leisurely discussed between us the porter, which was in prime condition,
with a ream as yellow as a marigold; together with half-a-dozen of
butter-bakes, crimp and new-baked, it being batch-day with Thomas
Burlings, who, like his father and grandfather before him, have been
notorious in the biscuit department. It soon became clear to me, that
the dialogue about Lebanon and Damascus, which was followed up with a
clishmaclaver anent dirks, daggers, red cloaks, and other bloody weapons
which made all my flesh grue, had some connexion with Taffy's papers on
the table--out of which James had been diverting himself by reading bits
here and there, at random like.
In the course of our confab, he told me a monstrous heap about them; but,
in general, the things were so out of the course of Providence, and so
queer and leeing-like, that I, for one, would not believe them without
solemn affidavy. Indeed, I began at length to question within
myself--for the subject naturally resolved itself into two heads;
firstly, whether Taffy's master might not have had a bee in his bonnet;
or, secondly, whether he was a person not over-scrupulous regarding the
matter of truth. As for James, he declared him a nonsuch, and said, that
although poor, he would not have hesitated to have given him sixpence for
a lock of his hair, just to keep beside him for a keepsake; (did anybody
ever hear such nonsense?) Before parting, he insisted that I should bear
with him, till he read me over the story he had just finished as I came
in, and which had been running in his noddle. At such a late hour, for
it was now wearing on to wellnigh ten o'clock, I was not just clear about
listening to anything bloody; but not to vex the old boy, who, I am sure,
would not have sleeped a wink through the night for disappointment, had
he not got a free breast made of it, I at long and last
consented--provided his story was not too long. My chief particularity
on this point, as I should mention, was, that it was past Benjie's
bedtime, and the callant had a hoast, which required all his mother's as
well as my own good doctoring--having cost us two bottles of Dantzic
black beer, with little effect; besides not a few other recommendations
of friends and skielly acquaintances.
It was best, therefore, to consent with a good grace; so, after clearing
his windpipes, James wiped the eyes of his spectacles with the corner of
his red-check pocket-napkin; and thereafter fixing them on his beak, he
commenced preaching away in grand style at some queer outlandish stuff,
which fairly baffled my gumption. I must confess, however, both in
fairness to Taffy and to James, that, as I had been up since five in the
morning (having pawned my word to send home Duncan Imrie, the
heel-cutter's new duffle great-coat by breakfast time, as he had to go
into the Edinburgh leather-market by eleven), my een were gathering
straws; and it was only at the fearsome parts that I could for half a
moment keep them sundry. "Many men," however, "many minds," as the
copy-line book says; and as every one has a right to judge for himself, I
requested James to copy the concern out for me; and ye here have it, word
for word, without substraction, multiplication, or addition.
The Maid Of Damascus
In the reign of the Greek Emperor Heraclius, when the beautiful city of
Damascus was at the height of its splendour and magnificence, dwelt
therein a young noble, named Demetrius, whose decayed fortunes did not
correspond with the general prosperity of the times. He was a youth of
ardent disposition, and very handsome in person: pride kept him from
bettering his estate by the profession of merchandise, yet more keenly
did he feel the obscurity to which adverse fates had reduced him, that in
his lot was involved the fortune of one dearer than himself.
It so happened that, in that quarter of the city which faces the row of
palm-trees, within the gate Keisan, dwelt a wealthy old merchant, who had
a beautiful daughter. Demetrius had by chance seen her some time before,
and he was so struck with her loveliness, that, after pining for many
months in secret, he ventured on a disclosure, and, to his delighted
surprise, found that Isabelle had long silently nursed a deep and almost
hopeless passion for him also; so, being now aware that their love was
mutual, they were as happy as the bird that, all day long, sings in the
sunshine from the summits of the cypress-trees.
True is the adage of the poet, that "the course of true love never did
run smooth"; and, in the father of the maiden, they found that a
stumbling-block lay in the path of their happiness, for he was of an
avaricious disposition, and they knew that he valued gold more than
nobility of blood. Their fears grew more and more, as Isabelle, in her
private conversations, endeavoured to sound her father on this point; and
although the suspicions of affection are often more apparent than real,
in this they were not mistaken; for, without consulting his child--and as
if her soul had been in his hand--he promised her in marriage to a rich
old miser, ay, twice as rich, and nearly as old as himself.
