Rob Roy, Volume 2., Illustrated - Sir Walter Scott
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"Pretty well in body, I thank you, Mr. Jarvie," drawled out poor Owen,
"but sore afflicted in spirit."
"Nae doubt, nae doubt--ay, ay--it's an awfu' whummle--and for ane that
held his head sae high too--human nature, human nature--Ay ay, we're a'
subject to a downcome. Mr. Osbaldistone is a gude honest gentleman; but I
aye said he was ane o' them wad make a spune or spoil a horn, as my
father the worthy deacon used to say. The deacon used to say to me,
'Nick--young Nick' (his name was Nicol as weel as mine; sae folk ca'd us
in their daffin', young Nick and auld Nick)--'Nick,' said he, 'never put
out your arm farther than ye can draw it easily back again.' I hae said
sae to Mr. Osbaldistone, and he didna seem to take it a'thegither sae
kind as I wished--but it was weel meant--weel meant."
This discourse, delivered with prodigious volubility, and a great
appearance of self-complacency, as he recollected his own advice and
predictions, gave little promise of assistance at the hands of Mr.
Jarvie. Yet it soon appeared rather to proceed from a total want of
delicacy than any deficiency of real kindness; for when Owen expressed
himself somewhat hurt that these things should be recalled to memory in
his present situation, the Glaswegian took him by the hand, and bade him
"Cheer up a gliff! D'ye think I wad hae comed out at twal o'clock at
night, and amaist broken the Lord's day, just to tell a fa'en man o' his
backslidings? Na, na, that's no Bailie Jarvie's gate, nor was't his
worthy father's the deacon afore him. Why, man! it's my rule never to
think on warldly business on the Sabbath, and though I did a' I could to
keep your note that I gat this morning out o' my head, yet I thought mair
on it a' day, than on the preaching--And it's my rule to gang to my bed
wi' the yellow curtains preceesely at ten o'clock--unless I were eating a
haddock wi' a neighbour, or a neighbour wi' me--ask the lass-quean there,
if it isna a fundamental rule in my household; and here hae I sitten up
reading gude books, and gaping as if I wad swallow St. Enox Kirk, till it
chappit twal, whilk was a lawfu' hour to gie a look at my ledger, just to
see how things stood between us; and then, as time and tide wait for no
man, I made the lass get the lantern, and came slipping my ways here to
see what can be dune anent your affairs. Bailie Jarvie can command
entrance into the tolbooth at ony hour, day or night;--sae could my
father the deacon in his time, honest man, praise to his memory."
Although Owen groaned at the mention of the ledger, leading me grievously
to fear that here also the balance stood in the wrong column; and
although the worthy magistrate's speech expressed much self-complacency,
and some ominous triumph in his own superior judgment, yet it was blended
with a sort of frank and blunt good-nature, from which I could not help
deriving some hopes. He requested to see some papers he mentioned,
snatched them hastily from Owen's hand, and sitting on the bed, to "rest
his shanks," as he was pleased to express the accommodation which that
posture afforded him, his servant girl held up the lantern to him, while,
pshawing, muttering, and sputtering, now at the imperfect light, now at
the contents of the packet, he ran over the writings it contained.
Seeing him fairly engaged in this course of study, the guide who had
brought me hither seemed disposed to take an unceremonious leave. He made
a sign to me to say nothing, and intimated, by his change of posture, an
intention to glide towards the door in such a manner as to attract the
least possible observation. But the alert magistrate (very different from
my old acquaintance, Mr. Justice Inglewood) instantly detected and
interrupted his purposes. "I say, look to the door, Stanchells--shut and
lock it, and keep watch on the outside."
The stranger's brow darkened, and he seemed for an instant again to
meditate the effecting his retreat by violence; but ere he had
determined, the door closed, and the ponderous bolt revolved. He muttered
an exclamation in Gaelic, strode across the floor, and then, with an air
of dogged resolution, as if fixed and prepared to see the scene to an
end, sate himself down on the oak table, and whistled a strathspey.
