
 and, doubtless, ye think the floor of the courts is 
 strewed with guineas, and that ye have only to 
 stoop down to gather them?” 
 
 “TI hope I am sensible, sir,” I replied, “that I 
 have some knowledge and practice to acquire, and 
 must stoop for that in the first place.” 
 
 “It is well said,” answered my father; and, 
 always afraid to give too much encouragement, 
 added, “ Very well said, if it be well acted up to — 
 Stoop to get knowledge and practice is the very 
 word. Ye know very well, Alan, that in the other 
 faculty who study the Ars medendt, before the young 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 197 
 
 doctor gets to the bedsides of palaces, he must, as 
 they call it, walk the hospitals; and cure Lazarus 
 of his sores, before he be admitted to prescribe for 
 Dives, when he has gout or indigestion ” 
 
 “T am aware, sir, that” 
 
 “ Whisht — do not interrupt the court — Well 
 — also the chirurgeons have an useful practice, by 
 which they put their apprentices and tyrones to 
 work upon senseless dead bodies, to which, as they 
 can do no good, so they certainly can do as little 
 harm ; while at the same time the ¢yro, or appren- 
 tice, oains experience, and becomes fit to whip off 
 a ieee or arm from a living subject, as EN as ye 
 would slice an onion.’ 
 
 “JT believe I guess your meaning, sir, a rereren 
 I; “and were it not for a very particular engage- 
 ment ” 
 
 “Do not speak to me of engagements; but 
 whisht — there is a good lad —and do not interrupt 
 the court.” 
 
 My father, you know, is apt — be it said with all 
 filial duty — to be a little prolix in his harangues. 
 I had nothing for it but to lean back and listen. 
 
 “ Maybe you think, Alan, because I have, doubt- 
 less, the management of some actions in dependence, 
 whilk my worthy clients have intrusted me with, 
 that I may think of airting them your way 
 instanter ; and so setting you up in practice, so 
 far as my small business or influence may go; 
 and, doubtless, Alan, that is a day whilk I hope 
 may come round. But then, before I give, as the 
 proverb hath it, ‘My own fish-guts to my own sea- 
 maws, I must, for the sake of my own character, 
 be very sure that my sea-maw can pick them to 
 some purpose. What say ye?” 
 
 
 
 
 
198 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 “T am so far,” answered I, “from wishing to get 
 early into practice, sir, that I would willingly 
 bestow a few days” 
 
 “Tn farther study, ye would say, Alan. But that 
 is not the way either — ye must walk the hospitals 
 — ye must cure Lazarus — ye must cut and carve 
 on a departed subject, to show your skill.” 
 
 “T am sure,’ I replied, “I will undertake the 
 cause of any poor man with pleasure, and bestow 
 as much pains upon it as if it were a duke’s; but 
 for the next two or three days ” 
 
 “They must be devoted to close study, Alan — 
 very close study indeed; for ye must stand primed 
 for a hearing, 7 presentia Dominorum, upon Tues- 
 day next.” 
 
 “T, sir!” I replied in astonishment —“I have 
 not opened my mouth in the Outer-House yet!” 
 
 “Never mind the Court of the Gentiles, man,” 
 said my father; “we will have you into the Sanc- 
 tuary at once — over shoes, over boots.” 
 
 “But, sir, I should really spoil any cause thrust 
 on me so hastily.” 
 
 “Ye cannot spoil it, Alan,” said my father, rub- 
 bing his hands with much complacency ; “that is 
 the very cream of the business, man — it is just, as 
 I said before, a subject upon whilk all the tyrones 
 have been trying their whittles for fifteen years; 
 and as there have been about ten or a dozen agents 
 concerned, and each took his own way, the case is 
 come to that pass, that Stair or Arniston could not 
 mend it; and I do not think even you, Alan, can 
 do it much harm — ye may get credit by it, but ye 
 can lose none.” 
 
 “And pray what is the name of my happy client, 
 sir?” said I, ungraciously enough, I believe. 
 
 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 199 
 
 “Tt is a well-known name in the Parliament- 
 House,” replied my father. “To say the truth, I 
 expect him every moment; it is Peter Peebles.” 4 
 
 “Peter Peebles!” exclaimed I, in astonishment ; 
 “he is an insane beggar — as poor as Job, and as 
 mad as a March hare!” 
 
 “He has been pleaing in the court for fifteen 
 years,” said my father, in a tone of commiseration, 
 which seemed to acknowledge that this fact was 
 enough to account for the poor man’s condition 
 both in mind and circumstances. 
 
 “ Besides, sir,” I added, “he is on the Poor’s 
 Roll; and you know there are advocates regularly 
 appointed to manage those cases; and for me to 
 presume to interfere ”’ 
 
 “ Whisht, Alan!—never interrupt the court — 
 all that is managed for ye like a tee’d ball;” (my 
 father sometimes draws his similes from his once 
 favourite game of golf;) —“ you must know, Alan, 
 that Peter’s cause was to have been opened by young 
 Dumtoustie —ye may ken the lad, a son of Dum- 
 toustie of that ilk, member of Parliament for the 
 county of , and a nephew of the Laird’s 
 younger brother, worthy Lord Bladderskate, whilk 
 ye are aware sounds as like being akin to a peat- 
 ship? and a sheriffdom, as a sieve is sib to a riddle. 
 Now, Saunders Drudgeit, my lord’s clerk, came to 
 me this morning in the House, like ane bereft of his 
 wits ; for it seems that young Dumtoustie is ane of 
 the Poor’s Lawyers, and Peter Peebles’s process had 
 been remitted to him of course. But so soon as the 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 Note IV. — Peter Peebles. 
 
 2 Formerly, a lawyer, supposed to be under the peculiar patro- 
 nage of any particular judge, was invidiously termed his peat 
 or pet. 
 
200 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 harebrained goose saw the pokes,! (as, indeed, 
 Alan, they are none of the least,) he took fright, 
 called for his nag, lap on, and away to the country 
 is he gone; and so, said Saunders, my lord is at his 
 wit’s end wi’ vexation and shame, to see his nevoy 
 break off the course at the very starting. ‘Ill tell 
 you, Saunders,’ said I, ‘were I my lord, and a friend 
 or kinsman of mine should leave the town while 
 the court was sitting, that kinsman, or be he what 
 he liked, should never darken my door again.’ And 
 then, Alan, I thought to turn the ball our own 
 way; and I said that you were a gey sharp birkie, 
 just off the irons, and if it would oblige my lord, 
 and so forth, you would open Peter’s cause on 
 Tuesday, and make some handsome apology for the 
 necessary absence of your learned friend, and the 
 loss which your client and the court had sustained, 
 and so forth. Saunders lap at the proposition, like 
 a cock at a grossart; for, he said, the only chance 
 was to get a new hand, that did not ken the charge 
 he was taking upon him; for there was not a lad 
 of two Sessions’ standing that was not dead-sick of 
 Peter Peebles and his cause; and he advised me to 
 break the matter gently to you at the first; but I 
 told him you were a good bairn, Alan, and had no 
 will and pleasure in these matters but mine.” 
 
 What could I say, Darsie, in answer to this 
 arrangement, so very well meant— so very vexa- 
 tious at the same time ?— To imitate the defection 
 and flight of young Dumtoustie, was at once to 
 destroy my father’s hopes of me for ever ; nay, such 
 is the keenness with which he regards all connected 
 with his profession, it might have been a step to 
 breaking his heart. I was obliged, therefore, to bow 
 
 1 Process-bags. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 201 
 
 in sad acquiescence, when my father called to James 
 Wilkinson to bring the two bits of pokes he would 
 find on his table. 
 
 Exit James, and presently re-enters, bending under 
 the load of two huge leathern bags, full of papers 
 to the brim, and labelled on the greasy backs with 
 the magic impress of the clerks of court, and the 
 title, Peebles against Plainstanes. This huge mass was 
 deposited on the table, and my father, with no ordi- 
 nary glee in his countenance, began to draw out the 
 various bundles of papers, secured by none of your 
 red tape or whipcord, but stout, substantial casts of 
 tarred rope, such as might have held small craft at 
 their moorings. 
 
 I made a last and desperate effort to get rid of 
 the impending job. “I am really afraid, sir, that 
 this case seems so much complicated, and there is 
 so little time to prepare, that we had better move 
 the Court to supersede it till next Session.” 
 
 “How, sir?—how, Alan?” said my father — 
 “Would you approbate and reprobate, sir ?— You 
 have accepted the poor man’s cause, and if you have 
 not his fee in your pocket, it is because he has none 
 to give you; and now would you approbate and 
 reprobate in the same breath of your mouth ? — 
 Think of your oath of office, Alan, and your duty 
 to your father, my dear boy.” 
 
 Once more, what could I say ?— I saw, from my 
 father’s hurried and alarmed manner, that nothing 
 could vex him so much as failing in the point 
 he had determined to carry, and once more inti- 
 mated my readiness to do my best, under every 
 disadvantage. 
 
 “Well, well, my boy,” said my father, “the Lord 
 will make your days long in the land, for the hon- 
 
202 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 our you have given to your father’s grey hairs. 
 You may find wiser advisers, Alan, but none that 
 can wish you better.” 
 
 My father, you know, does not usually give way 
 to expressions of affection, and they are interesting 
 in proportion to their rarity. My eyes began to 
 fill at seeing his glisten; and my delight at having 
 given him such sensible gratification would have 
 been unmixed, but for the thoughts of you. These 
 out of the question, I could have grappled with the 
 bags, had they been as large as corn-sacks. But, to 
 turn what was grave into farce, the door opened, 
 and Wilkinson ushered in Peter Peebles. 
 
 You must have seen this original, Darsie, who, 
 like others in the same predicament, continues to 
 haunt the courts of justice, where he has made ship- 
 wreck of time, means, and understanding. Such 
 insane paupers have sometimes seemed to me to 
 resemble wrecks lying upon the shoals on the Good- 
 win Sands, or in Yarmouth Roads, warning other 
 vessels to keep aloof from the banks on which they 
 have been lost; or rather such ruined clients are like 
 scarecrows and potatoe-bogles, distributed through 
 the courts to scare away fools from the scene of 
 litigation. 
 
 The identical Peter wears a huge great-coat, 
 threadbare and patched itself, yet carefully so dis- 
 posed and secured by what buttons remain, and 
 many supplementary pins, as to conceal the still 
 more infirm state of his under garments. The 
 shoes and stockings of a ploughman were, however, 
 seen to meet at his knees, with a pair of brownish, 
 blackish breeches; a rusty-coloured handkerchief, 
 that has been black in its day, surrounded his 
 throat, and was an apology for linen. His hair, 
 
ly -t : 
 
 nat pap 
 
 
 
Alan introduced to Peebles. 
 
 Drawn by T. Scott, A.R.S. A. — Etched by 
 H. R. Robertson. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 SA DAH 
 | i 
 ai 
 
 } Ih ' | 
 ma 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
REDGAUNTLET. 203 
 
 half grey, half black, escaped in elf-locks around a 
 huge wig, made of tow, as it seemed to me, and so 
 much shrunk, that it stood up on the very top of 
 his head; above which he plants, when covered, an 
 immense cocked hat, which, like the chieftain’s ban- 
 ner in an ancient battle, may be seen any sederunt 
 day betwixt nine and ten, high towering above all 
 the fluctuating and changeful scene in the Outer- 
 House, where his eccentricities often make him the 
 centre of a group of petulant and teasing boys, who 
 exercise upon him every art of ingenious torture. 
 His countenance, originally that of a portly, comely 
 burgess, is now emaciated with poverty and anxiety, 
 and rendered wild by an insane lghtness about 
 the eyes; a withered and blighted skin and com- 
 plexion; features begrimed with snuff, charged 
 with the self-importance peculiar to insanity; and 
 a habit of perpetually speaking to himself. Such 
 was my unfortunate client; and I must allow, 
 Darsie, that my profession had need to do a great 
 deal of good, if, as is much to be feared, it brings 
 many individuals to such a pass. 
 
 After we had been, with a good deal of form, 
 presented to each other, at which time I easily saw 
 by my father’s manner that he was desirous of sup- 
 porting Peter’s character in my eyes, as much as 
 circumstances would permit, ‘“‘ Alan,” he said, “ this 
 is the gentleman who has agreed to accept of you 
 as his counsel, in place of young Dumtoustie.” 
 
 “Entirely out of favour to my old acquaintance 
 your father,” said Peter, with a benign and _ patro- 
 nising countenance, “out of respect to your father, 
 and my old intimacy with Lord Bladderskate. 
 Otherwise, by the Regiam Majestatem! I would 
 have presented a petition and complaint against 
 
204 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 Daniel Dumtoustie, Advocate, by name and sur- 
 name — I would, by all the practiques!—I know 
 the forms of process; and I am not to be trifled 
 with.” 
 
 My father here interrupted my client, and 
 reminded him that there was a good deal of business 
 to do, as he proposed to give the young counsel an 
 outline of the state of the conjoined process, with 
 a view to letting him into the merits of the cause, 
 disencumbered from the points of form. “I have 
 made a short abbreviate, Mr. Peebles,’ said he; 
 “having sat up late last night, and employed much 
 of this morning in wading through these papers, 
 to save Alan some trouble, and Iam now about to 
 state the result.” 
 
 “JT will state it myself,” said Peter, breaking in 
 without reverence upon his solicitor. 
 
 “No, by no means,” said my father; “I am your 
 agent for the time.” 
 
 “Mine eleventh in number,” said Peter; “I have 
 a new one every year; I wish I could geta new 
 coat as regularly.” 
 
 “Your agent for the time,” resumed my father; 
 ‘and you, who are acquainted with the forms, 
 know that the client states the cause to the agent 
 —the agent to the counsel” 
 
 “The counsel to the Lord Ordinary,” continued 
 Peter, once set a-going, like the peal of an alarm 
 clock, ‘‘the Ordinary to the Inner-House, the Pres- 
 ident to the Bench. It is just like the rope to the 
 man, the man to the axe, the axe to the ox, the ox 
 to the water, the water to the fire” 
 
 “Hush, for Heaven’s sake, Mr. Peebles,” said my 
 father, cutting his recitation short; “time wears 
 on—we must get to business—you must not 
 
 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 205 
 
 interrupt the court, you know. — Hem,hem! From 
 this abbreviate it appears” 
 
 “Before you begin,’ said Peter Peebles, “Tl 
 thank you to order me a morsel of bread and cheese, 
 or some cauld meat, or broth, or the like aliment- 
 ary provision; I was so anxious to see your son, 
 that I could not eat a mouthful of dinner.” 
 
 Heartily glad, I believe, to have so good a chance. 
 of stopping his client’s mouth effectually, my father 
 ordered some cold meat; to which James Wilkin- 
 son, for the honour of the house, was about to add 
 the brandy bottle, which remained on the sideboard, 
 but, at a wink from my father, supplied its place 
 with small beer. Peter charged the provisions with 
 the rapacity of a famished lion; and so well did 
 the diversion engage him, that though, while my 
 father stated the case, he looked at him repeat- 
 edly, as if he meant to interrupt his statement, yet 
 he always found more agreeable employment for 
 his mouth, and returned to the cold beef with an 
 avidity which convinced me he had not had such an 
 opportunity for many a day of satiating his appe- 
 tite. Omitting much formal phraseology, and many 
 legal details, I will endeavour to give you, in 
 exchange for your fiddler’s tale, the history of a lit- 
 igant, or rather, the history of his lawsuit. 
 
 “Peter Peebles and Paul Plainstanes,” said my 
 father, “entered into partnership, in the year ; 
 as mercers and linendrapers, in the Luckenbooths, 
 and carried on a great line of business to mutual 
 advantage. But the learned counsel needeth not 
 to be told, soczetas est mater discordiarum, partner- 
 ship oft makes pleaship. The company being dis- 
 solved by mutual consent, in the year , the 
 affairs had to be wound up, and after certain 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
206 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 attempts to settle the matter extrajudicially, it was 
 at last brought into the Court, and has branched 
 out into several distinct processes, most of whilk 
 have been conjoined by the Ordinary, It is to the 
 state of these processes that counsel’s attention is 
 particularly directed. There is the original action 
 of Peebles v, Plainstanes, convening him for pay- 
 ment of L.3000, less or more, as alleged balance 
 due by Plainstanes. 2dly, There is a counter 
 action, in which Plainstanes is pursuer and Peebles 
 defender, for L.2500, less or more, being balance 
 alleged per contra, to be due by Peebles. 3dly, 
 Mr, Peebles’s seventh agent advised an action of 
 Compt and Reckoning at his instance, wherein what 
 balance should prove due on either side might be 
 fairly struck and ascertained. 4thly, To meet the 
 hypothetical case, that Peebles might be found liable 
 in a balance to Plainstanes, Mr. Wildgoose, Mr. 
 Peebles’s eighth agent, recommended a Multiple- 
 poinding, to bring all parties concerned into the 
 field.” 
 
 My brain was like to turn at this account of 
 lawsuit within lawsuit, like a nest of chip-boxes, 
 with all of which I was expected to make myself 
 acquainted. 
 
 “T understand,” I said, “that Mr. Peebles claims 
 a sum of money from Plainstanes— how then can 
 he be his debtor? and if not his debtor, how can he 
 bring a Multiplepoinding, the very summons of 
 which sets forth, that the pursuer does owe certain 
 monies, which he is desirous to pay by warrant of 
 a judge?” 1 
 
 “Ve know little of the matter, I doubt, friend,” 
 
 1 Multiplepoinding is, I believe, equivalent to what is called in 
 England a case of Double Distress. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 207 
 
 said Mr. Peebles; “a Multiplepoinding is the safest 
 remedium juris in the whole form of process. I 
 have known it conjoined with a declarator of mar- 
 riage. — Your beef is excellent,” he said to my father, 
 who in vain endeavoured to resume his legal dis- 
 quisition ; “but something highly powdered — and 
 the twopenny is undeniable; but it is small swipes 
 —small swipes —more of hop than malt — with 
 your leave [ll try your black bottle.” 
 
 My father started to help him with his own hand, 
 and in due measure; but, infinitely to my amuse- 
 ment, Peter got possession of the bottle by the 
 neck, and my father’s ideas of hospitality were far 
 too scrupulous to permit his attempting, by any 
 direct means, to redeem it; so that Peter returned to 
 the table triumphant, with his prey in his clutch. 
 
 “ Better have a wine-glass, Mr. Peebles,” said my 
 father, in an admonitory tone, “ you will find it 
 pretty strong.” 
 
 “Tf the kirk is ower muckle, we can sing mass 
 in the quire,’ said Peter, helping himself in the 
 goblet out of which he had been drinking the small 
 beer. “What is it, usquebanugh ?— BRANDY, as I 
 am an honest man! I had almost forgotten the 
 name and taste of brandy. — Mr. Fairford elder, 
 your good health,” (a mouthful of brandy) — “ Mr. 
 Alan Fairford, wishing you well through your ardu- 
 ous undertaking,” (another go-down of the comfort- 
 able liquor.) “And now, though you have given a 
 tolerable breviate of this great lawsuit, of whilk 
 every body has heard something that has walked 
 the boards in the Outer-House, (here’s to ye again, 
 by way of interim decreet,) yet ye have omitted 
 to speak a word of the arrestments.” 
 
 “T was just coming to that point, Mr. Peebles.” 
 
208 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 “Or of the action of suspension of the charge on 
 the bill.” 
 
 “T was just coming to that.” 
 
 “ Or the advocation of the Sheriff-Court process.” 
 
 “T was just coming to it.” 
 
 “As Tweed comes to Melrose, I think,” said 
 the litigant; and then filling his goblet about a 
 quarter full of brandy, as if in absence of mind, 
 “Oh, Mr. Alan Fairford, ye are a lucky man to 
 buckle to such a cause as mine at the very outset! 
 it is like a specimen of all causes, man. By the 
 Regiam, there is not a remedium juris in the prac- 
 tiques but ye’ll find a spice o’t. Here’s to your 
 eetting weel through with it — Pshut — I am drink- 
 ing naked spirits, 1 think. But if the heathen be 
 ower strong, we'll christen him with the brewer,” 
 (here he added a little small beer to his beverage, 
 paused, rolled his eyes, winked, and proceeded, ) — 
 “Mr. Fairford — the action of assault and battery, 
 Mr. Fairford, when I compelled the villain Plain- 
 stanes to pull my nose within two steps of King 
 Charles’s statue, in the Parliament Close — there 
 I had him in a hose-net. Never man could tell me 
 how to shape that process —no counsel that ever 
 selled wind could condescend and say whether it 
 were best to proceed by way of petition and com- 
 plaint, ad vindictam publicam, with consent of his 
 Majesty’s advocate, or by action on the statute for 
 battery, pendente lite, whilk would be the winning 
 my plea at once, and so getting a back-door out of 
 Court. — By the Regiam, that beef and brandy is 
 unco het at my heart —I maun try the ale again,” 
 (sipped a little beer); ‘‘and the ale’s but cauld, I 
 maun e’en put in the rest of the brandy.” 
 
 He was as good as his word, and proceeded in so 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 209 
 
 loud and animated a style of elocution, thumping 
 the table, drinking and snuffing alternately, that 
 my father, abandoning all attempts to interrupt 
 him, sat silent and ashamed, suffering and anxious 
 for the conclusion of the scene. 
 
 “And then to come back to my pet process of 
 all — my battery and assault process, when I had the 
 good luck to provoke him to pull my nose at the 
 very threshold of the Court, whilk was the very 
 thing I wanted — Mr. Pest, ye ken him, Daddie 
 Fairford? Old Pest was for making it out hame-suc- 
 ken, for he said the Court might be said — said — 
 ugh!—to be my dwelling-place. I dwell mair 
 there than ony gate else, and the essence of hame- 
 sucken is to strike a man in his dwelling-place — 
 mind that, young advocate — and so there’s hope 
 Plainstanes may be hanged, as many has for a less 
 matter; for, my Lords, — will Pest say to the Jus- 
 ticiary bodies,— my Lords, the Parliament House 
 is Peebles’s place of dwelling, says he — being com- 
 mune forum, and commune forum est commune domi- 
 culvum — Lass, fetch another glass of whisky, and 
 score it — time to gae hame — by the practiques, I 
 cannot find the jug—yet there’s twa of them, I 
 think. Bythe Regiam, Fairford — Daddie Fairford 
 —lend us twal pennies to buy sneeshing, mine is 
 done — Macer, call another cause.” 
 
 The box fell from his hands, and his body would 
 at the same time have fallen from the chair, had I 
 not supported him. 
 
 “This is intolerable,” said my father — “Call a 
 chairman, James Wilkinson, to carry this degraded, 
 worthless, drunken beast home.” 
 
 When Peter Peebles was removed from this 
 memorable consultation, under the care of an able- 
 
 VOL. I1.— 14 
 
210 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 bodied Celt, my father hastily bundled up the 
 papers, as a showman, whose exhibition has mis- 
 carried, hastes to remove his booth. ‘“ Here are 
 my memoranda, Alan,’ he said, in a hurried way ; 
 “look them carefully over — compare them with the 
 processes, and turn it in your head before Tuesday. 
 Many a good speech has been made for a beast of a 
 client ;and hark ye, lad, hark ye —I never intended 
 to cheat you of your fee when all was done, though 
 I would have liked to have heard the speech first; 
 but there is nothing like corning the horse before 
 the journey. Here are five goud guineas in a silk 
 purse — of your poor mother’s netting, Alan — she 
 would have been a blithe woman to have seen her 
 young son with a gown on his back — but no more 
 of that —be a good boy, and to the work like a 
 tiger.” 
 
 I did set to work, Darsie; for who could resist 
 such motives? With my father’s assistance, I have 
 mastered the details, confused as they are; and on 
 Tuesday, I shall plead as well for Peter Peebles, as 
 I could fora duke. Indeed, I feel my head so clear 
 on the subject, as to be able to write this long letter 
 to you; into which, however, Peter and his law- 
 suit have insinuated themselves so far, as to show 
 you how much they at present occupy my thoughts. 
 Once more, be careful of yourself, and mindful of 
 me, who am ever thine, while 
 
 ALAN FAIRFORD. 
 
