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Apa rept ied ae py ey rae ra igia) 8 od Boatiar gions deste ae hes do dees rete d guy NAY a ine ew ; Lestat asia eyes é iby. 1 ae mee way eres: hae 0a Renee 7 Negeri) ‘re vs * hele § aer arte ’ OO Vi 16 We bethy peice i uievorece fr pet . ta Ty erle™ bet pe? ging fins ey the tayribetias: slinaved Daa filed rym feta amd aaah 4 of obam cathe Le whe ve phe eee cates rarveta Mas ]t Fagis j ottene Uhlan Mere 4 Headurprae ty renvabiens seance ct tert guyetes bs P pate! 140 hatte pote Be) Q 11 t al ia ati ii Mit 192 tO SAN =’ (94/7 Muy MarR 20 1953 GcT 22 1993 MAY 16 Ib66 JAH 12 195 FER 99 ir yy ye «J Py, lay er 4 19 “pau 19 a Waverley Novels—Vol. VII. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN RE-ISSUE DRYBURGH EDITION LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS MOB ig = adh Or HANDS IN. THE JUS vet THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIA} BY SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. LONDON ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK 1898 9 Ses gh IS 9% THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN ~ J Ti iy LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Gq) BY eo ” WILLIAM HOLE, RS.A. PORTEOUS IN THE HANDS OF THE Mop . Photogravure [rontispiece SADDLETREE LAYING DOWN THE LAW : : Title-page Vignette MBIEDIKES’ COURTSHIP ; : ; ; : . Facing p. 84 “4, JEANIE DEANS AND ROBERTSON AT MuscHAT’S CAIRN . F 156 SMADGE AND HER Moruer BEFORE BAILIE MIDDLEBURGH api ey oO ’ Ta TrIAL OF ErFIE DEANS . i : , ; d », 246 a MADGE WILDFIRE LEADING JEANIE INTO CHURCH . f 324 OF JEANIE'S INTERVIEW WITH THE QUEEN . ; ‘ , 3 BaD 3 Mrs. Dotty DUTTON OBJECTS TO CROSS THE WATER. 3 £26 Lapy STAUNTON RESCUED BY THE WHISTLER . : : 33 9 BOS Brg Cs0h 2358) Meo 073890 a f ’ » f . . ; ] ‘fis bi a : P +" i > ‘ ixe oe \ b avy TALES OF MY LANDLORD Second Series Hear, Land 0’ Cakes and brither Scots, Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat’s, If there’s a hole in a’ your coats, I rede ye tent it ; A chiel’s amang you takin’ notes, An’ faith he'll prent it ! BURNS. Ahora bien, dixo il Cura, traedme, senor huésped, aquesos libros, que los quiero ver. Que me place, respondié el, y entrando en sw aposento, sacé dél una maletilla vieja cerrada con una cadenilla, y abriéndola halld en ella tres libros grandes y unos papeles de muy buena letra escritos de mano.—Don QuIxorE, Parte I. Capitulo xxxii. It is mighty well, said the priest; pray, landlord, bring me those books, for I have a mind to see them. With all my heart, answered the host ; and going to his chamber, he brought out a little old cloke-bag, with a padlock and chain to it, and opening it, he took out three large volumes, and some manuscript papers written in a fine character.— JAnvis’s Translation. INTRODUCTION TO THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN, THe Author has stated in the preface to the Chronicles of the Canongate, 1827, that he received from an anonymous corre- spondent an account of the incident upon which the following story is founded. He is now at liberty to say that the inform- ation was conveyed to him by a late amiable and ingenious lady, whose wit and power of remarking and judging of char- acter still survive in the memory of her friends. Her maiden name was Miss Helen Lawson, of Girthhead, and she was wife of Thomas Goldie, Esq., of Craigmuie, Commissary of Dumfries. Her communication was in these words : ‘l had taken for summer lodgings a cottage near the old Abbey of Lincluden. It had formerly been inhabited by a lady who had pleasure in embellishing cottages, which she found perhaps homely and even poor enough; mine therefore pos- sessed many marks of taste and elegance unusual in this species of habitation in Scotland, where a cottage is literally what its name declares. ‘From my cottage door I had a partial view of the old Abbey before mentioned ; some of the highest arches were seen over, and some through, the trees scattered along a lane which led down to the ruin, and the strange fantastic shapes of almost all those old ashes accorded wonderfully well with the building they at once shaded and ornamented. ‘The Abbey itself from my door was almost on a level with the cottage ; but on coming to the end of the lane, it was dis- covered to be situated on a high perpendicular bank, at the x WAVERLEY NOVELS foot of which run the clear waters of the Cluden, where they hasten to join the sweeping Nith, ; Whose distant roaring swells and fa’s. As my kitchen and parlour were not very far distant, I one-day went in to purchase some chickens from a person I heard offer- ing them for sale. It was a little, rather stout-looking woman, who seemed to be between seventy and eighty years, of age ; she was almost covered with a tartan plaid, and her cap had over it a black silk hood, tied under the chin, a piece of dress still much in use among elderly women of that rank of life in Scotland; her eyes were dark, and remarkably lively and in- telligent. I entered into conversation with her, and began by asking how she maintained herself, ete. ‘She said that in winter she footed stockings, that is, knit feet to country people’s stockings, which bears about the same relation to stocking-knitting that cobbling does to shoemaking, and is of course both less profitable and less dignified; she likewise taught a few children to read, and in summer she whiles reared a few chickens. I said I could venture to guess from her face she had never been married. She laughed heartily at this, and said, “I maun hae the queerist face that ever was seen, that ye could guess that. Now, do tell me, madam, how ye cam to think sae?” | told her it was from her cheerful disengaged countenance. She said, ‘‘Mem, have ye na far mair reason to be happy than me, wi’ a gude husband and a fine family o’ bairns, and plenty o’ everything? For me, I’m the puirest o’ a’ puir bodies, and can hardly contrive to keep mysell alive in a’ thae wee bits 0’ ways I hae tell’t ye.” After some more conversation, during which I was more and more pleased with the old woman’s sensible con- versation and the naiveté of her remarks, she rose to go away, when [ asked her name. Her countenance suddenly clouded, and she said gravely, rather colouring, ‘“My name is Helen Walker ; but your husband kens weel about me.” ‘In the evening I related how much I had been pleased, and inquired what was extraordinary in the history of the poor woman. Mr. said, there were perhaps few more remarkable people than Helen Walker. She had been left an orphan, with the charge of a sister considerably younger than herself, and who was educated and maintained by her exertions. Attached to her by so many ties, therefore, it will not be easy to conceive her feelings when she found that this only sister must be tried INTRODUCTION TO THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN xi by the laws of her country for child-murder, and upon being called as principal witness against her. The counsel for the prisoner told Helen, that if she could declare that her sister had made any preparations, however slight, or had given her any intimation on the subject, such a statement would save her sister’s life, as she was the principal witness against her. Helen said, “It is impossible for me to swear to a falsehood ; and, whatever may be the consequence, I will give my oath according to my conscience.” ‘The trial came on, and the sister was found guilty and con- demned ; but, in Scotland, six weeks must elapse between the sentence and the execution, and Helen Walker availed herself of it. The very day of her sister’s condemnation, she got a petition drawn up, stating the peculiar circumstances of the case, and that very night set out on foot to London. ‘Without introduction or recommendation, with her simple, perhaps ill-expressed, petition, drawn up by some inferior clerk of the court, she presented herself, in her tartan plaid and country attire, to the late Duke of Argyle, who immediately procured the pardon she petitioned for, and Helen returned with it on foot, just in time to save her sister. ‘I was so strongly interested by this narrative, that I deter- mined immediately to prosecute my acquaintance with Helen Walker; but as I was to leave the country next day, I was obliged to defer it till my return in spring, when the first walk I took was to Helen Walker's cottage. ‘She had died a short time before. My regret was extreme, and I endeavoured to obtain some account of Helen from an old woman who inhabited the other end of her cottage. I in- quired if Helen ever spoke of her past history, her journey to London, ete. “Na,” the old woman said, “ Helen was a wily body, and whene’er ony o’ the neebors asked anything about it, she aye turned the conversation.” ‘In short, every answer I received only tended to increase my regret, and raise my opinion of Helen Walker, who could unite so much prudence with so much heroic virtue.’ This narrative was inclosed in the following letter to the Author, without date or signature :— ‘Smr—The occurrence just related happened to me twenty- six years ago. Helen Walker lies buried in the churchyard of Irongray, about six miles from Dumfries. I once proposed that xii WAVERLEY NOVELS a small monument should have been erected to commemorate so remarkable a character, but I now prefer leaving it to you to perpetuate her memory in a more durable manner.’ The reader is now able to judge how far the Author has improved upon, or fallen short of, the pleasing and interesting sketch of high principle and steady affection displayed by Helen Walker, the prototype of the fictitious Jeanie Deans. Mrs. Goldie was unfortunately dead before the Author had given his name to these volumes, so he lost all opportunity of thank- ing that lady for her highly valuable communication. But her daughter, Miss Goldie, obliged him with the following additional information :— ‘Mrs. Goldie endeavoured to collect further particulars of Helen Walker, particularly concerning her journey to London, but found this nearly impossible ; as the natural dignity of her character, and a high sense of family respectability, made her so indissolubly connect her sister’s disgrace with her own exer- tions, that none of her neighbours durst ever question her upon the subject. One old woman, a distant relation of Helen’s, and who is still living, says she worked an harvest with her, but that she never ventured to ask her about her sister’s trial, or her journey to London. ‘“ Helen,” she added, ‘was a lofty body, and used a high style o’ language.” The same old woman says that every year Helen received a cheese from her sister, who lived at Whitehaven, and that she always sent a liberal portion of it to herself or to her father’s family. This fact, though trivial in itself, strongly marks the affection sub- sisting between the two sisters, and the complete conviction on the mind of the criminal that her sister had acted solely from high principle, not from any want of feeling, which another small but characteristic trait will further illustrate. A gentle- man, a relation of Mrs. Goldie’s, who happened to be travelling in the North of England, on coming to a small inn, was shown into the parlour by a female servant, who, after cautiously shutting the door, said, “Sir, I’m Nelly Walker’s sister.” Thus practically showing that she considered her sister as better known by her high conduct than even herself by a different kind of celebrity. ‘Mrs. Goldie was extremely anxious to have a tombstone and an inscription upon it erected in Irongray churchyard ; and if Sir Walter Scott will condescend to write the last, a little subscription could be easily raised in the immediate neighbourhood, and Mrs. Goldie’s wish be thus fulfilled.’ INTRODUCTION TO THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN xili It is scarcely necessary to add, that the request of Miss Goldie will be most willingly complied with, and without the necessity of any tax on the public.* Nor is there much oceasion to repeat how much the Author conceives himself obliged to his unknown correspondent, who thus supplied him with a theme affording such a pleasing view of the moral dignity of virtue, though unaided by birth, beauty, or talent. If the picture has suffered in the execution, it is from the failure of the Author’s powers to present in detail the same simple and striking portrait exhibited in Mrs. Goldie’s letter. ABBOTSFORD, April 1, 1830. ALTHOUGH it would be impossible to add much to Mrs. Goldie’s picturesque and most interesting account of Helen Walker, the prototype of the imaginary Jeanie Deans, the Editor may be pardoned for introducing two or three anecdotes respecting that excellent person, which he has collected from a volume entitled Sketches from Nature, by John M‘Diarmid, a gentle- man who conducts an able provincial paper in the town of Dumfries. Helen was the daughter of a small farmer in a place called Dalquhairn, in the parish of Irongray ; where, ‘after the death of her father, she continued, with the unassuming piety of a Scottish peasant, to support her mother by her own unremitted labour and privations; a case so common that even yet, I am proud to say, few of my countrywomen would shrink from the duty. ) Helen Walker was held among her equals ‘ pensy,’ that is, proud or conceited ; but the facts brought to prove this accusa- tion seem only to evince a strength of character superior to those around her. Thus it was remarked, that when it thundered, she went with her work and her Bible to the front of the cottage, alleging that the Almighty could smite in the city as well as in the field. Mr. M‘Diarmid mentions more particularly the misfortune of her sister, which he supposes to have taken place previous to 1736. Helen Walker, declining every proposal of saving her relation’s life at the expense of truth, borrowed a sum of money sufficient for her journey, walked the whole distance to London barefoot, and made her way to John Duke of Argyle. * See Tombstone to Helen Walker. Note 1. X1V WAVERLEY NOVELS She was heard to say that, by the Almighty’s strength, she had been enabled to meet the Duke at the most critical moment, which, if lost, would have caused the inevitable forfeiture of her sister's life. Isabella, or Tibby Walker, saved from the fate which im- pended over her, was married by the person who had wronged her (named Waugh), and lived happily for great part of a century, uniformly acknowledging the extraordinary affection to which she owed her preservation. Helen Walker died about the end of the year 1791, and her remains are interred in the churchyard of her native parish of Irongray, in a romantic cemetery on the banks of the Cairn. That a character so distinguished for her undaunted love of virtue lived and died in poverty, if not want, serves only to show us how insignificant, in the sight of Heaven, are our principal objects of ambition upon earth. TO THE BEST OF PATRONS, A PLEASED AND INDULGENT READER, JEDEDIAH CLEISHBOTHAM WISHES HEALTH, AND INCREASE, AND CONTENTMENT CourTEous READER, Ir ingratitude comprehendeth every vice, surely so foul a stain worst of all beseemeth him whose life has been devoted to instructing youth in virtue and in humane letters. Therefore have I chosen, in this prolegomenon, to unload my burden of thanks at thy feet, for the favour with which thou hast kindly entertained the Zales of my Landlord. Certes, if thou hast chuckled over their facetious and festivous descriptions, or hast thy mind filled with pleasure at the strange and pleasant turns of fortune which they record, verily, I have also simpered when ~ I beheld a second story with attics, that has arisen on the basis of my small domicile at Gandercleugh, the walls having been aforehand pronounced by Deacon Barrow to be capable of endur- ing such an elevation. Nor has it been without delectation that I have endued a new coat (snuff-brown, and with metal buttons), having all nether garments corresponding thereto. We do therefore lie, in respect of each other, under a reciprocation of benefits, whereof those received by me being the most solid, in respect that a new house and a new coat are better than a new tale and an old song, it is meet that my gratitude should be expressed with the louder voice and more preponderating vehemence. And how should it be so expressed? Certainly not in words only, but in act and deed. It is with this sole purpose, and disclaiming all intention of purchasing that pen- Xv1 WAVERLEY NOVELS dicle or poffle of land called the Carlinescroft, lying adjacent to my garden, and measuring seven acres, three roods, and four perches, that I have committed to the eyes of those who thought well of the former tomes, these four additional volumes * of the Tales of my Landlord. Not the less, if Peter Prayfort be minded to sell the said poffle, it is at his own choice to say so; and, peradventure, he may meet with a purchaser; unless, gentle Reader, the pleasing pourtraictures of Peter Pattieson, now given unto thee in particular, and unto the public in general, shall have lost their favour in thine eyes, whereof I am no way dis- trustful. And so much confidence do I repose in thy continued favour, that, should thy lawful occasions call thee to the town of Gandercleugh, a place frequented by most at one time or other in their lives, I will enrich thine eyes with a sight of those precious manuscripts whence thou hast derived so much delectation, thy nose with a snuff from my mull, and thy palate _ with a dram from my bottle of strong waters, called by the learned of Gandercleugh the Dominie’s Dribble o’ Drink. It is there, O highly esteemed and beloved Reader, thou wilt | be able to bear testimony, through the medium of thine own senses, against the children of vanity, who have sought to identify thy friend and servant with I know not what inditer of vain fables; who hath cumbered the world with his devices, but shrunken from the responsibility thereof. Truly, this hath been well termed a generation hard of faith ; since what can a man do to assert his property in a printed tome, saving to put his name in the title-page thereof, with his description, or designation, as the lawyers term it, and place of abode? Of a surety I would