Mr. Jarvie, who seemed very alert and expeditious in going through
business, soon showed himself master of that which he had been
considering, and addressed himself to Mr. Owen in the following strain:--
"Weel, Mr. Owen, weel--your house are awin' certain sums to Messrs.
MacVittie and MacFin (shame fa' their souple snouts! they made that and
mair out o' a bargain about the aik-woods at Glen-Cailziechat, that they
took out atween my teeth--wi' help o' your gude word, I maun needs say,
Mr. Owen--but that makes nae odds now)--Weel, sir, your house awes them
this siller; and for this, and relief of other engagements they stand in
for you, they hae putten a double turn o' Stanchells' muckle key on ye.--
Weel, sir, ye awe this siller--and maybe ye awe some mair to some other
body too--maybe ye awe some to myself, Bailie Nicol Jarvie."
"I cannot deny, sir, but the balance may of this date be brought out
against us, Mr. Jarvie," said Owen; "but you'll please to consider"--
"I hae nae time to consider e'enow, Mr. Owen--Sae near Sabbath at e'en,
and out o' ane's warm bed at this time o' night, and a sort o' drow in
the air besides--there's nae time for considering--But, sir, as I was
saying, ye awe me money--it winna deny--ye awe me money, less or mair,
I'll stand by it. But then, Mr. Owen, I canna see how you, an active man
that understands business, can redd out the business ye're come down
about, and clear us a' aff--as I have gritt hope ye will--if ye're keepit
lying here in the tolbooth of Glasgow. Now, sir, if you can find caution
_judicio sisti,_--that is, that ye winna flee the country, but appear and
relieve your caution when ca'd for in our legal courts, ye may be set at
liberty this very morning."
"Mr. Jarvie," said Owen, "if any friend would become surety for me to
that effect, my liberty might be usefully employed, doubtless, both for
the house and all connected with it."
"Aweel, sir," continued Jarvie, "and doubtless such a friend wad expect
ye to appear when ca'd on, and relieve him o' his engagement."
"And I should do so as certainly, bating sickness or death, as that two
and two make four."
"Aweel, Mr. Owen," resumed the citizen of Glasgow, "I dinna misdoubt ye,
and I'll prove it, sir--I'll prove it. I am a carefu' man, as is weel
ken'd, and industrious, as the hale town can testify; and I can win my
crowns, and keep my crowns, and count my crowns, wi' onybody in the Saut
Market, or it may be in the Gallowgate. And I'm a prudent man, as my
father the deacon was before me;--but rather than an honest civil
gentleman, that understands business, and is willing to do justice to all
men, should lie by the heels this gate, unable to help himsell or onybody
else--why, conscience, man! I'll be your bail myself--But ye'll mind it's
a bail _judicio sisti,_ as our town-clerk says, not _judicatum solvi;_
ye'll mind that, for there's muckle difference."
Mr. Owen assured him, that as matters then stood, he could not expect any
one to become surety for the actual payment of the debt, but that there
was not the most distant cause for apprehending loss from his failing to
present himself when lawfully called upon.
"I believe ye--I believe ye. Eneugh said--eneugh said. We'se hae your
legs loose by breakfast-time.--And now let's hear what thir chamber
chiels o' yours hae to say for themselves, or how, in the name of unrule,
they got here at this time o' night."
[Illustration: Rob Roy in Prison--68]
CHAPTER SIXTH.
Hame came our gudeman at e'en,
And hame came he,
And there he saw a man
Where a man suldna be.
"How's this now, kimmer?
How's this?" quo he,--
"How came this carle here
Without the leave o' me?"
Old Song.
The magistrate took the light out of the servant-maid's hand, and
advanced to his scrutiny, like Diogenes in the street of Athens,
lantern-in-hand, and probably with as little expectation as that of the
cynic, that he was likely to encounter any especial treasure in the
course of his researches. The first whom he approached was my mysterious
guide, who, seated on a table as I have already described him, with his
eyes firmly fixed on the wall, his features arranged into the utmost
inflexibility of expression, his hands folded on his breast with an air
betwixt carelessness and defiance, his heel patting against the foot of
the table, to keep time with the tune which he continued to whistle,
submitted to Mr. Jarvie's investigation with an air of absolute
confidence and assurance which, for a moment, placed at fault the memory
and sagacity of the acute investigator.
