WITHOUT FEAR AND WITHOUT REPROACH.
Doctor Davidson allowed himself, in later years, the pleasant luxury of
an after luncheon nap, and then it was his habit--weather
permitting--to go out and meet Posty, who adhered so closely to his
time-table--notwithstanding certain wayside rests--that the Doctor's
dog knew his hour of arrival, and saw that his master was on the road
in time. It was a fine April morning when the news of the great
disaster came, and the Doctor felt the stirring of spring in his blood.
On the first hint from Skye he sprang from his chair, declaring it was
a sin to be in the house on such a day, and went out in such haste that
he had to return for his hat. As he went up the walk, the Doctor
plucked some early lilies and placed them in his coat; he threw so many
stones that Skye forgot his habit of body and ecclesiastical position;
and he was altogether so youthful and frolicsome that John was
seriously alarmed, and afterwards remarked to Rebecca that he was not
unprepared for calamity.
"The best o's tempts Providence at a time, and when a man like the
Doctor tries tae rin aifter his dog jidgment canna be far off. A 'm no
sayin'," John concluded, with characteristic modesty, "that onybody cud
tell what was coming, but a' jaloused there wud be tribble."
The Doctor met Posty in the avenue, the finest bit on our main road,
where the road has wide margins of grass on either side, and the two
rows of tall ancient trees arch their branches overhead. Some day in
the past it had been part of the approach to the house of Tochty, and
under this long green arch the Jacobite cavaliers rode away after black
John Carnegie's burial. No one could stand beneath those stately trees
without thinking of the former days, when men fought not for money and
an easy life, but for loyalty and love, and in this place the minister
of Drumtochty received his evil tidings like a brave gentleman who does
not lose heart while honour is left. During his years in the Glen he
had carried himself well, with dignity and charity, in peace and
kindliness, so that now when he is dead and gone--the last of his
family--he still remains to many of us a type of the country clergyman
that is no longer found in Scotland, but is greatly missed. It seemed,
however, to many of us--I have heard both Drumsheugh and Burnbrae say
this, each in his own way--that it needed adversity to bring out the
greatness of the Doctor, just as frost gives the last touch of ripeness
to certain fruits.
"Fower letters the day, Doctor, ane frae Dunleith, ane frae Glasgie,
another frae Edinburgh, and the fourth no clean stampit, so a' can say
naethin' aboot it. Twa circulars an' the _Caledonian_ maks up the hale
hypothic."
Posty buckled and adjusted his bag, and made as though he was going,
but he loitered to give opportunity fur any questions the Doctor might
wish to ask on foreign affairs. For Posty was not merely the carrier
of letters to the Glen, but a scout who was sent down to collect
information regarding the affairs of the outer world. He was an
introduction to and running commentary on the weekly paper. By-and-by,
when the labour of the day was done, and the Glen was full of sweet,
soft light from the sides of Ben Urtach, a farmer would make for his
favourite seat beside the white rose-tree in the garden, and take his
first dip into the _Muirtown Advertiser_. It was a full and satisfying
paper, with its agricultural advertisements, its roups, reported with
an accuracy of detail that condescended on a solitary stirk, its local
intelligence, its facetious anecdotes. Through this familiar country
the good man found his own way at a rate which allowed him to complete
the survey in six days. Foreign telegrams, however, and political
intelligence, as well as the turmoil of the great cities, were strange
to him, and here he greatly valued Posty's laconic hints, who, visiting
the frontier, was supposed to be in communication with those centres.
"Posty says that the Afghans are no makin' muckle o' the war," and
Hillocks would sally forth to enjoy Sir Frederick Roberts' great march,
line by line, afterwards enlarging thereon with much unction, and
laying up a store of allusion that would last for many days.
Persons raised to the height of a daily newspaper like the minister
might be supposed independent of Posty's précis, but even Doctor
Davidson, with that day's _Caledonian_ in his hand, still availed
himself of the spoken word.
"Well, Posty, any news this morning?"
"Naethin', Doctor, worth mentionin', except the failure o' a company
Glasgie wy; it's been rotten, a' wes hearin', for a while, an' noo it's
fair stramash. They say it 'll no be lichtsome for weedows an' mony
decent fouk in Scotland."