 From circumstances, to be hereafter mentioned, it 
 was long ere this letter reached the person to whom 
 it was addressed. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 NARRATIVE. 
 
 THE advantage of laying before the reader, in the! 
 
 words of the actors themselves, the adventures| 
 which we must otherwise have narrated in our own, | 
 has given great popularity to the publication of ee | 
 tolary correspondence, as practised by various great | 
 authors, and by ourselves in the preceding chapters. | 
 
 Nevertheless, a genuine correspondence of this | 
 
 kind (and Heaven forbid it should be in any respect | 
 sophisticated by interpolations of our own!) can | 
 
 seldom be found to contain all in which it is neces- | 
 
 sary to instruct the reader for his full comprehension 
 
 i 
 i 
 
 of the story. Also it must often happen that vari- | 
 ous prolixities and redundancies occur in the course | 
 
 of an interchange of letters, which must hang as a 
 dead weight on the progress of the narrative. To 
 avoid this dilemma, some biographers have used 
 the letters of the personages concerned, or liberal 
 extracts from them, to describe particular pene | 
 or express the sentiments which they entertained ; 
 while they connect them occasionally with rane 
 portions of narrative, as may serve to carry on the) 
 thread of the story. 
 
 It is thus that the adventurous travellers ho 
 explore the summit of Mont Blanc, now move on 
 through the crumbling snow-drift so slowly, that 
 their progress is almost imperceptible, and anon 
 abridge their journey by springing over the inter- 
 
212 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 vening chasms which cross their path, with the 
 assistance of their pilgrim-staves. Or, to make a 
 briefer simile, the course of story-telling which we 
 have for the present adopted, resembles the original 
 discipline of the dragoons, who were trained to 
 serve either on foot or horseback, as the emergen- 
 cies of the service required. With this explanation, 
 we shall proceed to narrate some circumstances 
 which Alan Fairford did not, and could not, write 
 to his correspondent. 
 
 Our reader, we trust, has formed somewhat 
 approaching to a distinct idea of the principal char- 
 acters who have appeared before him during our 
 narrative ; but in case our good opinion of his saga- 
 city has been exaggerated, and in order to satisfy 
 such as are addicted to the laudable practice of 
 skipping, (with whom we have at times a strong 
 fellow-feeling,) the following particulars may not 
 be superfluous. 
 
 Mr. Saunders Fairford, as he was usually called, 
 was a man of business of the old school, moderate 
 in his charges, economical and even niggardly in his 
 expenditure, strictly honest in conducting his own 
 affairs, and those of his clients, but taught by long 
 experience to be wary and suspicious in observing 
 the motions of others. Punctual as the clock of 
 Saint Giles tolled nine, the neat dapper form of 
 the little hale old gentleman was seen at the thres- 
 hold of the Court hall, or at farthest, at the head of 
 the Back Stairs, trimly dressed in a complete suit 
 of snuff-coloured brown, with stockings of silk or 
 woollen, as suited the weather; a bobwig, and a 
 small cocked hat; shoes blacked as Warren would 
 have blacked them ; silver shoe-buckles, and a gold 
 stock-buckle. A nosegay in summer, and a sprig of 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 213 
 
 holly in winter, completed his well-known dress and 
 appearance. His manners corresponded with his 
 attire, for they were scrupulously civil, and not a 
 little formal. He was an elder of the kirk, and, of 
 course, zealous for King George and the govern- 
 ment even to slaying, as he had showed by taking up 
 arms in their cause. But then, as he had clients and 
 connexions of business among families of opposite 
 political tenets, he was particularly cautious to use 
 all the conventional phrases which the civility of 
 the time had devised, as an admissible mode of 
 language betwixt the two parties. Thus he spoke 
 sometimes of the Chevalier, but never either of the 
 Prince, which would have been sacrificing his own 
 principles, or of the Pretender, which would have 
 been offensive to those of others. Again, he usually 
 designated the Rebellion as the affair of 1745, 
 and spoke of any one engaged in it as a person who 
 had been owt at a certain period.! So that, on the 
 whole, Mr. Fairford was a man much liked and 
 respected on all sides, though his friends would not 
 have been sorry if he had given a dinner more fre- 
 quently, as his little cellar contained some choice 
 old wine, of which, on such rare occasions, he was 
 no niggard. 
 
 The whole pleasure of this good old-fashioned 
 man of method, besides that which he really felt in 
 the discharge of his daily business, was the hope to 
 
 1 OLD-FASHIONED ScorrisH Crvitiry.— Such were literally 
 the points of politeness observed in general society during the 
 author’s youth, where it was by no means unusual in a company 
 assembled by chance, to find individuals who had borne arms on 
 one side or other in the civil broils of 1745. Nothing, according 
 to my recollection, could be more gentle and decorous than the 
 respect these old enemies paid to each other’s prejudices. But in 
 this I speak generally. I have witnessed one or two explosions. 
 
214 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 see his son Alan, the only fruit of a union which 
 death early dissolved, attain what in the father’s 
 eyes was the proudest of all distinctions —the rank 
 and fame of a well-employed lawyer. 
 
 Every profession has its peculiar honours, and Mr. 
 Fairford’s mind was constructed upon so limited and 
 exclusive a plan, that he valued nothing, save the 
 objects of ambition which his own presented. He 
 would have shuddered at Alan’s acquiring the 
 renown of a hero, and laughed with scorn at the 
 equally barren laurels of literature; it was by 
 the path of the law alone that he was desirous 
 to see him rise to eminence, and the probabilities 
 of success or disappointment were the thoughts of 
 his father by day, and his dream by night. 
 
 The disposition of Alan Fairford, as well as his 
 talents, were such as to encourage his father’s 
 expectations. He had acuteness of intellect, joined 
 to habits of long and patient study, improved no 
 doubt by the discipline of his father’s house; to 
 which, generally speaking, he conformed with the 
 utmost docility, expressing no wish for greater or 
 more frequent relaxation than consisted with his 
 father’s anxious and severe restrictions. When he 
 did indulge in any juvenile frolics, his father had 
 the candour to lay the whole blame upon his more 
 mercurial companion, Darsie Latimer. 
 
 This youth, as the reader must be aware, had 
 been received as an inmate into the family of Mr. 
 Fairford, senior, at a time when some of the deli- 
 cacy of constitution which had abridged the life of 
 his consort, began to show itself in the son, and 
 when the father was, of course, peculiarly disposed 
 to indulge his slightest wish. That the young Eng- 
 lishman was able to pay a considerable. board, was 
 
REDGAUNTLET. ai 
 
 a matter of no importance to Mr. Fairford; it was 
 enough that his presence seemed to make his son 
 cheerful and happy. He was compelled to allow 
 that “ Darsie was a fine lad, though unsettled,” and 
 he would have had some difficulty in getting rid 
 of him, and the apprehensions which his levities 
 excited, had it not been for the voluntary excursion 
 which gave rise to the preceding correspondence, 
 and in which Mr. Fairford secretly rejoiced, as 
 affording the means of separating Alan from his 
 gay companion, at least until he should have 
 assumed, and become accustomed to, the duties 
 of his dry and laborious profession. 
 
 But the absence of Darsie was far from promoting 
 the end which the elder Mr. Fairford had expected 
 and desired. The young men were united by the 
 closest bonds of intimacy; and the more so, that 
 neither of them sought nor desired to admit any 
 others into their society. Alan Fairford was averse 
 to general company, from a disposition naturally 
 reserved, and Darsie Latimer from a painful sense 
 of his own unknown origin, peculiarly afflicting in 
 a country where high and low are professed genea- 
 logists. The young men were all in all to each 
 other; it is no wonder, therefore, that their separa- 
 tion was painful, and that its effects upon Alan 
 Fairford, joined to the anxiety occasioned by the 
 tenor of his friend’s letters, greatly exceeded what 
 the senior had anticipated. The young man went 
 through his usual duties, his studies, and the exam- 
 inations to which he was subjected, but with nothing 
 like the zeal and assiduity which he had formerly 
 displayed ; and his anxious and observant father 
 saw but too plainly that his heart was with his 
 absent comrade. 
 
216 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 A philosopher would have given way to this tide 
 of feeling, in hopes to have diminished its excess, 
 and permitted the youths to have been some time 
 together, that their intimacy might have been broken 
 off by degrees; but Mr. Fairford only saw the more 
 direct mode of continued restraint, which, however, 
 he was desirous of veiling under some plausible pre- 
 text. In the anxiety which he felt on this occasion, 
 he had held communication with an old acquaint- 
 ance, Peter Drudgeit, with whom the reader is partly 
 acquainted. “Alan,” he said, “was ance wud, and 
 aye waur; and he was expecting every moment 
 when he would start off in a wildgoose-chase after 
 the callant Latimer; Will Sampson, the horse-hirer 
 in Candlemaker Row, had given him a hint that 
 Alan had been looking for a good hack, to go to the 
 country for a few days. And then to oppose him 
 downright — he could not but think on the way his 
 poor mother was removed — Would to Heaven he 
 was yoked to some tight piece of business, no mat- 
 ter whether well or ill-paid, but some job that would 
 hamshackle him at least until the Courts rose, if it 
 were but for decency’s sake.” 
 
 Peter Drudgeit sympathized, for Peter had a son, 
 who, reason or none, would needs exchange the torn 
 and inky fustian sleeves for the blue jacket and 
 white lapelle; and he suggested, as the reader 
 knows, the engaging our friend Alan in the mat- 
 ter of Poor Peter Peebles, just opened by the 
 desertion of young Dumtoustie, whose defection 
 would be at the same time concealed; and this, 
 Drudgeit said, “would be felling two dogs with 
 one stone.” 
 
 With these explanations, the reader will hold a 
 man of the elder Fairford’s sense and experience 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 217 
 
 free from the hazardous and impatient curiosity 
 with which boys fling a puppy into a deep pond, 
 merely to see if the creature can swim. However 
 confident in his son’s talents, which were really 
 considerable, he would have been very sorry to 
 have involved him in the duty of pleading a com- 
 plicated and difficult case, upon his very first 
 appearance at the bar, had he not resorted to it 
 as an effectual way to prevent the young man from 
 taking a step, which his habits of thinking repre- 
 sented as a most fatal one at his outset of life. 
 
 Betwixt two evils, Mr. Fairford chose that which 
 was in his own apprehension the least; and, like a 
 brave officer sending forth his son to battle, rather 
 chose he should die upon the breach, than desert 
 the conflict with dishonour. Neither did he leave 
 him to his own unassisted energies. Like Alpheus 
 preceding Hercules, he himself encountered the 
 Augean mass of Peter Peebles’s law-matters. It 
 was to the old man a labour of love to place ina 
 clear and undistorted view the real merits of this 
 case, which the carelessness and blunders of Peter’s 
 former solicitors had converted into a huge chaotic 
 mass of unintelligible technicality; and such was 
 his skill and industry, that he was able, after the 
 severe toil of two or three days, to present to the 
 consideration of the young counsel the principal 
 facts of the case, in a light equally simple and com- 
 prehensible. With the assistance of a solicitor so 
 affectionate and indefatigable, Alan Fairford was 
 enabled, when the day of trial arrived, to walk 
 towards the Court, attended by his anxious yet 
 encouraging parent, with some degree of confidence 
 that he would lose no reputation upon this arduous 
 occasion. 
 
218 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 They were met at the door of the Court by Poor 
 Peter Peebles in his usual plenitude of wig and 
 celsitude of hat. He seized on the young pleader 
 like a lion on his prey. ‘‘ How is a’ wi’ you, Mr. 
 Alan — how is a wi’ you, man?—The awfuw’ day 
 is come at last —a day that will be lang minded 
 in this house. Poor Peter Peebles against Plain- 
 stanes — conjoined processes — Hearing in presence 
 —stands for the Short Roll for this day —I have 
 not been able to sleep for a week for thinking of it, 
 and, I dare to say, neither has the Lord President 
 himsell — for such a cause!! But your father garr’d 
 me tak a wee drap ower muckle of his pint bottle 
 the other night; it’s no right to mix brandy wi 
 business, Mr. Fairford. I would have been the 
 waur 0’ liquor if I would have drank as muckle 
 as you twa would have had me. But there’s a 
 time for a’ things, and if ye will dine with me after 
 the case is heard, or, whilk is the same, or maybe 
 better, 777 gang my ways hame wi’ you, and I winna 
 object to a cheerfu’ glass, within the bounds of 
 moderation.” 
 
 Old Fairford shrugged his shoulders and hurried 
 past the client, saw his son wrapt in the sable 
 bombazine, which, in his eyes, was more venerable 
 than an archbishop’s lawn, and could not help 
 fondly patting his shoulder, and whispering to 
 him to take courage, and show he was worthy to 
 wear it. The party entered the Outer Hall of the 
 Court, once the place of meeting of the ancient 
 Scottish Parhament, and which corresponds to the 
 use of Westminster Hall in England, serving as a 
 vestibule to the Inner-House, as it is termed, and 
 a place of dominion to certain sedentary person- 
 ages called Lords Ordinary. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 219 
 
 The earlier part of the morning was spent by 
 old Fairford in reiterating his instructions to Alan, 
 and in running from one person to another, from 
 whom he thought he could still glean some grains 
 of information, either concerning the point at issue, 
 or collateral cases. Meantime, Poor Peter Peebles, 
 whose shallow brain was altogether unable to bear 
 the importance of the moment, kept as close to his 
 young counsel as shadow to substance, affected now 
 to speak loud, now to whisper in his ear, now to deck 
 his ghastly countenance with wreathed smiles, now 
 to cloud it with a shade of deep and solemn import- 
 ance, and anon to contort it with the sneer of scorn 
 and derision. These moods of the clent’s mind were 
 accompanied with singular “mopings and mowings,” 
 fantastic gestures, which the man of rags and litiga- 
 tion deemed appropriate to his changes of counte- 
 nance. Now he brandished his arm aloft, now thrust 
 his fist straight out, as if to knock his opponent 
 down. Now he laid his open palm on his bosom, 
 and now flinging it abroad, he gallantly snapped 
 his fingers in the air. 
 
 These demonstrations, and the obvious shame 
 and embarrassment of Alan Fairford, did not escape 
 the observation of the juvenile idlers in the hall. 
 They did not, indeed, approach Peter with their 
 usual familiarity, from some feeling of deference 
 towards Fairford, though many accused him of 
 conceit in presuming to undertake at this early 
 stage of his practice a case of considerable difficulty. 
 But Alan, notwithstanding this forbearance, was 
 not the less sensible that he and his companion 
 were the subjects of many a passing jest, and many 
 a shout of laughter, with which that region at all 
 times abounds. 
 
220 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 At length the young counsel’s patience gave way, 
 and as it threatened to carry his presence of mind 
 and recollection along with it, Alan frankly told 
 his father, that unless he was relieved from the 
 infliction of his client’s personal presence and 
 instructions, he must necessarily throw up his 
 brief, and decline pleading the case. 
 
 “Hush, hush, my dear Alan,” said the old gentle- 
 man, almost at his own wit’s end upon hearing 
 this dilemma; ‘“dinna mind the silly ne’er-do-weel ; 
 we cannot keep the man from hearing his own 
 cause, though he be not quite right in the head.” 
 
 “On my life, sir,’ answered Alan, “I shall be 
 unable to go on, he drives every thing out of my 
 remembrance; and if I attempt to speak seriously 
 of the injuries he has sustained, and the condition 
 he is reduced to, how can I expect but that the 
 very appearance of such an absurd scarecrow will 
 turn it all into ridicule?” 
 
 “There is something in that,’ said Saunders 
 Fairford, glancing a look at Poor Peter, and then 
 cautiously inserting his forefinger under his bobwig, 
 in order to rub his temple and aid his invention ; 
 “he is no figure for the fore-bar to see without 
 laughing; but how to get rid of him? To speak 
 sense, or any thing like it,is the last thing he 
 will listen to. —Stay, ay— Alan, my darling, hae 
 patience; Tll get him off on the instant, like a 
 gowlf ba’.” 
 
 So saying, he hastened to his ally, Peter Drud- 
 geit, who, on seeing him with marks of haste in 
 his gait, and care upon his countenance, clapped 
 his pen behind his ear, with “ What’s the stir now, 
 Mr. Saunders ?— Is there aught wrang?” 
 
 “ Here’s a dollar, man,” said Mr. Saunders; “now, 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 221 
 
 or never, Peter, do me a good turn. Yonder’s your 
 namesake, Peter Peebles, will drive the swine 
 through our bonny hanks of yarn;* get him over 
 to John’s Coffee-house, man — gie him his meridian 
 —keep him there, drunk or sober, till the hearing 
 is ower.” : 
 
 “Eneugh said,” quoth Peter Drudgeit, no way 
 displeased with his own share in the service 
 required, — “We’se do your bidding.” 
 
 Accordingly, the scribe was presently seen whis- 
 pering in the ear of Peter Peebles, whose responses 
 came forth in the following broken form : — 
 
 “Leave the Court for ae minute on this great 
 day of judgment? — not I, by the Reg Eh! 
 what? Brandy, did ye say — French Brandy ? — 
 couldna ye fetch a stoup to the bar under your 
 coat, man ? — Impossible? Na, if it’s clean impos- 
 sible, and if we have an hour good till they get 
 through the single bills and the summar-roll, I 
 carena if I cross the close wi’ you; I am sure I need 
 something to keep my heart up this awful day; 
 but Tll no stay above an instant — not above a 
 minute of time—nor drink aboon .a single gill.” 
 
 In a few minutes afterwards, the two Peters were 
 seen moving through the Parliament Close, ( which 
 newfangled affectation has termed a Square,) the 
 triumphant Drudgeit leading captive the passive 
 Peebles, whose legs conducted him towards the 
 dram-shop, while his reverted eyes were fixed upon 
 the Court. They dived into the Cimmerian abysses 
 
 
 
 1 The simile is obvious, from the old manufacture of Scotland, 
 when the guidwife’s thrift, as the yarn wrought in the winter was 
 called, when laid down to bleach by the burn-side, was peculiarly 
 exposed to the inroads of the pigs, seldom well-regulated about a 
 Scottish farm-house. 
 
222 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 of John’s Coffee-house,! formerly the favourite ren- 
 dezvous of the classical and genial Doctor Pitcairn, 
 and were for the present seen no more. 
 
 Relieved from his tormentor, Alan Fairford had 
 time to rally his recollections, which, in the irrita- 
 tion of his spirits, had nearly escaped him, and to 
 prepare himself for a task, the successful discharge 
 or failure in which must, he was aware, have the 
 deepest influence upon his fortunes. He had pride, 
 was not without a consciousness of talent, and the 
 sense of his father’s feelings upon the subject 
 impelled him to the utmost exertion. Above all, 
 he had that sort of self-command which is essential 
 to success in every arduous undertaking, and he 
 was constitutionally free from that feverish irritabil- 
 ity, by which those whose over-active imaginations 
 exaggerate difficulties, render themselves incapable 
 of encountering such when they arrive. 
 
 Having collected all the scattered and broken 
 associations which were necessary, Alan’s thoughts 
 reverted to Dumfries-shire, and the precarious situa- 
 tion in which he feared his beloved friend had 
 placed himself; and once and again he consulted 
 
 1 This small dark coffeehouse, now burnt down, was the resort 
 of such writers and clerks belonging to the Parliament House above 
 thirty years ago, as retained the ancient Scottish custom of a meri- 
 dian, as it was called, or noontide dram of spirits. If their 
 proceedings were watched, they might be seen to turn fidgety 
 about the hour of noon, and exchange looks with each other 
 from their separate desks, till at length some one of formal and 
 dignified presence assumed the honour of leading the band, when 
 away they went, threading the crowd like a string of wild-fowl, 
 crossed the square or close, and following each other into the 
 coffeehouse, received in turn from the hand of the waiter, the 
 meridian, which was placed ready at the bar. This they did, day 
 by day: and though they did not speak to each other, they seemed 
 to attach a certain degree of sociability to performing the cere- 
 mony in company. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 223 
 
 his watch, eager to have his present task commenced 
 and ended, that he might hasten to Darsie’s assist- 
 ance. The hour and moment at length arrived. 
 The Macer shouted, with all his well-remembered 
 brazen strength of lungs, “Poor Peter Peebles 
 versus Plainstanes, per Dumtoustie e¢ Tough: — 
 Maister Da-a-niel Dumtoustie!” Dumtoustie an- 
 swered not the summons, which, deep and swelling 
 as it was, could not reach across the Queensferry ; 
 but our Maister Alan Fairford appeared in his 
 place. 
 
 The Court was very much crowded; for much 
 amusement had been received on former occasions 
 when Peter had volunteered his own oratory, and 
 had been completely successful in routing the 
 eravity of the whole procedure, and putting to 
 silence, not indeed the counsel of the opposite 
 party, but his own. 
 
 Both bench and audience seemed considerably 
 surprised at the juvenile appearance of the young 
 man who appeared in the room of Dumtoustie, for 
 the purpose of opening this complicated and long 
 depending process, and the common herd were dis- 
 appointed at the absence of Peter the client, the 
 Punchinello of the expected entertainment. The 
 Judges looked with a very favourable countenance 
 on our friend Alan, most of them being acquainted, 
 more or less, with so old a practitioner as his father, 
 and all, or almost all, affording, from civility, the 
 same fair play to the first pleading of a counsel, 
 which the House of Commons yields to the maiden 
 speech of one of its members. 
 
 Lord Bladderskate was an exception to this 
 general expression of benevolence. He scowled 
 upon Alan from beneath his large, shaggy, grey 
 
224 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 eyebrows, just as if the young lawyer had been 
 usurping his nephew’s honours, instead of covering 
 his disgrace ; and, from feelings which did his lord- 
 ship little honour, he privately hoped the young 
 man would not succeed in the cause which his 
 kinsman had abandoned. 
 
 Even Lord Bladderskate, however, was, in spite 
 of himself, pleased with the judicious and modest 
 tone in which Alan began his address to the Court, 
 apologizing for his own presumption, and excusing 
 it by the sudden illness of his learned brother, for 
 whom the labour of opening a cause of some diffi- 
 culty and importance had been much more worthily 
 designed. He spoke of himself as he really was, 
 and of young Dumtoustie as what he ought to have 
 been, taking care not to dwell on either topic a 
 moment longer than was necessary. The old 
 Judge’s looks became benign; his family pride 
 was propitiated, and, pleased equally with the 
 modesty and civility of the young man whom he 
 had thought forward and officious, he relaxed the 
 scorn of his features into an expression of pro- 
 found attention; the highest compliment, and the 
 ereatest encouragement, which a judge can render 
 to the counsel addressing him. 
 
 Having succeeded in securing the favourable atten- 
 tion of the Court, the young lawyer, using the lights 
 which his father’s experience and knowledge of busi- 
 ness had afforded him, proceeded with an address and 
 clearness, unexpected from one of his years, to remove 
 from the case itself those complicated formalities 
 with which it had been loaded, as a surgeon strips 
 from a wound the dressings which have been hastily 
 wrapped round it, in order to proceed to his cure 
 secundum artem. Developed of the cumbrous and 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 22% 
 
 complicated technicalities of litigation, with which 
 the perverse obstinacy of the client, the inconsider- 
 ate haste or ignorance of his agents, and the evasions 
 of a subtle adversary, had invested the process, the 
 cause of Poor Peter Peebles, standing upon its simple 
 merits, was no bad subject for the declamation of a 
 young counsel, nor did our friend Alan fail to avail 
 himself of its strong points. 
 
 He exhibited his client as a simple-hearted, hon- 
 est, well-meaning man, who, during a copartnership 
 of twelve years, had gradually become impoverished, 
 while his partner, (his former clerk,) having no funds 
 but his share of the same business, into which he 
 had been admitted without any advance of stock, 
 had become gradually more and more wealthy. 
 