"Ah!--Eh!--Oh!" exclaimed the Bailie. "My conscience!--it's
impossible!--and yet--no!--Conscience!--it canna be!--and yet
again--Deil hae me, that I suld say sae!--Ye robber--ye cateran--ye born
deevil that ye are, to a' bad ends and nae gude ane!--can this be you?"
"E'en as ye see, Bailie," was the laconic answer.
"Conscience! if I am na clean bumbaized--_you_, ye cheat-the-wuddy
rogue--_you_ here on your venture in the tolbooth o' Glasgow?--What d'ye
think's the value o' your head?"
"Umph!--why, fairly weighed, and Dutch weight, it might weigh down one
provost's, four bailies', a town-clerk's, six deacons', besides
stent-masters'"--
"Ah, ye reiving villain!" interrupted Mr. Jarvie. "But tell ower your
sins, and prepare ye, for if I say the word"--
"True, Bailie," said he who was thus addressed, folding his hands behind
him with the utmost _nonchalance,_ "but ye will never say that word."
"And why suld I not, sir?" exclaimed the magistrate--"Why suld I not?
Answer me that--why suld I not?"
"For three sufficient reasons, Bailie Jarvie.--First, for auld langsyne;
second, for the sake of the auld wife ayont the fire at Stuckavrallachan,
that made some mixture of our bluids, to my own proper shame be it
spoken! that has a cousin wi' accounts, and yarn winnles, and looms and
shuttles, like a mere mechanical person; and lastly, Bailie, because if I
saw a sign o' your betraying me, I would plaster that wa' with your harns
ere the hand of man could rescue you!"
"Ye're a bauld desperate villain, sir," retorted the undaunted Bailie;
"and ye ken that I ken ye to be sae, and that I wadna stand a moment for
my ain risk."
"I ken weel," said the other, "ye hae gentle bluid in your veins, and I
wad be laith to hurt my ain kinsman. But I'll gang out here as free as I
came in, or the very wa's o' Glasgow tolbooth shall tell o't these ten
years to come."
"Weel, weel," said Mr. Jarvie, "bluid's thicker than water; and it liesna
in kith, kin, and ally, to see motes in ilka other's een if other een see
them no. It wad be sair news to the auld wife below the Ben of
Stuckavrallachan, that you, ye Hieland limmer, had knockit out my harns,
or that I had kilted you up in a tow. But ye'll own, ye dour deevil, that
were it no your very sell, I wad hae grippit the best man in the
Hielands."
"Ye wad hae tried, cousin," answered my guide, "that I wot weel; but I
doubt ye wad hae come aff wi' the short measure; for we gang-there-out
Hieland bodies are an unchancy generation when you speak to us o'
bondage. We downa bide the coercion of gude braid-claith about our
hinderlans, let a be breeks o' free-stone, and garters o' iron."
"Ye'll find the stane breeks and the airn garters--ay, and the hemp
cravat, for a' that, neighbour," replied the Bailie.
"Nae man in a civilised country ever played the pliskies ye hae done--but
e'en pickle in your ain pock-neuk--I hae gi'en ye wanting."
"Well, cousin," said the other, "ye'll wear black at my burial."
"Deil a black cloak will be there, Robin, but the corbies and the
hoodie-craws, I'se gie ye my hand on that. But whar's the gude thousand
pund Scots that I lent ye, man, and when am I to see it again?"
"Where it is," replied my guide, after the affectation of considering for
a moment, "I cannot justly tell--probably where last year's snaw is."
"And that's on the tap of Schehallion, ye Hieland dog," said Mr. Jarvie;
"and I look for payment frae you where ye stand."
"Ay," replied the Highlander, "but I keep neither snaw nor dollars in my
sporran. And as to when you'll see it--why, just when the king enjoys his
ain again, as the auld sang says."