"That's bad news, Posty. There 's too many of those swindling concerns
in the country. People ought to take care where they place their
savings, and keep to old-established institutions. We 're pretty
hard-headed up here, and I 'll wager that nobody in the Glen has lost a
penny in any of those new-fangled companies."
"The auld fouk in Drumtochty pit their siller in a pock and hode it
ablow their beds, an', ma certes, that bank didna break;" and Posty
went along the avenue, his very back suggestive of a past, cautious,
unenterprising, safe and honest.
The Doctor glanced at the envelopes and thrust the letters into his
pocket. His good nature was touched at the thought of another
financial disaster, by which many hard-working people would lose their
little savings, and all the more that he had some of his private means
invested in a Glasgow bank--one of those tried and powerful
institutions which was indifferent to every crisis in trade. Already
he anticipated an appeal, and considered what he would give, for it did
not matter whether it was a coalpit explosion in Lanarkshire or a loss
of fishing-boats in the Moray Firth, if widows needed help the Doctor's
guinea was on its way within four-and-twenty hours. Some forms of
religious philanthropy had very little hold on the Doctor's
sympathy--one of the religious prints mentioned him freely as a
Unitarian, because he had spoken unkindly of the Jewish mission--but in
the matter of widows and orphans he was a specialist.
"Widows, Posty said; poor things! and very likely bairns. Well, well,
we 'll see what can be done out of Daisy's fund."
Very unlikely people have their whims, and it was his humour to assign
one fourth of his income to his little sister, who was to have kept
house for him, and "never to leave you, Sandie," and out of this fund
the Doctor did his public charities. "In memory of a little maid,"
appeared in various subscription lists; but the reference thereof was
only known after the Doctor's death.
"The Western Counties Bank did not open its doors yesterday, and it was
officially announced at the head-office, Glasgow, that the bank had
stopped. It is impossible as yet to forecast the debts, but they are
known to be enormous, and as the bank is not limited, it is feared that
the consequences to the shareholders will be very serious. This
failure was quite unexpected, the Western Counties Bank having been
looked on as a prosperous and stable concern."
He read the paragraph twice word by word--it did not take long--he
folded the paper carefully and put it in his pocket, and he stood in
the spot for five minutes to take in the meaning in its length and
breadth. A pleasant spring sun was shining upon him through a break in
the leafy arch, a handful of primroses were blooming at his feet, a
lark was singing in the neighbouring field. Sometimes the Doctor used
to speculate how he would have liked being a poor man, and he concluded
that he would have disliked it very much. He had never been rich, and
he was not given to extravagance, but he was accustomed to easy
circumstances, and he pitied some of his old friends who had seen it
their duty to secede at the Disruption, and had to practise many little
economies, who travelled third class and had to walk from the station,
and could not offer their friends a glass of wine. This was the way he
must live now, and Daisy's fund would have to be closed, which seemed
to him the sweetest pleasure of his life.
"And Jack! Would to God I had never mentioned this wretched bank to
him. Poor Jack, with the few hundreds he had saved for Kit!"
For some five minutes more the Doctor stood in the place; then he
straightened himself as one who, come what may, would play the man, and
when he passed Janet's cottage, on his way to the Lodge, that honest
admirer of able-bodied, good-looking men came out and followed him with
her eyes for the sight of his firm unbroken carriage.
"Miss Kate will be grieving very much about Doctor Saunderson's death,"
Donald explained at the Lodge, "and she went down this forenoon with
the General to put flowers on his grave; but they will be coming back
every minute," and the Doctor met them at the Beeches.
[Illustration: "To put flowers on his grave."]
"May I have as fair hands to decorate my grave, Miss Catherine
Carnegie," and the Doctor bowed gallantly; "but of one thing I am sure,
I have done nothing to deserve it. Saunderson was a scholar of the
ancient kind, and a very fine spirit."
"Don't you think," said Kate, "that he was . . . like À Kempis, I mean,
and George Herbert, a kind of . . . saint?"
"Altogether one, I should say. I don't think he would have known port
wine from sherry, or an _entrée_ from a mutton chop; beside a man like
that what worldly fellows you and I are, Jack, and mine is the greater
shame."