 “ Their association,” said Alan, and the little flight 
 was received with some applause, “resembled the 
 ancient story of the fruit which was carved with 
 a knife poisoned on one side of the blade only, so 
 that the individual to whom the envenomed por- 
 tion was served, drew decay and death from what 
 afforded savour and sustenance to the consumer of 
 the other moiety.” He then plunged boldly into 
 the mare magnum of accompts between the parties; 
 he pursued each false statement from the waste-book 
 to the day-book, from the day-book to the bill-book, 
 from the bill-book to the ledger; placed the artful 
 interpolations and insertions of the fallacious Plain- 
 stanes in array against each other, and against the 
 fact; and, availing himself to the utmost of his 
 father’s previous labours, and his own knowledge of 
 accompts, in which he had been sedulously trained, 
 he laid before the Court a clear and intelligible 
 statement of the affairs of the copartnery, showing, 
 with precision, that a large balance must, at the 
 
 VOL. I.—15 
 
226 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 dissolution, have been due to his client, sufficient to 
 have enabled him to have carried on business on his 
 own account, and thus to have retained his situa- 
 tion in society, as an independent and industrious 
 tradesman. “But, instead of this justice being vol- 
 untarily rendered by the former clerk to his former 
 master,— by the party obliged to his benefactor,— by 
 one honest man to another,— his wretched client had 
 been compelled to follow his quondam clerk, his 
 present debtor, from Court to Court; had found his 
 just claims met with well-invented but unfounded 
 counter-claims ; had seen his party shift his char- 
 acter of pursuer or defender, as often as Harlequin 
 effects his transformations, till, in a chase so varied 
 and so long, the unhappy htigant had lost substance, 
 reputation, and almost the use of reason itself, and 
 came before their Lordships an object of thoughtless 
 derision to the unreflecting, of compassion to the 
 better-hearted, and of awful meditation to every one, 
 who considered that, in a country where excellent 
 laws were administered by upright and incorruptible 
 judges, a man might pursue an almost indisputable 
 claim through all the mazes of litigation ; lose for- 
 tune, reputation, and reason itself in the chase, and 
 at length come before the Supreme Court of his 
 country in the wretched condition of his unhappy 
 client, a victim to protracted justice, and to that 
 hope delayed which sickens the heart.” 
 
 The force of this appeal to feeling made as much 
 impression on the Bench, as had been previously 
 effected by the clearness of Alan’s argument. The 
 absurd form of Peter himself, with his tow-wig, was 
 fortunately not present to excite any ludicrous emo- 
 tion, and the pause that took place when the young 
 lawyer had concluded his speech, was followed by 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 22% 
 
 a murmur of approbation, which the ears of his 
 father drank in as the sweetest sounds that had 
 ever entered them. Many a hand of gratulation 
 was thrust out to his grasp, trembling as it was 
 with anxiety, and finally with delight; his voice 
 faltering, as he replied, “Ay, ay, I kend Alan was 
 the lad to make a spoon or spoil a horn.” } 
 
 The counsel on the other side arose, an old prac- 
 titioner, who had noted too closely the impression 
 made by Alan’s pleading, not to fear the conse- 
 quences of an immediate decision. He paid the 
 highest compliments to his very young brother — 
 “the Benjamin, as he would presume to call him, 
 of the learned Faculty — said the alleged hardships 
 of Mr. Peebles were compensated, by his being 
 placed in a situation where the benevolence of 
 their Lordships had assigned him gratuitously such 
 assistance as he might not otherwise have obtained 
 at a high price — and allowed his young brother 
 had put many things in such a new point of view, 
 that, although he was quite certain of his ability to 
 refute them, he was honestly desirous of having a 
 few hours to arrange his answer, in order to be able 
 to follow Mr. Fairford from point to point. He 
 had further to observe, there was one point of the 
 case to which his brother, whose attention had been 
 otherwise so wonderfully comprehensive, had not 
 given the consideration which he expected; it was 
 founded on the interpretation of certain correspon- 
 dence which had passed betwixt the parties, soon 
 after the dissolution of the copartnery.” 
 
 The Court having heard Mr. Tough, readily allowed 
 him two days for preparing himself, hinting, at the 
 
 1 Said of an adventurous gipsy, who resolves at all risks to con- 
 vert a sheep’s horn into a spoon, 
 
228 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 same time, that he might find his task difficult, and 
 affording the young counsel, with high encomiums 
 upon the mode in which he had acquitted himself, 
 the choice of speaking, either now or at next calling 
 of the cause, upon the point which Plainstanes’s law- 
 yer had adverted to. 
 
 Alan modestly apologized for what in fact had 
 been an omission very pardonable in so complicated 
 a case, and professed himself instantly ready to go 
 through that correspondence, and prove that it was 
 in form and substance exactly applicable to the view 
 of the case he had submitted to their lordships. He 
 apphed to his father, who sat behind him, to hand 
 him, from time to time, the letters, in the order in 
 which he meant to read and comment upon them. 
 
 Old Counsellor Tough had probably formed an 
 ingenious enough scheme to blunt the effect of the 
 young lawyer’s reasoning, by thus obliging him to 
 follow up a process of reasoning, clear and complete 
 in itself, by a hasty and extemporary appendix. If 
 so, he seemed likely to be disappointed ; for Alan 
 was well prepared on this, as on other parts of the 
 cause, and recommenced his pleading with a degree 
 of animation and spirit, which added force even to 
 what he had formerly stated, and might perhaps 
 have occasioned the old gentleman to regret his 
 having again called him up; when his father, as 
 he handed him the letters, put one into his hand 
 which produced a singular effect on the pleader. 
 
 At the first glance, he saw that the paper had no 
 reference to the affairs of Peter Peebles; but the 
 first glance also showed him, what, even at that 
 time, and in that presence, he could not help read- 
 ing; and which, being read, seemed totally to 
 disconcert his ideas. He stopped short in his 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 229 
 
 harangue — gazed on the paper with a look of sur- 
 prise and horror —uttered an exclamation, and, 
 flinging down the brief which he had in his hand, 
 hurried out of Court without returning a single word 
 of answer to the various questions, ‘‘ what was the 
 matter?” —“Was he taken unwell?” — “Should 
 not a chair be called?” &. &. &e. 
 
 The elder Mr. Fairford, who remained seated, and 
 looking as senseless as if he had been made of stone, 
 was at length recalled to himself by the anxious 
 enquiries of the judges and the counsel after his 
 son’s health. He then rose with an air, in which 
 was mingled the deep habitual reverence in which he 
 held the Court, with some internal cause of agita- 
 tion, and with difficulty mentioned something of a 
 mistake —a piece of bad news — Alan, he hoped, 
 would be well enough to-morrow. But unable to 
 proceed farther, he clasped his hands together, 
 exclaiming, “ My son! my son!” and left the court 
 hastily, as if in pursuit of him. 
 
 “ What’s the matter with the auld bitch next?” 
 said an acute metaphysical judge, though somewhat 
 coarse In his manners, aside to his brethren. “This 
 is a daft cause, Bladderskate — first, it drives the 
 poor man mad that aught it —then your nevoy goes 
 daft with fright, and flies the pit — then this smart 
 young hopeful is aff the hooks with too hard study, I 
 fancy — and now auld Saunders Fairford is as lunatic 
 as the best of them. What say ye till’t, ye bitch?” 
 
 “ Nothing, my lord,” answered Bladderskate, much 
 too formal to admire the levities in which his 
 philosophical brother sometimes indulged — “I say 
 nothing, but pray to Heaven to keep our own wits.” 
 
 1 Tradition ascribes this whimsical style of language to the 
 ingenious and philosophical Lord Kaimes. 
 
230 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 « Amen, amen,” answered his learned brother 
 “for some of us have but few to spare.” 
 
 The Court then arose, and the audience departed, 
 greatly wondering at the talent displayed by Alan 
 Fairford, at his first appearance, in a case so difficult 
 and so complicated, and assigning an hundred con- 
 jectural causes, each different from the others, for 
 the singular interruption which had clouded his day 
 of success. The worst of the whole was, that six 
 agents, who had each come to the separate resolu- 
 tion of thrusting a retaining fee into Alan’s hand as 
 he left the court, shook their heads as they returned 
 the money into their leathern pouches, and said, 
 “that the lad was clever, but they would like to see 
 more of him before they engaged him in the way of 
 business — they did not like his lowping away like 
 a flea in a blanket.” 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Hap our friend Alexander Fairford known the 
 consequences of his son’s abrupt retreat from the 
 Court, which are mentioned in the end of the last 
 chapter, it might have accomplished the prediction 
 of the lively old judge, and driven him utterly dis- 
 tracted. As it was, he was miserable enough. His 
 son had risen ten degrees higher in his estimation 
 than ever, by his display of juridical talents, which 
 seemed to assure him that the applause of the judges 
 and professors of the law, which, in his estimation, 
 was worth that of all mankind besides, authorized to 
 the fullest extent the advantageous estimate which 
 even his parental partiality had been induced to form 
 of Alan’s powers. On the other hand, he felt that 
 he was himself a little humbled, from a disguise 
 which he had practised towards this son of his hopes 
 and wishes. 
 
 The truth was, that on the morning of this event- 
 ful day, Mr. Alexander Fairford had received from 
 his correspondent and friend, Provost Crosbie of 
 Dumfries, a letter of the following tenor: — 
 
 ‘(DEAR Sir, — Your respected favour of 25th 
 ultimo, per favour of Mr. Darsie Latimer, reached me 
 in safety, and I showed to the young gentleman such 
 attentions as he was pleased to accept of. The object 
 of my present writing is twofold. First, the council 
 are of opinion that you should now begin to stir in the 
 
232 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 thirlage cause ; and they think they will be able, from 
 evidence noviter repertum, to enable you to amend 
 your condescendence upon the use and wont of the 
 burgh, touching the grana invecta et illata. So you 
 will please consider yourself as authorized to speak to 
 Mr. Pest, and lay before him the papers which you will 
 receive by the coach. ‘The council think that a fee of 
 two guineas may be sufficient on this occasion, as Mr. 
 Pest had three for drawing the original condescendence. 
 ‘‘T take the opportunity of adding, that there has 
 been a great riot among the Solway fishermen, who 
 have destroyed, in a masterful manner, the stake-nets 
 set up near the mouth of this river ; and have besides 
 attacked the house of Quaker Geddes, one of the prin- 
 cipal partners of the Tide-net Fishing Company, and 
 done a great deal of damage. Am sorry to add, young 
 Master Latimer was in the fray, and has not since 
 been heard of. Murder is spoke of, but that may be a 
 word of course. As the young gentleman has behaved 
 rather oddly while in these parts, as in declining to 
 dine with me more than once, and going about the 
 country with strolling fiddlers and such-like, I rather 
 hope that his present absence is only occasioned by a 
 frolic ; but as his servant has been making enquiries of 
 me respecting his master, I thought it best,to acquaint 
 you in course of post. I have only to add, that our 
 sheriff has taken a precognition, and committed one or 
 two of the rioters. If I can be useful in this matter, 
 either by advertising for Mr. Latimer as missing, pub- 
 lishing a reward, or otherwise, I will obey your 
 respected instructions, being your most obedient to 
 
 command, 
 ‘‘ WILLIAM CROSBIE.”’ 
 
 When Mr. Fairford received this letter, and had 
 read it to an end, his first idea was to communicate ” 
 it to his son, that an express might be instantly 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 233 
 
 dispatched, or a King’s messenger sent with proper 
 authority to search after his late guest. 
 
 The habits of the fishers were rude, as he well 
 knew, though not absolutely sanguinary or ferocious ; 
 and there had been instances of their transporting 
 persons who had interfered in their smuggling 
 trade to the Isle of Man, and elsewhere, and keep- 
 ing them under restraint for many weeks. On this 
 account Mr. Fairford was naturally led to feel 
 anxiety concerning the fate of his late inmate; and, 
 at a less interesting moment, would certainly have 
 set out himself, or licensed his son to go in pursuit 
 of his friend. 
 
 But, alas! he was both a father and an agent. 
 In the one capacity, he looked on his son as dearer 
 to him than all the world besides; in the other, 
 the lawsuit which he conducted was to him like an 
 infant to its nurse, and the case of Poor Peter Peebles 
 against Plainstanes was, he saw, adjourned, perhaps 
 sine die, should this document reach the hands of 
 his son. The mutual and enthusiastical affection 
 betwixt the young men was well known to him; 
 and he concluded, that if the precarious state of 
 Latimer were made known to Alan Fairford, it 
 would render him not only unwilling, but totally 
 unfit, to discharge the duty of the day, to which the 
 old gentleman attached such ideas of importance. 
 
 On mature reflection, therefore, he resolved, though 
 not without some feelings of compunction, to delay 
 communicating to his son the disagreeable intelli- 
 gence which he had received, tntil the business of 
 the day should be ended. The delay, he persuaded 
 himself, could be of little consequence to Darsie 
 Latimer, whose folly, he dared to say, had led him 
 into some scrape which would meet an appropriate 
 
234 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 punishment, in some accidental restraint, which 
 would be thus prolonged for only a few hours 
 longer. Besides, he would have time to speak to 
 the Sheriff of the county — perhaps to the King’s 
 Advocate — and set about the matter in a regular 
 manner, or, as he termed it, as summing up the 
 duties of a solicitor, to agé as accords. 
 
 The scheme, as we have seen, was partially suc- 
 cessful, and was only ultimately defeated, as he 
 confessed to himself with shame, by his own very 
 unbusiness-like mistake of shuffling the Provost's 
 letter, in the hurry and anxiety of the morning, 
 among some papers belonging to Peter Peebles’s 
 affairs, and then handing it to his son, without 
 observing the blunder. He used to protest, even 
 till the day of his death, that he never had been 
 guilty of such an inaccuracy as giving a paper out 
 of his hand without looking at the docketing, 
 except on that unhappy occasion, when, of all 
 others, he had such particular reason to regret his 
 negligence. 
 
 Disturbed by these reflections, the old gentleman 
 had, for the first time in his life, some disinclina- 
 tion, arising from shame and vexation, to face his 
 own son; so that to protract for a little the meet- 
 ing which he feared would be a painful one, he 
 went to wait upon the Sheriff-depute, who he found 
 had set off for Dumfries, in great haste, to superin- 
 tend in person the investigation which had been set 
 on foot by his Substitute. This gentleman’s clerk 
 could say little on the subject of the riot, excepting 
 that it had been serious, much damage done to pro- 
 perty, and some personal violence offered to individ- 
 
 1 A Scots law phrase of no very determinate import, meaning, 
 generally, to do what is fitting. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 235 
 
 uals ; but, as far as he had yet heard, no lives lost 
 on the spot. 
 
 Mr. Fairford was compelled to return home with 
 this intelligence ; and on enquiring at James Wil- 
 kinson where his son was, received for answer, that 
 “Maister Alan was in hisown room, and very busy.” 
 
 “We must have our explanation over,’ said 
 Saunders Fairford to himself. ‘“ Better a finger off, 
 as aye wagging ;” and going to the door of his son’s 
 apartment he knocked at first gently — then more 
 loudly —but received no answer. Somewhat alarmed 
 at this silence, he opened the door of the chamber 
 — it was empty — clothes lay mixed in confusion 
 with the Jaw-books and papers, as if the inmate 
 had been engaged in hastily packing for a journey. 
 As Mr. Fairford looked around in alarm, his eye 
 was arrested by a sealed letter lying upon his son’s 
 writing-table, and addressed to himself. It con- 
 tained the following words : — 
 
 ‘‘My Drarest Fatuer, — You will not, I trust, 
 be surprised, nor perhaps very much displeased, to learn 
 that I am now on my way to Dumfries-shire, to learn, 
 by my own personal investigation, the present state of 
 my dear friend, and afford him such relief as may be 
 in my power, and which, I trust, will be effectual. I 
 do not presume to reflect upon you, dearest sir, for 
 concealing from me information of so much consequence 
 to my peace of mind and happiness ; but I hope your 
 having done so will be, if not an excuse, at least some 
 mitigation of my present offence, in taking a step of 
 consequence without consulting your pleasure; and, I 
 must further own, under circumstances which perhaps 
 might lead to your disapprobation of my purpose. I 
 can only say, in further apology, that if any thing 
 unhappy, which Heaven forbid! shall have occurred to 
 
236 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 the person who, next to yourself, is dearest to me in 
 this world, I shall have on my heart, as a subject of 
 eternal regret, that being in a certain degree warned 
 of his danger, and furnished with the means of obviating 
 it, I did not instantly hasten to his assistance, but 
 preferred giving my attention to the business of this 
 unlucky morning. No view of personal distinction, 
 nothing, indeed, short of your earnest and often 
 expressed wishes, could have detained me in town till 
 this day; and having made this sacrifice to filial duty, 
 I trust you will hold me excused, if I now obey the 
 calls of friendship and humanity. Do not be in the least 
 anxious on my account; I shall know, I trust, how to 
 conduct myself with due caution in any emergence 
 which may occur, otherwise my legal studies for so 
 many years have been to little purpose. I am fully 
 provided with money, and also with arms, in case of 
 need; but you may rely on my prudence in avoiding 
 all occasions of using the latter, short of the last 
 necessity. God Almighty bless you, my dearest father! 
 and grant that you may forgive the first, and, I trust, the 
 last act approaching towards premeditated disobedience, 
 of which I either have now, or shall hereafter have, to 
 accuse myself. I remain, till death, your dutiful and 
 affectionate son, 
 
 ‘¢ ALAN FAIRFORD. 
 
 «P.8,—I shall write with the utmost regularity, 
 acquainting you with my motions, and requesting your 
 advice. I trust my stay will be very short, and I think 
 it possible that I may bring back Darsie along with 
 me.”’ 
 
 The paper dropped from the old man’s hand 
 when he was thus assured of the misfortune which 
 he apprehended. His first idea was to get a post- 
 chaise and pursue the fugitive; but he recollected, 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 237 
 
 that, upon the very rare occasions when Alan had 
 shown himself indocile to the patria potestas, his 
 natural ease and gentleness of disposition seemed 
 hardened into obstinacy, and that now, entitled, as 
 arrived at the years of majority, and a member of 
 the learned Faculty, to direct his own motions, 
 there was great doubt, whether, in the event of his 
 overtaking his son, he might be able to prevail upon 
 him to return back. In sucha risk of failure, he 
 thought it wiser to desist from his purpose, espe- 
 cially as even his success in such a pursuit would 
 give a ridiculous éclat to the whole affair, which 
 could not be otherwise than prejudicial to his son’s 
 rising character. 
 
 Bitter, however, were Saunders Fairford’s reflec- 
 tions, as, again picking up the fatal scroll, he threw 
 himself into his son’s leathern easy-chair, and 
 bestowed upon it a disjointed commentary. “ Bring 
 back Darsie ? little doubt of that — the bad shilling 
 is sure enough to come back again. I wish Darsie 
 no worse ill than that he were carried where the 
 silly fool Alan should never see him again. It was 
 an ill hour that he darkened my doors in, for, ever 
 since that, Alan has given up his ain old-fashioned 
 mother-wit, for the tother’s capernoited maggots 
 and nonsense. — Provided with money? you must 
 have more than I know of, then, my friend, for I 
 trow I kept you pretty short for your own good. — 
 Can he have gotten more fees? or, does he think 
 five guineas has neither beginning nor end ?— Arms! 
 What would he do with arms, or what would any 
 man do with them that is not a regular soldier 
 under government, or else a thief-taker? I have had 
 enough of arms, I trow, although I carried them 
 for King George and the government. But this 
 
238 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 is a worse strait than Falkirk-field yet! — God guide 
 us, we are poor inconsistent creatures! To think 
 the lad should have made so able an appearance, 
 and then bolted off this gate, after a glaiket ne’er-do- 
 weel, like a hound upon a false scent !— Las-a-day! 
 it’s a sore thing to see a stunkard cow kick down the 
 pail when it’s reaming fou. — But, afterall, it’s an 
 ill bird that defiles its ain nest. I must cover up 
 the scandal as well as I can. — What’s the matter 
 now, James?” 
 
 “A message, sir,” said James Wilkinson, “ from 
 my Lord President; and he hopes Mr. Alan is not 
 seriously indisposed.” 
 
 “From the Lord President? the Lord preserve 
 us ! — ]’ll send an answer this instant; bid the lad 
 sit down, and ask him to drink, James. — Let me 
 see,” continued he, taking a sheet of gilt paper, 
 “how we are to draw our answers.” 
 
 Ere his pen had touched the paper, James was in 
 the room again. 
 
 “ What now, James?” 
 
 “Lord Bladderskate’s lad is come to ask how Mr. 
 Alan is, as he left the Court ” 
 
 “Ay, ay, ay,” answered Saunders, bitterly; “he 
 has e’en made a moonlight flitting, like my lord’s 
 ain nevoy.” 
 
 “Shall I say sae, sir?” said James, who, as an 
 old soldier, was literal in all things touching the 
 service. 
 
 “The devil! no, no! — Bid the lad sit down and 
 taste ourale. I will write his lordship an answer.” 
 
 Once more the gilt paper was resumed, and once 
 more the door was opened by James. 
 
 “Lord sends his servitor to ask after Mr. 
 Alan.” 
 
 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 239 
 
 “Oh, the deevil take their civility!” said poor 
 Saunders. “Set him down to drink too—TI will 
 write to his lordship.” 
 
 “The lads will bide your pleasure, sir, as lang as 
 I keep the bicker fou; but this ringing is lke to 
 wear out the bell, I think; there are they at it 
 again.” 
 
 He answered the fresh summons accordingly, 
 and came back to inform Mr. Fairford, that the 
 Dean of Faculty was below, enquiring for Mr. 
 Alan. —‘‘ Will I set him down to drink, too?”’ said 
 James. 
 
 “Will you be an idiot, sir?” said Mr. Fairford, 
 “Show Mr. Dean into the parlour.” 
 
 In going slowly down stairs, step by step, the 
 perplexed man of business had time enough to 
 reflect, that if it be possible to put a fair gloss upon 
 a true story, the verity always serves the purpose 
 better than any substitute which ingenuity can 
 devise. He therefore told his learned visitor, that 
 although his son had been incommoded by the 
 heat of the court, and the long train of hard study, 
 by day and night, preceding his exertions, yet he 
 had fortunately so far recovered, as to be in condi- 
 tion to obey upon the instant a sudden summons 
 which had called him to the country, on a matter 
 of life and death. 
 
 “Tt should be a serious matter indeed that takes 
 my young friend away at this moment,” said the 
 good-natured Dean. “I wish he had staid to finish 
 his pleading, and put down old Tough. Without 
 compliment, Mr. Fairford, it was as fine a first 
 appearance as I ever heard. I should be sorry 
 your son did not follow itup in a reply. Nothing 
 like striking while the iron is hot.” 
 
240 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 Mr. Saunders Fairford made a bitter grimace as 
 he acquiesced in an opinion which was indeed 
 decidedly his own; but he thought it most prudent 
 to reply, “that the affair which rendered his son 
 Alan’s presence in the country absolutely necessary, 
 regarded the affairs of a young gentleman of great 
 fortune, who was a particular friend of Alan’s, and 
 who never took any material step in his affairs, 
 without consulting his counsel learned in the law.” 
 
 “Well, well, Mr. Fairford, you know best,” 
 answered the learned Dean; “if there be death or 
 marriage in the case, a will or a wedding is to be 
 preferred to all other business. I am happy Mr. 
 Alan is so much recovered as to be able for travel, 
 and wish you a very good morning.” 
 
 Having thus taken his ground to the Dean of 
 Faculty, Mr. Fairford hastily wrote cards in answer 
 to the enquiry of the three judges, accounting for 
 Alan’s absence in the same manner. These, being 
 properly sealed and addressed, he delivered to James, 
 with directions to dismiss the parti-coloured gentry, 
 who, in the meanwhile, had consumed a gallon of 
 twopenny ale, while discussing points of law, and 
 addressing each other by their masters’ titles.! 
 