have such sceptics consider how they them- selves would brook to have their works ascribed to others, their names and professions imputed as forgeries, and their very existence brought into question; even although, perad- venture, it may be it is of little consequence to any but them- selves, not only whether they are living or dead, but even. whether they ever lived or no. Yet have my maligners carried their uncharitable censures still farther. These cavillers have not only doubted mine identity, although thus plainly proved, but they have impeached my veracity and the authenticity of my historical narratives! Verily, I can only say in answer, that I have been cautelous in quoting mine authorities. It is true, indeed, that if I had hearkened with only one ear, I might have rehearsed my tale with * [The Heart of Midlothian was originally published in four volumes. } INTRODUCTION TO THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN xvii more acceptation from those who love to hear but half the truth. It is, it may hap, not altogether to the discredit of our kindly nation of Scotland, that we are apt to take an interest, warm, yea partial, in the deeds and sentiments of our forefathers. He whom his adversaries describe as a perjured Prelatist, is desirous that his predecessors should be held moderate in their power, and just in their execution of its privileges, when, truly, the unimpassioned peruser of the annals of those times shall deem them sanguinary, violent, and tyrannical. Again, the representatives of the suffering nonconformists desire that their ancestors, the Cameronians, shall be repre- sented not simply as honest enthusiasts, oppressed for con- science sake, but persons of fine breeding, and valiant heroes. Truly, the historian cannot gratify these predilections. He must needs describe the Cavaliers as proud and high-spirited, cruel, remorseless, and vindictive ; the suffering party as honour- ably tenacious of their opinions under persecution, their own tempers being, however, sullen, fierce, and rude, their opinions absurd and extravagant, and their whole course of conduct that of persons whom hellebore would better have suited than prosecutions unto death for high treason. Natheless, while such and so preposterous were the opinions on either side, there were, it cannot be doubted, men of virtue and worth on both, to entitle either party to claim merit from its martyrs. It has been demanded of me, Jedediah Cleishbotham, by what right I am entitled to constitute myself an impartial judge of their discrepancies of opinions, seeing (as it is stated) that I must necessarily have descended from one or other of the contending - parties, and be, of course, wedded for better or for worse, according to the reasonable practice of Scotland, to its dogmata, or opinions, and bound, as it were, by the tie matrimonial, or, to speak without metaphor, ex jure sanguinis, to maintain them in preference to all others. But, nothing denying the rationality of the rule, which calls on all now living to rule their political and religious opinions by those of their great-grandfathers, and inevitable as seems the one or the other horn of the dilemma betwixt which my adversaries conceive they have pinned me to the wall, I yet spy some means of refuge, and claim a privilege to write and speak of both parties with impartiality. For, O ye powers of logic! when the Prelatists and Presbyterians of old times went together by the ears in this unlucky country, my ancestor XVill WAVERLEY NOVELS —venerated be his memory !—was one of the people called Quakers,* and suffered severe handling from either side, even to the extenuation of his purse and the incarceration of his person. , Craving thy pardon, gentle Reader, for these few words concerning me and mine, I rest, as above expressed, thy sure and obligated friend, Se Cs GANDERCLEUGH, this 1st of April, 1818. * See Sir Walter Scott’s Relations with the Quakers. Note 2. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN CHAPTER I BEING INTRODUCTORY So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourn, glides The Derby dilly, carrying six insides. FRERE. THE times have changed in nothing more—we follow as we were wont the manuscript of Peter Pattieson—than in the rapid conveyance of intelligence and communication betwixt one part of Scotland and another. It is not above twenty or thirty years, according to the evidence of many credible witnesses now alive, since a little miserable horse-cart, performing with difficulty a journey of thirty miles per dzem, carried our mails from the capital of Scotland to its extremity. Nor was Scotland much more deficient in these accommodations than our richer sister had been about eighty years before. Fielding, in his Z’om Jones, and Farquhar, in a little farce called the Stage-Coach, have ridiculed the slowness of these vehicles of public accom- modation. According to the latter authority, the highest bribe could only induce the coachman to promise to anticipate by half an hour the usual time of his arrival at the Bull and Mouth. But in both countries these ancient, slow, and sure modes of conveyance are now alike unknown : mail-coach races against mail-coach, and high-flyer against high-flyer, through the most remote districts of Britain. And in our village alone, three post-coaches, and four coaches with men armed, and in scarlet cassocks, thunder through the streets each day, and rival in brilliancy and noise the invention of the celebrated tyrant : Demens, qui nimbos et non imitabile fulmen, /Ere et cornipedum pulsu, simularat, equorum. vil I 2 WAVERLEY NOVELS Now and then, to complete the resemblance, and to correct the presumption of the venturous charioteers, it does happen that the career of these dashing rivals of Salmoneus meets with as undesirable and violent a termination as that of their proto- type. It is on such occasions that the ‘insides’ and ‘ outsides,’ to use the appropriate vehicular phrases, have reason to rue the exchange of the slow and safe motion of the ancient fly-coaches, which, compared with the chariots of Mr. Palmer, so ill deserve the name. The ancient vehicle used to settle quietly down, like a ship scuttled and left to sink by the gradual influx of the waters, while the modern is smashed to pieces with the velocity of the same vessel hurled against breakers, or rather with the fury of a bomb bursting at the conclusion of its career through the air. The late ingenious Mr. Pennant, whose humour it was to set his face in stern opposition to these speedy conveyances, had collected, I have heard, a formidable list of such casualties, which, joined to the imposition of innkeepers, whose charges the passengers had no time to dispute, the sauciness of the coachman, and the uncontrolled and despotic authority of the tyrant called the guard, held forth a picture of horror, to which murder, theft, fraud, and peculation lent all their dark colouring. But that which gratifies the impatience of the human disposition will be practised in the teeth of danger, and in defiance of admoni- tion ; and, in despite of the Cambrian antiquary, mail-coaches not only roll their thunders round the base of Penmen-Maur and Cader-Edris, but ~ Frighted Skiddaw hears afar The rattling of the unscythed car. And perhaps the echoes of Ben Nevis may soon be awakened by the bugle, not of a warlike chieftain, but of the guard of a mail-coach. It was a fine summer day, and our little school had obtained a half holyday, by the intercession of a good-humoured visitor.* I expected by the coach a new number of an interesting periodical publication, and walked forward on the highway to meet it, with the impatience which Cowper has described as actuating the resident in the country when longing for intelli- gence from the mart of news: * His honour Gilbert Goslinn of Gandercleugh ; for I love to be precise in matters of importance.—J. C. ~, - THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 3 The grand debate, The popular harangue, the tart reply, The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, And the loud laugh,—I long to know them all ; I burn to set the imprison’d wranglers free, And give them voice and utterance again. It was with such feelings that I eyed the approach of the new coach, lately established on our road, and known by the name of the Somerset, which, to say truth, possesses some interest for me, even when it conveys no such important information. The distant tremulous sound of its wheels was heard just as I gained the summit of the gentle ascent, called the Goslin brae, from which you command an extensive view down the valley of the river Gander. The public road, which comes up the side of that stream, and crosses it at a bridge about a quarter of a mile from the place where I was standing, runs partly through inclosures and plantations, and partly through open pasture land. It is a childish amusement per- haps—but my life has been spent with children, and why should not my pleasures be like theirs ?—childish as it is, then, I must own I have had great pleasure in watching the approach of the carriage, where the openings of the road permit it to be seen. The gay glancing of the equipage, its diminished and toy-like appearance at a distance, contrasted with the rapidity of its motion, its appearance and disappearance at intervals, and the progressively increasing sounds that announce its nearer approach, have all to the idle and listless spectator, who has nothing more important to attend to, something of awaken- ing interest. The ridicule may attach to me, which is flung upon many an honest citizen, who watches from the window of his villa the passage of the stage-coach ; but it is a very natural source of amusement notwithstanding, and many of those who join in the laugh are perhaps not unused to resort to it in secret. On the present occasion, however, fate had decreed that I should not enjoy the consummation of the amusement by seeing the coach rattle past me as I sat on the turf, and hearing the hoarse grating voice of the guard as he skimmed forth for my grasp the expected packet, without the carriage checking its course for an instant. I had seen the vehicle thunder down the hill that leads to the bridge with more than its usual impetuosity, glittering all the while by flashes from a cloudy tabernacle of the dust which it had raised, and leaving a train behind it on the road resembling a wreath of summer mist. ‘ 4 WAVERLEY NOVELS But it did not appear on the top of the nearer bank within the usual space of three minutes, which frequent observation had enabled me to ascertain was the medium time for crossing the bridge and mounting the ascent. When double that space had elapsed, I became alarmed, and walked hastily forward. As I came in sight of the bridge, the cause of delay was too manifest, for the Somerset had made a summerset in good earnest, and overturned so completely, that it was literally resting upon the ground, with the roof undermost, and the ‘four wheels in the air. The ‘exertions of the guard and coach- man,’ both of whom were gratefully commemorated in the newspapers, having succeeded in disentangling the horses by cutting the harness, were now proceeding to extricate the ‘in- sides’ by a sort of summary and Cesarean process of delivery, forcing the hinges from one of the doors which they could not open otherwise. In this manner were two disconsolate damsels set at liberty from the womb of the leathern conveniency. As they immediately began to settle their clothes, which were a little deranged, as may be presumed, I concluded they had re- ceived no injury, and did not venture to obtrude my services at their toilette, for which, I understand, I have since been reflected upon by the fair sufferers. The ‘outsides,’ who must have been discharged from their elevated situation by a shock resembling the springing of a mine, escaped, nevertheless, with the usual allowance of scratches and bruises, excepting three, who, having been pitched into the river Gander, were dimly seen contending with the tide, like the relics of Aineas’s shipwreck— Rari apparent nantes in gurgite vasto. I applied my poor exertions where they seemed to be most needed, and with the assistance of one or two of the company who had escaped unhurt, easily succeeded in fishing out two of the unfortunate passengers, who were stout active young fellows ; and but for the preposterous length of their greatcoats, and the equally fashionable latitude and longitude of their Welling- ton trousers, would have required little assistance from any one. The third was sickly and elderly, and might have perished but for the efforts used to preserve him. When the two greatcoated. gentlemen had extricated them- selves from the river, and shaken their ears like huge water- dogs, a violent altercation ensued betwixt them and the coach- man and guard, concerning the cause of their overthrow. In + THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 5 the course of the squabble, I observed that both my new ac- quaintances belonged to the law, and that their professional sharpness was likely to prove an overmatch for the surly and official tone of the guardians of the vehicle. The dispute ended in the guard assuring the passengers that they should have seats in a heavy coach which would pass that spot in less than half an hour, providing it were not full. Chance seemed to favour this arrangement, for when the expected vehicle arrived, there were only two places occupied in a carriage which pro- fessed to carry six. ‘The two ladies who had been disinterred out of the fallen vehicle were readily admitted, but positive objections were stated by those previously in possession to the admittance of the two lawyers, whose wetted garments being much of the nature of well-soaked spunges, there was every reason to believe they would refund a considerable part of the water they had collected, to the inconvenience of their fellow- passengers. On the other hand, the lawyers rejected a seat on the roof, alleging that they had only taken that station for pleasure for one stage, but were entitled in all respects to free egress and regress from the interior, to which their contract positively referred. After some altercation, in which something was said upon the edict Nauta, caupones, stabulari, the coach went off, leaving the learned gentlemen to abide by their action of damages. They immediately applied to me to guide them to the next village and the best inn; and from the account I gave them of the Wallace Head, declared they were much better pleased to stop there than to go forward upon the terms of that impudent scoundrel the guard of the Somerset. All that they now wanted was a lad to carry their travelling bags, who was easily pro- cured from an adjoining cottage; and they prepared to walk forward, when they found there was another passenger in the same deserted situation with themselves. This was the elderly and sickly-looking person who had been precipitated into the river along with the two young lawyers. He, it seems, had been too modest to push his own plea against the coachman when he saw that of his betters rejected, and now remained behind with a look of timid anxiety, plainly intimating that he was deficient in those means of recommendation which are necessary passports to the hospitality of an inn. I ventured to call the attention of the two dashing young blades, for such they seemed, to the desolate condition of their fellow-traveller.. They took the hint with ready good-nature. 6 WAVERLEY NOVELS ‘O, true, Mr. Dunover,’ said one of the youngsters, ‘you must not remain on the pavé here; you must go and have some dinner with us; Halkit and I must have a post-chaise to go on, at all events, and we will set you down wherever suits you best.’ The poor man, for such 1 dress, as well as his diffidence, bespoke him, made the sort of acknowledging bow by which says a Scotchman, ‘It’s too much honour for the like of me’ ; and followed humbly behind his gay patrons, all three be- sprinkling the dusty road as they walked along with the moisture of their drenched garments, and exhibiting the sin- gular and somewhat ridiculous appearance of three persons suffering from the opposite extreme of humidity, while the summer sun was at its height, and everything else around them had the expression of heat and drought. The ridicule did not escape the young gentlemen themselves, and they had made what might be received as one or two tolerable jests on the subject before they had advanced far on their peregrination. ‘We cannot complain, like Cowley,’ said one of them, ‘that Gideon’s fleece remains dry, while all around is moist ; this is the reverse of the miracle.’ ‘We ought to be received with gratitude in this good town ; we bring a supply of what they seem to need most,’ said Halkit. ‘And distribute it with unparalleled generosity,’ replied his companion ; ‘performing the part of three water-carts for the benefit of their dusty roads.’ ‘We come before them, too,’ said Halkit, ‘in full professional force—counsel and agent ‘And client,’ said “the young advocate, looking behind him. And then added, lowering his voice, ‘that looks as if he had kept such dangerous company too long.’ It was, indeed, too true, that the humble follower of the gay young men had the threadbare appearance of a worn-out liti- gant, and I could not but smile at the conceit, though anxious to conceal my mirth from the object of it. When we arrived at the Wallace Inn, the elder of the Edin- burgh gentlemen, and whom I understood to be a barrister, insisted that I should remain and take part of their dinner ; and their inquiries and demands speedily put my Landlord and his whole family in motion to produce the best cheer which the larder and cellar afforded, and proceed to cook it to the best advantage, a science in which our entertainers seemed to be admirably skilled. In other respects they were lively young THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 7 men, in the heyday of youth and good spirits, playing the part which is common to the higher classes of the law at Edin- burgh, and which nearly resembles that of the young Templars in the days of Steele and Addison. An air of giddy gaiety mingled with the good sense, taste, and information which their conversation exhibited ; and it seemed to be their object to unite the character of men of fashion and lovers of the polite arts. A fine gentleman, bred up in the thorough idleness and inanity of pursuit, which I understand is absolutely necessary to the character in perfection, might in all probability have traced a tinge of professional pedantry which marked the barrister in spite of his efforts, and something of active bustle in his companion, and would certainly have detected more than a fashionable mixture of information and animated interest in the language of both. But to me, who had no pretensions to be so critical, my companions seemed to form a very happy mixture of good-breeding and liberal information, with a dis- position to lively rattle, pun, and jest, amusing to a grave man, because it is what he himself can least easily command. The thin pale-faced man, whom their good-nature had brought into their society, looked out of place, as well as out of spirits, sate on the edge of his seat, and kept the chair at two feet distance from the table, thus incommoding himself considerably in conveying the victuals to his mouth, as if by way of penance for partaking of them in the company of his superiors. A short time after dinner, declining all entreaty to partake of the wine, which circulated freely round, he informed himself of the hour when the chaise had been ordered to attend ; and saying he would be in readiness, modestly withdrew from _ the apartment. ‘Jack,’ said the barrister to his companion, ‘I remember that poor fellow’s face; you spoke more truly than you were aware of; he really is one of my clients, poor man.’ ‘Poor man!’ echoed Halkit. ‘I suppose you mean he is your one and only client?’ ‘That’s not my fault, Jack,’ replied the other, whose name I discovered was Hardie. ‘You are to give me all your business, you know; and if you have none, the learned gentleman here knows nothing can come of nothing.’ ‘You seem to have brought something to nothing though, in the case of that honest man. He looks as if he were just about to honour with his residence the Hzarr or MIDLOTHIAN.’ ‘You are mistaken: he is just delivered from it. Our friend 8 WAVERLEY NOVELS here looks-for an explanation. Pray, Mr. Pattieson, have you been in Edinburgh ?’ I answered in the affirmative. ‘Then you must have passed, occasionally at least, though probably not so faithfully as I am doomed to do, through a narrow intricate passage, leading out of the north-west corner of the Parliament Square, and passing by a high and antique building, with turrets and iron grates, Making good the saying odd, Near the church and far from God ’— Mr. Halkit broke in upon his learned counsel, to contribute his moiety to the riddle—‘ Having at the door the sign of the Red Man ; ‘And being on the whole,’ resumed the counsellor, interrupt- ing his friend in his turn, ‘a sort of place where misfortune is happily confounded with guilt, where all who are in wish to get out : ‘And where none who have the good luck to be out wish to get in,’ added his companion. ‘I conceive you, gentlemen,’ replied I: ‘you mean the prison.’ ‘The prison,’ added the young lawyer. ‘You have hit it— the very reverend tolbooth itself; and let me tell you, you are obliged to us for describing it with so much modesty and brevity ; for with whatever amplifications we might have chosen to decorate the subject, you lay entirely at our mercy, since the Fathers Conscript of our city have decreed that the venerable edifice itself shall not remain in existence to confirm or to confute us.’ ‘Then the tolbooth of Edinburgh is called the Heart of Midlothian ?’ said I. ‘So termed and reputed, I assure you.’ ‘IT think,’ said I, with the bashful difidence with which a man lets slip a pun in presence of his superiors, ‘the metro- politan county may, in that case, be said to have a sad heart.’ ‘Right as my glove, Mr. Pattieson,’ added Mr. Hardie; ‘and a close heart, and a hard heart. Keep it up, Jack.’ ‘And a wicked heart, and a poor heart,’ answered Halkit, doing his best. ‘And yet it may be called in some sort a strong heart, and a high heart,’ rejoined the advocate. ‘You see I can put you both out of heart,’ THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 9 ‘I have played all my hearts,’ said the younger gentle- man. ‘Then we'll have another lead,’ answered his companion. ‘And as to the old and condemned tolbooth, what pity the same honour cannot be done to it as has been done to many of its inmates. Why should not the tolbooth have its “ Last Speech, Confession, and Dying Words”? The old stones would be just as conscious of the honour as many a poor devil who has dangled like a tassel at the west end of it, while the hawkers were shouting a confession the culprit had never heard of.’ ‘I am afraid,’ said I, ‘if I might presume to give my opinion, it would be a tale of unvaried sorrow and guilt.’ ‘Not entirely, my friend,’ said Hardie; ‘a prison is a world within itself, and has its own business, griefs, and joys, peculiar to its circle. Its inmates are sometimes short-lived, but so are soldiers on service ; they are poor relatively to the world with- out, but there are degrees of wealth and poverty among them, and so some are relatively rich also. They cannot stir abroad, but neither can the garrison of a besieged fort, or the crew of a ship at sea; and they are not under a dispensation quite so desperate as either, for they may have as much food as they have money to buy, and are not obliged to work whether they have food or not.’ ‘But what variety of incident,’ said I, not without a secret view to my present task, ‘could possibly be derived from such a work as you are pleased to talk of ?’ ‘Infinite,’ replied the young advocate. ‘Whatever of guilt, crime, imposture, folly, unheard-of misfortunes, and unlooked- for change of fortune, can be found to chequer life, my Last Speech of the Tolbooth should illustrate with examples sufh- cient to gorge even the public’s all-devouring appetite for the wonderful and horrible. The inventor of fictitious narratives has to rack his brains for means to diversify his tale, and after all can hardly hit upon characters or incidents which have not been used again and again, until they are familiar to the eye of the reader, so that the development, en/évement, the desperate wound of which the hero never dies, the burning fever from - which the heroine is sure to recover, become a mere matter of course. I join with my honest friend Crabbe, and have an unlucky propensity to hope when hope is lost, and to rely upon the cork-jacket, which carries the heroes of romance safe through all the billows of affliction.’ He then declaimed the 10 WAVERLEY NOVELS following passage, rather with too much than too little em- phasis :— — Much have I fear’d, but am no more afraid, When some chaste beauty, by some wretch betray’d, Is drawn away with such distracted speed, That she anticipates a dreadful deed. Not so do I. Let solid walls impound The captive fair, and dig a moat around ; Let there be brazen locks and bars of steel, And keepers cruel, such as never feel ; With not a single note the purse supply, And when she begs, let men and maids deny ; Be windows those from which she dares not fall, And help so distant, ’tis in vain to eall ; Still means of freedom will some Power devise, And from the baffled ruffian snatch his prize. ‘The end of uncertainty,’ he concluded, ‘is the death of interest ; and hence it happens that no one now reads novels.’ ‘Hear him, ye gods!’ returned his companion. ‘I assure you, Mr. Pattieson, you will hardly visit this learned gentle- man, but you are likely to find the new novel most in repute lying on his table—snugly intrenched, however, beneath Stair’s Institutes, or an open volume of Morison’s Deczszons.’ ‘Do I deny it?’ said the hopeful jurisconsult, ‘or wherefore should I, since it is well known these Dalilahs seduced my wisers and my betters? May they not be found lurking amidst the multiplied memorials of our most distinguished counsel, and even peeping from under the cushion of a judge’s arm-chair? Our seniors at the bar, within the bar, and even on the bench, read novels; and, if not belied, some of them have written novels into the bargain. I only say, that I read from habit and from indolence, not from real interest; that, like Ancient Pistol devouring his leek, I read and swear till I get to the end of the narrative. But not so in the real records of human vagaries, not so in the State Trials, or in the Books of Adjournal, where every now and then you read new pages of the human heart, and turns of fortune far beyond what the boldest novelist ever attempted to produce from the coinage of his brain.’ ‘And for such narratives,’ I asked, ‘you suppose the history of the prison of Edinburgh might afford appropriate materials ?” ‘In a degree unusually ample, my dear sir,’ said Hardie. ‘Fill your glass, however, in the meanwhile. Was it not for many years the place in which the Scottish Parliament met ? \ THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 11 Was it not James’s place of refuge, when the mob, inflamed by a seditious preacher, broke forth on him with the cries of ‘The sword of the Lord and of Gideon; bring forth the wicked Haman’? Since that time how many hearts have throbbed within these walls, as the tolling of the neighbouring bell announced to them how fast the sands of their life were ebbing ; how many must have sunk at the sound ; how many were supported by stubborn pride and dogged resolution ; how many by the consolations of religion? Have there not been some, who, looking back on the motives of their crimes, were scarce able to understand how they should have had such temptation as to seduce them from virtue ! and have there not, perhaps, been others, who, sensible of their innocence, were divided between indignation at the undeserved doom which they were to undergo, consciousness that they had not deserved it, and racking anxiety to discover some way in which they might yet vindicate themselves? Do you suppose any of these deep, powerful, and agitating feelings can be recorded and perused without exciting a corresponding depth of deep, powerful, and agitating interest? O! do but wait till I publish the causes célébres of Caledonia, and you will find no want of a novel or a tragedy for some time to come. The true thing will triumph over the brightest inventions of the most ardent imagination. J/agna est veritas, et prevalebit.’ ‘I have understood,’ said I, encouraged by the affability of my rattling entertainer, ‘that less of this interest must attach to Scottish jurisprudence than to that of any other country. The general morality of our people, their sober and _ prudent habi ‘against any great increase : oves_and—depre¢ ators, | gainst wild and wayward starts-of fancy and_passion, producing crimes of _an extraordinary description, which are precisely those to the Ustail-at-which we listen with thrilling interest. _England has been much longer a highly civilised country ; her subjects have been ministered without fear sor fayour ; a complete division of labour has taken place among her subjects; and the very thieves and robbers form a distinct class in society, subdivided among themselves according to the subject of their depredations, and the mode in which they carry them on, acting upon regular habits and principles, which can be calculated and anticipated at Bow Street, Hatton Garden, or the Old Bailey. Our sister kingdom is like a cultivated field : the farmer expects that, in spite of all his care, a certain number sercomneet > _—facts_in_the 12 WAVERLEY NOVELS of weeds will rise with the corn, and can tell you beforehand - their names and appearance. But Scotland is like one of her own Highland glens, and the moralist who reads the records of her criminal jurispr udence will find as _botanist will detect rare specimens among her dingles and cliffs.’ . ‘And that’s all the good you have obtained from three perusals of the Commentaries on Scottish Criminal Jurispru- dence?’ said his companion. ‘I suppose the learned author very little thinks that the facts which his erudition and acute- ness have accumulated for the illustration of legal doctrines might be so arranged as to form a sort of appendix to the half-bound and slip-shod volumes of the circulating library.’ ‘Tl bet you a pint of claret,’ said the elder lawyer, ‘that he will not feel sore at the comparison. But as we say at the bar, “I beg I may not be interrupted”; I have much more to say upon my Scottish collection of causes célébres. You will please recollect the scope and motive given for the contrivance and execution of many extraordinary and daring crimes, by the long civil dissensions of Scotland; by the hereditary jurisdictions, which, until 1748, rested the investigation of crimes in judges, ignorant, partial, or interested ; by the habits of the gentry, shut up in their distant and solitary mansion- houses, nursing their revengeful passions just to keep their blood from stagnating; not to mention that amiable national qualification, called the perfervidum ingenium Scotorum, which our lawyers join in alleging as a reason for the severity of some of our enactments. When I come to treat of matters so mysterious, deep, and dangerous as these circumstances have given rise to, the blood of each reader shall be curdled, and his epidermis crisped into goose-skin. But, hist! here comes the landlord, with tidings, I suppose, that the chaise is ready.’ It was no such thing: the tidings bore, that no chaise could be had that evening, for Sir Peter Plyem had carried forward my Landlord’s two pairs of horses that morning to the ancient royal borough of Bubbleburgh, to look after his interest there. But as Bubbleburgh is only one of a set of five boroughs which club their shares for a member of Parliament, Sir Peter’s adversary had judiciously watched his departure, in order to commence a canvass in the no less royal borough of Bitem, which, as all the world knows, lies at the very termination of Sir Peter’s avenue, and has been held in leading-strings by him and his ancestors for time immemorial. Now Sir Peter THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 13 was thus placed in the situation of an ambitious monarch, who, after having commenced a daring inroad into his enemies’ territories, is suddenly recalled by an invasion of his own hereditary dominions. He was obliged in consequence to return from the half-won borough of Bubbleburgh, to look after the half-lost borough of Bitem, and the two pairs of horses which had carried him that morning to Bubbleburgh were now forcibly detained to transport him, his agent, his valet, his jester, and his hard-drinker across the country to Bitem. The cause of this detention, which to me was of as little consequence as it may be to the reader, was important enough to my companions to reconcile them to the delay. Like eagles, they smelled the battle afar off, ordered a magnum of claret and beds at the Wallace, and entered at full career into the Bubbleburgh and Bitem politics, with all the probable ‘petitions and complaints’ to which they were likely to give rise. In the midst of an anxious, animated, and, to me, most unintelligible discussion, concerning provosts, bailies, deacons, sets of boroughs, leets, town-clerks, burgesses resident and non-resident, all of a sudden the lawyer recollected himself. ‘Poor Dunover, we must not forget him’; and the landlord was despatched in quest of the pauvre honteux, with an earnestly civil invitation to him for the rest of the evening. I could not help asking the young gentlemen if they knew the history of this poor man; and the counsellor applied himself to his pocket to recover the memorial or brief from which he had stated his cause. ‘He has been a candidate for our remedium miserabile,’ said Mr. Hardie, ‘commonly called a cesszo bonorum. As there are divines who have doubted the eternity of future punishments, so the Scotch lawyers seem to have thought that the crime of poverty might be atoned for by something short of perpetual imprisonment. After a month’s confinement, you must know, a prisoner for debt is entitled, on a sufficient statement to our Supreme Court, setting forth the amount of his funds, and the nature of his misfortunes, and surrendering all his effects to his creditors, to claim to be discharged from prison.’ ‘I had heard,’ I replied, ‘of such a humane regulation.’ ‘Yes,’ said Halkit, ‘and the beauty of it is, as the foreign fellow said, you may get the cessto when the bonorums are all spent. But what, are you puzzling in your pockets to seek your only memorial among old play-bills, letters requesting 14 WAVERLEY NOVELS a meeting of the faculty, rules of the Speculative Society,* syllabus of lectures—all the miscellaneous contents of a young advocate’s pocket, which contains everything but briefs and bank-notes? Can you not state a case of cesseo without your memorial? Why, it is done every Saturday. The events follow each other as regularly as clock-work, and one form of con- descendence might suit every one of them.’ ‘This is very unlike the variety of distress which this gentle- man stated to fall under the consideration of your judges,’ said I. ‘True,’ replied Halkit ; ‘but Hardie spoke of criminal juris- prudence, and this business is purely civil. I could plead a cessio myself without the inspiring honours of a gown and three-tailed periwig. Listen. My client was bred a journeyman weaver—made some little money—took a farm—(for con- ducting a farm, like driving a gig, comes by nature)—late severe times—induced to sign bills with a friend, for which he received no value—landlord sequestrates—creditors accept a composition—pursuer sets up a public-house—faiis a second time—is incarcerated for a debt of ten pounds, seven shillings and sixpence—his debts amount to blank—his losses to blank —his funds to blank—leaving a balance of blank in his favour. There is no opposition ; your lordships will please grant com- mission to take his oath.’ Hardie now renounced his ineffectual search, in which there was perhaps a little affectation, and told us the tale of poor Dunover’s distresses, with a tone in which a degree of feel- ing, which he seemed ashamed of as unprofessional, mingled with his attempts at wit, and did him more honour. It was one of those tales which seem to argue a sort of ill-luck or fatality attached to the hero. A well-informed, industrious, and blameless, but poor and bashful, man had in vain essayed all the usual means by which others acquire independence, yet had never succeeded beyond the attainment of bare subsistence. During a brief gleam of hope, rather than of actual prosperity, he had added a wife and family to his cares, but the dawn was speedily overcast. Everything retrograded with him towards the verge of the miry Slough of Despond, which yawns for insolvent debtors; and after catching at each twig, and experi- encing the protracted agony of feeling them one by one elude his grasp, he actually sunk into the miry pit whence he had been extricated by the professional exertions of Hardie. * A well-known debating club in Edinburgh (Laing), —_. , - THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 15 ‘And, I suppose, now you have dragged this poor devil ashore, you will leave him half naked on the beach to provide for himself?’ said Halkit. ‘Hark ye,’ and he whispered some- thing in his ear, of which the penetrating and insinuating words, ‘ Interest with my lord,’ alone reached mine. ‘It is pesseme exenypli,’ said Hardie, laughing, ‘to provide for a ruined client; but I was thinking of what you mention, provided it can be managed. But hush! here he comes.’ The recent relation of the poor man’s misfortunes had given him, I was pleased to observe, a claim to the attention and respect of the young men, who treated him with great civility, and gradually engaged him in a conversation, which, much to my satisfaction, again turned upon the causes célébres of Scotland. Emboldened by the kindness with which he was treated, Mr. Dunover began to contribute his share to the amusement of the evening. Jails, like other places, have their ancient traditions, known only to the inhabitants, and handed down from one set of the melancholy lodgers to the next who occupy their cells. Some of these, which Dunover mentioned, were interesting, and served to illustrate the narratives of remarkable trials which Hardie had at his finger-ends, and which his companion was also well skilled in. This sort of conversation passed away the evening till the early hour when Mr. Dunover chose to retire to rest, and I also retreated to take down memorandums of what I had learned, in order to add another narrative to those which it had been my chief amusement to collect, and to write out in detail. The two young men ordered a broiled bone, Madeira negus, and a pack of cards, and commenced a game at picquet. Next morning the travellers left Gandercleugh. I after- wards learned from the papers that both have been since engaged in the great political cause of Bubbleburgh and Bitem, a summary case, and entitled to particular despatch; but which, it is thought, nevertheless, may outlast the duration of the parliament to which the contest refers. Mr. Halkit, as the newspapers informed me, acts as agent or solicitor; and Mr. Hardie opened for Sir Peter Plyem with singular ability, and to such good purpose, that I understand he has since had fewer play-bills and more briefs in his pocket. And both the young gentlemen deserve their good fortune; for I learned from Dunover, who called on me some weeks afterwards, and communicated the intelligence with tears in his eyes, that their interest had availed to obtain him a small office for the 16 WAVERLEY NOVELS decent maintenance of his family; and that, after a train of constant and uninterrupted misfortune, he could trace a dawn of prosperity to his having the good fortune to be flung from the top of a mail-coach into the river Gander, in company with an advocate and a writer to the signet. The reader will not perhaps deem himself equally obliged to the accident, since it brings upon him the following narrative, founded upon the conversation of the evening. CHAPTER II Whoe’er’s been at Paris must needs know the Gréve, The fatal retreat of the unfortunate brave, Where honour and justice most oddly contribute, To ease heroes’ pains by an halter and gibbet. There death breaks the shackles which force had put on, And the hangman completes what the judge but began ; There the squire of the pad, and knight of the post, Find their pains no more baulk’d, and their hopes no more cross’d. PRIOR. In former times, England had her Tyburn, to which the devoted victims of justice were conducted in solemn procession up what is now called Oxford Road. In Edinburgh, a large open street, or rather oblong square, surrounded by high houses, called the Grassmarket, was used for the same melan- choly purpose. It was not ill chosen for such a scene, being of considerable extent, and therefore fit to accommodate a great number of spectators, such as are usually assembled by this melancholy spectacle. On the other hand, few of the houses which surround it were, even in early times, inhabited by persons of fashion; so that those likely to be offended or over deeply affected by such unpleasant exhibitions were not in the way of having their quiet disturbed by them. The houses in the Grassmarket are, generally speaking, of a mean description ; yet the place is not without some features of grandeur, being overhung by the southern side of the huge rock on which the castle stands, and by the moss-grown battlements and turreted walls of that ancient fortress. It was the custom, until within these thirty years or there- abouts, to use this esplanade for the scene of public executions. The fatal day was announced to the public by the appearance of a huge black gallows-tree towards the eastern end of the Grassmarket. This ill-omened apparition was of great height, with a scaffold surrounding it, and a double ladder placed VII 2 18 WAVERLEY NOVELS against it, for the ascent of the unhappy criminal and the executioner. As this apparatus was always arranged before dawn, it seemed as if the gallows had grown out of the earth in the course of one night, like the production of some foul demon ; and I well remember the fright with which the school- boys, when I was one of their number, used to regard these ominous signs of deadly preparation. On the night after the execution the gallows again disappeared, and was conveyed in silence and darkness to the place where it was usually deposited, which was one of the vaults under the Parliament House, or courts of justice. This mode of execution is now exchanged for one similar to that in front of Newgate, with what beneficial effect is uncertain. The mental sufferings of the convict are indeed shortened. He no longer stalks between the attendant clergymen, dressed in his grave-clothes, through a considerable part of the city, looking like a moving and walking corpse, while yet an inhabitant of this world J but, as _the ultimate-purpose-of puntshmenthasin-view the-prevention : i dor in abridging : inished that aupon_the spectatorswhieh is the useful end of all such inflictions, and_in consideration of whi ess in very particular cases, capital sentences can be altogether On the 7th day of September 1736 these ominous prepar- ations for execution were descried in the place we have described, and at an early hour the space around began to be occupied by several groups, who gazed on the scaffold and gibbet with a stern and vindictive show of satisfaction very seldom testified by the populace, whose good-nature in most cases forgets the crime of the condemned person, and dwells only on his misery. But the act of which the expected culprit had been convicted was of a description calculated nearly and closely to awaken and irritate the resentful feelings of the multitude. The tale is well known; yet it is necessary to recapitulate its leading circumstances, for the better under- standing what is to follow} and the narrative may prove long, but I trust not uninteresting, even to those who have heard its general issue. At any rate, some detail is necessary, in order to render intelligible the subsequent events of our narrative. Contraband trade, though it strikes at the root of legitimate government, by encroaching on its revenues, though it injures THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 19 the fair trader, and debauches the minds of those engaged in it, is not usually looked upon, either by the vulgar or by their betters, in a very heinous point of view. On the contrary, in those counties whet it prevails, the cleverest, boldest, and most intelligent of the peasantry are uniformly engaged in illicit transactions, and very often with the sanction of the farmers and inferior gentry. Smuggling was almost universal in Scotland in the reigns of George I. and II.; for the people, unaccustomed to imposts, and regarding them as an unjust aggression upon their ancient liberties, made no scruple to elude them whenever it was possible to do so. The county of Fife, bounded by two firths on the south and north, and by the sea on the east, and having a number of small seaports, was long famed for maintaining successfully a contraband trade; and as there were many seafaring men re- siding there, who had been pirates and buccaneers in their youth, there were not wanting a sufficient number of daring men to carry it on. Among these, a fellow called Andrew Wilson, originally a baker in the village of Pathhead, was par- ticularly obnoxious to the revenue officers. He was possessed of great personal strength, courage, and cunning, was _per- fectly acquainted with the coast, and capable of conducting the most desperate enterprises. On several occasions he succeeded in baffling the pursuit and researches of the king’s officers ; but he became so much the object of their suspicions and watchful attention that at length he was totally ruined by repeated seizures. ‘The man became desperate. He considered himself as robbed and plundered, and took it into his head that he had a right to make reprisals, as he could find opportunity. Where the heart is prepared for evil, opportunity is seldom long wanting. This Wilson learned that the collector of the customs at Kirkcaldy had come to Pittenweem, in the course of his official round of duty, with a considerable sum of public money in his custody. As the amount was greatly within the value of the goods which had been seized from him, Wilson felt no scruple of conscience in resolving to reimburse himself for his losses at the expense of the collector and the revenue. He associated with himself one Robertson and two other idle young men, whom, having been concerned in the same illicit trade, he persuaded to view the transaction in the same justifiable light in which he himself considered it. They watched the motions of the collector; they broke forcibly into the house where he lodged, Wilson, with two of his associates, entering the 20 WAVERLEY NOVELS collector’s apartment, while Robertson, the fourth, kept watch at the door with a drawn cutlass in his hand. The officer of the customs, conceiving his life in danger, escaped out of his bedroom window, and fled in his shirt, so that the plunderers, with much ease, possessed themselves of about two hundred pounds of public money. This robbery was committed in a very audacious manner, for several persons were passing in the street at the time. But Robertson, representing the noise they heard as a dispute or fray betwixt the collector and the people of the house, the worthy citizens of Pittenweem felt themselves no way called on to interfere in behalf of the obnoxious revenue officer ; so, satisfying themselves with this very superficial account of the matter, like the Levite in the parable, they passed on the opposite side of the way. An alarm was at length given, military were called in, the depredators were pur- sued, the booty recovered, and Wilson and Robertson tried and condemned to death, chiefly on the evidence of an accomplice. Many thought that, in consideration of the men’s erroneous opinion of the nature of the action they had committed, justice might have been satisfied with a less forfeiture than that of two lives. On the other hand, from the audacity of the fact, a severe example was judged necessary; and such was the opinion of the government. When it became apparent that the sentence of death was to be executed, files, and other imple- ments necessary for their escape, were transmitted secretly to the culprits by a friend from without. By these means they sawed a bar out of one of the prison windows, and might have made their escape, but for the obstinacy of Wilson, who, as he was daringly resolute, was doggedly pertinacious of his opinion, His comrade, Robertson, a young and slender man, proposed to make the experiment of passing the foremost through the gap they had made, and enlarging it from the outside, if necessary, to allow Wilson free passage. Wilson, however, insisted on making the first experiment, and being a robust and lusty man, he not only found it impossible to get through betwixt the bars, but, by his struggles, he jammed himself so fast that he was unable to draw his body back again. In these circumstances discovery became unavoidable ; and sufficient precautions were taken by the jailor to prevent any repetition of the same at- tempt. Robertson uttered not a word of reflection on his com- panion for the consequences of his obstinacy ; but it appeared from the sequel that Wilson’s mind was deeply impressed with the recollection that, but for him, his comrade, over whose mind THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 21 he exercised considerable influence, would not have engaged in the criminal enterprise which had terminated thus fatally ; and that now he had become his destroyer a second time, since, but for his obstinacy, Robertson might have effected his escape. Minds like Wilson’s, even when exercised in evil practices, sometimes retain the power of thinking and resolving with enthusiastic generosity. His whole thoughts were now bent on the possibility of saving Robertson’s life, without the least respect to his own. The resolution which he adopted, and the manner in which he carried it into effect, were striking and unusual. Adjacent to thd tolbooth or city jail of Edinburgh is one of three churches into which the cathedral of St.Giles is now divided, called, from its vicinity, the Tolbooth Church. It was the custom that criminals under sentence of death were brought to this church, with a sufficient guard, to hear and join in public worship on the Sabbath before execution. It was supposed that the hearts of these unfortunate persons, however hardened before against feelings of devotion, could not but be accessible to them upon uniting their thoughts and voices, for the last time, along with their fellow-mortals, in addressing their Creator. And to the rest of the congregation it was thought it could not but be impressive and affecting to find their devotions mingling with those who, sent by the doom of ' an earthly tribunal to appear where the whole earth is judged, might be considered as beings trembling on the verge of eternity. The practice, however edifying, has been discontinued, in con- sequence of the incident we are about to detail. The clergyman whose duty it was to officiate in the Tol- ‘booth Church had concluded an affecting discourse, part of which was particularly directed to the unfortunate men, Wilson and Robertson, who were in the pew set apart for the persons in their unhappy situation, each secured betwixt two soldiers of the City Guard. The clergyman had reminded them that the next congregation they must join would he that of the just or of the unjust; that the psalms they now heard must be ex- changed, in the space of two brief days, for eternal hallelujahs or eternal lamentations ; and that this fearful alternative must depend upon the state to which they might be able to bring their minds before the moment of awful preparation ; that they should not despair on account of the suddenness of the summons, but rather to feel this comfort in their misery, that, though all who now lifted the voice, or bent the knee, in conjunction with 22 WAVERLEY NOVELS them lay under the same sentence of certain death, they only had the advantage of knowing the precise moment at which it should be executed upon them. ‘Therefore,’ urged the good man, his voice trembling with emotion, ‘redeem the time, my unhappy brethren, which is yet left ; and remember that, with the grace of Him to whom space and time are but as nothing, salvation may yet be assured, even in the pittance of tes which the laws of your country afford you.’ Robertson was observed to weep at these words; but Wil- son seemed as one whose brain had not entirely received their meaning, or whose thoughts were deeply impressed with some different subject ; an expression so natural to a person in his situation that it excited neither suspicion nor surprise. The benediction was pronounced as usual, and the congrega- tion was dismissed, many lingering to indulge their curiosity with a more fixed look at the two criminals, who now, as well as their guards, rose up, as if to depart when the crowd should permit them. A murmur of compassion was heard to pervade the spectators, the more general, perhaps, on account of the alleviating circumstances of the case ; when all at once, Wilson, who, as we have already noticed, was a very strong man, seized two of the soldiers, one with each hand, and calling at the same time to his companion, ‘ Run, Geordie, run !’ threw himself on a third, and fastened his teeth on the collar of his coat. Robert- son stood for a second as if thunderstruck, and unable to ayail himself of the opportunity of escape ; but the cry of ‘ Run, run!’ being echoed from many around, whose feelings surprised them into a very natural interest in his behalf, he shook off the grasp of the remaining soldier, threw himself over the pew, mixed with the dispersing congregation, none of whom felt inclined to stop a poor wretch taking this last chance for his life, gained the door of the church, and was lost to all pursuit. The generous intrepidity which Wilson had displayed on this occasion augmented the feeling 2 compassion which at- tended his fate. /The_public, where thetrown_prejudices are ot concerned beihg easily engaged on ie side of disinterested- ess and humanity, admired Wilsoms-behaviour, and rejoiced obertson’s esca This general feeling was so great that it excited a vague report that Wilson would be rescued at the place of execution, either by the mob or by some of his old asso- ciates, or by some second extraordinary and unexpected exer- tion of strength and courage on his own part. The magistrates thought it their duty to provide against the possibility of dis- THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 23 turbance. They ordered out, for protection of the execution of the sentence, the greater part of their own City Guard, under the command of Captain Porteous, a man whose name became too memorable from the melancholy circumstances of the day and subsequent events. It may be necessary to say a word about this person and the corps which he commanded. But the subject is of importance sufficient to deserve another chapter. CHAPTER III And thou, great god of aqua-vite ! Wha sways the empire of this city, (When fou we’re sometimes capernoity), Be thou prepared, To save us frae that black banditti, The City Guard ! Frerauson’s Daft Days. CapTaAIN JOHN PoRTEOUS, a name memorable in the traditions of Edinburgh, as well as in the records of criminal jurisprudence, was the son of a citizen of Edinburgh, who endeavoured to breed him up to his own mechanical trade of a tailor. The youth, however, had a wild and irreclaimable propensity to dis- sipation, which finally sent him to serve in the corps long main- tained in the service of the States of Holland, and called the Scotch Dutch. Here he learned military discipline; and re- turning afterwards, in the course of an idle and wandering life, to his native city, his services were required by the magistrates of Edinburgh, in the disturbed year 1715, for disciplining their City Guard, in which he shortly afterwards received a captain’s commission. It was only by his military skill, and an alert and resolute character as an officer of police, that he merited this promotion, for he is said to have been a man of profligate habits, an unnatural son, and a brutal husband. He was, however, useful in his station, and his harsh and fierce habits rendered him formidable to rioters or disturbers of the public peace. The corps in which he held his command is, or perhaps we should rather say was, a body of about one hundred and twenty soldiers, divided into three companies, and regularly armed, clothed, and embodied. 'They were chiefly veterans who enlisted in this corps, having the benefit of working at their trades when they were off duty. These men had the charge of preserving public order, repressing riots and street robberies, acting, in short, as an armed police, and attending on all public occasions THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 25 where confusion or popular disturbance might be expected.* Poor Ferguson, whose irregularities sometimes led him into unpleasant rencontres with these military conservators of public order, and who mentions them so often that he may be termed their poet laureate, thus admonishes his readers, warned doubt- less by his own experience : Gude folk, as ye come frae the fair, Bide yout frae this black squad ; There’s nae sic savages elsewhere Allow’d to wear cockad. In fact, the soldiers of the City Guard, being, as we have said, in general discharged veterans, who had strength enough remaining for this municipal duty, and being, moreover, for the greater part, Highlanders, were neither by birth, education, or former habits trained to endure with much patience the insults of the rabble, or the provoking petulance of truant schoolboys, and idle debauchees of all descriptions, with whom their occupa- tion brought them into contact. On the contrary, the tempers of the poor old fellows were soured by the indignities with which the mob distinguished them on many occasions, and frequently might have required the soothing strains of the poet we have just quoted— O soldiers ! for your ain dear sakes, For Scotland’s love, the Land 0’ Cakes, Gie not her bairns sic deadly paiks, Nor be sae rude, Wi firelock or Lochaber axe, As spill their bluid ! an rregularit recreation with the rabble of Edinburgh. These pages may perhaps -see the light when many have in fresh recollection such onsets as we allude to. But the venerable corps with whom the contention was held may now be considered as totally extinct. Of late the gradual diminution of these civic soldiers reminds one of the abatement of King Lear’s hundred knights. The edicts of each succeeding set of magistrates have, like those of Goneril and Regan, diminished this venerable band with the similar question, ‘What need we five and twenty !— ten t—or five?’ And it is now nearly come to, ‘What need one?’ A spectre may indeed here and there still be seen, of * See Edinburgh City Guard. Note 3, 26 WAVERLEY NOVELS an old grey-headed and grey-bearded Highlander, with war- worn features, but bent double by age; dressed in an old- fashioned cocked hat, bound with white tape instead of silver lace, and in coat, waistcoat, and breeches of a muddy-coloured red, bearing in his withered hand an ancient weapon, called a Lochaber axe, a long pole, namely, with an axe at the extremity and a hook at the back of the hatchet.* Such a phantom of former days still creeps, I have been informed, round the statue of Charles the Second, in the Parliament Square, as if the image of a Stuart were the last refuge for any memorial of our ancient manners; and one or two others are supposed to glide around the door of the guard-house assigned to them in the Luckenbooths when their ancient refuge in the High Street was laid low.t But the fate of manuscripts bequeathed to friends and executors is so uncertain, that the narrative containing these frail memorials of the old Town Guard of Edinburgh, who, with their grim and valiant corporal, John Dhu, the fiercest-looking fellow I ever saw, were, in my boy- hood, the alternate terror and derision of the petulant brood of the High School, may, perhaps, only come to light when all memory of the institution has faded away, and then serve as an illustration of Kay’s caricatures, who has preserved the features of some of their heroes. In the preceding generation, when there was a perpetual alarm for the plots and activity of the Jacobites, some pains were taken by the magistrates of Edinburgh to keep this corps, though composed always of such materials as we have noticed, in a more effective state than was afterwards judged necessary, when their most danger- ous service was to skirmish with the rabble on the king’s birth- day. They were, therefore, more the objects of hatred, and less that of scorn, than they were afterwards accounted. To Captain John Porteous the honour of his command and of his corps seems to have been a matter of high interest and importance. He was exceedingly incensed against Wilson for the affront which he construed him to have put upon his soldiers, in the effort he made for the liberation of his com- panion, and expressed himself most ardently on the subject. He was no less indignant at the report that there was an intention to rescue Wilson himself from the gallows, and uttered many threats and imprecations upon that subject, * This hook was to enable the bearer of the Lochaber axe to scale a gateway, by grappling the top of the door and swinging himself up by the staff of his weapon. t See Last March of the City Guard. Note 4. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 27 which were afterwards remembered to his disadvantage. In fact, if a good deal of determination and promptitude rendered Porteous, in one respect, fit to command guards designed to suppress popular commotion, he seems, on the other, to have been disqualified for a charge so delicate by a hot and surly temper, always too ready to come to blows and violence, a character void of principle, and a disposition to regard the rabble, who seldom failed to regale him and his soldiers with some marks of their displeasure, as declared enemies, upon whom it was natural and justifiable that he should seek opportunities of vengeance. Being, however, the most active and trustworthy among the captains of the City Guard, he was the person to whom the magistrates confided the command of the soldiers appointed to keep the peace at the time of Wilson’s execution. He was ordered to guard the gallows and scaffold, with about eighty men, all the disposable force that could be spared for that duty. But the magistrates took farther precautions, which affected Porteous’s pride very deeply. They requested the assistance of part of a regular infantry regiment, not to attend upon the execution, but to remain drawn up on the principal street of the city, during the time that it went forward, in order to intimidate the multitude, in case they should be disposed to be unruly, with a display of force which could not be resisted without desperation. It may sound ridiculous in our ears, considering the fallen state of -this ancient civic corps, that its officer should have felt punctiliously jealous of its honour. Yet soit was. Captain Porteous resented as an indignity the introducing the Welsh Fusileers within the city, and drawing them up in the street where no drums but his own were allowed to be sounded without the special command or permission of the magistrates. As he could not show his ill-humour to his patrons the magistrates, it increased his indignation and his desire to be revenged on the unfortunate criminal Wilson, and all who favoured him. ‘These internal emotions of jealousy and rage wrought a change on the man’s mien and bearing, visible to all who saw him on the fatal morning when Wilson was appointed to suffer. Porteous’s ordinary appearance was rather favourable. He was about the middle size, stout, and well made, having a military air, and yet rather a gentle and mild countenance. His complexion was brown, his face somewhat fretted with the sears of the small-pox, his. eyes rather languid than keen or fierce. On the present occasion, however, it seemed to those 28 _ WAVERLEY NOVELS who saw him as if he were agitated by some evil demon. His step was irregular, his voice hollow and broken, his countenance pale, his eyes staring and wild, his speech imperfect and confused, and his whole appearance so disordered that many remarked he seemed to be ‘fey,’ a Scottish expression, meaning the state of those who are driven on to their impending fate by the strong impulse of some irresistible necessity. One part of his conduct was truly diabolical, if, indeed, it has not been exaggerated by the general prejudice entertained against his memory. When Wilson, the unhappy criminal, was delivered to him by the keeper of the prison, in order that he might be conducted to the place of execution, Porteous, not satisfied with the usual precautions to prevent escape, ordered him to be manacled. This might be justifiable from the char- acter and bodily strength of the malefactor, as well as from the apprehensions so generally entertained of an expected rescue. But the handcuffs which were produced being found too small for the wrists of a man so big-boned as Wilson, Porteous proceeded with his own hands, and by great exertion of strength, to force them till they clasped together, to the exquisite torture of the unhappy criminal. Wilson remonstrated against such barbarous usage, declaring that the pain distracted his thoughts from the subjects of meditation proper to his unhappy condition. ‘It signifies little,’ replied Captain Porteous; ‘your pain will be soon at an end.’ ‘Your cruelty is great,’ answered the sufferer. ‘You know not how soon you yourself may have occasion to ask the mercy which you are now refusing to a fellow-creature. May God forgive you !’ These words, long afterwards quoted and remembered, were all that passed between Porteous and his prisoner; but as they took air and became known to the people, they greatly increased the popular compassion for Wilson, and excited a proportionate degree of indignation against Porteous, against whom, as strict, and even violent, in the discharge of his unpopular office, the common people had some real, and many imaginary, causes of complaint. When the painful procession was completed, and Wilson, with the escort, had arrived at the scaffold in the Grassmarket, there appeared no signs of that attempt to rescue him. which had occasioned such precautions. The multitude, in general, looked on with deeper interest than at ordinary executions ; and there might be seen on the countenances of many a stern THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 29 and indignant expression, like that with which the ancient Cameronians might be supposed to witness the execution of their brethren, who glorified the Covenant on the same occasion, and at the same spot. But there was no attempt at violence. Wilson himself seemed disposed to hasten over the space that divided time from eternity. The devotions proper and usual on such occasions were no sooner finished than he submitted to his fate, and the sentence of the law was fulfilled. He had been suspended on the gibbet so long as to be totally deprived of life, when at once, as if occasioned by some newly-received impulse, there arose a tumult among the multi- tude. Many stones were thrown at Porteous and his guards ; some mischief was done; and the mob continued to press forward with whoops, shrieks, howls, and exclamations. A young fellow, with a sailor’s cap slouched over his face, sprung on the scaffold and cut the rope by which the criminal was suspended. Others approached to carry off the body, either to secure for it a decent grave, or to try, perhaps, some means of resuscitation. Captain Porteous was wrought, by this appear- ance of insurrection against his authority, into a rage so headlong as made him forget that, the sentence having been fully executed, it was his duty not to engage in hostilities with the misguided multitude, but to draw off his men as fast as possible. He sprung from the scaffold, snatched a musket from one of his soldiers, commanded the party to give fire, and, as several eye-witnesses concurred in swearing, set them the ex- ample by discharging his piece and shooting a man dead on the spot. Several soldiers obeyed his command or followed his example ; six or seven persons were slain, and a great many were hurt and wounded. After this act of violence, the Captain proceeded to withdraw his men towards their guard-house in the High Street. The mob were not so much intimidated as incensed by what had been done. They pursued the soldiers with execrations, accom- panied by volleys of stones. As they pressed on them, the rearmost soldiers turned and again fired with fatal aim and execution. It is not accurately known whether Porteous commanded this second act of violence; but of course the odium of the whole transactions of the fatal day attached to him, and to him alone. JHe arrived at the guard-house, dismissed his soldiers, and went to make his report to the magistrates concerning the unfortunate events of the day. Apparently by this time Captain Porteous had begun to 30 WAVERLEY NOVELS doubt the propriety of his own conduct, and the reception he met with from the magistrates was such as to make him still more anxious to gloss it over. He denied that he had given orders to fire; he denied he had fired with his own hand; he even produced the fusee which he carried as an officer for examination: it was found still loaded. Of three cartridges which he was seen to put in his pouch that morning, two were still there ; a white handkerchief was thrust into the muzzle of the piece, and returned unsoiled or blackened. To the defence founded on these circumstances it was answered, that Porteous had not used his own piece, but had been seen to take one from a soldier. Among the many who had been killed and wounded by the unhappy fire, there were several of better rank; for even the humanity of such soldiers as fired over the heads of the mere rabble around the scaffold, proved in some instances fatal to persons who were stationed in windows, or observed the melancholy scene from a distance. The voice of public indignation was loud and general; and, ere men’s tempers had time to cool, the trial of Captain Porteous took place before the High Court of Justiciary. After a long and patient hearing, the jury had the difficult duty of balancing the positive evidence of many persons, and those of respectability, who deposed positively to the prisoner’s commanding his soldiers to fire, and himself firing his piece, of which some swore that they saw the smoke and flash, and beheld a man drop at whom it was pointed, with the negative testimony of others, who, though well stationed for seeing what had passed, neither heard Porteous give orders to fire, nor saw him fire himself ; but, on the contrary, averred that the first shot was fired by a soldier who stood close by him. A great part of his defence was also founded on the turbulence of the mob, which witnesses, according to their feelings, their predilections, and their opportunities of observation, represented differently ; some describing as a formidable riot what others represented as a trifling disturbance, such as always used to take place on the like occasions, when the executioner of the law and the men commissioned to protect him in his task were generally - exposed to some indignities. The verdict of the jury sufficiently shows how the evidence preponderated in their minds. It declared that John Porteous fired a gun among the people assembled at the execution ; that he gave orders to his soldiers to fire, by which many persons were killed and wounded ; but, at the same time, that the prisoner and his guard had been THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 31 wounded and beaten by stones thrown at them by the multi- tude. Upon this verdict, the Lords of Justiciary passed sentence of death against Captain John Porteous, adjudging him, in the common form, to be hanged on a gibbet at the common place of execution, on Wednesday, 8th September 1736, and all his movable property to be forfeited to the king’s use, according to the Scottish law in cases of wilful murder. CHAPTER IV The hour’s come, but not the man.