"I'll have no comparisons, Padre"--Kate was a little puzzled by the
tone in the Doctor's voice; "he was so good that I loved him; but there
are some points in the General and you, quite nice points, and for the
sake of them you shall have afternoon tea in my room," where the Doctor
and the General fell on former days and were wonderful company.
"It's not really about the road I wish to talk to you," and the Doctor
closed the door of the General's den, "but about . . . a terrible
calamity that has befallen you and me, Jack, and I am to blame."
"What is it?" and Carnegie sat erect; "does it touch our name or . . .
Kate?"
"Neither, thank God," said Davidson.
"Then it cannot be so very bad. Let us have it at once," and the
General lighted a cheroot.
"Our bank has failed, and we shall have to give up everything to pay
the debt, and . . . Jack, it was I advised you to buy the shares." The
Doctor rose and went to the window.
"For God's sake don't do that, Sandie. Why, man, you gave me the best
advice you knew, and there 's an end of it. It's the fortune of war,
and we must take it without whining. I know whom you are thinking
about, and I am . . . a bit sorry for Kate, for she ought to have lots
of things--more dresses and trinkets, you know. But Davidson, she 'll
be the bravest of the three."
"You are right there, Jack. Kate is of the true grit, but . . . Tochty
Lodge."
"Yes, it will hit us pretty hard to see the old place sold, if it comes
to that, when I hoped to end my days here . . . but, man, it's our
fate. Bit by bit we 've lost Drumtochty, till there were just the
woods and the two farms left, and soon we 'll be out of the
place--nothing left but our graves.
"Sandie, this is bad form, and . . . you 'll not hear this talk again;
we 'll get a billet somewhere, and wherever it be, there 'll be a bed
and a crust for you, old man;" and at the door the two held one
another's hands for a second; that was all.
"So this was what you two conspirators were talking about downstairs,
as if I could not be trusted. Did you think that I would faint, or
perhaps weep? The padre deserves a good scolding, and as for you--"
Then Kate went over and cast an arm round her father's neck, whose face
was quivering.
"It is rather a disappointment to leave the Lodge when we were getting
it to our mind; but we 'll have a jolly little home somewhere, and I
'll get a chance of earning something. Dancing now--I think that I
might be able to teach some girls how to waltz. Then my French is
really intelligible, and most colloquial; besides revolver shooting.
Dad, we are on our way to a fortune, and at the worst you 'll have your
curry and cheroots, and I 'll have a well-fitting dress. Voilà, mon
père."
When the two Drumtochty men arrived next forenoon at the hall in
Glasgow, where the shareholders had been summoned to receive
particulars of their ruin, the dreary place was filled with a crowd
representative of every class in the community except the highest,
whose wealth is in land, and the lowest, whose possessions are on their
backs. There were city merchants, who could not conceal their chagrin
that they had been befooled; countrymen, who seemed utterly dazed, as
if the course of the seasons had been reversed; prosperous tradesmen,
who were aggressive in appearance and wanted to take it out of
somebody; widows, who could hardly restrain their tears, seeing before
them nothing but starvation; clergymen, who were thinking of their boys
taken from school and college. For a while the victims were silent,
and watched with hungry eyes the platform door, and there was an eager
rustle when some clerk came out and laid a bundle of papers on the
table. This incident seemed to excite the meeting and set tongues
loose. People began to talk to their neighbours explaining how they
came to be connected with the bank, as if this were now a crime. One
had inherited the shares and had never had resolution to sell them;
another had been deceived by a friend and bought them; a third had
taken over two shares for a bad debt. A minister thought that he must
have been summoned by mistake, for he was simply a trustee on an estate
which had shares, but he was plainly nervous about his position. An
Ayrshire Bailie had only had his shares for six months, and he put it,
to his circle, with municipal eloquence, whether he could be held
responsible for frauds of years' standing. No one argued with him, and
indeed you might say anything you pleased, for each was so much taken
up with his own case that he only listened to you that he might
establish a claim in turn on your attention. Here and there a noisy
and confident personage got a larger audience by professing to have
private information. A second-rate stockbroker assured quite a
congregation that the assets of the bank included an estate in
Australia, which would more than pay the whole debt, and advised them
to see that it was not flung away; and a Government pensioner mentioned
casually in his neighbourhood, on the authority of one of the managers,
that there was not that day a solvent bank in Scotland. The different
conversations rise to a babel, various speakers enforce their views on
the floor with umbrellas, one enthusiast exhorts his brother
unfortunates from a chair, when suddenly there is a hush, and then in a
painful silence the shareholders hang on the lips of the accountant,
from whom they learn that things could not be worse, that the richest
shareholder may be ruined, and that ordinary people will lose their
last penny.