 The exertion which these matters demanded, and 
 the interest which so many persons of legal distinc- 
 tion appeared to have taken in his son, greatly 
 relieved the oppressed spirit of Saunders Fair- 
 
 1 The Scottish Judges are distinguished by the title of lord 
 prefixed to their own temporal designation. As the ladies of 
 these official dignitaries do not bear any share in their husband’s 
 honours, they are distinguished only by their lords’ family name. 
 They were not always contented with this species of Salique law, 
 which certainly is somewhat inconsistent. But their pretensions 
 to title are said to have been long since repelled by James V., the 
 
 Sovereign who founded the College of Justice. ‘I,’ said he, “made 
 the carles lords, but who the devil made the carlines ladies 2 ” 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 241 
 
 ford, who continued to talk mysteriously of the 
 very important business which had interfered with 
 his son’s attendance during the brief remainder of 
 the session. He endeavoured to lay the same 
 unction to his own heart; but here the applica- 
 tion was less fortunate, for his conscience told him, 
 that no end, however important, which could be 
 achieved in Darsie Latimer’s affairs, could be bal- 
 anced against the reputation which Alan was lke 
 to forfeit, by deserting the cause of Poor Peter 
 Peebles. 
 
 In the meanwhile, although the haze which sur- 
 rounded the cause, or causes, of that unfortunate 
 litigant had been for a time dispelled by Alan’s 
 eloquence, like a fog by the thunder of artillery, yet 
 it seemed once more to settle down upon the mass 
 of litigation, thick as the palpable darkness of 
 Egypt, at the very sound of Mr. Tough’s voice, 
 who on the second day after Alan’s departure, 
 was heard in answer to the opening counsel. Deep- 
 mouthed, long-breathed, and pertinacious, taking a 
 pinch of snuff betwixt every sentence, which other- 
 wise seemed interminable — the veteran pleader 
 prosed over all the themes which had been treated 
 so luminously by Fairford; he quietly and imper- 
 ceptibly replaced all the rubbish which the other 
 had cleared away ; and succeeded in restoring the 
 veil of obscurity and unintelligibility which had 
 for many years darkened the case of Peebles against 
 Plainstanes; and the matter was once more hung 
 up by a remit to an accountant, with instruction 
 to report before answer. So different a result from 
 that which the public had been led to expect from 
 Alan’s speech, gave rise to various speculations. 
 
 The client himself opined that it was entirely 
 
 VOL. I.— 16 
 
242 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 owing, first, to his own absence during the first 
 day’s pleading, being, as he said, deboshed with 
 brandy, usquebaugh, and other strong waters, at 
 John’s Coffee-house, per ambages of Peter Drudgeit, 
 employed to that effect by and through the device, 
 counsel, and covyne of Saunders Fairford, his agent, 
 or pretended agent. Secondly, by the flight and 
 voluntary desertion of the younger Fairford, the 
 advocate; on account of which he served both 
 father and son with a petition and complaint 
 against them, for malversation in office. So that 
 the apparent and most probable issue of this cause 
 seemed to menace the melancholy Mr. Saunders 
 Fairford with additional subject for plague and 
 mortification; which was the more galling, as his 
 conscience told him that the case was really given 
 away, and that a very brief resumption of the 
 former argument, with reference to the necessary 
 authorities and points of evidence, would have 
 enabled Alan, by the mere breath, as it were, of his 
 mouth, to blow away the various cobwebs with 
 which Mr. Tough had again invested the proceed- 
 ings. But it went, he said, just ike a decreet in 
 absence, and was lost for want of a contradictor. 
 In the meantime, nearly a week passed over with- 
 out Mr. Fairford hearing a word directly from his 
 son. He learned, indeed, by a letter from Mr. 
 Crosbie, that the young counsellor had safely 
 reached Dumfries, but had left that town upon 
 some ulterior researches, the purpose of which he 
 had not communicated. The old man, thus left to 
 suspense, and to mortifying recollections, deprived 
 also of the domestic society to which he had been 
 habituated, began to suffer in body as well as in 
 mind. He had formed the determination of set- 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 243 
 
 ting out in person for Dumfries-shire, when, after 
 having been dogged, peevish, and snappish to his 
 clerks and domestics, to an unusual and almost 
 intolerable degree, the acrimonious humours settled 
 in a hissing-hot fit of the gout, which is a well- 
 known tamer of the most froward spirits, and under 
 whose discipline we shall, for the present, leave 
 him, as the continuation of this history assumes, 
 with the next division, a form somewhat different 
 from direct narrative and epistolary correspondence, 
 though partaking of the character of both. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 JOURNAL OF DARSIE LATIMER. 
 
 [The following Address is written on the inside of the envelope 
 which contained the Journal.] 
 
 Into what hands soever these leaves may fall, 
 they will instruct him, during a certain time at 
 least, in the history of the life of an unfortunate 
 young man, who, in the heart of a free country, 
 and without any crime being laid to his charge, has 
 been, and is, subjected to a course of unlawful and 
 violent restraint. He who opens this letter, is 
 therefore conjured to apply to the nearest magis- 
 trate, and, following such indications as the papers 
 may afford, to exert himself for the relief of one, 
 who, while he possesses every claim to assistance 
 which oppressed innocence can give, has, at the 
 same time, both the inclination and the means of 
 being grateful to his deliverers. Or, if the person 
 obtaining these letters shall want courage or means 
 to effect the writer’s release, he is, in that case, 
 conjured, by every duty of a man to his fellow- 
 mortals, and of a Christian towards one who _ pro- 
 fesses the same holy faith, to take the earliest 
 measures for conveying them with speed and safety 
 to the hands of Alan Fairford, Esq., Advocate, 
 residing in the family of his father, Alexander 
 Fairford, Esq., Writer to the Signet, Brown’s Square. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 245 
 
 Edinburgh. He may be assured of a liberal reward, 
 besides the consciousness of having discharged a 
 real duty to humanity. 
 
 My Dearest ALAN, — Feeling as warmly towards 
 you in doubt and in distress, as I ever did in the 
 brightest days of our intimacy, it is to you whom 
 I address a history which may perhaps fall into 
 very different hands. A portion of my former 
 spirit descends to my pen, when I write your 
 name, and indulging the happy thought that you 
 may be my deliverer from my present uncomfort- 
 able and alarming situation, as you have been my 
 guide and counsellor on every former occasion, I 
 will subdue the dejection which would otherwise 
 overwhelm me. ‘Therefore, as, Heaven knows, I 
 have time enough to write, I will endeavour to pour 
 my thoughts out, as fully and freely as of old, 
 though probably without the same gay and happy 
 levity. 
 
 If the papers should reach other hands than 
 yours, still I will not regret this exposure of my 
 feelings; for, allowing for an ample share of the 
 folly incidental to youth and inexperience, I fear 
 not that I have much to be ashamed of in my nar- 
 rative ; nay, I even hope, that the open simplicity 
 and frankness with which I am about to relate 
 every singular and distressing circumstance, may 
 prepossess even a stranger in my favour; and that, 
 amid the multitude of seemingly trivial circum- 
 stances which I detailed at length, a clew may be 
 found to effect my liberation. | 
 
 Another chance certainly remains — the Journal, 
 as I may call it, may never reach the hands, either 
 of the dear friend to whom it is addressed, or those 
 
246 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 of an indifferent stranger, but may become the 
 prey of the persons by whom I am at present treated 
 as aprisoner. Let it be so—they will learn from 
 it little but what they already know; that, as a 
 man, and an Englishman, my soul revolts at the 
 usage which I have received ; that I am determined 
 to essay every possible means to obtain my freedom ; 
 that captivity has not broken my spirit, and that, 
 although they may doubtless complete their oppres- 
 _ sion by murder, I am still willing to bequeath my 
 cause to the justice of my country. Undeterred, 
 therefore, by the probability that my papers may 
 be torn from me, and subjected to the inspection 
 of one in particular, who, causelessly my enemy 
 already, may be yet farther incensed at me for 
 recording the history of my wrongs, I proceed to 
 resume the history of events which have befallen 
 me since the conclusion of my last letter to my dear 
 Alan Fairford, dated, if I mistake not, on the 5th 
 ‘day of this still current month of August. 
 
 Upon the night preceding the date of that let- 
 ter, I had been present, for the purpose of an idle 
 frolic, at a dancing party at the village of Broken- 
 burn, about six miles from Dumfries ; many persons 
 must have seen me there, should the fact appear 
 of importance sufficient to require investigation. 
 I danced, played on the violin, and took part in 
 _the festivity, till about midnight, when my servant, ~ 
 Samuel Owen, brought me my horses, and I rode 
 back to a small inn called Shepherd’s Bush, kept 
 by Mrs. Gregson, which had been occasionally 
 my residence for about a fortnight past. I spent. 
 the earlier part of the forenoon in writing a letter 
 which I have already mentioned, to you, my dear 
 Alan, and which, I think, you must have received 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 249 
 
 in safety. Why did I not follow your advice, so 
 often given me? Why did I linger in the neigh- 
 bourhood of a danger, of which a kind voice had 
 warned me? These are now unavailing questions 
 I was blinded by a fatality, and remained flutter- 
 ing like a moth around the candle, until I have 
 been scorched to some purpose. 
 
 The greater part of the day had passed, and time 
 hung heavy on my hands. I ought, perhaps, to 
 blush at recollecting what has been often objected 
 to me by the dear friend to whom this letter is 
 _ addressed, viz. the facility with which I have, in 
 moments of indolence, suffered my motions to be 
 directed by any person who chanced to be near me, 
 instead of taking the labour of thinking or deciding 
 for myself. I had employed for some time, as a 
 sort of guide and errand-boy, a lad named Benjamin, 
 the son of one widow Coltherd, who lives near the 
 Shepherd’s Bush, and I cannot but remember that, 
 upon several occasions, I had of late suffered him 
 to possess more influence over my motions, than at 
 all became the difference of our age and condition. 
 At present he exerted himself to persuade me that 
 it was the finest possible sport to see the fish taken 
 out from the nets placed in the Solway at the 
 reflux of the tide, and urged my going thither this 
 evening so much, that, looking back on the whole 
 circumstances, I cannot but think he had some 
 especial motive for his conduct. These particulars 
 I have mentioned, that if these papers fall into 
 friendly hands, the boy may be sought after and 
 submitted to examination. 
 
 His eloquence being unable to persuade me that 
 I should take any pleasure in seeing the fruitless 
 struggles of the fish when left in the nets and 
 
248 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 deserted by the tide, he artfully suggested, that 
 Mr. and Miss Geddes, a respectable Quaker family 
 well known in the neighbourhood, and with whom 
 I had contracted habits of intimacy, would possibly 
 be offended if I did not make them an early visit. 
 Both, he said, had been particularly enquiring the 
 reasons of my leaving their house rather suddenly 
 on the previous day. I resolved, therefore, to walk 
 up to Mount Sharon and make my apologies; and 
 I agreed to permit the boy to attend upon me, and 
 wait my return from the house, that I might fish on 
 my way homeward to Shepherd’s Bush, for which 
 amusement, he assured me, I would find the even- 
 ing most favourable. I mention this minute 
 circumstance, because I strongly suspect that this 
 boy had a presentiment how the evening was to 
 terminate with me, and entertained the selfish 
 though childish wish of securing to himself an 
 angling-rod which he had often admired, as a part 
 of my spoils. I may do the boy wrong, but I 
 had before remarked in him the peculiar art of 
 pursuing the trifling objects of cupidity . proper 
 to his age, with the systematic address of much 
 riper years. 
 
 When we had commenced our walk, I upbraided 
 him with the coolness of the evening, considering 
 the season, the easterly wind, and other circum- 
 stances, unfavourable for angling. He persisted in 
 his own story, and made a few casts, as if to con- 
 vince me of my error, but caught no fish; and, 
 indeed, as I am now convinced, was much more 
 intent on watching my motions, than on taking 
 any. When I ridiculed him once more on his fruit- 
 less endeavours, he answered with a sneering smile, 
 that “the trouts would not rise, because there was 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 249 
 
 ? 
 
 thunder in the air;” an intimation which, in one 
 sense, I have found too true. 
 
 I arrived at Mount Sharon; was received by my 
 friends there with their wonted kindness; and after 
 being a little rallied on my having suddenly left 
 them on the preceding evening, I agreed to make 
 atonement by staying all night, and dismissed the 
 lad who attended with my fishing-rod, to carry 
 that information to Shepherd’s Bush. It may be 
 doubted whether he went thither, or in a different 
 direction. 
 
 Betwixt eight and nine o’clock, when it began to 
 become dark, we walked on the terrace to enjoy the 
 appearance of the firmament, glittering with ten 
 million of stars; to which a slight touch of early 
 frost gave tenfold lustre. As we gazed on this 
 splendid scene, Miss Geddes, I think, was the first 
 to point out to our admiration a shooting or falling 
 star, which, she said, drew a long train after it. 
 Looking to the part of the heavens which she 
 pointed out, I distinctly observed two successive 
 sky-rockets arise, and burst in the sky. 
 
 “These meteors,’ said Mr. Geddes, in answer to 
 his sister’s observation, “are not formed in heaven, 
 nor do they bode any good to the dwellers upon 
 earth.” 
 
 As he spoke, I looked to another quarter of the 
 sky, and a rocket, as if a signal in answer to those 
 which had already appeared, rose high from the 
 earth, and burst apparently among the stars. 
 
 Mr. Geddes seemed very thoughtful for some 
 minutes, and then said to his sister, “Rachel, 
 though it waxes late, I must go down to the fish- 
 ing station, and pass the night in the overseer’s 
 room there.” 
 
250 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 “Nay, then,” replied the lady, “I am but too 
 well assured that the sons of Belial are menacing 
 these nets and devices. Joshua, art thou a man of 
 peace, and wilt thou willingly and wittingly thrust 
 thyself, where thou mayst be tempted by the old 
 man Adam within thee, to enter into debate and 
 strife ?” 
 
 “T am a man of peace, Rachel,” answered Mr. 
 Geddes, “even to the utmost extent which our 
 friends can demand of humanity; and neither 
 have I ever used, nor, with the help of God, will 
 I at any future time employ, the arm of flesh to 
 repel or to revenge injuries. But if I can, by mild 
 reasons and firm conduct, save those rude men from 
 committing a crime, and the property belonging to 
 myself and others from sustaining damage, surely 
 I do but the duty of a man and a Christian.” 
 
 With these words, he ordered his horse instantly ; 
 and his sister ceasing to argue with him, folded her 
 arms upon her bosom, and looked up to heaven with 
 a resigned and yet sorrowful countenance. 
 
 These particulars may appear trivial; but it is 
 better,in my present condition, to exert my facul- 
 ties in recollecting the past, and in recording it, 
 than waste them in vain and anxious anticipations 
 of the future. 
 
 It would have been scarcely proper in me to 
 remain in the house, from which the master was 
 thus suddenly summoned away; and I therefore 
 begged permission to attend him to the fishing 
 station, assuring his sister that I would be a 
 guarantee for his safety. 
 
 The proposal seemed to give much pleasure to 
 Miss Geddes. “Let it be so, brother,” she said ; 
 “and let the young man have the desire of his 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 251 
 
 heart, that there may be a faithful witness to stand 
 by thee in the hour of need, and to report how it 
 shall fare with thee.” 
 
 “No, Rachel,” said the worthy man, “thou art to 
 blame in this, that, to quiet thy apprehensions on 
 my account, thou shouldst thrust into danger —if 
 danger it shall prove to be — this youth, our guest; 
 for whom, doubtless, in case of mishap, as many hearts 
 will ache as may be afflicted on our account.” 
 
 “ Nay, my good friend,” said I, taking Mr. Geddes’s 
 
 hand, “1 am not so happy as you suppose me. Were 
 my span to be concluded this evening, few would so 
 much as know that such a being had existed for 
 twenty years on the face of the earth; and of these 
 few, only one would sincerely regret me. Do not, 
 therefore, refuse me the privilege of attending you; 
 and of showing, by so trifling an act of kindness, 
 that if I have few friends, I am at least desirous to 
 serve them.” 
 “Thou hast a kind heart, I warrant thee,” said 
 Joshua Geddes, returning the pressure of my hand. 
 “Rachel, the young man shall go with me. Why 
 should he not face danger, in order to do justice 
 and preserve peace? There is that within me,” he 
 added, looking upwards, and with a passing enthu- 
 siasm which I had not before observed, and the 
 absence of which perhaps rather belonged to the 
 sect than to his own personal character — “I say, 
 I have that within which assures me, that though 
 the ungodly may rage even like the storm of the 
 ocean, they shall not have freedom to prevail 
 against us.” 
 
 Having spoken thus, Mr. Geddes appointed a 
 pony to be saddled for my use; and having taken 
 a basket with some provisions, and a servant to 
 
252 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 carry back the horses, for which there was no 
 accommodation at the fishing station, we set off 
 about nine o’clock at night, and after three quar- 
 ters of an hour’s riding, arrived at our place of 
 destination. 
 
 The station consists, or then consisted, of huts 
 for four or five fishermen, a cooperage and sheds, 
 and a better sort of cottage, at which the superin- 
 tendent resided. We gave our horses to the servant, 
 to be carried back to Mount Sharon; my companion 
 expressing himself humanely anxious for their safety 
 —and knocked at the door of the house. At first we 
 only heard a barking of dogs; but these animals 
 became quiet on snuffing beneath the door, and 
 acknowledging the presence of friends. A hoarse 
 voice then demanded, in rather unfriendly accents, 
 who we were, and what we wanted; and it was not 
 until Joshua named himself, and called upon his 
 superintendent to open, that the latter appeared at 
 the door of the hut, attended by three large dogs of 
 the Newfoundland breed. He had a flambeau in 
 his hand, and two large heavy ship-pistols stuck 
 into his belt. He was a stout, elderly man, who had 
 been a sailor, as I learned, during the earlier part of 
 his life, and was now much confided in by the Fish- 
 ing Company, whose concerns he directed under the 
 orders of Mr. Geddes. 
 
 “Thou didst not expect me to-night, friend 
 Davies?” said my friend to the old man, who was 
 arranging seats for us by the fire. 
 
 “No, Master Geddes,” answered he, “I did not 
 expect you, nor, to speak the truth, did I wish for 
 you either.” 
 
 “These are plain terms, John Davies,’ answered 
 Mr. Geddes. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 253 
 
 ‘Ay, ay, sir, I know your worship loves no 
 holyday speeches.” 
 
 “Thou dost guess, I suppose, what brings us 
 here so late, John Davies ?” said Mr. Geddes. 
 
 “T do suppose, sir,” answered the superintendent, 
 “that it was bedause these d—d smuggling wreck- 
 ers on the coast are showing their lights to gather 
 their forces, as they did the night before they broke 
 down the dam-dike and wears up the country; but 
 if that same be the case, I wish once more you had 
 staid away, for your worship carries no fighting 
 tackle aboard, I think; and there will be work for 
 such ere morning, your worship.” 
 
 “Worship is due to Heaven only, John Davies,” 
 said Geddes. “I have often desired thee to desist 
 from using that phrase to me.” 
 
 “T won't, then,’ said John; “no offence meant: 
 But how the devil can a man stand picking his 
 words, when he is just going to come to blows ?” 
 
 “JT hope not, John Davies,” said Joshua Geddes. 
 “ Call in the rest of the men, that I may give them 
 their instructions.” 
 
 “TI may cry till doomsday, Master Geddes, ere a 
 soul answers — the cowardly lubbers have all made 
 sail — the cooper, and all the rest of them, so soon 
 as they heard the enemy were at sea. They have 
 all taken to the long-boat, and left the ship among 
 the breakers, except little Phil and myself — they 
 have, by Me 
 
 “Swear not at all, John Davies—thou art an 
 honest man; and I believe, without an oath, that 
 thy comrades love their own bones better than my 
 goods and chattels. And so thou hast no assistance 
 but little Phil against a hundred men or two?” 
 
 “Why, there are the dogs, your honour knows, 
 
 
 
254 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 Neptune and Thetis—and the puppy may do 
 something ; and then though your worship —I beg 
 pardon — though your honour be no great fighter, 
 this young gentleman may bear a hand.” 
 
 “Ay, and I see you are provided with arms,” 
 said Mr. Geddes; “let me see them.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay, sir; here be a pair of buffers will bite 
 as well as bark — these will make sure of two rogues 
 at least. It would be a shame to strike without 
 firing a shot. — Take care, your honour, they are 
 double-shotted.” 
 
 “Ay, John Davies, I will take care of them,” 
 throwing the pistols into a tub of water beside him ; 
 “and I wish I could render the whole generation 
 of them useless at the same moment.” 
 
 A deep shade of displeasure passed over John 
 Davies’s weatherbeaten countenance. ‘ Belike your 
 honour is going to take the command yourself, 
 then ?” he said, after a pause. “ Why, I can be of 
 little use now; and since your worship, or your 
 honour, or whatever you are, means to strike quietly, 
 I believe you will do it better without me than 
 with me, for I am hke enough to make mischief, 
 I admit; but Pll never leave my post without 
 orders.” 
 
 “Then you have mine, John Davies, to go to 
 Mount Sharon directly, and take the boy Phil with 
 you. Where is he ?”’ 
 
 “He is on the outlook for these scums of the 
 earth,” answered Davies; “but it is to no purpose 
 to know when they come, if we are not to stand to 
 our weapons.” 
 
 “We will use none but those of sense and rea- 
 son, John.” 
 
 “And you may just as well cast chaff against 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 255 
 
 the wind, as speak sense and reason to the like of 
 them.” 
 
 “Well, well, be it so,’ said Joshua; “and now, 
 John Davies, I know thou art what the world calls 
 a brave fellow, and I have ever found thee an 
 honest one. And now I command you to go to 
 Mount Sharon, and let Phil lie on the bank-side 
 — see the poor boy hath a sea-cloak, though —and 
 watch what happens here, and let him bring you 
 the news ; and if any violence shall be offered to the 
 property there, I trust to your fidelity to carry my . 
 sister to Dumfries, to the house of our friends the 
 Corsacks, and inform the civil authorities of what 
 mischief hath befallen.” 
 
 The old seaman paused a moment. “It is hard 
 lines for me,” he said, “to leave your honour in 
 tribulation; and yet, staying here, I am only like 
 to make bad worse; and your honour’s sister, Miss 
 Rachel, must be looked to, that’s certain ; for if the 
 rogues once get their hand to mischief, they will 
 come to Mount Sharon after they have wasted and 
 destroyed this here snug little roadstead, where I 
 thought to ride at anchor for life.” 
 
 “ Right, right, John Davies,” said Joshua Geddes ; 
 “and best call the dogs with you.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay, sir,” said the veteran, “for they are 
 something of my mind, and would not keep quiet 
 if they saw mischief doing; so maybe they might 
 come to mischief, poor dumb creatures. So God 
 bless your honour —I mean your worship— I can- 
 not bring my mouth to say fare you well. — Here, 
 Neptune, Thetis! come, dogs, come.” 
 
 So saying, and with a very crestfallen counte- 
 nance, John Davies left the hut. 
 
 “ Now there goes one of the best and most faith- 
 
256 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 ful creatures that ever was born,” said Mr. Geddes, 
 as the superintendent shut the door of the cottage. 
 “Nature made him with a heart that would not 
 have suffered him to harm a fly; but thou seest, 
 friend Latimer, that as men arm their bull-dogs 
 with spiked collars, and their game-cocks with steel 
 spurs, to aid them in fight, so they corrupt, by 
 education, the best and mildest natures, until forti- 
 tude and spirit become stubbornness and _ ferocity. 
 Believe me, friend Latimer, I would as soon expose 
 my faithful household dog to a vain combat with a 
 herd of wolves, as yon trusty creature to the vio- 
 lence of the enraged multitude. But I need say 
 little on this subject to thee, friend Latimer, who, 
 I doubt not, art trained to believe that courage is 
 displayed and honour attained, not by doing and 
 suffering, as becomes a man, that which fate calls 
 us to suffer, and justice commands us to do, but 
 because thou art ready to retort violence for vio- 
 lence, and considerest the lightest insult as a 
 sufficient cause for the spilling of blood, nay, the 
 taking of hfe.— But, leaving these points of con- 
 troversy to a more fit season, let us see what our 
 basket of provision contains; for in truth, friend 
 Latimer, I am one of those whom neither fear nor 
 anxiety deprive of their ordinary appetite.” 
 