Isabelle knew not what to do; for, on being informed by her father of the
fate he had destined for her, her heart forsook her, and her spirit was
bowed to the dust. Nowhere could she rest, like the Thracian bird that
knoweth not to fold its wings in slumber--a cloud had fallen for her over
the fair face of nature--and, instead of retiring to her couch, she
wandered about weeping, under the midnight stars, on the terrace on the
house-top--wailing over the hapless fate, and calling on death to come
and take her from her sorrows.
At morning she went forth alone into the garden; but neither could the
golden glow of the orange-trees, nor the perfumes of the rosiers, nor the
delicate fragrance of the clustering henna and jasmine, delight her; so
she wearied for the hour of noon, having privately sent to Demetrius,
inviting him to meet her by the fountain of the pillars at that time.
Poor Demetrius had, for some time, observed a settled sorrow in the
conduct and countenance of his beautiful Isabelle--he felt that some
melancholy revelation was to be made to him; and, all eagerness, he came
at the appointed hour. He passed along the winding walks, unheeding of
the tulips streaked like the ruddy evening clouds--of the flower
betrothed to the nightingale--of the geranium blazing in scarlet
beauty,--till, on approaching the place of promise, he caught a glance of
the maid he loved--and, lo! she sate there in the sunlight, absorbed in
thought; a book was on her knee, and at her feet lay the harp whose
chords had been for his ear so often modulated to harmony.
He laid his hand gently on her shoulder, as he seated himself beside her
on the steps; and seeing her sorrowful, he comforted her, and bade her be
of good cheer, saying, that Heaven would soon smile propitiously on their
fortunes, and that their present trials would but endear them the more to
each other in the days of after years. At length, with tears and sobs,
she told him of what she had learned; and, while they wept on each
other's bosoms, they vowed over the Bible, which Isabelle held in her
hand, to be faithful to each other to their dying day.
Meantime the miser was making preparations for the marriage ceremony, and
the father of Isabelle had portioned out his daughter's dowery; when the
lovers, finding themselves driven to extremity, took the resolution of
escaping together from the city.
Now, it so happened, in accordance with the proverb, which saith that
evils never come single, that, at this very time, the city of Damascus
was closely invested by a mighty army, commanded by the Caliph Abubeker
Alwakidi, the immediate successor of Mahomet; and, in leaving the walls,
the lovers were in imminent hazard of falling into their cruel hands;
yet, having no other resource left, they resolved to put their perilous
adventure to the risk.
'Twas the Mussulman hour of prayer Magrib: the sun had just disappeared,
and the purple haze of twilight rested on the hills, darkening all the
cedar forests, when the porter of the gate Keisan, having been bribed
with a largess, its folding leaves slowly opened, and forthwith issued a
horseman closely wrapt up in a mantle; and behind him, at a little space,
followed another similarly clad. Alas! for the unlucky fugitives, it so
chanced that Derar, the captain of the night-guard, was at that moment
making his rounds, and observing what was going on, he detached a party
to throw themselves between the strangers and the town. The foremost
rider, however, discovered their intention, and he called back to his
follower to return. Isabelle--for it was she--instantly regained the
gate which had not yet closed, but Demetrius fell into the hands of the
enemy.
As wont in those bloody wars, the poor prisoner was immediately carried
by an escort into the presence of the Caliph, who put the alternative in
his power of either, on the instant, renouncing his religion, or
submitting to the axe of the headsman. Demetrius told his tale with a
noble simplicity; and his youth, his open countenance, and stately
bearing, so far gained on the heart of Abubeker, that, on his refusal to
embrace Mahomedism, he begged of him seriously to consider of his
situation, and ordered a delay of the sentence, which he must otherwise
pronounce, until the morrow.
Heart-broken and miserable, Demetrius was loaded with chains, and carried
to a gloomy place of confinement. In the solitude of the night-hours he
cursed the hour of his birth--bewailed his miserable situation--and
feeling that all his schemes of happiness were thwarted, almost rejoiced
that he had only a few hours to live.
The heavy hours lagged on towards daybreak, and, quite exhausted by the
intense agony of his feelings, he sank down upon the ground in a profound
sleep, from which a band, with crescented turbans and crooked
sword-blades, awoke him. Still persisting to reject the Prophet's faith,
he was led forth to die; but, in passing through the camp, the Soubachis
of the Caliph stopped the troop, as he had been commanded, and Demetrius
was ushered into the tent, where Abubeker, not yet arisen, lay stretched
on his sofa. For a while the captive remained resolute, preferring death
to the disgrace of turning a renegado; but the wily Caliph, who had taken
a deep and sudden interest in the fortunes of the youth, knew well the
spring, by the touch of which his heart was most likely to be affected.