"Warst of a', Robin," retorted the Glaswegian,--"I mean, ye disloyal
traitor--Warst of a'!--Wad ye bring popery in on us, and arbitrary power,
and a foist and a warming-pan, and the set forms, and the curates, and
the auld enormities o' surplices and cerements? Ye had better stick
to your auld trade o' theft-boot, black-mail, spreaghs, and
gillravaging--better stealing nowte than ruining nations."
"Hout, man--whisht wi' your whiggery," answered the Celt; "we hae ken'd
ane anither mony a lang day. I'se take care your counting-room is no
cleaned out when the Gillon-a-naillie* come to redd up the Glasgow
buiths, and clear them o' their auld shop-wares.
* The lads with the kilts or petticoats.
And, unless it just fa' in the preceese way o' your duty, ye maunna see
me oftener, Nicol, than I am disposed to be seen."
"Ye are a dauring villain, Rob," answered the Bailie; "and ye will be
hanged, that will be seen and heard tell o'; but I'se ne'er be the ill
bird and foul my nest, set apart strong necessity and the skreigh of
duty, which no man should hear and be inobedient. And wha the deevil's
this?" he continued, turning to me--"Some gillravager that ye hae listed,
I daur say. He looks as if he had a bauld heart to the highway, and a
lang craig for the gibbet."
"This, good Mr. Jarvie," said Owen, who, like myself, had been struck
dumb during this strange recognition, and no less strange dialogue, which
took place betwixt these extraordinary kinsmen--"This, good Mr. Jarvie,
is young Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, only child of the head of our house, who
should have been taken into our firm at the time Mr. Rashleigh
Osbaldistone, his cousin, had the luck to be taken into it"--(Here Owen
could not suppress a groan)--"But howsoever"--
"Oh, I have heard of that smaik," said the Scotch merchant, interrupting
him; "it is he whom your principal, like an obstinate auld fule, wad make
a merchant o', wad he or wad he no,--and the lad turned a strolling
stage-player, in pure dislike to the labour an honest man should live by.
Weel, sir, what say you to your handiwork? Will Hamlet the Dane, or
Hamlet's ghost, be good security for Mr. Owen, sir?"
"I don't deserve your taunt," I replied, "though I respect your motive,
and am too grateful for the assistance you have afforded Mr. Owen, to
resent it. My only business here was to do what I could (it is perhaps
very little) to aid Mr. Owen in the management of my father's affairs. My
dislike of the commercial profession is a feeling of which I am the best
and sole judge."
"I protest," said the Highlander, "I had some respect for this callant
even before I ken'd what was in him; but now I honour him for his
contempt of weavers and spinners, and sic-like mechanical persons and
their pursuits."
"Ye're mad, Rob," said the Bailie--"mad as a March hare--though wherefore
a hare suld be mad at March mair than at Martinmas, is mair than I can
weel say. Weavers! Deil shake ye out o' the web the weaver craft made.
Spinners! ye'll spin and wind yourself a bonny pirn. And this young
birkie here, that ye're hoying and hounding on the shortest road to the
gallows and the deevil, will his stage-plays and his poetries help him
here, dye think, ony mair than your deep oaths and drawn dirks, ye
reprobate that ye are?--Will _Tityre tu patulae,_ as they ca' it, tell
him where Rashleigh Osbaldistone is? or Macbeth, and all his kernes and
galla-glasses, and your awn to boot, Rob, procure him five thousand
pounds to answer the bills which fall due ten days hence, were they a'
rouped at the Cross,--basket-hilts, Andra-Ferraras, leather targets,
brogues, brochan, and sporrans?"
"Ten days," I answered, and instinctively drew out Diana Vernon's packet;
and the time being elapsed during which I was to keep the seal sacred, I
hastily broke it open. A sealed letter fell from a blank enclosure, owing
to the trepidation with which I opened the parcel. A slight current of
wind, which found its way through a broken pane of the window, wafted the
letter to Mr. Jarvie's feet, who lifted it, examined the address with
unceremonious curiosity, and, to my astonishment, handed itto his
Highland kinsman, saying, "Here's a wind has blown a letter to its right
owner, though there were ten thousand chances against its coming to
hand."