* Kelpie. On the day when the unhappy Porteous was expected to suffer the sentence of the law, the place of execution, extensive as it is, was crowded almost to suffocation. There was not a window in all the lofty tenements around it, or in the steep and crooked street called the Bow, by which the fatal procession was to descend from the High Street, that was not absolutely filled with spectators. The uncommon height and antique appearance of these houses, some of which were formerly the property of the Knights Templars and the Knights of St. John, and still exhibit on their fronts and gables the iron cross of these orders, gave additional effect to a scene in itself so striking. The area of the Grassmarket resembled a huge dark lake or sea of human heads, in the centre of which arose the fatal tree, tall, black, and ominous, from which dangled the deadly halter. Every object takes interest from its uses and associations, and the erect beam and empty noose, things so simple in themselves, became, on such an occasion, objects of terror and of solemn interest. Amid so numerous an assembly there was scarcely a word spoken, save in whispers. The thirst of vengeance was in some degree allayed by its supposed certainty; and even the populace, with deeper feeling than they are wont to entertain, suppressed all clamorous exultation, and prepared to enjoy the scene of retaliation in triumph, silent and decent, though stern and relentless. It seemed as if the depth of their hatred to the unfortunate criminal scorned to display itself in anything resembling the more noisy current of their ordinary feelings. Had a stranger consulted only the evidence of his ears, he might have supposed that so vast a multitude were assembled * See The Kelpie’s Voice. Note 5. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 83 for some purpose which affected them with the deepest sorrow, and stilled those noises which, on all ordinary occasions, arise from such a concourse; but if he gazed upon their faces he would have been instantly undeceived. The compressed lip, the bent brow, the stern and flashing eye of almost every one on whom he looked, conveyed the expression of men come to glut their sight with triumphant revenge. It is probable that the appearance of the criminal might have somewhat changed the temper of the populace in his favour, and that they might in the moment of death have forgiven the man against whom their resentment had been so fiercely heated. It had, however, been destined that the mutability of their sentiments was not to be exposed to this trial. The usual hour for producing the criminal had been past for many minutes, yet the spectators observed no symptom of his appearance. ‘Would they venture to defraud public justice?’ was the question which men began anxiously to ask at each other. The first answer in every case was bold and positive— ‘They dare not.’ But when the point was further canvassed, other opinions were entertained, and various causes of doubt were suggested. Porteous had been a favourite officer of the magistracy of the city, which, being a numerous and fluctu- ating body, requires for its support a degree of energy in its functionaries which the individuals who compose it cannot at all times alike be supposéd to possess in their own persons. It was remembered that in the information for Porteous (the paper, namely, in which his case was stated to the judges of the criminal court), he had been described by his counsel as the person on whom the magistrates chiefly relied in all emergencies _ of uncommon difficulty. It was argued, too, that his conduct, on the unhappy occasion of Wilson’s execution, was capable of being attributed to an imprudent excess of zeal in the execution of his duty, a motive for which those under whose authority he acted might be supposed to have great sympathy. And as these considerations might move the magistrates to make a favourable representation of Porteous’s case, there were not wanting others in the higher departments of government which would make such suggestions favourably listened to. ©) i h n ‘ats at PHAes-One-Of -the-Hereest-wHich coud be found 1 ope} and of late years they had risen repeatedly against the govern- ment, and sometimes not without temporary success. They were conscious, therefore, that they were no favourites with the VII 3 34 WAVERLEY NOVELS rulers of the period, and that, if Captain Porteous’s violence was not altogether regarded as good service, it might certainly be thought that to visit it with a capital punishment would render it both delicate and dangerous for future officers, in the same circumstances, to act with effect in repressing tumults. There is also a natural feeling, on the part of all members of government, for the general maintenance of authority ; and it seemed not unlikely that what to the relatives of the sufferers appeared a wanton and unprovoked massacre, should be other- wise viewed in the cabinet of St James’s. It might be there supposed that, upon the whole matter, Captain Porteous was in the exercise of a trust delegated to him by the lawful civil authority ; that he had been assaulted by the populace, and several of his men hurt; and that, in finally repelling force by force, his conduct could be fairly imputed to no other motive than self-defence in the discharge of his duty. These considerations, of themselves very powerful, induced the spectators to apprehend the possibility of a reprieve; and to the various causes which might interest the rulers in his favour the lower part of the rabble added one which was peculiarly well adapted to their comprehension. It was averred, in order to increase the odium against Porteous, that, while he repressed with the utmost severity the slightest excesses of the poor, he not only overlooked the license of the young nobles and gentry, but was very willing to lend them the countenance of his official authority in execution of such loose pranks as it was chiefly his duty to have restrained. This suspicion, which was perhaps much exaggerated, made a deep impression on the minds of the populace ; and when several of the higher rank joined in a petition recommending Porteous to the mercy of the crown, it was generally supposed he owed their favour not to any conviction of the hardship of his case, but to the fear of losing a convenient accomplice in their debaucheries. It is scarcely necessary to say how much this suspicion augmented the people’s detestation of this obnoxious criminal, as well as their fear of his escaping the sentence pronounced against him. While these arguments were stated and replied to, and canvassed and supported, the hitherto silent expectation of the people became changed into that deep and agitating murmur which is sent forth by the ocean before the tempest begins to howl. The crowded populace, as if their motions had corre- sponded with the unsettled state of their minds, fluctuated to and fro without any visible cause of impulse, like the agitation of THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 35 the waters called by sailors the ground-swell. The news, which the magistrates had almost hesitated to communicate to them, were at length announced, and spread among the spectators with a rapidity like lightning. A reprieve from the Secretary of State’s office, under the hand of his Grace the Duke of Newcastle, had arrived, intimating the pleasure of Queen Caroline (regent of the kingdom during the absence of George II. on the Continent), that the execution of the sentence of death pronounced against John Porteous, late Captain-Lieutenant of the City Guard of Edin- burgh, present prisoner in the tolbooth of that city, be respited for six weeks from the time appointed for his execution. The assembled spectators of almost all degrees, whose minds had been wound up to the pitch which we have described, uttered a groan, or rather a roar of indignation and dis- appointed revenge, similar to that of a tiger from whom his meal has been rent by his keeper when he was just about to devour it. This fierce exclamation seemed to forebode some immediate explosion of popular resentment, and, in fact, such had been expected by the magistrates, and the necessary measures had been taken to repress it. But the shout was not repeated, nor did any sudden tumult ensue, such as it appeared to announce. The populace seemed to be ashamed of having expressed their disappointment in a vain clamour, and the sound changed, not into the silence which had preceded the arrival of these stunning news, but into stifled mutterings, which each group maintained among themselves, and which were blended into one deep and hoarse murmur which floated above the assembly. Yet still, though all expectation of the execution was over, the mob, remained assembled, stationary, as it were, through - very resentment, gazing on the preparations for death, which had now been made in vain, and stimulating their feelings by re- calling the various claims which Wilson might have had on royal mercy, from the mistaken motives on which he acted, as well as from the generosity he had displayed towards his accomplice. ‘This man,’ they said, ‘the brave, the resolute, the generous, was executed to death without mercy for stealing a purse of gold, which in some sense he might consider as a fair reprisal ; while the profligate satellite, who took advantage of a trifling tumult, inseparable from such occasions, to shed the blood of twenty of his fellow-citizens, is deemed a fitting object for the exercise of the royal prerogative of aes CIs this to be borne? — ould our fathers have borne it? |Are not we, like them, Scots- men Inburgh? a 36 WAVERLEY NOVELS The officers of justice began now to remove the scaffold and other preparations which had been made for the execution, in hopes, by doing so, to accelerate the dispersion of the multitude. The measure had the desired effect ; for no sooner had the fatal tree been unfixed from the large stone pedestal or socket in which it was secured, and sunk slowly down upon the wain intended to remove it to the place where it was usually deposited, than the populace, after giving vent to their feelings in a second shout of rage and mortification, began slowly to disperse to their usual abodes and occupations. The windows were in like manner gradually deserted, and groups of the more decent class of citizens formed themselves, as if waiting to return homewards when the streets should be cleared of the rabble. Contrary to what is frequently the case, this description of persons agreed in general with the senti- ments of their inferiors, and considered the cause as common to all ranks. Indeed, as we have already noticed, it was by no means amongst the lowest class of the spectators, or those most likely to be engaged in the riot at Wilson’s execution, that the fatal fire of Porteous’s soldiers had taken effect. Several persons were killed who were looking out at windows at the scene, who could not of course belong to the rioters, and were persons of decent rank and condition. The burghers, therefore, resenting the loss which had fallen on their own body, and proud and tenacious of their rights, as the citizens of Edinburgh have at all times been, were greatly exasperated at the unexpected respite of Captain Porteous. It was noticed at the time, and afterwards more particularly remembered, that, while the mob were in the act of dispersing, several individuals were seen busily passing from one place and one group of people to another, remaining long with none, but whispering for a little time with those who appeared to be declaiming most violently against the conduct of govern- ment. These active agents had the appearance of men from the country, and were generally supposed to be old friends and confederates of Wilson, whose minds were of course highly excited against Porteous. If, however, it was the intention of these men to stir the multitude to any sudden act of mutiny, it seemed for the time to be fruitless. The rabble, as well as the more decent part of the assembly, dispersed, and went home peaceably ; and it was only by observing the moody discontent on their brows, or catching the tenor of the conversation they held % - THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 87 with each other, that a stranger could estimate the state of their minds. We will give the reader this advantage, by associating ourselves with one of the numerous groups who were painfully ascending the steep declivity of the West Bow, to return to their dwellings in the Lawnmarket. ‘An unco thing this, Mrs. Howden,’ said old Peter Plum- damas to his neighbour the rouping-wife, or saleswoman, as he offered her his arm to assist her in the toilsome ascent, ‘to see the grit folk at Lunnon set their face against law and gospel, and let loose sic a reprobate as Porteous upon a peaceable town !’ ‘And to think o’ the weary walk they hae gien us,’ answered Mrs. Howden, with a groan; ‘and sic a comfortable window as I had gotten, too, just within a pennystane cast of the scaffold —I could hae heard every word the minister said—and to pay twal pennies for my stand, and a’ for naething !’ ‘I am judging,’ said Mr. Plumdamas, ‘that this reprieve wadna stand gude in the auld Scots law, when the kingdom ~ was a kingdom.’ ‘I dinna ken muckle about the law,’ answered Mrs. Howden ; ‘but I ken, when we had a king, and a chancellor, and par- liament men o’ our ain, we could aye peeble them wi’ stanes when they werena gude bairns. But naebody’s nails can reach the length o’ Lunnon.’ ’ that e’er cam u ament, and hae oppressed trade. Our gentles will hardly allow that a Scots needle can sew ruffles on a sark, or lace on an owerlay.’ ‘Ye may say that, Miss Damahoy, and I ken o’ them that hae gotten raisins frae Lunnon by forpits at ance,’ responded Plumdamas ; ‘and then sic an host of idle English gaugers and excisemen as hae come down to vex and torment us, that an honest man canna fetch sae muckle as a bit anker o’ brandy frae Leith to the Lawnmarket, but he’s like to be rubbit o’ the very gudes he’s bought and paid for. Weel, I winna justify Andrew Wilson for pitting hands on what wasna his; but if he took nae mair than his ain, there’s an awfu’ difference between that and the fact this man stands for.’ ‘If ye speak about the law,’ said Mrs. Howden, ‘here comes Mr. Saddletree, that can settle it as weel as ony on the bench.’ The party she mentioned, a grave elderly person, with a superb periwig, dressed in a decent suit of sad-coloured clothes, “ 38 WAVERLEY NOVELS . came up as she spoke, and courteously gave his arm to Miss Grizel Damahoy. It may be necessary to mention that Mr. Bartoline Saddle- tree kept an excellent and highly-esteemed shop for harness, saddles, etc. etc., at the sign of the Golden Nag, at the head of Bess Wynd.* His genius, however (as he himself and most of his neighbours conceived), lay towards the weightier matters of the law, and he failed not to give frequent attendance upon the pleadings and arguments of the lawyers and judges in the neighbouring square, where, to say the truth, he was oftener to be found than would have consisted with his own emolument ; but that his wife, an active painstaking person, could, in his absence, make an admirable shift to please the customers and scold the journeymen. This good lady was in the habit of letting her husband take his way, and go on improving his stock of legal knowledge without interruption; but, as if in requital, she insisted upon having her own will in the domestic and commercial departments which he abandoned to her. Now, as Bartoline Saddletree had a considerable gift of words, which he mistook for eloquence, and conferred more liberally upon the society in which he lived than was at all times gracious and acceptable, there went forth a saying, with which wags used sometimes to interrupt his rhetoric, that, as he had a golden nag at his door, so he had a grey mare in his shop. This reproach induced Mr. Saddletree, on all occasions, to assume rather a haughty and stately tone towards his good woman, a circumstance by which she seemed very little affected, unless he attempted to exercise any real authority, when she never failed to fly into open rebellion. But such extremes Bartoline seldom provoked ; for, like the gentle King Jamie, he was fonder of talking of authority than really exercising it. This turn of mind was on the whole lucky for him; since his substance was increased without any trouble on his part, or any interruption of his favourite studies. This word in explanation has been thrown in to the reader, while Saddletree was laying down, with great precision, the law upon Porteous’s case, by which he arrived at this conclu- sion, that, if Porteous had fired five minutes sooner, before Wilson was cut down, he would have been versans in licito, engaged, that is, in a lawful act, and only liable to be punished propter excessum, or for lack of discretion, which might have mitigated the punishment to pena ordinaria. * See Bess Wynd. Note 6. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 39 ‘Discretion !’ echoed Mrs. Howden, on whom, it may well be supposed, the fineness of this distinction was entirely thrown away, ‘whan had Jock Porteous either grace, discretion, or gude manners? I mind when his father ‘But, Mrs. Howden,’ said Saddletree ‘And I,’ said Miss Damahoy, ‘mind when his mother ‘Miss Damahoy,’ entreated the interrupted orator ‘ And I,’ said Plumdamas, ‘mind when his wife ‘Mr. Plumdamas—Mrs. Howden—Miss Damahoy,’ again implored the orator, ‘mind the distinction, as Counsellor Crossmyloof says—‘I,” says he, “take a distinction.” Now, the body of the criminal being cut down, and the execution ended, Porteous was no longer official; the act which he came to protect and guard being done and ended, he was no better than curvis ex populo.’ ‘Quivis—quirvis, Mr. Saddletree, craving your pardon,’ said, with a prolonged emphasis on the first syllable, Mr. Butler, the deputy schoolmaster of a parish near Edinburgh, who at that moment came up behind them as the false Latin was uttered. ‘What signifies interrupting me, Mr. Butler ?