 We found the means of good cheer accordingly, 
 which Mr. Geddes seemed to enjoy as much as if 
 it had been eaten in a situation of perfect safety ; 
 nay, his conversation appeared to be rather more 
 gay than on ordinary occasions. After eating our 
 supper we left the hut together, and walked for a 
 few minutes on the banks of the sea. It was high 
 water, and the ebb had not yet commenced. The 
 moon shone broad and bright upon the placid face 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 257 
 
 of the Solway Frith, and showed a slight ripple 
 upon the stakes, the tops of which were just visible 
 above the waves, and on the dark-coloured buoys 
 which marked the upper edge of the enclosure of 
 nets. At a much greater distance, — for the estuary 
 is here very wide, — the line of the English coast 
 was seen on the verge of the water, resembling one 
 of those fog-banks on which mariners are said to 
 gaze, uncertain whether it be land or atmospherical 
 delusion. 
 
 “We shall be undisturbed for some hours,” said 
 Mr. Geddes; “they will not come down upon us 
 till the state of the tide permits them to destroy the 
 tide-nets. Is it not strange to think that human 
 passions will so soon transform such a tranquil scene 
 as this, into one of devastation and confusion ?” 
 
 It was indeed a scene of exquisite stillness; so 
 much so, that the restless waves of the Solway 
 seemed, if not absolutely to sleep, at least to slum- 
 ber ;— on the shore no night-bird was heard — the 
 cock had not sung his first matins, and we ourselves 
 walked more lightly than by day, as if to suit the 
 sound of our own paces to the serene tranquillity 
 around us. At length, the plaintive cry of a dog 
 broke the silence, and on our return to the cottage, 
 we found that the younger of the three animals 
 which had gone along with John Davies, unaccus- 
 tomed, perhaps, to distant journeys, and the duty 
 of following to heel, had strayed from the party, 
 and, unable to rejoin them, had wandered back to 
 the place of its birth. 
 
 “ Another feeble addition to our feeble garrison,” 
 said Mr. Geddes, as he caressed the dog, and admit- 
 ted it into the cottage. “Poor thing! as thou art 
 incapable of doing any mischief, I hope thou wilt 
 
 VOL. I.—17 
 
258 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 sustain none. At least thou mayst do us the good 
 service of a sentinel, and permit us to enjoy a quiet 
 repose, under the certainty that thou wilt alarm us 
 when the enemy is at hand.” 
 
 There were two beds in the superintendent’s 
 room, upon which we threw ourselves. Mr. Geddes, 
 with his happy equanimity of temper, was asleep 
 in the first five minutes. I lay for some time in 
 doubtful and anxious thoughts, watching the fire 
 and the motions of the restless dog, which, disturbed 
 probably at the absence of John Davies, wandered 
 from the hearth to the door and back again, then 
 came to the bedside, and licked my hands and 
 face, and at length, experiencing no repulse to 
 its advances, established itself at my feet, and 
 went to sleep, an example which I soon afterwards 
 followed. 
 
 The rage of narration, my dear Alan —for I will 
 never relinquish the hope that what I am writing 
 may one day reach your hands — has not forsaken 
 me even in my confinement, and the extensive 
 though unimportant details into which I have been 
 hurried, render it necessary that 1 commence 
 another sheet. Fortunately, my pigmy characters 
 comprehend a great many words within a small 
 space of paper. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DARSIE LATIMER’S JOURNAL, IN CONTINUATION. 
 
 THE morning was dawning, and Mr. Geddes and I 
 myself were still sleeping soundly, when the alarm 
 was given by my canine bedfellow, who first growled 
 deeply at intervals, and at length bore more decided 
 testimony to the approach of some enemy. I 
 opened the door of the cottage, and perceived, at the 
 distance of about two hundred yards, a small but 
 close column of men, which I would have taken for 
 a dark hedge, but that I could perceive it was advan- 
 cing rapidly and in silence. 
 
 The dog flew towards them, but instantly ran 
 howling back to me, having probably been chastised 
 by a stick or a stone. Uncertain as to the plan of 
 tactics or of treaty which Mr. Geddes might think 
 proper to adopt, I was about to retire into the 
 cottage, when he suddenly joined me at the door, 
 and, slipping his arm through mine, said, “ Let us 
 go to meet them manfully ; we have done nothing to 
 be ashamed of. — Friends,” he said, raising his voice 
 as we approached them, “ who and what are you, and 
 with what purpose are you here on my property ?” 
 
 A loud cheer was the answer returned, and a 
 brace of fiddlers who occupied the front of the 
 march immediately struck up the insulting air, the 
 words of which begin, 
 
 ‘¢ Merrily danced the Quaker’s wife, 
 And merrily danced the Quaker.” 
 
260 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 Even at that moment of alarm, I think I recog- 
 nised the tones of the blind fiddler, known by the 
 name of Wandering Willie, from his itinerant 
 habits. They continued to advance swiftly and in 
 great order, in their front 
 
 ‘¢ The fiery fiddlers playing martial airs; ” 
 
 when, coming close up, they surrounded us by a 
 single movement, and there was a universal cry, 
 “Whoop, Quaker— whoop, Quaker! Here have 
 we them both, the wet Quaker and the dry one.” 
 
 “Hang up the wet Quaker to dry, and wet the 
 dry one with a ducking,” answered another voice. 
 
 “Where is the sea-otter, John Davies, that 
 destroyed more fish than any sealch upon Ailsay 
 Craig?” exclaimed a third voice. “I have an old 
 crow to pluck with him, and a pock to put the 
 feathers in.” 
 
 We stood perfectly passive ; for, to have attempted 
 resistance against more than a hundred men, armed 
 with guns, fish-spears, iron-crows, spades, and 
 bludgeons, would have been an act of utter insanity. 
 Mr. Geddes, with his strong sonorous voice, answered 
 the question about the superintendent in a manner, 
 the manly indifference of which compelled them to 
 .attend to him. 
 
 “John Davies,” he said, “ will, I trust, soon be 
 at Dumfries” 
 
 “To fetch down redcoats and dragoons against us, 
 you canting old villain !” 
 
 A blow was, at the same time, levelled at my 
 friend, which I parried by interposing the stick I 
 had in my hand. I was instantly struck down, 
 and have a faint recollection of hearing some crying, 
 “Kill the young spy!” and others, as I thought, 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 261 
 
 interposing on my behalf. But a second blow on 
 the head, received in the scuffie, soon deprived me 
 of sense and consciousness, and threw me into a 
 state of insensibility, from which I did not recover 
 immediately. When I did come to myself, I was 
 lying on the bed from which I had just risen before 
 the fray, and my poor companion, the Newfound- 
 land puppy, its courage entirely cowed by the 
 tumult of the riot, had crept as close to me as it could, 
 and lay trembling and whining, as if under the most 
 dreadful terror. I doubted at first whether I had 
 not dreamed of the tumult, until, as I attempted 
 to rise, a feeling of pain and dizziness assured me 
 that the injury I had sustained was but too real. I 
 gathered together my senses — listened — and heard 
 at a distance the shouts of the rioters, busy, doubt- 
 less, in their work of devastation. I made a second 
 effort to rise, or at least to turn myself, for I lay 
 with my face to the wall of the cottage, but I found 
 that my limbs were secured, and my motions effect- 
 ually prevented — not indeed by cords, but by linen 
 or cloth bandages swathed around my ankles, and 
 securing my arms to my sides. Aware of my 
 utterly captive condition, I groaned betwixt bodily 
 pain and mental distress. 
 
 A voice by my bedside whispered, in a whining 
 tone, “ Whisht a-ye, hinnie— whisht, a-ye ; haud your 
 tongue, like a gude bairn— ye have cost us dear 
 aneugh already. My hinnie’s clean gane now.” 
 
 Knowing, as I thought, the phraseology of the 
 wife of the itinerant musician, I asked her where 
 her husband was, and whether he had been hurt. 
 
 “ Broken,’ answered the dame, “all broken to 
 pieces; fit for nought but to be made spunks of — 
 the best blood that was in Scotland.” 
 
262 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 “Broken ?— blood ?— is your husband wounded ; 
 has there been bloodshed — broken limbs ?” 
 
 “ Broken limbs ?—I wish,” answered the beldam, 
 “that my hinnie had broken the best bane in his 
 body, before he had broken his fiddle, that was the 
 best blood in Scotland —It was a cremony, for 
 aught that I ken.” 
 
 “ Pshaw — only his fiddle ?” said I. 
 
 “T dinna ken what waur your honour could have 
 wished him to do, unless he had broken his neck; 
 and this is muckle the same to my hinnie Willie 
 and me. Chaw, indeed! It is easy to say chaw, 
 but wha is to gie us ony thing to chaw?— the 
 breadwinner’s gane, and we may e’en sit down and 
 starve.” 
 
 “ No, no,” I said, “ I will pay you for twenty such 
 fiddles.” 
 
 “Twenty such! is that a’ ye ken about it? the 
 country hadna the like ot. But if your honour 
 were to pay us, as nae doubt wad be to your 
 credit here and hereafter, where are ye to get the 
 siller ?” 
 
 “T have enough of money,” said I, attempting to 
 reach my hand towards my side-pocket; “unloose 
 these bandages, and I will pay you on the spot.” 
 
 This hint appeared to move her, and she was 
 approaching the bedside, as I hoped, to liberate me 
 from my bonds, when a nearer and more desperate 
 shout was heard, as if the rioters were close by the 
 hut. 
 
 “TI daurna —I daurna,” said the poor woman, 
 “they would murder me and my hinnie Willie 
 baith, and they have misguided us aneugh already ; 
 —but if there is any thing worldly I could do for 
 your honour, leave out loosing ye ?” 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 263 
 
 What she said recalled me to my bodily suffer- 
 ing. Agitation, and the effects of the usage I had 
 received, had produced a burning thirst. I asked 
 for a drink of water. 
 
 “Heaven Almighty forbid that Epps Ainslie 
 should gie ony sick gentleman cauld well-water, 
 and him in a fever. Na, na, hinnie, let me alane, 
 I'll do better for ye than the like of that.” 
 
 “Give me what you will,” I replied; “let it but 
 be liquid and cool.” 
 
 The woman gave me a large horn accordingly, 
 filled with spirits and water, which, without minute 
 enquiry concerning the nature of its contents, I 
 drained at a draught. Either the spirits taken in 
 such a manner, acted more suddenly than usual on 
 my brain, or else there was some drug mixed with 
 the beverage. I remember little after drinking it 
 off, only that the appearance of things around me 
 became indistinct; that the woman’s form seemed 
 to multiply itself, and to flitin various figures around 
 me, bearing the same lineaments as she herself did. 
 I remember also that the discordant noises and cries 
 of those without the cottage seemed to die away in 
 a hum like that with which a nurse hushes her 
 babe. At length I fell into a deep sound sleep, or 
 rather, a state of absolute insensibility. 
 
 I have reason to think this species of trance 
 lasted for many hours; indeed, for the whole sub- 
 sequent day and part of the night. It was not 
 uniformly so profound, for my recollection of it 
 is chequered with many dreams, all of a painful 
 nature, but too faint and too indistinct to be 
 remembered. At length the moment of waking 
 came, and my sensations were horrible. 
 
 A deep sound, which, in the confusion of my 
 
264 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 senses, I identified with the cries of the rioters, 
 was the first thing of which I was sensible; next, I 
 became conscious that I was carried violently for- 
 ward in some conveyance, with an unequal motion, 
 which gave me much pain. My position was hori- 
 zontal, and when I attempted to stretch my hands 
 in order to find some mode of securing myself 
 against this species of suffering, I found I was 
 bound as before, and the horrible reality rushed 
 on my mind, that I was in the hands of those who 
 had lately committed a great outrage on property, 
 and were now about to kidnap, if not to murder 
 me. I opened my eyes, it was to no purpose — 
 all around me was dark, for a day had passed 
 over during my captivity. A dispiriting sickness 
 oppressed my head — my heart seemed on fire, while 
 my feet and hands were chilled and benumbed with 
 want of circulation. It was with the utmost 
 difficulty that I at length, and gradually, recovered 
 in a sufficient degree the power of observing 
 external sounds and circumstances; and when I 
 did so, they presented nothing consolatory. 
 
 Groping with my hands, as far as the bandages 
 would permit, and receiving the assistance of some 
 occasional glances of the moonlight, I became aware 
 that the carriage in which I was transported was one 
 of the light carts of the country, called tumblers, 
 and that a little attention had been paid to my 
 accommodation, as I was laid upon some sacks 
 covered with matting, and filled with straw. With- 
 out these, my condition would have been still more 
 intolerable, for the vehicle, sinking now on one side, 
 and now on the other, sometimes sticking absolutely 
 fast, and requiring the utmost exertions of the 
 animal which drew it to put it once more in motion, 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 265 
 
 was subjected to jolts in all directions, which were 
 very severe. At other times it rolled silently and 
 smoothly over what seemed to be wet sand; and, 
 as I heard the distant roar of the tide, I had little 
 doubt that we were engaged in passing the for- 
 midable estuary which divides the two kingdoms. 
 
 There seemed to be at least five or six people 
 about the cart, some on foot, others on horseback ; 
 the former lent assistance whenever it was in danger 
 of upsetting, or sticking fast in the quicksand; the 
 others rode before and acted as guides, often chang- 
 ing the direction of the vehicle as the precarious 
 state of the passage required. 
 
 I addressed myself to the men around the cart, 
 and endeavoured to move their compassion. I had 
 harmed, I said, no one, and for no action in my life 
 had deserved such cruel treatment. I had no con- 
 cern whatever in the fishing station which had 
 incurred their displeasure, and my acquaintance 
 with Mr. Geddes was of a very late date. Lastly, 
 and as my strongest argument, I endeavoured to 
 excite their fears, by informing them that my rank in 
 life would not permit me to be either murdered or 
 secreted with impunity ; and to interest their ava- 
 rice, by the promises I made them of reward, if they 
 would effect my deliverance. I only received a 
 scornful laugh in reply to my threats; my promises 
 might have done more, for the fellows were whis- 
 pering together as if in hesitation, and I began to 
 reiterate and increase my offers, when the voice of 
 one of the horsemen, who had suddenly come up, 
 enjoined silence to the men on foot, and, approach- 
 ing the side of the cart, said to me, with a strong 
 and determined voice, “ Young man, there is no 
 personal harm designed to you. If you remain 
 
266 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 silent and quiet, you may reckon on good treat- 
 ment; but if you endeavour to tamper with these 
 men in the execution of their duty, I will take such 
 measures for silencing you, as you shall remember 
 the longest day you have to live.” 
 
 I thought I knew the voice which uttered these 
 threats; but, in such a situation, my perceptions 
 could not be supposed to be perfectly accurate. I 
 was contented to reply, “Whoever you are that 
 speak to me, I entreat the benefit of the meanest 
 prisoner, who is not to be subjected legally to 
 ereater hardship than is necessary for the restraint 
 of his person. I entreat that these bonds, which 
 hurt me so cruelly, may be slackened at least, if not 
 removed altogether.” 
 
 “TJ will slacken the belts,” said the former speaker ; 
 “nay, I will altogether remove them, and allow you 
 to pursue your journey in a more convenient man- 
 ner, provided you will give me your word of honour 
 that you will not attempt an escape.” 
 
 “ Never!” I answered, with an energy of which 
 despair alone could have rendered me capable — 
 “J will never submit to loss of freedom a moment 
 longer than I am subjected to it by force.” 
 
 “Enough,” he replied ; “the sentiment is natural ; 
 but do not on your side complain that I, who am 
 carrying on an important undertaking, use the only 
 means in my power for ensuring its success.” 
 
 Tentreated to know what it was designed to do 
 with me; but my conductor, in a voice of menacing 
 authority, desired me to be silent on my peril; and 
 my strength and spirits were too much exhausted 
 to permit my continuing a dialogue so singular, 
 even if I could have promised myself any good 
 result by doing so. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 267 
 
 It is proper here to add, that, from my recollec- 
 tions at the time, and from what has since taken 
 place, I have the strongest possible belief that the 
 man with whom I held this expostulation, was the 
 singular person residing at Brokenburn, in Dum- 
 fries-shire, and called by the fishers of that hamlet, 
 the Laird of the Solway Lochs. The cause for his 
 inveterate persecution I cannot pretend even to 
 guess at. 
 
 In the meantime, the cart was dragged heavily 
 and wearily on, until the nearer roar of the advan- 
 cing tide excited the apprehension of another danger. 
 I could not mistake the sound, which I had heard 
 upon another occasion, when it was only the speed 
 of a fleet horse which saved me from perishing in 
 the quicksands. Thou, my dear Alan, canst not 
 but remember the former circumstances ; and now, 
 wonderful contrast! the very man, to the best of 
 my belief, who then saved me from peril, was the 
 leader of the lawless band who had deprived me of 
 my liberty. Iconjectured that the danger grew 
 imminent; for I heard some words and circum- 
 stances which made me aware that a rider hastily 
 fastened his own horse to the shafts of the cart, in 
 order to assist the exhausted animal which drew it, 
 and the vehicle was now pulled forward at a faster 
 pace, which the horses were urged to maintain by 
 blows and curses. The men, however, were inhabi- 
 tants of the neighbourhood; and I had strong 
 personal reason to believe, that one of them, at 
 least, was intimately acquainted with all the depths 
 and shallows of the perilous paths in which we were 
 engaged. But they were in imminent danger them- 
 selves; and if so, as from the whispering and exer- 
 tions to push on with the cart, was much to be 
 
268 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 apprehended, there was little doubt that I should 
 be left behind as a useless encumbrance, and that 
 while I was ina condition which rendered every 
 chance of escape impracticable. These were awful 
 apprehensions ; but it pleased Providence to increase 
 them to a point which my brain was scarcely able 
 to endure. 
 
 As we approached very near to a black line, 
 which, dimly visible as it was, I could make out to 
 be the shore, we heard two or three sounds, which 
 appeared to be the report of fire-arms. Immediately 
 all was bustle among our party to get forward. 
 Presently a fellow galloped up to us, crying out, 
 “Ware hawk! ware hawk! the land-sharks are out 
 from Burgh, and Allonby Tom will lose his cargo 
 if you do not bear a hand.” 
 
 Most of my company seemed to make hastily for 
 the shore on receiving this intelligence. A driver 
 was left with the cart; but at length, when, after 
 repeated and hair-breadth escapes, it actually stuck 
 fast in a slough or quicksand, the fellow with an 
 oath cut the harness, and, as J presume, departed 
 with the horses, whose feet I heard splashing over 
 the wet sand, and through the shallows, as he 
 galloped off. 
 
 The dropping sound of fire-arms was still contin- 
 ued, but lost almost entirely in the thunder of the 
 advancing surge. By a desperate effort I raised 
 myself in the cart, and attained a sitting posture, 
 which served only to show me the extent of my 
 danger. There lay my native land—my own 
 England — the land where I was born, and to which 
 my wishes, smce my earliest age, had turned with 
 all the prejudices of national feeling — there it lay, 
 within a furlong of the place where I yet was; that 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 269 
 
 furlong which an infant would have raced over in 
 a minute, was yet a barrier effectual to divide me 
 for ever from England and from life. I soon not 
 only heard the roar of this dreadful torrent, but 
 saw, by the fitful moonlight, the foamy crests of 
 the devouring waves, as they advanced with the 
 speed and fury of a pack of hungry wolves. 
 
 The consciousness that the slightest ray of hope, 
 or power of struggling, was not left me, quite over- 
 came the constancy which I had hitherto maintained. 
 My eyes began to swim — my head grew giddy and 
 mad with fear—I chattered and howled to the 
 howling and roaring sea. One or two great waves 
 already reached the cart, when the conductor of the 
 party whom I have mentioned so often, was, as if 
 by magic, at my side. He sprang from his horse 
 into the vehicle, cut the ligatures which restrained 
 me, and bade me get up and mount in the fiend’s 
 name. 
 
 Seeing I was incapable of obeying, he seized me, 
 as if I had been a child of six months old, threw 
 me across the horse, sprung on behind, supporting 
 with one hand, while he directed the animal with 
 the other. In my helpless and painful posture, I 
 was unconscious of the degree of danger which we 
 incurred; but I believe at one time the horse was 
 swimming, or nearly so; and that it was with dif- 
 ficulty that my stern and powerful assistant kept 
 my head above water. I remember particularly 
 the shock which I felt when the animal, endeavour- 
 ing to gain the bank, reared, and very nearly fell 
 back on his burden. The time during which I con- 
 tinued in this dreadful condition did not probably 
 exceed two or three minutes, yet so strongly were 
 they marked with horror and agony, that they seem 
 
270 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 to my recollection a much more considerable space 
 of time. 
 
 When I had been thus snatched from destruc- 
 tion, I had only power to say to my protector, — or 
 oppressor, — for he merited either name at my hand, 
 “You do not, then, design to murder me?” 
 
 He laughed as he replied, but it was a sort of 
 laughter which I scarce desire to hear again, — 
 “Else you think I had let the waves do their work ? 
 But remember, the shepherd saves his sheep from 
 the torrent —is it to preserve its life ?— Be silent, 
 however, with questions or entreaties. What I 
 mean to do, thou canst no more discover or prevent, 
 than a man, with his bare palm, can scoop dry the 
 Solway.” 
 
 I was too much exhausted to continue the argu- 
 ment; and, still numbed and torpid in all my limbs, 
 permitted myself without reluctance to be placed on 
 a horse brought for the purpose. My formidable 
 conductor rode on the one side, and another person 
 on the other, keeping me upright in the saddle. In 
 this manner we travelled forward at a considerable 
 rate, and by by-roads, with which my attendant 
 seemed as familiar as with the perilous passages of 
 the Solway. 
 
 At length, after stumbling through a labyrinth 
 of dark and deep lanes, and crossing more than one 
 rough and barren heath, we found ourselves on the 
 edge of a high-road, where a chaise and four awaited, 
 as it appeared, our arrival. To my great relief, we 
 now changed our mode of conveyance; for my 
 dizziness and headache had returned in so strong 
 a degree, that I should otherwise have been totally 
 unable to keep my seat on horseback, even with 
 the support which I received. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 271 
 
 My doubted and dangerous companion signed 
 to me toenter the carriage — the man who had rid- 
 den on the left side of my horse stepped in after 
 me, and, drawing up the blinds of the vehicle, gave 
 the signal for instant departure. 
 
 I had obtained a glimpse of the countenance of 
 my new companion, as by the aid of a dark lantern 
 the drivers opened the carriage door, and I was well- 
 nigh persuaded that I recognised in him the 
 domestic of the leader of this party, whom I had 
 seen at his house in Brokenburn on a former occa- 
 sion. To ascertain the truth of my suspicion, I 
 asked him whether his name was not Cristal 
 Nixon. 
 
 “ What is other folk’s names to you,” he replied, 
 eruffly, “who cannot tell your own father and 
 mother ?” 
 
 “You know them, perhaps ?” I exclaimed eagerly. 
 “You know them! and with that secret is con- 
 nected the treatment which I am now receiving ? 
 It must be so, for in my life have I never injured 
 any one. Tell me the cause of my misfortunes, or 
 rather, help me to my liberty, and I will reward 
 you richly.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay,” replied my keeper; “but what use to 
 give you liberty, who know nothing how to use it 
 like a gentleman, but spend your time with Quakers 
 and fiddlers, and such-like raff? If I was your — 
 hem, hem, hem!” 
 
 Here Cristal stopped short, just on the point, as 
 it appeared, when some information was likely to 
 escape him. I urged him once more to be my 
 friend, and promised him all the stock of money 
 which I had about me, and it was not inconsider- 
 able, if he would assist in my escape. 
 
272 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 He listened, as if to a proposition which had 
 some interest, and replied, but in a voice rather 
 softer than before, “ Ay, but men do not catch old 
 birds with chaff, my master. Where have you got 
 the rhino you are so flush of ?” 
 
 “T will give you earnest directly, and that in 
 bank-notes,” said I; but, thrusting my hand into 
 my side-pocket, I found my pocketbook was gone. 
 I would have persuaded myself that it was only the 
 numbness of my hands which prevented my finding 
 it; but Cristal Nixon, who bears in his countenance 
 that cynicism which is especially entertained with 
 human misery, no longer suppressed his laughter. 
 