Speech again breaks forth, but now it is despairing, fierce,
vindictive. One speaker storms against Government which allows public
institutions to defraud the public, and refers to himself as the widow
and orphan, and another assails the directorate with bitter invective
as liars and thieves, and insists on knowing whether they are to be
punished. The game having now been unearthed, the pack follow in full
cry. The tradesman tells with much gusto how one director asked the
detectives for leave to have family prayers before he was removed, and
then declares his conviction that when a man takes to praying you had
better look after your watch. Ayrshire wished to inform the accountant
and the authorities that the directors had conveyed to their wives and
friends enormous sums which ought to be seized without delay. The air
grew thick with upbraidings, complaints, cries for vengeance, till the
place reeked with sordid passions. Through all this ignoble storm the
Drumtochty men sat silent, amazed, disgusted, till at last the Doctor
rose, and such authority was in his very appearance that with his first
words he obtained a hearing.
"Mr. Accountant," he said, "and gentlemen, it appears to me as if under
a natural provocation and suffering we are in danger of forgetting our
due dignity and self-respect. We have been, as is supposed, the
subjects of fraud on the part of those whom we trusted; that is a
matter which the law will decide, and, if necessary, punish. If we
have been betrayed, then the directors are in worse case than the
shareholders, for we are not disgraced. The duty before us is plain,
and must be discharged to our utmost ability. It is to go home and
gather together our last penny for the payment of our debts, in order
that at any rate those who have trusted us may not be disappointed.
Gentlemen, it is evident that we have lost our means; let us show to
Scotland that there is something which cannot be taken from us by any
fraud, and that we have retained our courage and our honour."
It was the General who led the applause so that the roof of the hall
rang, but it is just to Ayrshire and the rest to say that they came to
themselves--all men of the old Scottish breed--and followed close after
with a mighty shout.
The sound of that speech went through Scotland and awoke the spirit of
honest men in many places, so that the Doctor, travelling next day to
Muirtown, third class, with the General, and wedged in among a set of
cattle dealers, was so abashed by their remarks as they read the
_Caledonian_ that the General let out the secret.
"Yir hand, sir," said the chief among them, a mighty man at the Falkirk
Tryst; "gin it bena a leeberty, ilka ane o's hes a sair fecht tae keep
straicht in oor wy o' business, but ye 've gien 's a lift the day," and
so they must needs all have a grip of the Doctor's hand, who took snuff
with prodigality, while the General complained of the smoke from the
engine.
Nor were their trials over, for on Muirtown platform--it being
Friday--all kinds of Perthshire men were gathered, and were so proud of
our Doctor that before he got shelter in the Dunleith train his hand
was sore, and the men that grasped it were of all kinds, from Lord
Kilspindie--who, having missed him at the Manse, had come to catch him
at the station--"Best sermon you ever preached, Davidson,"--to an
Athole farmer--"I am an elder in the Free Kirk, but it iss this man
that will be honouring you."
It was a fine instance of the unfailing tact of Peter Bruce that,
seeing the carriage out of which the two came, and taking in the
situation, he made no offer of the first class, but straightway dusted
out a third with his handkerchief, and escorted them to it cap in hand.
Drumtochty restrained itself with an effort in foreign parts--for
Kildrummie was exceptionally strong at the Junction--but it waited at
the terminus till the outer world had gone up the road. Then their own
folk took the two in hand, and these were the guard of honour who
escorted the Minister and the General to where our Kate was waiting
with the dog-cart, each carrying some morsel of luggage--Drumsheugh,
Burnbrae, Hillocks, Netherton, Jamie Soutar, and Archie Moncur. Kate
drove gloriously through Kildrummie as if they had come from a triumph,
and let it be said to the credit of that despised town, that, the news
having come, every hat was lifted, but that which lasted till they got
home, and till long afterwards, was the handshake of the Drumtochty men.