—but I am glad to see ye notwithstanding. I speak after Counsellor Crossmy- loof, and he said cuzvis.’ ‘If Counsellor Crossmyloof used the dative for the nomina- tive, | would have crossed zs loof with a tight leathern strap, Mr. Saddletree; there is not a boy on the booby form but should have been scourged for such a solecism in grammar.’ ‘I speak Latin like a lawyer, Mr. Butler, and not like a schoolmaster,’ retorted Saddletree. ‘Scarce like a schoolboy, I think,’ rejoined Butler. ‘It matters little,’ said Bartoline ; ‘all I mean to say is, that Porteous has become liable to the pena extra ordinem, or capital punishment, which is to say, in plain Scotch, the gallows, simply because he did not fire when he was in office, but waited till the body was cut down, the execution whilk he had in charge to guard implemented, and he himself exonered of the public trust imposed on him.’ ‘But, Mr. Saddletree,’ said Plumdamas, ‘do ye enti think John Porteous’ s case wad hae been better if he had begun firing before ony stanes were flung at a’?’ ‘Indeed do I, neighbour Plumdamas,’ replied Bartoline, confidently, ‘he being then in point of trust and in point of power, the execution being but inchoate, or, at least, not imple- ) 40 WAVERLEY NOVELS mented, or finally ended ; but after Wilson was cut down it was a’ ower—he was clean exauctorate, and had nae mair ado but to get awa wi’ his Guard up this West Bow as fast as if there had been a caption after him. And this is law, for I heard it laid down by Lord Vincovincentem.’ ‘Vincovincentem! Is he a lord of state or a lord of seat ?’ inquired Mrs. Howden. ‘A lord of seat—a lord of session. I fash mysell little wi’ lords o’ state; they vex me wi’ a wheen idle questions about their saddles, and curpels, and holsters, and horse-furniture, and what they'll cost, and whan they’ll be ready. A wheen gallop- ing geese! my wife may serve the like o’ them.’ ‘And so might she, in her day, hae served the best lord in the land, for as little as ye think o’ her, Mr. Saddletree,’ said Mrs. Howden, somewhat indignant at the contemptuous way in which her gossip was mentioned ; ‘when she and I were twa gilpies, we little thought to hae sitten doun wi’ the like o’ my auld Davie Howden, or you either, Mr. Saddletree.’ While Saddletree, who was not bright at a reply, was cud- gelling his brains for an answer to this home-thrust, Miss Damahoy broke in on him. ‘And as for the lords of state,’ said Miss Damahoy, ‘ye suld mind the riding o’ the parliament, Mr. Saddletree, in the gude auld time before the Union: a year’s rent 0’ mony a gude estate gaed for horse-graith and harnessing, forbye broidered robes and foot-mantles, that wad hae stude by their lane wi’ gold brocade, and that were muckle in my ain line.’ ‘Ay, and then the lusty banqueting, with sweetmeats and comfits wet and dry, and dried fruits of divers sorts,’ said Plum- damas. ‘ But Scotland was Scotland in these days.’ ‘Tl tell ye what it is, neighbours,’ said Mrs. Howden, ‘I'll ne’er believe Scotland is Scotland ony mair if our kindly Scots sit doun_wi he_affront the r] S dav. —H’s—_ne ‘only the pluid that zs shed, but the bluid that might hae been shed, that’s required at our hands. There was my daughter’s wean, little Eppie Daidle—my oe, ye ken, Miss Grizel—had played the truant frae the school, as bairns will do, ye ken, Mr. Butler ‘And for which,’ interjected Mr. Butler, ‘they should be soundly scourged by their well-wishers.’ ‘And had just cruppen to the gallows’ foot to see the hang- ing, as was natural for a wean; and what for mightna she hae been shot as weel as the rest o’ them, and where wad we a THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 41 hae been then? I wonder how Queen Carline—if her name be Carline—wad hae liked to hae had ane o’ her ain bairns in sic a venture ?’ ‘Report says,’ answered Butler, ‘that such a circumstance would not have distressed her Majesty beyond endurance.’ ‘ Aweel,’ said Mrs. Howden, ‘the sum o’ the matter is, that, were I a man, I wad hae amends o’ Jock Porteous, be the up- shot what like o’t, if a’ the carles and carlines in England had sworn to the nay-say.’ ‘I would claw down the tolbooth door wi’ my nails,’ said Miss Grizel, ‘but I wad be at him.’ ‘Ye may be very right, ladies,’ said Butler, ‘but I would not advise you to speak so loud.’ ‘Speak !’ exclaimed both the ladies together, ‘there will be naething else spoken about frae the Weigh House to the Water Gate till this is either ended or mended.’ The females now departed to their respective places of abode. Plumdamas joined the other two gentlemen in drink- ing their ‘meridian,’ a bumper-dram of brandy, as they passed the well-known low-browed shop in the Lawnmarket where they were wont to take that refreshment. Mr. Plumdamas then departed towards his shop, and Mr. Butler, who happened to have some particular occasion for the rein of an old bridle —the truants of that busy day could have anticipated its appli- cation—walked down the Lawnmarket with Mr. Saddletree, each talking as he could get a word thrust in, the one on the laws of Scotland, the other on those of syntax, and neither. listening to a word which his companion uttered. CHAPTER V Elswhair he colde right weel lay down the law, But in his house was meek as is a daw. DAVIE LINDSAY. ‘THERE has been Jock Driver, the carrier, here, speering about his new graith,’ said Mrs. Saddletree to her husband, as he crossed his threshold, not with the purpose, by any means, of consulting him upon his own affairs, but merely to intimate, by a gentle recapitulation, how much duty she had gone through in his absence. ‘Weel,’ replied Bartoline, and deigned not a word more. ‘And the Laird of Girdingburst has had his running foot- man here, and ca’d himsell—he’s a civil pleasant young gentle- man —to see when the broidered saddle-cloth for his sorrel horse will be ready, for he wants it again the Kelso races.’ ‘Weel, aweel,’ replied Bartoline, as laconically as before. ‘And his lordship, the Earl of Blazonbury, Lord Flash and Flame, is like to be clean daft that the harness for the six Flanders mears, wi’ the crests, coronets, housings, and mount- ings conform, are no sent hame according to promise gien.’ ‘Weel, weel, weel—weel, weel, gudewife,’ said Saddletree, ‘if he gangs daft, we’ll hae him cognosced—it’s a’ very weel.’ ‘It’s weel that ye think sae, Mr. Saddletree,’ answered his helpmate, rather nettled at the indifference with which her report was received; ‘there’s mony ane wad hae thought themselves affronted if sae mony customers had ca’d and naebody to answer them but women-folk; for a’ the lads were aff, as soon as your back was turned, to see Porteous hanged, that might be counted upon; and sae, you no being at hame : ; ‘Houts, Mrs. Saddletree,’ said Bartoline, with an air of consequence, ‘dinna deave me wi’ your nonsense; I was under the necessity of being elsewhere: non omnia, as Mr. Crossmy- THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 43 loof said, when he was called by two macers at once—non omnia possumus—pessimus—possimis—I ken our law Latin offends Mr. Butler’s ears, but it means “ Naebody,” an it were the Lord President himsell, “can do twa turns at ance.”’ ‘Very right, Mr. Saddletree,’ answered his careful helpmate, with a sarcastic smile; ‘and nae doubt it’s a decent thing to leave your wife to look after young gentlemen’s saddles and bridles, when ye gang to see a man that never did ye nae ill raxing a halter.’ ‘Woman,’ said Saddletree, assuming an elevated tone, to which the ‘ meridian’ had somewhat contributed, ‘ desist, —I say forbear, from intromitting with affairs thou canst not under- stand. D’ye think I was born to sit here broggin an elshm through bend-leather, when sic men as Duncan Forbes and that other Arniston chield there, without muckle greater parts, if the close-head speak true, than mysell, maun be presidents and king’s advocates, nae doubt, and wha but they? Whereas, were favour equally distribute, as in the days of the wight Wallace : ‘I ken naething we wad hae gotten by the wight Wallace,’ said Mrs. Saddletree, ‘unless, as I hae heard the auld folk tell, they fought in thae days wi’ bend-leather guns, and then it’s a chance but what, if he had bought them, he might have forgot to pay for them. And as for the greatness of your parts, Bartley, the folk in the close-head maun ken mair about them than I do, if they make sic a report of them.’ ‘I tell ye, woman,’ said Saddletree, in high dudgeon, ‘that ye ken naething about these matters. In Sir William Wallace’s days there was nae man pinned down to sic a slavish wark as -a saddler’s, for they got ony leather graith that they had use for ready-made out of Holland.’ ‘Well,’ said Butler, who was, like many of his profession, something of a humorist and dry joker, ‘if that be the case, Mr. Saddletree, I think we have changed for the better; since we make our own harness, and only import our lawyers from Holland.’ ‘It’s ower true, Mr. Butler,’ answered Bartoline, with a sigh ; ‘if I had had the luck—or rather, if my father had had the sense to send me to Leyden and Utrecht to learn the Substitutes and Pandex : ‘You mean the /nstitutes—Justinian’s Institutes, Mr. Saddle- tree?’ said Butler. ‘Institutes and substitutes are synonymous words, Mr. 44 WAVERLEY NOVELS Butler, and used indifferently as such in deeds of tailzie, as you may see in Balfour’s Practiques, or Dallas of St. Martin’s Styles. I understand these things pretty weel, I thank God; but I own I should have studied in Holland.’ ‘To comfort you, you might not have been farther forward than you are now, Mr. Saddletree,’ replied Mr. Butler; ‘for our Scottish advocates are an aristocratic race. Their brass is of the right Corinthian quality, and Won cuivis contigit adire Corinthum. Aha, Mr. Saddletree !’ ‘And aha, Mr. Butler,’ rejoined Bartoline, upon whom, as may be well supposed, the jest was lost, and all but the sound of the words, ‘ye said a gliff syne it was guivis, and now I heard ye say cwivis with my ain ears, as plain as ever I heard a word at the fore-bar.’ ‘Give me your patience, Mr. Saddletree, and I’ll explain the discrepancy in three words,’ said Butler, as pedantic in his own department, though with infinitely more judgment and learn- ing, aS Bartoline was in his self-assumed profession of the law. “Give me your patience fora moment. You'll grant that the nominative case is that by which a person or thing is nominated or designed, and which may be called the primary case, all others being formed from it by alterations of the termination in the learned languages, and by prepositions in our modern Babylonian jargons? You'll grant me that, I suppose, Mr. Saddletree ?’ . ‘I dinna ken whether I will or no—ad avisandum, ye ken— naebody should be in a hurry to make admissions, either in point of law or in point of fact,’ said Saddletree, looking, or endeavouring to look, as if he understood what was said. ‘And the dative case,’ continued Butler—— ‘I ken what a tutor dative is,’ said Saddletree, ‘readily enough.’ ‘The dative case,’ resumed the grammarian, ‘is that in which anything is given or assigned as properly belonging to a person or thing. You cannot deny that, I am sure.’ ‘T am sure [’ll no grant it though,’ said Saddletree. ‘Then, what the deevil d’ye take the nominative and the dative cases to be?’ said Butler, hastily, and surprised at once out of his decency of expression and accuracy of pronunciation. ‘Tl tell you that at leisure, Mr. Butler,’ said Saddletree, with a very knowing look. ‘I'll take a day to see and answer every article of your condescendence, and then I'll hold you to confess or deny, as accords.’ 4 THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 45 ‘Come, come, Mr. Saddletree,’ said his wife, ‘we'll hae nae confessions and condescendences here, let them deal in thae sort o’ wares that are paid for them; they suit the like o’ us as ill as a demi-pique saddle would set a draught ox.’ ‘Aha!’ said Mr. Butler, ‘Optat ephippia bos piger, nothing new under the sun. But it was a fair hit of Mrs. Saddletree, however.’ ‘And it wad far better become ye, Mr. Saddletree,’ con- tinued his helpmate, ‘since ye say ye hae skeel o’ the law, to try if ye can do ony thing for Effie Deans, puir thing, that’s lying up in the tolbooth yonder, cauld, and hungry, and comfort- less. A servant lass of ours, Mr. Butler, and as innocent a lass, to my thinking, and as usefw’ in the chop. When Mr. Saddletree gangs out—and ye’re aware he’s seldom at hame when there’s ony o’ the plea-houses open—puir Effie used to help me to tumble the bundles o’ barkened leather up and down, and range out the gudes, and suit a’body’s humours. And troth, she could aye please the customers wi’ her answers, for she was aye civil, and a bonnier lass wasna in Auld Reekie. And when folk were hasty and unreasonable, she could serve them better than me, that am no sae young as I hae been, Mr. Butler, and a wee bit short in the temper into the bargain ; for when there’s ower mony folks crying on me at anes, and nane but ae tongue to answer them, folk maun speak hastily, or they'll ne’er get through their wark. Sae I miss Effie daily.’ ‘ De die in diem,’ added Saddletree. ‘IT think,’ said Butler, after a good deal of hesitation, ‘I have seen the girl in the shop, a modest-looking, fair-haired girl?” : ‘Ay, ay, that’s just puir Effie,’ said her mistress. ‘How she was abandoned to hersell, or whether she was sackless 0’ the sinfw’ deed, God in Heaven knows; but if she’s been guilty, she’s been sair tempted, and I wad amaist take my Bible aith she hasna been hersell at the time.’ Butler had by this time become much agitated ; he fidgeted up and down the shop, and showed the greatest agitation that a person of such strict decorum could be supposed to give way to. ‘Was not this girl,’ he said, ‘the daughter of David Deans, that had the parks at St. Leonard’s taken? and has she not a sister ?” ‘In troth has she—puir Jeanie Deans, ten years aulder than hersell ; she was here greeting a wee while syne about her tittie. And what could I say to her, but that she behoved to come and 46 WAVERLEY NOVELS speak to Mr. Saddletree when he was at hame? It wasna that I thought Mr. Saddletree could do her or ony other body muckle gude or ill, but it wad aye serve to keep the puir thing’s heart up for a wee while; and let sorrow come when sorrow maun.’ ‘Ye’re mistaen though, gudewife,’ said Saddletree, scornfully, for I could hae gien her great satisfaction ; I could hae proved to her that her sister was indicted upon the statute 1690, chap. 1 [21 ]—for the mair ready prevention of child-murder, for concealing her pregnancy, and giving no account of the child which she had borne.’ ‘I hope,’ said Butler—‘I trust in a gracious God, that she can clear herself.’ ‘And sae do I, Mr. Butler,’ replied Mrs. Saddletree. ‘I am sure I wad hae answered for her as my ain daughter ; but, wae’s my heart, I had been tender a’ the simmer, and scarce ower the door o’ my room for twal weeks. And as for Mr. Saddletree, he might be in a lying-in hospital, and ne’er find out what the women cam there for. Sae I could see little or naething o’ her, or I wad hae had the truth o’ her situation out o’ her, I’se warrant ye. But we a’ think her sister maun be able to speak something to clear her.’ ‘The haill Parliament House,’ said Saddletree, ‘was speak- ing o’ naething else, till this job o’ Porteous’s put it out oO’ head. It’s a beautiful point of presumptive murder, and there’s been nane like it in the Justiciar Court since the case of Luckie Smith, the howdie, that suffered in the year 1679.’ ‘But what’s the matter wi’ you, Mr. Butler?’ said the good woman; ‘ye are looking as white as a sheet; will ye take a dram ?? ‘By no means,’ said Butler, compelling himself to speak. ‘I walked in from Dumfries yesterday, and this is a warm day.’ % Sit down,’ said Mrs. Saddletree, laying hands on him kindly, ‘and rest ye; yell kill yoursell, man, at that rate. And are we to wish you joy o’ getting the scule, Mr. Butler?’ ‘Yes—no—TI do not know,’ answered the young man, vaguely. But Mrs. Saddletree kept him to the point, partly out of real interest, partly from curiosity. ‘Ye dinna ken whether ye are to get the free scule o’ Dum- fries or no, after hinging on and teaching it a’ the simmer ?’ ‘No, Mrs. Saddletree, I am not to have it,’ replied Butler, more collectedly. ‘The Laird of Black-at-the-Bane had a natural THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 47 son bred to the kirk, that the presbytery could not be prevailed upon to license ; and so ‘Ay, ye need say nae mair about it; if there was a laird that had a puir kinsman or a bastard that it wad suit, there’s eneugh said. And ye’re e’en come back to Liberton to wait for dead men’s shoon? and, for as frail as Mr. Whack- bairn is, he may live as lang as you, that are his assistant and successor.’ ‘Very like,’ replied Butler, with a sigh ; ‘I do not know if I should wish it otherwise.’ ‘Nae doubt it’s a very vexing thing,’ continued the good lady, ‘to be in that dependent station ; and you that hae right and title to sae muckle better, I wonder how ye bear these crosses.’ ‘Quos diligit castigat,’ answered Butler; ‘even the pagan Seneca could see an advantage in affliction. The heathens had their philosophy and the Jews their revelation, Mrs. Saddletree, and they endured their. distresses in their day. Christians have a better dispensation than either, but doubtless He stopped and sighed. ‘I ken what ye mean,’ said Mrs. Saddletree, looking toward her husband ; ‘there’s whiles we lose patience in spite of baith book and Bible. But ye are no gaun awa, and looking sae poorly ; ye’ll stay and take some kail wi’ us?’ Mr. Saddletree laid aside Balfour’s Practiques (his favourite study, and much good may it do him), to join in his wife’s hospitable importunity. But the teacher declined all entreaty, and took his leave upon the spot ‘There’s something in a’ this,’ said Mrs. Saddletree, looking _after him as he walked up the street. ‘I wonder what makes Mr. Butler sae distressed about Effie’s misfortune ; there was nae acquaintance atween them that ever I saw or heard of ; but they were neighbours when David Deans was on the Laird o’ Dumbie- dikes’ land. Mr. Butler wad ken her father, or some o’ her folk. Get up, Mr. Saddletree; ye have set yoursell down on the very brecham that wants stitching ; ; and here’s little Willie, the prentice. Ye little rinthereout deil that ye are, what takes you raking through the gutters to see folk hangit ? How wad ye like when it comes to be your ain chance, as I winna ensure ye, if ye dinna mend your manners? And what are ye maundering and greeting for, as if a word were breaking your banes? Gang in bye, and be a better bairn another time, and tell Peggy to gie ye a bicker o’ broth, for ye’ll be as gleg as a 48 WAVERLEY NOVELS gled, ’se warrant ye. It’s a fatherless bairn, Mr. Saddletree, and motherless, whilk in some cases may be waur, and ane would take care o’ him if they could; it’s a Christian duty.’ ‘Very true, gudewife,’ said Saddletree, in reply, ‘we are am loco parentis to him during his years of pupillarity, and I hae had thoughts of applying to the court for a commission as factor loco tutorvs, seeing there is nae tutor nominate, and the tutor-at-law declines to act; but only I fear the expense of the procedure wad not be in rem versam, for I am not aware if Willie has ony effects whereof to assume the administration.’ He concluded this sentence with a self-important cough, as one who has laid down the law in an indisputable manner. ° ‘Effects!’ said Mrs. Saddletree, ‘what effects has the puir wean? He was in rags when his mother died; and the blue polonie that Effie made for him out of an auld mantle of my ain was the first decent dress the bairn ever had on. Puir Effie! can ye tell me now really, wi’ a’ your law, will her life be in danger, Mr. Saddletree, when they arena able to prove that ever there was a bairn ava?’ ‘Whoy,’ said Mr. Saddletree, delighted at having for once in his life seen his wife’s attention arrested by a topic of legal discussion—‘ whoy, there are two sorts of murdrum, or mur- dragium, or what you populariter et vulgariter call murther. I mean there are many sorts; for there’s your murthrum per vigrlias et insidias and your murthrum under trust.’ ‘I am sure,’ replied his moiety, ‘that murther by trust is the way that the gentry murther us merchants, and whiles make us shut the booth up; but that has naething to do wi’ Effie’s misfortune.’ ‘The case of Effie—or Euphemia—Deans,’ resumed Saddle- tree, ‘is one of those cases of murder presumptive, that is, a murder of the law’s inferring or construction, being der ived from certain indicea or grounds of suspicion.’ ‘So that,’ said the good woman, ‘unless puir Effie has com- municated her situation, shell be hanged by the neck, if the bairn was still-born, or if it be alive at this moment?’ ‘Assuredly,’ said Saddletree, ‘it being a statute made by our sovereign Lord and Lady to prevent the horrid delict of bringing forth children in secret. The crime is rather a favourite of the law, this species of murther being one of its ain creation.’ * ‘Then, if the law makes murders,’ said Mrs. Saddletree, ‘the * See Law relating to Child-Murder. Note 7. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 49 faw should be hanged for them; or if they wad hang a lawyer instead, the country wad find nae faut.’ A summons to their frugal dinner interrupted the further progress of the conversation, which was otherwise like to take a turn much less favourable to the science of jurisprudence and its professors than Mr. Bartoline Saddletree, the fond admirer of both, had at its opening anticipated. VII 4 CHAPTER VI But up then raise all Edinburgh, They all rose up by thousands three. Johnie Armstrong's Goodnight. ButuerR, on his departure from the sign of the Golden Nag, went in quest of a friend of his connected with the law, of whom he wished to make particular inquiries concerning the circum- ~ stances in which the unfortunate young woman mentioned in the last chapter was placed, having, as the reader has probably already conjectured, reasons much deeper than those dictated by mere humanity for interesting himself in her fate. He found the person he sought absent from home, and was equally unfortunate in one or two other calls which he made upon acquaintances whom he hoped to interest in her story. But everybody was, for the moment, stark mad on the subject of Porteous, and engaged busily in attacking or defending the measures of government in reprieving him; and the ardour of dispute had excited such universal thirst that half the young lawyers and writers, together with their very clerks, the class whom Butler was looking after, had adjourned the debate to some favourite tavern. It was computed by an experienced arithmetician that there was as much twopenny ale consumed on the discussion, as would have floated a first-rate man- of-war. Butler wandered about until it was dusk, resolving to take that opportunity of visiting the unfortunate young woman, when his doing so might be least observed ; for he had his own reasons for avoiding the remarks of Mrs. Saddletree, whose shop-door opened at no great distance from that of the jail, though on the opposite or south side of the street, and a little higher up. He passed, therefore, through the narrow and partly covered passage leading from the north-west end of the Parliament Square. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 51 He stood now before the Gothic entrance of the ancient prison, which, as is well known to all men, rears its ancient front in the very middle of the High Street, forming, as it were, the termination to a huge pile of buildings called the Lucken- booths, which, for some inconceivable reason, our ancestors had jammed into the midst of the principal street of the town, leaving for passage a narrow street on the north, and on the south, into which the prison opens, a narrow crooked lane, winding betwixt the high and sombre walls of the tolbooth and the adjacent houses on the one side, and the buttresses and projections of the old Cathedral upon the other. To give some gaiety to this sombre passage, well known by the name of the Krames, a number of little booths or shops, after the fashion of cobblers’ stalls, are plastered, as it were, against the Gothic projections and abutments, so that it seemed as if the traders had occupied with nests, bearing the same proportion to the building, every buttress and coign of vantage, as the martlet did in Macbeth’s castle. Of later years these booths have de- generated into mere toy-shops, where the little loiterers chiefly interested in such wares are tempted to linger, enchanted by the rich display of hobby-horses, babies, and Dutch toys, arranged in artful and gay confusion; yet half-scared by the cross looks of the withered pantaloon, or spectacled old lady, by whom these tempting stores are watched and superintended. But in the times we write of the hosiers, the glovers, the hatters, the mercers, the milliners, and all who dealt in the miscellaneous wares now termed haberdashers’ goods, were to be found in this narrow alley. To return from our digression. Butler found the outer turnkey, a tall, thin old man, with long silver hair, in the act of locking the outward door of the jail. He addressed himself to this person, and asked admittance to Effie Deans, confined upon accusation of child-murder. The turnkey looked at him earnestly, and, civilly touching his hat out of respect to Butler's black coat and clerical appearance, replied, ‘It was impossible any one could be admitted at present.’ ‘You shut up earlier than usual, probably on account of Captain Porteous’s affair?’ said Butler. The turnkey, with the true mystery of a person in office, gave two grave nods, and withdrawing from the wards a ponderous key of about two feet in length, he proceeded to shut a strong plate of steel which folded down above the keyhole, and was secured by a steel spring and catch. Butler stood still 52 WAVERLEY NOVELS instinctively while the door was made fast, and then looking at his watch, walked briskly up the street, muttering to himself almost unconsciously — Porta adversa, ingens, solidoque adamante columne ; Vis ut nulla virum, non ipsi exscindere ferro Ceelicole valeant. Stat ferrea turris ad auras, etc. * Having wasted half an hour more in a second fruitless at- tempt to find his legal friend and adviser, he thought it time to leave the city and return to his place of residence in a small vil- lage about two miles and a half to the southward of Edinburgh. The metropolis was at this time surrounded by a high wall, with battlements and flanking projections at some intervals, and the access was through gates, called in the Scottish language ‘ ports,’ which were regularly shut at night. A small fee to the keepers would indeed procure egress and ingress at any time, through a wicket left for that purpose in the large gate, but it was of some importance to a man so poor as Butler to avoid even this slight pecuniary mulct; and fearing the hour of shutting the gates might be near, he made for that to which he found himself nearest, although by doing so he somewhat lengthened his walk homewards. Bristo Port was that by which his direct road lay, but the West Port, which leads out of the Grassmarket, was the nearest of the city gates to the place where he found himself, and to that, therefore, he directed his course. é He reached the port in ample time to pass the circuit of the walls, and enter a suburb called Portsburgh, chiefly inhabited by the lower order of citizens and mechanics. Here he was unexpectedly interrupted. He had not gone far from the gate before he heard the sound of a drum, and, to his great surprise, met a number of persons, sufficient to occupy the whole front of the street, and form a considerable mass behind, moving with great speed towards the gate he had just come from, and having in front of them a drum beating to arms. While he considered how he should escape a party assembled, as it might be presumed, for no lawful purpose, they came full on him and stopped him. ‘Are you a clergyman ?’ one questioned him. Butler replied that ‘he was in orders, but was not a placed minister.’ ‘It’s Mr. Butler from Liberton,’ said a voice from behind ; ‘he'll discharge the duty as weel as ony man.’ * See Translation. Note 8. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 53 ‘You must turn back with us, sir,’ said the first speaker, in a tone civil but peremptory. ‘For what purpose, gentlemen?’ said Mr. Butler. ‘I live at some distance from town; the roads are unsafe by night ; you will do me a serious injury by stopping me.’ ‘You shall be sent safely home, no man shall touch a hair of your head; but you must and shall come along with us.’ ‘But to what purpose or end, gentlemen?’ said Butler. ‘I hope you will be so civil as to explain that to me?’ ‘You shall know that in good time. Come along, for come you must, by force or fair means; and I warn you to look neither tothe right hand nor the left, and to take no notice of any man’s face, but consider all that is passing before you as a dream.’ ‘I would it were a dream I could awaken from,’ said Butler to himself; but having no means to oppose the violence with which he was threatened, he was compelled to turn round and march in front of the rioters, two men partly supporting and partly holding him. During this parley the insurgents had made themselves masters of the West Port, rushing upon the waiters (so the people were called who had the charge of the gates), and possessing themselves of the keys. They bolted and barred the folding doors, and commanded the person whose duty it usually was to secure the wicket, of which they did not understand the fastenings. The man, terrified at an incident so totally unexpected, was unable to perform his usual office, and gave the matter up, after several attempts. The rioters, who seemed to have come prepared for every emer- gency, called for torches, by the light of which they nailed up the wicket with long nails, which, it appeared probable, they had provided on purpose. While this was going on, Butler could not, even if he had been willing, avoid making remarks on the individuals who seemed to lead this singular mob. The torch-light, while it fell on their forms and left him in the shade, gave him an opportunity to do so without their observing him. Several of those who appeared most active were dressed in sailors’ jackets, trowsers, and sea-caps ; others in large loose-bodied greatcoats and slouched hats; and there were several who, judging from their dress, should have been called women, whose rough deep voices, uncommon size, and masculine deportment and mode of walking, forbade them being so interpreted. They moved as if by some well-concerted plan of arrangement. They had 54 WAVERLEY NOVELS signals by which they knew, and nicknames by which they distinguished, each other. Butler remarked that the name of Wildfire was used among them, to which one stout amazon seemed to reply. The rioters left a small party to observe the West Port, and directed the waiters, as they valued their lives, to remain within their lodge, and make no attempt for that night to repossess themselves of the gate. They then moved with rapidity along the low street called the Cowgate, the mob of the city every- where rising at the sound of their drum and joining them. When the multitude arrived at the Cowgate Port, they securéd it with as little opposition as the former, made it fast, and left a small party to observe it. It was afterwards remarked as a striking instance of prudence and precaution, singularly combined with audacity, that the parties left to guard those gates did not remain stationary on their posts, but flitted to and fro, keeping so near the gates as to see that no efforts were made to open them, yet not remaining so long as to have their persons closely observed. The mob, at first only about one hundred strong, now amounted to thousands, and were increas- ing every moment. They divided themselves so as to ascend with more speed the various narrow lanes which lead up from the Cowgate to the High Street ; and still beating to arms as they went, and calling on all tr ue Scotsmen to join them, ney now filled the principal street of the city. The Netherbow Port might be called the Temple Bar of Edin- burgh, as, intersecting the High Street at its termination, it divided Edinburgh, properly so called, from the suburb named the Canongate, as Temple Bar separates London from West- minster. It was of the utmost importance to the rioters to possess themselves of this pass, because there was quartered in the Canongate at that time a regiment of infantry, commanded by Colonel Moyle, which might have occupied the city by advancing through this gate, and would possess the power of totally defeating their purpose. The leaders therefore hastened to the Netherbow Port, which they secured in the same manner, and with as little trouble, as the other gates, leaving a party to watch it, strong in proportion to the importance of the post. The next object of these hardy insurgents was at once to disarm the City Guard and to procure arms for themselves ; for scarce any weapons but staves and bludgeons had been yet seen among them. The guard-house was a long, low, ugly building (removed in 1787), which to a fanciful imagination THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 55 might have suggested the idea of a long black snail crawling up the middle of the High Street, and deforming its beautiful esplanade. This formidable insurrection had been so unexpected that there were no more than the ordinary sergeant’s guard of the city corps upon duty; even these were without any supply of powder and ball; and sensible enough what had raised the storm, and which way it was rolling, could hardly be supposed _ very desirous to expose themselves by a valiant defence to the animosity of so numerous and desperate a mob, to whom they were on the present occasion much more than usually obnoxious. There was a sentinel upon guard who, that one town-guard soldier might do his duty on that eventful evening, presented his piece, and desired the foremost of the rioters to stand off. The young amazon, whom Butler had observed particularly active, sprung upon the soldier, seized his musket, and after a struggle succeeded in wrenching it from him, and throwing him down on the causeway. One or two soldiers, who endeavoured to turn out to the support of their sentinel, were in the same manner seized and disarmed, and the mob without difficulty possessed themselves of the guard-house, disarming and turn- ing out of doors the rest of the men on duty. It was remarked that, notwithstanding the city soldiers had been the instruments of the slaughter which this riot was designed to revenge, no ill- usage or even insult was offered to them. It seemed as if the vengeance of the people disdained to stoop at any head meaner than that which they considered as the source and origin of their injuries. . On possessing themselves of the guard, the first act of the - multitude was to destroy the drums, by which they supposed an alarm might be conveyed to the garrison in the Castle; for the same reason they now silenced their own, which was beaten by a young fellow, son to the drummer of Portsburgh, whom they had forced upon that service. Their next business was to distribute among the boldest of the rioters the guns, bayonets, partizans, halberds, and battle or Lochaber axes. Until this period the principal rioters had preserved silence on the ulti- mate object of their rising, as being that which all knew, but none expressed. Now, however, having accomplished all the preliminary parts of their design, they raised a tremendous shout of ‘Porteous! Porteous! To the tolbooth! To the tolbooth !’ They proceeded with the same prudence when the object 56 WAVERLEY NOVELS seemed to be nearly in their grasp as they had done hitherto when success was more dubious. > ‘ ' ‘ vow He 4 re Peayrae “ os "se v ‘ ‘ Fi Foe tenet hs ‘ ’ 1 * Fb keg ele et ae Ow ¥: ‘ “ binky rt } ’ ‘ ’ ° ’ ’ : ’ a “e wh” ped vw ‘ ’ ' -- ‘ s : : Hikes Pry j + * ‘ ss ' reed : ' < f ; eit e ' ' did ' ¥ , . i: ; . 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