The Highlander, having examined the address, broke the letter open
without the least ceremony. I endeavoured to interrupt his proceeding.
"You must satisfy me, sir," said I, "that the letter is intended for you
before I can permit you to peruse it."
"Make yourself quite easy, Mr. Osbaldistone," replied the mountaineer
with great composure.--"remember Justice Inglewood, Clerk Jobson, Mr.
Morris--above all, remember your vera humble servant, Robert Cawmil, and
the beautiful Diana Vernon. Remember all this, and doubt no longer that
the letter is for me."
I remained astonished at my own stupidity.--Through the whole night, the
voice, and even the features of this man, though imperfectly seen,
haunted me with recollections to which I could assign no exact local or
personal associations. But now the light dawned on me at once; this man
was Campbell himself. His whole peculiarities flashed on me at once,--the
deep strong voice--the inflexible, stern, yet considerate cast of
features--the Scottish brogue, with its corresponding dialect and
imagery, which, although he possessed the power at times of laying them
aside, recurred at every moment of emotion, and gave pith to his sarcasm,
or vehemence to his expostulation. Rather beneath the middle size than
above it, his limbs were formed upon the very strongest model that is
consistent with agility, while from the remarkable ease and freedom of
his movements, you could not doubt his possessing the latter quality in a
high degree of perfection. Two points in his person interfered with the
rules of symmetry; his shoulders were so broad in proportion to his
height, as, notwithstanding the lean and lathy appearance of his frame,
gave him something the air of being too square in respect to his stature;
and his arms, though round, sinewy, and strong, were so very long as to
be rather a deformity. I afterwards heard that this length of arm was a
circumstance on which he prided himself; that when he wore his native
Highland garb, he could tie the garters of his hose without stooping; and
that it gave him great advantage in the use of the broad-sword, at which
he was very dexterous. But certainly this want of symmetry destroyed the
claim he might otherwise have set up, to be accounted a very handsome
man; it gave something wild, irregular, and, as it were, unearthly, to
his appearance, and reminded me involuntarily of the tales which Mabel
used to tell of the old Picts who ravaged Northumberland in ancient
times, who, according to her tradition, were a sort of half-goblin
half-human beings, distinguished, like this man, for courage, cunning,
ferocity, the length of their arms, and the squareness of their
shoulders.
When, however, I recollected the circumstances in which we formerly met,
I could not doubt that the billet was most probably designed for him. He
had made a marked figure among those mysterious personages over whom
Diana seemed to exercise an influence, and from whom she experienced an
influence in her turn. It was painful to think that the fate of a being
so amiable was involved in that of desperadoes of this man's
description;--yet it seemed impossible to doubt it. Of what use, however,
could this person be to my father's affairs?--I could think only of one.
Rashleigh Osbaldistone had, at the instigation of Miss Vernon, certainly
found means to produce Mr. Campbell when his presence was necessary to
exculpate me from Morris's accusation--Was it not possible that her
influence, in like manner, might prevail on Campbell to produce
Rashleigh? Speaking on this supposition, I requested to know where my
dangerous kinsman was, and when Mr. Campbell had seen him. The answer was
indirect.
"It's a kittle cast she has gien me to play; but yet it's fair play, and
I winna baulk her. Mr. Osbaldistone, I dwell not very far from hence--my
kinsman can show you the way--Leave Mr. Owen to do the best he can in
Glasgow--do you come and see me in the glens, and it's like I may
pleasure you, and stead your father in his extremity. I am but a poor
man; but wit's better than wealth--and, cousin" (turning from me to
address Mr. Jarvie), "if ye daur venture sae muckle as to eat a dish of
Scotch collops, and a leg o' red-deer venison wi' me, come ye wi' this
Sassenach gentleman as far as Drymen or Bucklivie,--or the Clachan of
Aberfoil will be better than ony o' them,--and I'll hae somebody waiting
to weise ye the gate to the place where I may be for the time--What say
ye, man? There's my thumb, I'll ne'er beguile thee."