 “Oh, ho! my young master,” he said; “we 
 have taken good enough care you have not kept the 
 means of bribing poor folk’s fidelity. What, man, 
 they have souls as well as other people, and to make 
 them break trust is a deadly sin. And as for me, 
 young gentleman, if you would fill Saint Mary’s 
 Kirk with gold, Cristal Nixon would mind it no 
 more than so many chucky-stones.” 
 
 I would have persisted, were it but in hopes of 
 his letting drop that which it concerned me to know, 
 but he cut off further communication, by desiring 
 me to lean back in the corner and go to sleep. 
 
 “Thou art cockbrained enough already,” he added, 
 “and we shall have thy young pate addled entirely, 
 if you do not take some natural rest.” 
 
 I did indeed require repose, if not slumber; the 
 draught which I had taken continued to operate, 
 and satisfied in my own mind that no attempt on 
 my life was designed, the fear of instant death no 
 longer combated the torpor which crept over me 
 —I slept, and slept soundly, but still without 
 refreshment. 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 273 
 
 When I awoke, I found myself extremely indis- 
 posed ; images of the past, and anticipations of the 
 future, floated confusedly through my brain. I per- 
 ceived, however, that my situation was changed, 
 greatly for the better. I was in a good bed, with 
 the curtains drawn round it; I heard the lowered 
 voice and cautious step of attendants, who seemed 
 to respect my repose; it appeared as if I was in the 
 hands either of friends, or of such as meant me no 
 personal harm. 
 
 I can give but an indistinct account of two or 
 three broken and feverish days which succeeded, but 
 if they were chequered with dreams and visions of 
 terror, other and more agreeable objects were also 
 sometimes presented. Alan Fairford will under- 
 stand me when I say, I am convinced I saw G. M. 
 during this interval of oblivion. I had medical 
 attendance, and was bled more than once. I also 
 remember a painful operation performed on my head, 
 where I had received a severe blow on the night 
 of the riot. My hair was cut short, and the bone 
 of the skull examined, to discover if the cxnium 
 had received any injury. 
 
 On seeing the physician, it would have been 
 natural to have appealed to him on the subject of 
 my confinement, and I remember more than once 
 attempting to do so. But the fever lay like a spell 
 upon my tongue, and when I would have implored 
 the doctor’s assistance, I rambled from the subject, 
 and spoke I know not what — nonsense. Some 
 power, which I was unable to resist, seemed to 
 impel me into a different course of conversation 
 from what I intended, and though conscious, in 
 some degree, of the failure, I could not mend it; 
 and resolved, therefore, to be patient, until my 
 
 VOLeI.— 15 
 
274 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 capacity of steady thought and expression was 
 restored to me with my ordinary health, which 
 had sustained a severe shock from the vicissitudes 
 to which I had been exposed. ! 
 
 1 Note V. — Riotous attack upon the dam-dike of Sir James 
 Graham of Netherby. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 DARSIE LATIMER'S JOURNAL, IN CONTINUATION. 
 
 Two or three days, perhaps more, perhaps less, had 
 been spent in bed, where I was carefully attended, 
 and treated, I believe, with as much judgment as 
 the case required, and I was at length allowed to 
 quit my bed, though not the chamber. I was now 
 more able to make some observation on the place 
 of my confinement. 
 
 The room, in appearance and furniture, resembled 
 the best apartment in a farmer’s house; and the 
 window, two stories high, looked into a backyard, 
 or court, filled with poultry. There were the usual 
 domestic offices about this yard. I could distinguish 
 the brewhouse and the barn, and I heard, from a 
 more remote building, the lowing of the cattle and 
 other rural sounds, announcing a large and well- 
 stocked farm. These were sights and sounds 
 qualified to dispel any apprehension of immediate 
 violence. Yet the building seemed ancient and 
 strong, a part of the roof was battlemented, and the 
 walls were of great thickness; lastly, I observed 
 with some unpleasant sensations, that the windows 
 of my chamber had been lately secured with iron 
 stanchions, and that the servants who brought me 
 victuals, or visited my apartment to render other 
 menial offices, always locked the door when they 
 retired. 
 
276 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 The comfort and cleanliness of my chamber were 
 of true English growth, and such as I had rarely 
 seen on the other side of the Tweed; the very old 
 wainscot, which composed the floor and the panel- 
 ling of the room, was scrubbed with a degree of 
 labour which the Scottish housewife rarely bestows 
 on her most costly furniture. 
 
 The whole apartments appropriated to my use 
 consisted of the bedroom, a small parlour adjacent, 
 within which wasa still smaller closet, having a nar- 
 row window, which seemed anciently to have been 
 used as a shot-hole, admitting, indeed, a very mod- 
 erate portion of light and air, but without its being 
 possible to see any thing from it except the blue 
 sky, and that only by mounting on a chair. There 
 were appearances of a separate entrance into this 
 cabinet, besides that which communicated with the 
 parlour, but it had been recently built up, as I dis- 
 covered, by removing a piece of tapestry which 
 covered the fresh mason-work. I found some of my 
 clothes here, with linen and other articles, as well 
 as my writing case, containing pen, ink, and paper, 
 which enables me, at my leisure, (which, God 
 knows, is undisturbed enough,) to make this record 
 of my confinement. It may be well believed, how- 
 ever, that 1 do not trust to the security of the 
 bureau, but carry the written sheets about my per- 
 son, so that I can only be deprived of them by 
 actual violence. JI also am cautious to write in the 
 little cabinet only, so that Ican hear any person 
 approach me through the other apartments, and 
 have time enough to put aside my journal before 
 they come upon me. 
 
 The servants, a stout country fellow, and a very 
 pretty mulkmaid-looking lass, by whom I am 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 277 
 
 attended, seem of the true Joan and Hodge school, 
 thinking of little, and desiring nothing, beyond the 
 very limited sphere of their own duties or enjoy- 
 ments, and having no curiosity whatever about the 
 affairs of others. Their behaviour to me, in particu- 
 lar, is, at the same time, very kind and very 
 provoking. My table is abundantly supplied, and 
 they seem anxious to comply with my taste in 
 that department. But whenever I make enquiries 
 beyond ‘‘what’s for dinner,” the brute of a lad 
 baffles me by his anan, and his dunna knaw, and, if 
 hard pressed, turns his back on me composedly, and 
 leaves the room. The girl, too, pretends to be as 
 simple as he; but an arch grin, which she cannot 
 always suppress, seems to acknowledge that she 
 understands perfectly well the game which she is 
 playing, and is determined to keep me in ignorance. 
 Both of them, and the wench in particular, treat me 
 as they would do a spoiled child, and never directly 
 refuse me any thing which I ask, taking care, at the 
 same time, not to make their words good by effect- 
 ually granting my request. Thus, if I desire to go 
 out, Iam promised by Dorcas that I shall walk in 
 the park at night and see the cows milked, just as 
 she would propose such an amusement to a child. 
 But she takes care never to keep her word, if it 
 is in her power to do so. 
 
 In the meantime, there has stolen on me insen- 
 sibly an indifference to my freedom — a carelessness 
 about my situation, for which I am unable to 
 account, unless it be the consequence of weakness 
 and loss of blood. I have read of men who, 
 immured as I am, have surprised the world by the 
 address with which they have successfully overcome 
 the most formidable obstacles to their escape; and 
 
278 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 when I have heard such anecdotes, I have said to 
 myself, that no one who is possessed only of a frag- 
 ment of freestone, or a rusty nail, to grind down 
 rivets and to pick locks, having his full leisure to 
 employ in the task, need continue the inhabitant of 
 a prison. Here, however, I sit, day after day, with- 
 out a single effort to effect my liberation. 
 
 Yet my inactivity is not the result of despon- 
 dency, but arises, in part at least, from feelings of 
 a very different cast. My story, long a mysterious 
 one, seems now upon the verge of some strange 
 developement; and I feel a solemn impression that 
 I ought to wait the course of events, to struggle 
 against which is opposing my feeble efforts to the 
 high will of fate. Thou, my Alan, wilt treat as 
 timidity this passive acquiescence, which has sunk 
 down on me like a benumbing torpor; but if thou 
 hast remembered by what visions my couch was 
 haunted, and dost but think of the probability that 
 Iam in the vicinity, perhaps under the same roof 
 with G.M., thou wilt acknowledge that other feel- 
 ings than pusillanimity have tended in some degree 
 to reconcile me to my fate. 
 
 Still I own it is unmanly to submit with patience 
 to this oppressive confinement. My heart rises 
 against it, especially when I sit down to record my 
 sufferings in this Journal; and I am determined, as 
 the first step to my deliverance, to have my letters 
 sent to the post-house. 
 
 Iam disappointed. When the girl Dorcas, upon 
 whom I had fixed for a messenger, heard me talk 
 of sending a letter, she willingly offered her ser- 
 vices, and received the crown which I gave her, 
 (for my purse had not taken flight with the more 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 279 
 
 valuable contents of my pocketbook,) with a smile 
 which showed her whole set of white teeth. 
 
 But when, with the purpose of gaining some intel- 
 ligence respecting my present place of abode, I 
 asked, to which post-town she was to send or carry 
 the letter, a stolid “Anan” showed me she was 
 either ignorant of the nature of a post-office, or that, 
 for the present, she chose to seem so. — “Simple- 
 ton!” I said, with some sharpness. 
 
 “O Lord, sir!” answered the girl, turning pale, 
 which they always do when I show any sparks of 
 anger, —“ Don’t put yourself in a passion!— Tl 
 put the letter in the post.” 
 
 “What! and not know the name of the post- 
 town?” said I, out of patience. “How on earth 
 do you propose to manage that?” 
 
 “La you there, good master. What need you 
 frighten a poor girl that is no schollard, bating 
 what she learned at the Charity-School of Saint 
 Bees ?” 
 
 “Ts Saint Bees far from this place, Dorcas ?— 
 Do you send your letters there?” said I, in a 
 manner as insinuating, and yet careless, as I could 
 assume. 
 
 “Saint Bees! — La, who but a madman — beg- 
 ging your honour’s pardon —it’s a matter of twenty 
 years since fader lived at Saint Bees, which is twenty, 
 or forty, or I dunna know not how many miles from 
 this part, to the West, on the coast-side; and I 
 would not have left Saint Bees, but that fader ”’ 
 
 “Qh, the devil take your father!” replied I. 
 
 To which she answered, “Nay, but thof your 
 honour be a little how-come-so, you shouldn’t damn 
 folk’s faders; and I won’t stand to it, for one.” 
 
 “Oh, I beg you a thousand pardons —I wish 
 
 
 
280 REDGAUNTLET., 
 
 your father no ill in the world —he was a very 
 honest man in his way.” 
 
 “ Was an honest man!” she exclaimed; for the 
 Cumbrians are, it would seem, like their neighbours 
 the Scotch, ticklish on the point of ancestry, — “ He 
 is a very honest man, as ever led nag with halter on 
 head to Staneshaw-Bank Fair — Honest !— He is a 
 horse-couper.” 
 
 “Right, right,” I replied; “I know it—TI have 
 heard of your father—as honest as any horse- 
 couper of them all. Why, Dorcas, I mean to buy 
 a horse of him.” 
 
 “Ah, your honour,” sighed Dorcas, “he is the 
 man to serve your honour well —if ever you should 
 get round again —or, thof you were a bit off the 
 hooks, he would no more cheat you than” 
 
 “Well, well, we will deal, my girl, you may 
 depend on’t. But tell me now, were I to give you 
 a letter, what would you do to get it forward ?” 
 
 “Why, put it into Squire’s own bag that hangs in 
 hall,’ answered poor Dorcas. “What else could I 
 do? He sends it to Brampton, or to Carloisle, 
 or where it pleases him, once a-week, and that 
 gate.” 
 
 “Ah!” said I; “and I suppose your sweetheart 
 John carries it ?” 
 
 “Noa — disn’t now —and Jan is no sweetheart 
 of mine, ever since he danced at his mother’s feast 
 with Kitty Rutledge, and let me sit still; that a 
 did.” 
 
 “Tt was most abominable in Jan, and what I could 
 never have thought of him,” I replied. 
 
 “QO, but a did though —a let me sit still on my 
 seat, a did.” 
 
 “Well, well, my pretty May, you will get a 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 281 
 
 handsomer fellow than Jan —Jan’s not the fellow 
 for you, I see that.” 
 
 “Noa, noa,” answered the damsel; “but he is 
 weel aneugh for a’ that, mon. But I carena a 
 button for him; for there is the miller’s son, that 
 suitored me last Appleby Fair, when I went wi’ 
 oncle, is a gway canny lad as you will see in the 
 sunshine.” 
 
 “ Ay, a fine stout fellow — Do you think he would 
 carry my letter to Carlisle?” 
 
 “To Carloisle! ’Twould be all his life is worth; 
 he maun wait on clap and hopper, as they say. 
 Odd, his father would brain him if he went to 
 Carloisle, bating to wrestling for the belt, or sic 
 loike. But I ha’ more bachelors than him; there 
 is the schoolmaster can write almaist as weel as 
 tou canst, mon.” 
 
 “Then he is the very man to take charge of a 
 letter; he knows the trouble of writing one.” 
 
 “Ay, marry does he, an tou comest to that, mon ; 
 only it takes him four hours to write as mony lines. 
 Tan, it is a great round hand loike, that one can 
 read easily, and not loike your honour’s, that are 
 like midge’s taes. But for ganging to Carloisle, 
 he’s dead foundered, man, as cripple as Eckie’s 
 mear.” 
 
 “In the name of God,” said I, “how is it that you 
 propose to get my letter to the post?” 
 
 “Why, just to put it into Squire’s bag loike,” 
 reiterated Dorcas; “he sends it by Cristal Nixon 
 to post, as you call it, when such is his pleasure.” 
 
 Here I was then, not much edified by having 
 obtained a list of Dorcas’s bachelors; and by find- 
 ing myself with respect to any information which I 
 desired, just exactly at the point where I set out. 
 
282 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 It was of consequence to me, however, to accus- 
 tom the girl to converse with me familiarly. If she 
 did so, she could not always be on her guard, and 
 something, I thought, might drop from her which 
 I could turn to advantage. 
 
 “Does not the Squire usually look into his 
 letter-bag, Dorcas?” said I, with as much indif- 
 ference as I could assume. 
 
 “That a does,” said Dorcas; “and a threw out a 
 letter of mine to Raff Miller, because a said” 
 
 “Well, well, I won’t trouble him with mine,” 
 said I, “Dorcas; but, instead, I will write to him- 
 self, Dorcas. But how shall I address him 2” 
 
 “Anan ?” was again Dorcas’s resource. 
 
 “T mean how is he called ?—— What is his name?” 
 
 “Sure your honour should know best,” said 
 Dorcas. 
 
 “T know ?— The devil!— You drive me beyond 
 patience.” 
 
 “ Noa, noa! donna your honour go beyond patience 
 — donna ye now,” implored the wench. “And for 
 his neame, they say he has mair nor ane in West- 
 moreland and on the Scottish side. But he is but 
 seldom wi’ us, excepting in the cocking season; and 
 then we just call him Squoire loike; and so do my 
 measter and dame.” 
 
 “ And is he here at present?” said I. 
 
 “Not he, not he; he is a buck-hoonting, as they 
 tell me, somewhere up the Patterdale way; but he 
 comes and gangs like a flap of a whirlwind, or sic 
 loike.” 
 
 I broke off the conversation, after forcing on 
 Dorcas a little silver to buy ribbons, with which 
 she was so much delighted, that she exclaimed, 
 “God! Cristal Nixon may say his worst on thee; 
 
 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 283 
 
 but thou art a civil gentleman for all him; and a 
 quoit man wi’ woman folk loike.” 
 
 There is no sense in being too quiet with women 
 folk, so I added a kiss with my crown piece; and I 
 cannot help thinking, that I have secured a parti- 
 san in Dorcas. At least she blushed, and pocketed 
 her little compliment with one hand, while, with 
 the other, she adjusted her cherry-coloured ribbons, 
 a little disordered by the struggle it cost me to 
 attain the honour of a salute. 
 
 As she unlocked the door to leave the apartment, 
 she turned back, and looking on me with a strong 
 expression of compassion, added the remarkable 
 words, “ La—pbe’st mad or no, thou’se a mettled 
 lad, after all.” 
 
 There was something very ominous in the sound 
 of these farewell words, which seemed to afford me 
 a clew to the pretext under which I was detained 
 in confinement. My demeanour was probably insane 
 enough, while I was agitated at once by the frenzy 
 incident to the fever, and the anxiety arising from 
 my extraordinary situation. But is it possible they 
 can now establish any cause for confining me, aris- 
 ing out of the state of my mind ? 
 
 If this be really the pretext under which I am 
 restrained from my liberty, nothing but the sedate 
 correctness of my conduct can remove the preju- 
 dices which these circumstances may have excited 
 in the minds of all who have approached me during 
 my illness. I have heard — dreadful thought !— of 
 men who, for various reasons, have been trepanned 
 into the custody of the keepers of private madhouses, 
 and whose brain, after years of misery, became at 
 length unsettled, through irresistible sympathy with 
 the wretched beings among whom they were classed. 
 
284 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 This shall not be my case, if, by strong internal reso- 
 lution, it is in human nature to avoid the action of 
 exterior and contagious sympathies. 
 
 Meantime I sat down to compose and arrange 
 my thoughts, for my purposed appeal to my jailer 
 —so I must call him—whom I addressed in the 
 following manner; having at length, and after 
 making several copies, found language to qualify 
 the sense of resentment which burned in the first 
 draughts of my letter, and endeavoured to assume a 
 tone more conciliating. I mentioned the two occa- 
 sions on which he had certainly saved my life, when 
 at the utmost peril; and I added, that whatever 
 was the purpose of the restraint now practised on 
 me, as I was given to understand, by his authority, 
 it could not certainly be with any view to ultimately 
 injuring me. He might, I said, have mistaken me 
 for some other person; and I gave him what account 
 I could of my situation and education, to correct such 
 anerror. I supposed it next possible, that he might 
 think me too weak for travelling, and not capable of 
 taking care of myself; and I begged to assure him, 
 that I was restored to perfect health, and quite 
 able to endure the fatigue of a journey. Lastly, I 
 reminded him in firm though measured terms, that 
 the restraint which I sustained was an illegal one, 
 and highly punishable by the laws which protect 
 the liberties of the subject. I ended by demanding, 
 that he would take me before a magistrate; or, at 
 least, that he would favour me with a personal 
 interview, and explain his meaning with regard 
 to me. 
 
 Perhaps this letter was expressed in a tone too 
 humble for the situation of an injured man, and I 
 am inclined to think so when I again recapitulate 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 285 
 
 its tenor. But what could I do? I was in the 
 power of one whose passions seem as violent as his 
 means of gratifying them appear unbounded. I 
 had reason, too, to believe [this to thee, Alan] that 
 all his family did not approve of the violence of 
 his conduct towards me; my object, in fine, was 
 freedom, and who would not sacrifice much to 
 attain it ? 
 
 I had no means of addressing my letter except- 
 ing, “For the Squire’s own hand.” He could be 
 at no great distance, for in the course of twenty- 
 four hours I received an answer. It was addressed 
 to Darsie Latimer, and contained these words: — 
 “You have demanded an interview with me. You 
 have required to be carried before a magistrate. 
 Your first wish shall be granted — perhaps the 
 second also. Meanwhile, be assured that you are 
 a prisoner for the time, by competent authority, 
 and that such authority is supported by adequate 
 power. Beware, therefore, of struggling with a force 
 sufficient to crush you, but abandon yourself to that 
 train of events by which we are both swept along, 
 and which it is impossible that either of us can 
 resist.” 
 
 These mysterious words were without signature 
 of any kind, and left me nothing more important 
 to do than to prepare myself for the meeting which 
 they promised. For that purpose I must now break 
 off, and make sure of the manuscript, — so far as I 
 can, in my present condition, be sure of any thing, — 
 by concealing it within the lining of my coat, so as 
 not to be found without strict search. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LATIMERS JOURNAL, IN CONTINUATION. 
 
 THE important interview expected at the conclusion 
 of my last took place sooner than I had calculated ; 
 for the very day I received the letter, and just 
 when my dinner was finished, the Squire, or what- 
 ever he is called, entered the room so suddenly, 
 that I almost thought I beheld an apparition. The 
 figure of this man is peculiarly noble and stately, 
 and his voice has that deep fulness of accent which 
 implies unresisted authority. I had risen involun- 
 tarily as he entered; we gazed on each other for a 
 moment in silence, which was at length broken by 
 my visitor. 
 
 “You have desired to see me,’ he said. “I am 
 here; if you have aught to say, let me hear it; 
 my time is too brief to be consumed in childish 
 dumb-show.” 
 
 “T would ask of you,” said I, “by what authority 
 I am detained in this place of confinement, and for 
 what purpose ?” 
 
 “TI have told you already,” said he, “that my 
 authority is sufficient, and my power equal to it; 
 this is all which it is necessary for you at present 
 to know.” 
 
 “Every British subject has a right to know why 
 he suffers restraint,” I replied; “nor can he be 
 deprived of liberty without a legal warrant — Show 
 me that by which you confine me thus.” 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 287 
 
 “ You shall see more,’ he said; “you shall see 
 the magistrate by whom it is granted, and that 
 without a moment’s delay.” 
 
 This sudden proposal fluttered and alarmed me; 
 I felt, nevertheless, that I had the right cause, and 
 resolved to plead it boldly, although I could well 
 have desired a little further time for preparation. 
 He turned, however, threw open the door of the 
 apartment, and commanded me to follow him. I 
 felt some inclination, when I crossed the threshold 
 of my prison-chamber, to have turned and run for 
 it; but I knew not where to find the stairs — had 
 reason to think the outer-doors would be secured 
 —and, to conclude, so soon as I had quitted the 
 room to follow the proud step of my conductor, 
 I observed that I was dogged by Cristal Nixon, 
 who suddenly appeared within two paces of me, and 
 with whose great personal strength, independent of 
 the assistance he might have received from his 
 master, I saw no chance of contending. I therefore 
 followed, unresistingly, and in silence, along one or 
 two passages of much greater length than consisted 
 with the ideas I had previously entertained of the 
 size of the house. At length a door was flung 
 open, and we entered a large, old-fashioned parlour, 
 having coloured glass in the windows, oaken panel- 
 ling on the wall, a huge grate, in which a large 
 fagot or two smoked under an arched chimneypiece 
 of stone, which bore some armorial device, whilst 
 the walls were adorned with the usual number of 
 heroes. in armour, with large wigs instead of hel- 
 mets, and ladies in sacques, smelling to nosegays. 
 
 Behind a long table, on which were several books, 
 sat a smart underbred-looking man, wearing his 
 own hair tied in a club, and who, from the quire of 
 
288 REDGAUNTLET, 
 
 paper laid before him, and the pen which he handled 
 at my entrance, seemed prepared to officiate as clerk. 
 As I wish to describe these persons as accurately 
 as possible, I may add, he wore a dark-coloured 
 coat, corduroy breeches, and spatterdashes. At the 
 upper end of the same table, in an ample easy-chair, 
 covered with black leather, reposed a fat personage, 
 about fifty years old, who either was actually a 
 country justice, or was well selected to represent 
 such a character. His leathern breeches were fault- 
 less in make, his jockey boots spotless in the 
 varnish, and a handsome and flourishing pair of 
 boot-garters, as they are called, united the one part 
 of his garments to the other; in fine, a richly-laced 
 scarlet waistcoat, and a purple coat, set off the neat 
 though corpulent figure of the little man, and threw 
 an additional bloom upon his plethoric aspect. I 
 suppose he had dined, for it was two hours past 
 noon, and he was amusing himself, and aiding diges- 
 tion, with a pipe of tobacco. There was an air 
 of importance in his manner which corresponded to 
 the rural dignity of his exterior, and a habit which 
 he had of throwing out a number of interjectional 
 sounds, uttered with a strange variety of intonation, 
 running from bass up to treble in a very extraor- 
 dinary manner, or breaking off his sentences with 
 a whiff of his pipe, seemed adopted to give an air 
 of thought and mature deliberation to his opinions 
 and decisions. Notwithstanding all this, Alan, it 
 might be dooted, as our old Professor used to say, 
 whether the Justice was any thing more than an 
 ass. Certainly, besides a great deference for the 
 legal opinion of his clerk, which might be quite 
 according to the order of things,he seemed to be 
 wonderfully under the command of his brother 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 289 
 
 Squire, if squire either of them were, and indeed 
 much more than was consistent with so much 
 assumed consequence of his own. 
 