He pointed out to Demetrius prospects of preferment and grandeur, while
he assured him that, in a few days, Damascus must to a certainty
surrender, in which case his mistress must fall into the power of a
fierce soldiery, and be left to a fate full of dishonour, and worse than
death itself; but, if he assumed the turban, he pledged his royal word
that especial care should be taken that no harm should alight on her he
loved.
Demetrius paused, and Abubeker saw that the heart of his captive was
touched. He drew pictures of power, and affluence, and domestic love,
that dazzled the imagination of his hearer; and while the prisoner
thought of his Isabelle, instead of rejecting the impious proposal, as at
first he had done, with disdain and horror, his soul bent like iron in
the breath of the furnace flame, and he wavered and became irresolute.
The keen eye of the Caliph saw the working of his spirit within him, and
allowed him yet another day to form his resolution. When the second day
was expired, Demetrius craved a third; and on the fourth morning
miserable man, he abjured the faith of his fathers, and became a
Mussulman.
Abubeker loved the youth, assigning him a post of dignity, and all the
mighty host honoured him whom the Caliph delighted to honour. He was
clad in rich attire, and magnificently attended, and, to all eyes,
Demetrius seemed a person worthy of envy; yet, in the calm of thought,
his conscience upbraided him, and he was far less happy than he seemed to
be.
Ere yet the glow of novelty had entirely ceased to bewilder the
understanding of the renegade, preparations were made for the assault;
and after a fierce but ineffectual resistance, under their gallant
leaders Thomas and Herbis, the Damascenes were obliged to submit to their
imperious conqueror, on condition of being allowed, within three days, to
leave the city unmolested.
When the gates were opened, Demetrius, with a heart overflowing with love
and delight, was among the first to enter. He enquired of every one he
met of the fate of Isabelle; but all turned from him with disgust. At
length he found her out, but what was his grief and surprise--in a
nunnery! Firm to the troth she had so solemnly plighted, she had
rejected the proposition of her mercenary parent; and, having no idea but
that her lover had shared the fate of all Christian captives, she had
shut herself up from the world, and vowed to live the life of a vestal.
The surprise, the anguish, the horror of Isabelle, when she beheld
Demetrius in his Moslem habiliments, cannot be described. Her first
impulse, on finding him yet alive, was to have fallen into his arms; but,
instantly recollecting herself, she shrank back from him with loathing,
as a mean and paltry dastard. "No, no," she cried, "you are no longer
the man I loved; our vows of fidelity were pledged over the Bible; that
book you have renounced as a fable; and he who has proved himself false
to Heaven, can never be true to me!"
Demetrius was conscience-struck; too late he felt his crime, and foresaw
its consequences. The very object for whom he had dared to make the
tremendous sacrifice had deserted him, and his own soul told him with how
much justice; so, without uttering a syllable, he turned away
heart-broken, from the holy and beautiful being whose affections he had
forfeited for ever.
When the patriots left Damascus, Isabelle accompanied them. Retiring to
Antioch, she lived with the sisterhood for many years; and, as her time
was passed between acts of charity and devotion, her bier was watered
with many a tear, and the hands of the grateful duly strewed her grave
with flowers. To Demetrius was destined a briefer career. All-conscious
of his miserable degradation, loathing himself, and life, and mankind, he
rushed back from the city into the Mahomedan camp; and entering, with a
hurried step, the tent of the Caliph, he tore the turban from his brow,
and cried aloud--"Oh, Abubeker! behold a God-forsaken wretch. Think not
it was the fear of death that led me to abjure my religion--the religion
of my fathers--the only true faith. No; it was the idol of Love that
stood between my heart and heaven, darkening the latter with its shadow;
and had I remained as true to God, as I did to the Maiden of my love, I
had not needed this." So saying, and ere the hand of Abubeker could
arrest him, he drew a poniard from his embroidered vest, and the
heart-blood of the renegade spouted on the royal robes of the successor
of Mahomet.
* * * * *
So grandly had James spooted this bloody story, that notwithstanding my
sleepiness, his words whiles dirled through my marrow like quicksilver,
and set all my flesh a grueing. In the middle of it, he was himself so
worked up, that twice he pulled his Kilmarnock from his head,
silk-napkin, bandage and all, and threw them down with a thump on the
table, which once wellnigh capsized a candlestick.