"Na, na, Robin," said the cautious burgher, "I seldom like to leave the
Gorbals;* I have nae freedom to gang among your wild hills, Robin, and
your kilted red-shanks--it disna become my place, man."
* [The _Gorbals_ or "suburbs" are situate on the south side of the
River.]
"The devil damn your place and you baith!" reiterated Campbell. "The only
drap o' gentle bluid that's in your body was our great-grand-uncle's that
was justified* at Dumbarton, and you set yourself up to say ye wad
derogate frae your place to visit me!
* [Executed for treason.]
Hark thee, man--I owe thee a day in harst--I'll pay up your thousan pund
Scots, plack and bawbee, gin ye'll be an honest fallow for anes, and just
daiker up the gate wi' this Sassenach."
"Hout awa' wi' your gentility," replied the Bailie; "carry your gentle
bluid to the Cross, and see what ye'll buy wi't. But, if I _were_ to
come, wad ye really and soothfastly pay me the siller?"
"I swear to ye," said the Highlander, "upon the halidome of him that
sleeps beneath the grey stane at Inch-Cailleach."*
* Inch-Cailleach is an island in Lochlomond, where the clan of MacGregor
were wont to be interred, and where their sepulchres may still be seen.
It formerly contained a nunnery: hence the name of Inch-Cailleach, or the
island of Old Women.
"Say nae mair, Robin--say nae mair--We'll see what may be dune. But ye
maunna expect me to gang ower the Highland line--I'll gae beyond the line
at no rate. Ye maun meet me about Bucklivie or the Clachan of
Aberfoil,--and dinna forget the needful."
"Nae fear--nae fear," said Campbell; "I'll be as true as the steel blade
that never failed its master. But I must be budging, cousin, for the air
o' Glasgow tolbooth is no that ower salutary to a Highlander's
constitution."
"Troth," replied the merchant, "and if my duty were to be dune, ye
couldna change your atmosphere, as the minister ca's it, this ae wee
while.--Ochon, that I sud ever be concerned in aiding and abetting an
escape frae justice! it will be a shame and disgrace to me and mine, and
my very father's memory, for ever."
"Hout tout, man! let that flee stick in the wa'," answered his kinsman;
"when the dirt's dry it will rub out--Your father, honest man, could look
ower a friend's fault as weel as anither."
"Ye may be right, Robin," replied the Bailie, after a moment's
reflection; "he was a considerate man the deacon; he ken'd we had a' our
frailties, and he lo'ed his friends--Ye'll no hae forgotten him, Robin?"
This question he put in a softened tone, conveying as much at least of
the ludicrous as the pathetic.
"Forgotten him!" replied his kinsman--"what suld ail me to forget him?--a
wapping weaver he was, and wrought my first pair o' hose.--But come awa',
kinsman,
Come fill up my cap, come fill up my cann,
Come saddle my horses, and call up my man;
Come open your gates, and let me gae free,
I daurna stay langer in bonny Dundee."
"Whisht, sir!" said the magistrate, in an authoritative tone--"lilting
and singing sae near the latter end o' the Sabbath! This house may hear
ye sing anither tune yet--Aweel, we hae a' backslidings to answer
for--Stanchells, open the door."
The jailor obeyed, and we all sallied forth. Stanchells looked with some
surprise at the two strangers, wondering, doubtless, how they came into
these premises without his knowledge; but Mr. Jarvie's "Friends o' mine,
Stanchells--friends o' mine," silenced all disposition to inquiries. We
now descended into the lower vestibule, and hallooed more than once for
Dougal, to which summons no answer was returned; when Campbell observed
with a sardonic smile, "That if Dougal was the lad he kent him, he would
scarce wait to get thanks for his ain share of the night's wark, but was
in all probability on the full trot to the pass of Ballamaha"--