 “ Ho — ha—ay — so — so — Hum — humph — 
 this is the young man, I suppose — Hum — ay — 
 seems sickly — Young gentleman, you may sit 
 down.” 
 
 I used the permission given, for I had been much 
 more reduced by my illness than I was aware of, 
 and felt myself really fatigued, even by the few 
 paces I had walked, joined to the agitation I 
 suffered. 
 
 “And your name, young man, is — humph —ay 
 — ha— what is it ?” 
 
 “Darsie Latimer.” 
 
 “Right — ay — humph — very right. Darsie 
 Latimer is the very thing — ha — ay — where do 
 you come from ?” 
 
 “From Scotland, sir,” I replied. 
 
 “‘ A native of Scotland — a — humph — eh — how 
 is it?” 
 
 “Tam an Englishman by birth, sir.” 
 
 “Right — ay —yes, you are so. But pray, Mr. 
 Darsie Latimer, have you always been called by 
 that name, or have you any other ?— Nick, write 
 down his answers, Nick.” 
 
 “ As far as I remember, I never bore any other,” 
 was my answer. 
 
 “ How, no?— well I should not have thought so 
 — Hey, neighbour, would you?” 
 
 Here he looked towards the other Squire, who 
 had thrown himself into a chair; and, with his legs 
 stretched out before him, and his arms folded on 
 his bosom, seemed carelessly attending to what was 
 going forward. He answered the appeal of the 
 
 VOL. I.— 19 
 
290 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 Justice by saying, that perhaps the young man’s 
 memory did not go back to a very early period. 
 
 «“ Ah —eh— ha — you hear the gentleman — 
 Pray, how far may your memory be pleased to run 
 back to ?— umph ?” 
 
 “Perhaps, sir, to the age of three years, or a 
 httle farther.” 
 
 “And will you presume to say, sir,” said the 
 Squire, drawing himself suddenly erect in his seat, 
 and exerting the strength of his powerful voice, 
 “that you then bore your present name?” 
 
 I was startled at the confidence with which this 
 question was put, and in vain rummaged my memory 
 for the means of replying. “At least,” I said, “I 
 always remember being called Darsie; children, at 
 that early age, seldom get more than their Chris- 
 tian name.” 
 
 “O,I thought so,” he replied, and again stretched 
 himself on his seat, in the same lounging posture as 
 before. 
 
 “So you were called Darsie in your infancy,’ 
 said the Justice ; “and hum — ay — when did you 
 first take the name of Latimer ?” 
 
 “T did not take it, sir; it was given to me.” 
 
 “T ask you,” said the lord of the mansion, but 
 with less severity in his voice than formerly, 
 “whether you can remember that you were ever 
 called Latimer, until you had that name given you 
 in Scotland ?” 
 
 “J will be candid; I cannot recollect an instance 
 that I was so called when in England, but neither 
 can I recollect when the name was first given me; 
 and if any thing is to be founded on these queries 
 and my answers, I desire my early childhood may 
 be taken into consideration.” 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 291 
 
 “Hum — ay — yes,” said the Justice; “all that 
 requires consideration shall be duly considered. 
 Young man — eh—I beg to know the name of your 
 father and mother ?” 
 
 This was galling a wound that has festered for 
 years, and I did not endure the question so patiently 
 as those which preceded it; but replied, “I demand, 
 in my turn, to know if I am before an English 
 Justice of the Peace?” 
 
 “His worship Squire Foxley, of Foxley Hall, has 
 been of the quorum these twenty years,” said 
 Master Nicholas. 
 
 “Then he ought to know, or you, sir, as his 
 clerk, should inform him,” said J, “that I am the 
 complainer in this case, and that my complaint 
 ought to be heard before I am subjected to cross- 
 examination.” 
 
 “ Humph — hoy — what, ay — there is something 
 in that, neighbour,” said the poor Justice, who, blown 
 about by every wind of doctrine, seemed desirous to 
 attain the sanction of his brother Squire. 
 
 “T wonder at you, Foxley,” said his firm-minded 
 acquaintance; “how can you render the young man 
 justice unless you know who he is?” 
 
 “ Ha — yes — egad that’s true,” said Mr. Justice 
 Foxley; “and now — looking into the matter more 
 closely — there is, eh, upon the whole — nothing at 
 all in what he says —so, sir, you must tell your 
 father’s name, and surname.” 
 
 “Tt is out of my power, sir; they are not known 
 to me, since you must needs know so much of my 
 private affairs.” 
 
 The Justice collected a great affatus in his 
 cheeks, which puffed them up like those of a Dutch 
 - cherub, while his eyes seemed flying out of his head, 
 
292 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 from the effort with which he retained his breath. 
 He then blew it forth with, — “ Whew !— Hoom — 
 poof —ha!—not know your parents, youngster ? 
 — Then I must commit you for a vagrant, I warrant 
 you. Omne ignotum pro terribili, as we used to say 
 at Appleby school; that is, every one that is not 
 known to the Justice, is a rogue and a vagabond. 
 Ha !—ay, you may sneer, sir; but I question if you 
 would have known the meaning of that Latin unless 
 I had told you.” 
 
 I acknowledged myself obliged for a new edition 
 of the adage, and an interpretation which I could 
 never have reached alone and unassisted. I then 
 proceeded to state my case with greater confidence. 
 The Justice was an ass, that was clear; but it was 
 scarcely possible he could be so utterly ignorant as 
 not to know what was necessary in so plain a case 
 as mine. I therefore informed him of the riot which 
 had been committed on the Scottish side of the Sol- 
 way Frith; explained how I came to be placed in 
 my present situation; and requested of his worship 
 to set me at liberty. I pleaded my cause with as 
 much earnestness as I could, casting an eye from 
 time to time upon the opposite party, who seemed 
 entirely indifferent to all the animation with which 
 I accused him. 
 
 As for the Justice, when at length I had ceased, 
 as really not knowing what more to say in a case 
 so very plain, he replied, “ Ho — ay —ay — yes — 
 wonderful! and so this is all the gratitude you 
 show to this good gentleman for the great charge 
 and trouble he hath had with respect to and con- 
 cerning of you?” 
 
 “He saved my life, sir, I acknowledge, on one 
 occasion certainly, and most probably on two; but 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 203 
 
 his having done so gives him no right over my 
 person. I am not, however, asking for any punish- 
 ment or revenge; on the contrary, | am content to 
 part friends with the gentleman, whose motives 
 I am unwilling to suppose are bad, though his 
 actions have been, towards me, unauthorized and 
 violent.” 
 
 This moderation, Alan, thou wilt comprehend, 
 was not entirely dictated by my feelings towards 
 the individual of whom I complained ; there were 
 other reasons, in which regard for him had little 
 share. It seemed, however, as if the mildness with 
 which I pleaded my cause had more effect upon 
 him than any thing I had yet said. He was moved 
 to the point of being almost out of countenance ; 
 and took snuff repeatedly, as if to gain time to 
 stifle some degree of emotion. 
 
 But on Justice Foxley, on whom my eloquence 
 was particularly designed to make impression, the 
 result was much less favourable. He consulted in 
 a whisper with Mr. Nicholas his clerk — pshawed, 
 hemmed, and elevated his eyebrows, as if in scorn 
 of my supplication. At length, having apparently 
 made up his mind, he leaned back in his chair, and 
 smoked his pipe with great energy, with a look of 
 defiance, designed to make me aware that all my 
 reasoning was lost on him. 
 
 At length, when I stopped, more from lack 
 of breath than want of argument, he opened his 
 oracular jaws, and made the following reply, inter- 
 rupted by his usual interjectional ejaculations, and 
 by long volumes of smoke: — “Hem — ay — eh — 
 poof — And, youngster, do you think Matthew Fox- 
 ley, who has been one of the quorum for these 
 twenty years, is to be come over with such trash as 
 
294 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 would hardly cheat an apple-woman ? — Poof — 
 poof —eh! Why, man — eh — dost thou not 
 know the charge is not a bailable matter — and 
 that — hum — ay — the greatest man — poof — 
 the Baron of Graystock himself, must stand com- 
 mitted? and yet you pretend to have been 
 kidnapped by this gentleman, and robbed of pro- 
 perty, and what not; and — eh — poof — you 
 would persuade me all you want is to get away 
 from him ?—I do believe — eh — that it zs all 
 you want. Therefore, as you are a sort of a slip- 
 string gentleman, and — ay — hum —a kind of idle 
 apprentice, and something cockbrained withal, as 
 the honest folk of the house tell me — why, you 
 must e’en remain under custody of your guardian, 
 till your coming of age, or my Lord Chancellor’s 
 warrant, shall give you the management of your 
 own affairs, which, if you can gather your brains 
 again, you will even then not be — ay — hem — 
 poof —in particular haste to assume.” 
 
 The time occupied by his worship’s hums, and 
 haws, and puffs of tobacco smoke, together with the 
 slow and pompous manner in which he spoke, gave 
 me a minute’s space to collect my ideas, dispersed 
 as they were by the extraordinary purport of this 
 annunciation. 
 
 “TI cannot conceive, sir,” I repled, “by what 
 singular tenure this person claims my obedience as 
 a guardian; it is a barefaced imposture —I never 
 in my life saw him, until I came unhappily to this 
 country, about four weeks since.” 
 
 “ Ay, sir, — we — eh — know, and are aware — 
 that — poof — you do not like to hear some folk’s 
 names; and that — eh — you understand me — 
 there are things, and sounds, and matters, conversa- 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 295 
 
 tion about names, and such like, which put you off 
 the hooks — which I have no humour to witness. 
 Nevertheless, Mr. Darsie — or — poof — Mr. Darsie 
 Latimer — or — poof, poof —eh—ay, Mr. Darsie 
 without the Latimer— you have acknowledged as 
 much to-day as assures me you will best be disposed 
 of under the honourable care of my friend here — 
 all your confessions — besides that — poof —eh —I 
 know him to be a most responsible person — a — 
 hay — ay — most responsible and honourable 
 person — Can you deny this ?” 
 
 “T know nothing of him,” I repeated; “not even 
 his name; and I have not, as I told you, seen him 
 in the course of my whole life, till a few weeks 
 since.” 
 
 “Will you swear to that?” said the singular 
 man, who seemed to await the result of this debate, 
 secure as a rattlesnake is of the prey which has 
 once felt its fascination. And while he said these 
 words in a deep under-tone, he withdrew his chair a 
 little behind that of the Justice, so as to be unseen 
 by him or his clerk, who sat upon the same side; 
 while he bent on me a frown so portentous, that 
 no one who has witnessed the look can forget it 
 during the whole of his life. The furrows of the 
 brow above the eyes became livid and almost black, 
 and were bent into a semicircular, or rather ellip- 
 tical form, above the junction of the eyebrows. I 
 had heard such a look described in an old tale of 
 diablerie, which it was my chance to be entertained 
 with not long since; when this deep and gloomy 
 contortion of the frontal muscles was not unaptly 
 described, as forming the representation of a small 
 horseshoe. 
 
 The tale, when told, awaked a dreadful vision 
 
296 REDGAUNTLET. 
 
 of infancy, which the withering and blighting look 
 now fixed on me again forced on my recollection, 
 but with much more vivacity. Indeed I was so 
 much surprised, and, Il must add, terrified, at the 
 vague ideas which were awakened in my mind by 
 this fearful sign, that I kept my eyes fixed on the 
 face in which it was exhibited, as on a frightful 
 vision; until, passing his handkerchief a moment 
 across his countenance, this mysterious man relaxed 
 at once the look which had for me something so 
 appalling. “The young man will no longer deny 
 that he has seen me before,” said he to the Justice, 
 in a tone of complacency; “and I trust he will now 
 be reconciled to my temporary guardianship, which 
 may end better for him than he expects.” 
 
 “ Whatever I expect,’ I replied, summoning my 
 scattered recollections together, “I see [am neither 
 to expect justice nor protection from this gentle- 
 man, whose office it is to render both to the lieges. 
 For you, sir, how strangely you have wrought your- 
 self into the fate of an unhappy young man, or 
 what interest you can pretend in me, you yourself 
 only can explain. That I have seen you before, is 
 certain: for none can forget the look with which 
 you seem to have the power of blighting those 
 upon whom you cast it.” 
 
 The Justice seemed not very easy under this 
 hint. “Ho!— ay,” he said; “it is time to be going, 
 neighbour. I have a many miles to ride, and I care 
 not to ride darkling in these parts. — You and I, 
 Mr. Nicholas, must be jogging.” 
 
 The Justice fumbled with his gloves, in endea- 
 vouring to draw them on hastily, and Mr. Nicholas 
 bustled to get his great-coat and whip. Their land- 
 lord endeavoured to detain them, and spoke of 
 
REDGAUNTLET. 297 
 
 supper and beds. Both pouring forth many thanks 
 for his invitation, seemed as if they would much 
 rather not; and Mr. Justice Foxley was making a 
 score of apologies, with at least a hundred cautionary 
 hems and eh-ehs, when the girl Dorcas burst into 
 the room, and announced a gentleman on justice 
 business. 
 
 “What gentleman ?— and whom does he want ?” 
 
 “He is cuome post on his ten toes,’ said the 
 wench; “and on justice business to his worship 
 loike. Tse uphald him a gentleman, for he speaks 
 as good Latin as the schulemeaster; but, lack-a- 
 day! he has gotten a queer mop of a wig.” 
 
 The gentleman, thus announced and described, 
 bounced into the room. But I have already writ- 
 ten as much as fills a sheet of my paper, and my 
 singular embarrassments press so hard on me, that 
 I have matter to fill another from what followed 
 the intrusion of — my dear Alan — your crazy client 
 — Poor Peter Peebles ! 
 

 
AUTHOR'S NOTES. 
 
 Note I., p. 109. 
 
 In explanation of this circumstance, I cannot help adding a 
 note not very necessary for the reader, which yet I record with 
 pleasure, from recollection of the kindness which it evinces. 
 In early youth I resided for a considerable time in the vicinity 
 of the beautiful village of Kelso, where my life passed in a 
 very solitary manner. I had few acquaintances, scarce any 
 companions, and books, which were at the time almost essen- 
 tial to my happiness, were difficult to come by. It was then 
 that I was particularly indebted to the liberality and friend- 
 ship of an old lady of the Society of Friends, eminent for 
 her benevolence and charity. Her deceased husband had 
 been a medical man of eminence, and left her, with other 
 valuable property, a small and well-selected library. This 
 the kind old lady permitted me to rummage at pleasure, and 
 carry home what volumes I chose, on condition that I should 
 take, at the same time, some of the tracts printed for encour- 
 aging and extending the doctrines of her own sect. She did 
 not even exact any assurance that I would read these per- 
 formances, being too justly afraid of involving me in a breach 
 of promise, but was merely desirous that I should have the 
 chance of instruction within my reach, in case whim, curios- 
 ity, or accident, might induce me to have recourse to it. 
 
 Note II., p. 165. 
 
 The personages here mentioned are most of them characters 
 of historical fame ; but those less known and remembered may 
 be found in the tract entitled, “The Judgment and Justice of 
 God Exemplified, or, a Brief Historical Account of some of 
 the Wicked Lives and Miserable Deaths of some of the most 
 
300 AUTHOR’S NOTES. 
 
 remarkable Apostates and Bloody Persecutors, from the Refor- 
 mation till after the Revolution.” This constitutes a sort of 
 postscript or appendix to John Howie of Lochgoin’s *‘ Account 
 of the Lives of the most eminent Scots Worthies.” The 
 author has, with considerable ingenuity, reversed his reasoning 
 upon the inference to be drawn from the prosperity or mis- 
 fortunes which befall individuals in this world, either in the 
 course of their lives or in the hour of death. In the account 
 of the martyrs’ sufferings, such inflictions are mentioned only 
 as trials permitted by Providence, for the better and brighter 
 display of their faith, and constancy ot principle. But when 
 similar afflictions befell the opposite party, they are imputed 
 to the direct vengeance of Heaven upon their impiety. If, 
 indeed, the life of any person obnoxious to the historian’s cen- 
 sures happened to have passed in unusual prosperity, the mere 
 fact of its being finally concluded by death, is assumed as an 
 undeniable token of the judgment of Heaven, and, to render 
 the conclusion inevitable, his last scene is generally garnished 
 with some singular circumstances. Thus the Duke of Lau- 
 derdale is said, through old age but immense corpulence, to 
 have become so sunk in spirits, ‘‘ that his heart was not the 
 bigness of a walnut.” 
 
 Note III., p. 172. 
 
 I have heard in my youth some such wild tale as that placed 
 in the mouth of the blind fiddler, of which, I think, the hero 
 was Sir Robert Grierson of Lagg, the famous persecutor. But 
 the belief was general throughout Scotland, that the excessive 
 lamentation over the loss of friends disturbed the repose of the 
 dead, and broke even the rest of the grave. There are several 
 instances of this in tradition, but one struck me particularly, 
 as I heard it from the lips of one who professed receiving it 
 from those of a ghost-seer. This was a Highland lady, named 
 Mrs. C of B , who probably believed firmly in the truth 
 of an apparition, which seems to have originated in the weak- 
 ness of her nerves and strength of her imagination. She had 
 been lately left a widow by her husband, with the office of 
 guardian to their only child. The young man added to the 
 difficulties of his charge by an extreme propensity for a mili- 
 tary life, which his mother was unwilling to give way to, while 
 
 
 
 
 
AUTHOR’S NOTES. 301 
 
 she found it impossible to repressit. About this time the Inde- 
 pendent Companies, formed for the preservation of the peace 
 of the Highlands, were in the course of being levied; and as a 
 gentleman named Cameron, nearly connected with Mrs. C ; 
 commanded one of those companies, she was at length per- 
 suaded to compromise the matter with her son, by permitting 
 him to enter this company in the capacity of a cadet ; thus 
 gratifying his love of a military life without the dangers of 
 foreign service, to which no one then thought these troops 
 were at all liable to be exposed, while even their active service 
 at home was not likely to be attended with much danger. 
 She readily obtained a promise from her relative that he 
 would be particular in his attention to her son, and there- 
 fore concluded she had accommodated matters between her 
 son’s wishes and his safety in a way sufficiently attentive to 
 both. She set off to Edinburgh to get what was awanting for 
 his outfit, and shortly afterwards received melancholy news 
 from the Highlands. The Independent Company into which 
 her son was to enter had a skirmish with a party of catherans 
 engaged in some act of spoil, and her friend the Captain being 
 wounded, and out of the reach of medical assistance, died in 
 consequence. This news was a thunderbolt to the poor mother, 
 who was at once deprived of her kinsman’s advice and assist- 
 ance, and instructed by his fate of the unexpected danger to 
 ’ which her son’s new calling exposed him. She remained also 
 in great sorrow for her relative, whom she loved with sisterly 
 affection. These conflicting causes of anxiety, together with 
 her uncertainty whether to continue or change her son’s desti- 
 nation, were terminated in the following manner : — 
 
 The house in which Mrs. C resided in the old town of 
 Edinburgh, was a flat or story’of a land, accessible, as was 
 then universal, by a common stair. The family who occupied 
 the story beneath were her acquaintances, and she was in the 
 habit of drinking tea with them every evening. It was 
 accordingly about six o’clock, when, recovering herself from a 
 deep fit of anxious reflection, she was about to leave the par- 
 lour in which she sat in order to attend this engagement. The 
 door through which she was to pass opened, as was very com- 
 mon in Edinburgh, into a dark passage. In this passage, and 
 within a yard of her when she opened the door, stood the 
 apparition of her kinsman, the deceased officer, in his full 
 tartans, and wearing his bonnet. Terrified at what she saw, 
 
 
 
 
 
302 AUTHOR’S NOTES. 
 
 or thought she saw, she closed the door hastily, and, sinking 
 on her knees by a chair, prayed to be delivered from the hor- 
 rors of the vision. She remained in that posture till her 
 friends below tapped on the floor to intimate that tea was 
 ready. Recalled to herself by the signal, she arose, and, on 
 opening the apartment door, again was confronted by the vis- 
 ionary Highlander, whose bloody brow bore token, on this 
 second appearance, to the death he had died. Unable to endure 
 this repetition of her terrors, Mrs. C sunk on the floor in a 
 swoon. Her friends below, startled with the noise, came up 
 stairs, and, alarmed at the situation in which they found her, 
 insisted on her going to bed and taking some medicine, in order 
 to compose what they took for a nervous attack. They had no 
 sooner left her in quiet, than the apparition of the soldier was 
 once more visible in the apartment. This time she took courage 
 and said, ‘‘ In the name of God, Donald, why do you haunt 
 one who respected and loved you when living ?’’ To which he 
 answered readily, in Gaelic, “ Cousin, why did you not speak 
 sooner? My rest is disturbed by your unnecessary lamenta- 
 tion — your tears scald me in my shroud. I come to tell you 
 that my untimely death ought to make no difference in your 
 views for your son; God will raise patrons to supply my place, 
 and he will live to the fulness of years, and die honoured and 
 at peace.” The lady of course followed her kinsman’s advice ; 
 and as she was accounted a person of strict veracity, we may 
 conclude the first apparition an illusion of the fancy, the final 
 one a lively dream suggested by the other two. 
 
 
 
 Note IV., p. 199. — PETER PEEBLES. 
 
 This unfortunate litigant (for a person named Peter Peebles 
 actually flourished) frequented the courts of justice in Scot- 
 land about the year 1792, and the sketch of his appearance is 
 given from recollection. The author is of opinion that he him- 
 self had at one time the honour to be counsel for Peter Peebles, 
 whose voluminous course of litigation served as a sort of assay- 
 pieces to most young men who were called to the bar. The 
 scene of the consultation is entirely imaginary. 
 
AUTHOR’S NOTES. 303 
 
 Note V., p. 274. — Riorous ATTACK UPON THE DaM-DIKE 
 oF Sir JAMES GRAHAM OF NETHERBY. 
 
 It may be here mentioned, that a violent and popular attack 
 upon what the country people of this district considered as an 
 invasion of their fishing right, is by no means an improbable 
 fiction. Shortly after the close of the American war, Sir James 
 Graham of Netherby constructed a dam-dike, or cauld, across 
 the Esk, at a place where it flowed through his estate, though 
 it has its origin, and the principal part of its course, in Scotland. 
 The new barrier at Netherby was considered as an encroach- 
 ment calculated to prevent the salmon from ascending into 
 Scotland ; and the right of erecting it being an international 
 question of law betwixt the sister kingdoms, there was no court 
 in either competent to its decision. In this dilemma, the Scots 
 people assembled in numbers by signal of rocket lights, and, 
 rudely armed with fowling-pieces, fishspears, and such rustic 
 weapons, marched to the banks of the river for the purpose of 
 pulling down the dam-dike objected to. Sir James Graham 
 armed many of his own people to protect his property, and had 
 some military from Carlisle for the same purpose. A renewal 
 of the Border wars had nearly taken place in the eighteenth 
 century, when prudence and moderation on both sides saved 
 ‘much tumult, and perhaps some bloodshed. The English 
 proprietor consented that a breach should be made in his dam- 
 dike sufficient for the passage of the fish, and thus removed the 
 Scottish grievance. I believe the river has since that time 
 taken the matter into its own disposal, and entirely swept 
 away the dam-dike in question. | 
 
dps ad : 
 ™, at # ah we re 
 
 q is 
 [ail ie 
 
 n 
 
 A a a i? 
 iy masa? , J 
 Ay Par | i 
 
 
 
EDITOR’S NOTES. 
 
 (a) p. xxiv. “Such censures were by no means frequent 
 among those of his followers, who... had the best right to 
 complain.” The chief censors of the Prince are the Chevalier 
 Johnstone, in his Memoirs; Lord Elcho, in his unpublished 
 manuscript ; and Dr. King, in his “ Anecdotes.” The Doctor 
 probably wished to justify his change of sides; the Chevalier 
 Johnstone was absurdly vain, and far from unimpeachably 
 truthful ; Lord Elcho had lent Charles fifteen hundred guineas, 
 which, as far as can be ascertained, were never repaid. It must 
 be confessed, however, that after landing in France, Charles 
 seems to have neglected the men and women who saved his 
 life in Scotland, at the risk of their own. We never hear that 
 he wrote to Flora Macdonald, or provided in any way for poor 
 Ned Burke. As long as he was among them, he was grateful, 
 considerate, chivalrously courteous, generous out of his scanty 
 means, and so honest that he left money to pay for some dried 
 fish which he and his companions found on a desert island 
 occasionally occupied by fishers. When he had once crossed 
 over to Morbihan, Charles became a changed man. We hear 
 of his sumptuous costume, of a splendid service of plate which 
 he bought ; we do not hear that he remembered his Highland 
 friends. On the other hand, he himself was soon in great 
 straits. He refused to accept a pension from France. On May 
 22, 1747, Mr. John Graeme writes to King James that the 
 Prince is hard put to it by the demands of the exiles: “at the 
 same time, I don’t see how the Prince himself with his family 
 will be able to subsist, seeing no visible fund he has for that 
 purpose.” “You would not be in want had you accepted of 
 the French pension,” the King writes to Charles on June 13, 
 1747. It appears, from various passages in this letter, that, 
 even had the Duke of York not accepted the Cardinal’s hat, he 
 was unlikely tomarry. The King would have urged priesthood 
 on him, even had he been without vocation, “‘as I am sensible 
 
 VOL. 1.— 20 
 
306 EDITOR’S NOTES. 
 
 it is impossible for him to enjoy tranquillity and happiness in 
 any other state.” However this may be, the hat was a stone of 
 stumbling to the Scotch and English Jacobites. 
 
 (6) p. xxvi. “A young Scotchman of rank.” Murray of 
 Elibank is the person intended. It is understood that Charles 
 refused to listen to the proposal of assassinating any member of 
 the ruling family in England. 
 
 (c) p. xxvi. “Doctor Archibald Cameron.” This last victim 
 of the Rising was captured in Scotland, where he seems to have 
 had an eye on the treasure concealed at the head of Loch 
 Arkaig, just after Culloden. The Jacobites, or some of them, 
 accused him of appropriating a large sum. What remained 
 was later carried over to Charles by Cluny, as we read in “ The 
 Jacobite Lairds of Gask.” 
 
 (d) p. xxxi. “Confinement in the Bastile.” Charles was 
 really confined in Vincennes, after being arrested at the opera. 
 
 (e) p. xxxvi. ‘ At least as late as seventeen hundred and 
 fifty-three.” Charles, as manuscripts in Lord Braye’s posses- 
 sion show, never ceased to cherish hopes of restoration, and 
 to intrigue in a melancholy way, till his death on Jan. 30, 
 1788. 
 
 (f) p.1. “Cur me exanimas querelis tuis?” Read ‘ Cur 
 me querelis ecanvmas tuis?’’ Lockhart describes James Ballan- 
 tyne as neglecting his business for the correction of Scott’s 
 proof-sheets. It is much to be regretted that Lockhart himself 
 did not play the part of corrector. Ballantyne had an eye for 
 apparent contradictions in the narrative, but neither for slips in 
 quotation nor for Scotticisms in style. 
 
 (9) p. 3. “The Gaits’ class.” The youngest class at the 
 High School, and at the Edinburgh Academy, of which Scott 
 was one of the founders. The mysterious word is pronounced 
 “ Gytes.” 
 
 (h) p. 11. “The learned Ruddiman.” The editor of the 
 magazine in which Fergusson’s poems first appeared. He 
 wrote “ Grammatice Latine Institutiones ” (1773), and Rud- 
 diman’s “ Rudiments” were long the torment of Scottish 
 schoolboys. , 
 
 (2) p- 15. “Luckie Simpson’s Cow.” This is an old 
 anecdote, and is told at immense length in Franck’s ‘‘ Northern 
 Memoirs” (1658), edited by Scott in 1821. 
 
 (k) p. 28. “Parma non bene ‘selecta.” Read “ Relicta non 
 bene parmula.” Horace’s account of his own flight at Philippi. 
 
EDITOR’S NOTES. 307 
 
 The western regiment at Falkirk were volunteers on the Hano- 
 verian side, chiefly from Glasgow. “There were the Glasgow 
 shopkeepers with their big bellies, at the bottom of the muir. 
 And, by my faith, we did pack into them,” said old Fasnacloich, 
 who died in 1819. In Glasgow the Prince lived in Shawfield 
 House, at the bottom of the present Glassford Street. It was 
 at Shawfield House, probably, not at Bannockburn, that Charles 
 met Miss Walkinshaw, the youngest of ten sisters. See ‘The 
 Anecdotage of Glasgow,” p. 111 (1892). 
 
 (1) p. 32. “ Dumfries.”?. The rooms occupied by the Prince 
 at Dumfries are still shown at an hotel in the town. The 
 Chevalier Johnstone says that Dumfries was “full of fanatical 
 Calvinists,’’ and on the march into England a party of Seceders 
 seized some ammunition-wagons. ‘‘ We punished the inhabi- 
 tants by levying a considerable fine on them.” ‘The gentry, 
 like Maxwell of Kirkconnel, author of a History of the Rising, 
 were Jacobites. Kenmure, however, had suffered much in 
 1715, and the family chiefly showed their loyalty by sending 
 the Prince a cask of porter when he was in Rome. 
 
 (m) p. 32. “A gorgeous jury of flies.” This phrase is as 
 old as Dame Juliana Berners, and is derided by old Barker in 
 his “ Art of Angling” (1651). Cotton’s instructions in fly-fish- 
 ing, in spite of Darsie Latimer, are very judicious. 
 
 (n) p. 67. “Over the water.’ Some Jacobite cups were 
 ‘made with a small quantity of water under the glass, so that the 
 King might be properly toasted. 
 
 (0) p. 83. “Salmon raun.” This destructive bait is now 
 illegal and very popular. 
 
 (p) p. 146. “Blind Jack of Knaresborough.” This man 
 was John Metcalf, born in 1717. His very curious and inter- 
 esting biography is in the Abbotsford Library (5th edition). 
 The second, penes me, is published at Leeds (1801). Jack lost 
 his sight from smallpox, at the age of six, but became distin- 
 guished as a rider, a jockey, a musician, and acard-player. He 
 was fiddler at the Harrogate balls, in 1745, when Mr. Thornton 
 of Thornfield, by aid of Jack and his persuasive fiddle, raised 
 a company of militia in the Hanoverian interest. Originally 
 they joined Wade, but later went, with Hawley, to Falkirk, 
 where many of them were captured. After lurking for two 
 days in a closet adjoining the room occupied by Murray of 
 Broughton in Falkirk, Captain Thornton escaped to Edinburgh. 
 Blind Jack had already been there, but bravely returned to 
 
308 EDITOR’S NOTES. 
 
 Falkirk, professing a desire to fiddle for Prince Charles, but 
 really in search of his officer. He went north with Cumber- 
 land’s army to Culloden, and returned in safety and triumph. 
 In later years he was a layer out of roads, and a man of some 
 substance. He was still alive when his Life, with a portrait, 
 was published, from his own narrative, in 1801. Jack seems 
 a character made to Scott’s hand, and may, perhaps, have lent 
 some traits to the portrait of Wandering Willie. 
 
 (q) p. 151. “Wy Glencairn.” This nobleman headed a 
 Highland movement during the Cromwellian occupation of 
 Scotland after Dunbar. 
 
 (rv) p. 154. ‘ Major Weir.” The confessions of this unhappy 
 man include the most abominable crimes, and savour of mad- 
 ness, He had been a noted saint, and wasengaged as gaoler of 
 Montrose, who hated tobacco, and whom Major Weir annoyed 
 by his pipe. According to the old account of Major Weir, 
 he could send his double or astral body to persecute ladies 
 whom he admired. (“Satan’s Invisible World Discovered,” 
 1685 ; “ Ravaillac Redivivus,” 1678.) The Major, as Erskine 
 told Sir Walter, was “a most ungentlemanlike character.” 
 The Major’s sister, who suffered with him as a partner in 
 his iniquities of all kinds, was the original owner of the horse- 
 shoe frown. 
 
 (s) p. 165. “The dissolute Rothes.” He must have been 
 rather a free-liver, for Archbishop Sharpe wrote to him a severe 
 and dignified letter on his private conduct. It was “the fierce 
 Middleton ” who when drunk, with a drunken council, issued, 
 to Sharpe’s regret, the edict expelling Covenanting ministers 
 from their parishes, the chief cause of the Scotch troubles in 
 the reign of Charles II. 
 
 (t) p. 165. “Earlshall.”’ Bruce of Earlshall, on a spit of 
 coast opposite St. Andrews. He led the party against whom Mr. 
 Cameron fought at Airdsmoss, where Hackston of Rathillet was 
 taken. The editor of Howie of Lochgoin’s “ Scots Worthies” 
 (1831) omits the appendix of “ The Judgements of God upon 
 Persecutors,” quoted by Scott, which “ proceeds upon a prin- 
 ciple utterly erroneous.” Perhaps it does; but he publishes 
 “‘ Judgements” enough in his Notes. 
 
 (u) p. 165. “Bonshaw.” Irvine of Bonshaw caught Mr. 
 Cargill, the Excommunicator of the King, at Covington Mill, 
 near St. John’s Kirk, and “ tied his feet below the horse’s belly 
 with his own hands very hard.” At his trial Cargill accused 
 
EDITOR’S NOTES. 309 
 
 the advocate, “Bloody Mackenzie,” of having ‘‘ cast off the 
 fear of God.” 
 
 (v) p.166. “The Lang Lad of the Nethertown, that helped 
 to take Argyle.” Argyle was taken by two militia men, at the 
 water of Inchinan, on June 17, 1685. He was in arms for 
 Monmouth, and was “ financed ”’ by “a rich widow of Amster- 
 dam, who furnished him with £10,000 sterling.” (“ Scottish 
 Worthies,” i. 467.) Howie throws no light on the Long Lad 
 of the Nethertown. 
 
 (w) p. 166. “The Deil’s Rattle-bag.” ‘ About this time, 
 preaching at Carrick, in the parish of Girvin, in the day-time 
 in the fields, David Mason, then a professor, came in haste, 
 trampling upon people to be near him; he [2.¢. Peden] said, 
 There comes the Devil’s Rattle-bag, we do not want him here, 
 After this, the said David became officer in that bounds, and an 
 informer, running throw, rattling his bag, and summoning the 
 people to their unhappy courts for their non-conformity ; for 
 that, he and his got the name of the Devil’s Rattle-bags, and to 
 this day do. Since the Revolution, he complain’d to his min- 
 ister, that he and his got that name ; the minister said, Ye well 
 deserved it, and he was an honest man that gave you it; you 
 and yours must enjoy it, there’s no help for it.” — Patrick 
 Walker’s Life of Peden, in “ Biographia Presbyteriana,” 1837, 
 vol. i. p. 78. [For this note the Editor is indebted to Mr. D. 
 Hay Fleming. | 
 
 (a) p. 179. ‘Miss Nickie Murray.” An account of the 
 female Beau Nash of the North will be found in Sir Daniel 
 Wilson’s work on old Edinburgh. 
 
 ANDREW LaN«. 
 
 January 1894, 
 
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 ; , AN i 
 
 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 A’, all. 
 
 Aboon, abune, above. 
 
 Ae, one. 
 
 Afore, before. 
 
 Ain, own. 
 
 Airt, to direct. 
 
 ** Ance wud, and aye waur,’’ 
 increasing in insanity. 
 
 Aneath, beneath. ' 
 
 Anes, once. 
 
 ** Anes errand,”’ 
 purpose. 
 
 Arles, earnest-money. 
 
 Attour, above or over. 
 
 Aught, to own, to possess. 
 
 Auld, old. 
 
 Awn, own. 
 
 entirely on 
 
 Ba’, a ball. 
 
 Bailie, a Scotch magistrate or 
 alderman. 
 
 Bairn, a child. 
 
 Baith, both. 
 
 Ballant, a ballad. 
 
 Bauld, bold. 
 
 Bawbee, a halfpenny. 
 
 Bein, snug, comfortable. 
 
 Ben, within. 
 
 Bide, to stay, to remain; to en- 
 dure. 
 
 Bink, a dresser for plates. 
 
 Birkie, a smart fellow. 
 Birling, drinking, merrymak- 
 
 ing. 
 
 Blate, bashful. 
 
 Blaud, a ballad. 
 
 Blaw, to talk ostentatiously. 
 
 Bleezing, making an ostenta- 
 tious show. 
 
 Blude, blood. 
 
 Bodle, a small Scottish coin. 
 
 Bogle, a bogie, a ghost, a scare- 
 crow. 
 
 Borrel, rough, common. 
 
 Braid-claith, broadcloth. 
 
 Brash, a sudden storm, an attack. 
 
 Brattle, a clattering noise (as of 
 a horse going at great speed). 
 
 Bra’, braw, brave, fine. 
 
 Browst, a brewing; as much as 
 is brewed at one time. 
 
 Buckie, an imp. 
 
 ‘*Bye and attour,’? over and 
 above. 
 
 ‘* By ordinar,’’ uncommon, un- 
 usual, 
 
 Callant, a lad. 
 
 Caller, cool, fresh. 
 
 Canna, cannot. 
 
 Canny, quiet, cautious. 
 
 Capernoited, crabbed, foolish. 
 
 Carle, a fellow. 
 
 Carline, a witch, an old woman. 
 
 Chack, a slight repast. 
 
 Chancy, foreboding good for- 
 tune, auspicious. 
 
 Chap, a fellow. 
 
 Chiel, a fellow. 
 
 Chucky-stones, small pebbles. 
 
 ‘* Clap and hopper,” the sym- 
 bols of investiture in the pro- 
 perty of a mill. 
 
 ** Cleik in with,’’ to hook on to, 
 to join company with. 
 
 Coup, cowp, fall; to overturn. 
 
 Covyne, artifice. 
 
 Crack, gossip. 
 
 Cremony, Cremona. 
 
 Crowder, a fiddler. 
 
 Cruisie, an iron lamp. 
 
 Crummie, a cow. 
 
312 
 
 Dafiing, frolicking. 
 
 Daft, crazy, mad. 
 
 Dang, knocked over. 
 
 Dargle, a dell. 
 
 Daur, dare. 
 
 Deave, to deafen. 
 
 Delate, to accuse. 
 
 Deray, mirthful noise. 
 
 Dirdum, an uproar, a disturb- 
 ance. 
 
 Divot, thin flat turf used for 
 thatching. 
 
 *©Doch an dorroch,”? a drink 
 taken standing, and for which 
 nothing is paid ; a stirrup-cup. 
 
 Dool, sad consequences. 
 
 Door-cheek, door-post. 
 
 Douce, quiet, sensible. 
 
 Dour, stubborn, obstinate. 
 
 Drucken, drunk. 
 
 Dub, a pool, a puddle. 
 
 Dyvour, a bankrupt. 
 
 Een, eyes. 
 Even’d, compared. 
 
 Fand, found. 
 
 Fash, trouble. 
 
 Fasherie, nonsense, 
 
 Fashious, troublesome. 
 
 Faur’d, favoured. 
 
 Fearsome, frightful, 
 fear. 
 
 Fleeching, flattery, cajolery. 
 
 Flory, frothy. 
 
 Forby, besides. 
 
 Forfoughen, out of breath, dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 Fou, full. 
 
 Frae, from. 
 
 Frist, to postpone, give credit. 
 
 Fu’, full. 
 
 Fugie, a fugitive. 
 
 Fule, a fool. 
 
 Furinish, stop a bit, stay a while. 
 
 causing 
 
 Gaberlunzie, a beggar. 
 
 ‘*Gaen daft,’? gone out of his 
 mind. 
 
 Galloway, a stout cob, originally 
 bred in the old Scottish county 
 of Galloway. 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Gang, go. 
 
 Gangrel, wandering, vagrant. 
 
 Gar, to force, to compel. 
 
 Gash, shrewd, calm and col- 
 lected, sagacious. 
 
 Gate, way, road. 
 
 Gauger, an exciseman. 
 
 Gaun, going. 
 
 Gear, property. 
 
 Gentle, of gentle blood. 
 
 Gentrice, honourable 
 gentle blood. 
 
 Gey, pretty, moderately. 
 
 Gie, gien, give, given. 
 
 Gied, gave. ; 
 
 Gin, if. ‘* Gin you like,’’ if you 
 please. 
 
 Girn, to grin, to cry. 
 
 Glaiket, giddy, rash. 
 
 Goud, gold. 
 
 Gowff-ba’, a golf ball. 
 
 ‘*Grat nor grained,’ cried nor 
 groaned. 
 
 Gree, to agree. 
 
 Grit, great. 
 
 Grossart, a gooseberry. 
 
 Grue, to creep, to shiver. 
 
 Gudeman, the husband and head 
 of the family. 
 
 Gudesire, grandfather. 
 
 Gway, very. 
 
 Gyte, a contemptuous name for 
 a young child, a brat. 
 
 birth, 
 
 Ha’, a hall. 
 
 Had, haud, hold. 
 
 Hae, have. 
 
 Haffiins, half-grown. 
 
 Haill, whole. 
 
 Hallan, a partition in a cottage. 
 
 Hamesucken, the crime of as- 
 saulting a man in his own 
 house. 
 
 Hamshackle, to fasten. 
 
 Happed, turned from. 
 
 Haugh, a holm, low ground be- 
 side a river. 
 
 Havers, nonsense. 
 
 Havings, behaviour. 
 
 Hefted, closed as a knife in its 
 haft. 
 
 Hellicat, giddy. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 Hesp, a hank of yarn. 
 
 Het, hot. 
 
 Hill-folk, the Covenanters. 
 
 Hinny, a term of endearment = 
 honey. 
 
 Hoddled, waddled. 
 
 Hout! tut! 
 
 Lk, ilka, each, every. 
 
 TIik, of the same name. 
 
 Til-deedie, ill-deedy, mischiev- 
 ous. 
 
 Ill-faur’d, ugly, ill-favoured. 
 
 I’se, I shall. 
 
 Jaud, a jade. 
 
 Ken, to know. 
 Kend, known. 
 Kittled, tickled. 
 
 Laith, loth. 
 
 Landlouper, an adventurer, a 
 runagate. 
 
 Lap, leaped. 
 
 Lawing, an inn reckoning. 
 
 Leasing-making, slander; 
 seditious words. 
 
 ** Teesome lane,’’ his dear self 
 alone. 
 
 Leevin, living, alive. 
 
 Loaning, an uncultivated tract 
 near the homestead, where the 
 cows were pastured and fre- 
 quently milked. 
 
 Loe, to love. 
 
 Lonon, London. 
 
 Loon, a fellow, a rogue (in a 
 humorous sense). 
 
 Louis-d’or, a French gold coin 
 worth from 16s. 6d. to 18s. 9d. 
 
 Loup, lowp, to leap. 
 
 Luckie, a title given to an el- 
 derly dame. 
 
 Lug, the ear. 
 
 Lum, a chimney. 
 
 lit., 
 
 Mail, tribute. 
 
 Mair, more. 
 
 Maist, almost, most. 
 Manse, a parsonage. 
 Maun, must. 
 
 
 
 313 
 
 Mear, a mare. 
 
 Merk, a Scots coin = 134d. 
 
 Miffed, piqued. 
 
 Mind, to remember. 
 
 Minnie, mamma, mother. 
 
 Muckle, much. 
 
 Muils, slippers. 
 
 Muisted, scented. 
 
 Mutchkin, a measure equal to 
 an English pint. 
 
 Neist, next. 
 Nevoy, nephew. 
 
 Orra, odd. 
 
 Ower, over. 
 Owrelay, a cravat. 
 Oye, a grandson. 
 
 **Pace and Yule,’’ Easter and 
 Christmas. 
 
 Paraffie, ostentatious display. 
 
 Parochine, parish. 
 
 Pawmie, a stroke on the palm of 
 the hand. 
 
 Peel-house, a small square tower 
 built of stone and lime. 
 
 Pettle, a plough-staff. 
 
 Pistole, a gold coin worth about 
 16s. 
 
 Pleugh, a plough. Pleugh- 
 stilt, the plough handle. 
 
 Ploy, a harmless frolic, a féte. 
 
 Pock, poke, a bag. 
 
 Pock-pudding, a contemptuous 
 term applied to an Englishman. 
 
 Powney, a pony. 
 
 Puir, poor. 
 
 Quoit, quiet. 
 
 Raff, a worthless character. 
 
 Rampauging, roaring. 
 
 Rant, a noisy dance tune; also, 
 to be jovial. 
 
 Reaming, frothing, foaming. 
 
 Redd, clear; also, to put in order. 
 
 Rhino, money. 
 
 Rin, run. 
 
 Ripe, to search. 
 
 Rug, a good share, a bargain. 
 
314 
 
 Sae, so. 
 
 Sair, very much. 
 
 Salvage, a savage. 
 
 Scowp, quaff. 
 
 Sculduddery, loose, immoral ; 
 looseness, immorality. 
 
 Sealch, sealgh, a seal. 
 
 ** Sederunt day,’’ day on which 
 the law court sits. 
 
 Seenteen, seventeen. 
 
 Semple, low-born, a common or 
 ordinary man. 
 
 Shoon, shoes. 
 
 Sib, related (by blood). 
 
 Sic, such. 
 
 Siller, money. 
 
 Sin, since. 
 
 Skelloch, screech. 
 
 Skirl, to scream. 
 
 *° Small swipes,’’ 
 drink. 
 
 Sneeshin, snuff. 
 
 Sough, a rushing or whistling 
 sound ; rumour. 
 
 Souple, flexible, cunning. 
 
 Speer, to inquire. 
 
 Speerings, tidings. 
 
 Splore, a spree, a frolic. 
 
 Spule-blade, the shoulder-blade. 
 
 Spunk, spirit, courage. 
 
 Spunks, a sort of match. 
 
 Stend, to take long steps. 
 
 Stoup, a liquid measure. 
 
 Stunkard, sullen, obstinate. 
 
 Suitored, courted. 
 
 Suld, should. 
 
 Syne, ago, since. 
 
 thin, weak 
 
 *‘Tace is Latin for a candle’’ 
 is a proverbial expression en- 
 joining silence and caution. 
 
 Tae, the toe. 
 
 Tass, a glass. 
 
 Thairm, catgut. 
 
 Thirlage, mortgaging of pro- 
 perty. 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 ‘Thof, although. 
 
 Threap, to aver. 
 
 Tippenny, twopenny ale. 
 
 Tod, a fox. 
 
 Toom, empty. 
 
 Toy, a linen or woollen head- 
 dress that hung down over the 
 shoulders. 
 
 Trow, to guess, to believe. 
 
 Twa, two. 
 
 Twal, twelve. 
 
 Twasome, a couple or pair. 
 
 Tyrone, a beginner, an appren- 
 tice, a novice. 
 
 Uneco, very, 
 ticularly. 
 
 Uncouth, strange, unfamiliar. 
 
 Uphaud, uphold. 
 
 Usquabae, usquebaugh, whisky. 
 
 uncommon, par- 
 
 Wad, would. 
 
 Waling, choosing. 
 
 ‘* Walth o’ gear,’’ abundance of 
 property. 
 
 Wame, womb, belly. 
 
 Wanchancie, unlucky, danger- 
 ous. 
 
 Ware, to expend. 
 
 Warlock, a wizard. 
 
 Waur, worse. 
 
 Wee, small, little. 
 
 Weel, well. 
 
 Wha, who. 
 
 Whan, when. 
 
 ‘* What for,”’ why. 
 
 Wheen, a few, a small number, 
 
 Whilk, which. 
 
 Win, to get. 
 
 Wunna, will not. 
 
 Wiuss, to wish. 
 
 Yauld, active. 
 Yelloch, yell. 
 
 Yett, a gate. 
 
 Yowl, to yell, to howl. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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