The porter and the stabbing, also, very nearly put me beside myself; and
I felt so queerish and eerie when I took my hat to wish him a
good-night--knowing that baith Nanse and Benjie would be neither to hold
nor bind, it being now half-past ten o'clock--that, had it not been for
the shame of the thing, and that I remembered being one of the King's
gallant volunteers, I fear I would have asked James for the lend of his
lantern, to show me down the dark close.
The reader will thus perceive that the adventure of the killing-coat,
stuck alike in the measurement and in the making by Tammie Bodkin, was
destined, in the great current of human events, to form a prominent
feature, not only in my own history, but in that of worthy James Batter.
To me it might be considered as a passing breeze--having been accustomed
to see and suffer a vast deal; but my friend, I fear much, will bear
marks of it to his grave. Yet I cannot blame myself with a safe
conscience for James having fallen the victim to Cursecowl. I had tried
everything to solder up matters which the heart of man could suggest; and
knowing that it was a catastrophe which would bring down open war and
rebellion throughout the whole parish, my thoughts were all of peace, and
how to stave off the eruption of the bloody heathen. I had thought over
the thing seriously in my bed; and, reckoning plainly that Cursecowl was
not one likely soon to hold out a flag of truce, I had come to the
determination within myself to sound a parley--and offer either to take
back the coat, or refund part of the purchase-money. I may add, that
having an unbounded regard for his judgment and descretion, I had, in my
own mind, selected James Batter to be sent as the ambassador. The same
day, however, brought round the extraordinary purchase of the
Willie-goat's head, and gave a new and unexpected turn to the whole
business.
Folk, moreover, should never be so over-proud as not to confess when they
are in fault; and from what happened, I am free to admit, that James,
harmless as a sucking dove, was no match in such a matter for the like of
Cursecowl, who was a perfect incarnation, for devilry and cunning, of the
old Serpent himself.
My intentions, however, were good, and those of a Christian; for, had
Cursecowl accepted the ten shillings by way of blood-money, which it was
thus my intention to have offered, this fearful and bloody stramash would
have been hushed up without the world having become a whit the wiser.
But "there is many a slip," as the proverb says, "between the cup and the
lip"; and the best intentions often fall to the ground, like the
beggarman between the two stools.
The final conclusion of the whole tradegy was, as it behoves me to
mention, that Cursecowl, in consideration of a month's gratis work in the
slaughter-house, made a brotherly legacy of the coat to his nephew, young
Killim. The laddie was a perfect world's wonder every Sunday, and would
have been laughed at out of his seven senses, had he not at last rebelled
and fairly thrown it off. I make every allowance for the young man; and
am sorry to confess that it was indeed a perfect shame to be seen. At
Dalkeith, where one is well known, anything may pass; but I was always in
bodily terror, that, had he gone to Edinburgh, he would have been taken
up by the police, on suspicion of being either a Spanish pawtriot or a
highway robber.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE--CATCHING A PHILISTINE IN THE COAL-HOLE
Years wore on after the departure and death of poor Mungo Glen, during
the which I had a sowd of prentices, good, bad, and indifferent, and who
afterwards cut, and are cutting, a variety of figures in the world.
Sometimes I had two or three at a time; for the increase of business that
flowed in upon me with a full stream was tremendous, enabling me--who say
it that should not say it--to lay by a wheen bawbees for a sore head, or
the frailties of old age. Somehow or other, the clothes made on my
shopboard came into great vogue through all Dalkeith, both for neatness
of shape and nicety of workmanship; and the young journeymen of other
masters did not think themselves perfected, or worthy a decent wage, till
they had crooked their houghs for three months in my service. With
regard to myself, some of my acquaintances told me, that if I had gone
into Edinburgh to push my fortune, I could have cut half the trade out of
bread, and maybe risen, in the course of nature, to be Lord Provost
himself; but I just heard them speak, and kept my wheisht. I never was
overly ambitious; and I remembered how proud Nebuchadnaazer ended with
eating grass on all-fours. Every man has a right to be the best judge of
his own private matters; though, to be sure, the advice of a true friend
is often more precious than rubies, and sweeter than the Balm of Gilead.
It was about the month of March, in the year of grace _anno Domini_
eighteen hundred, that the whole country trembled, like a giant ill of
the ague, under the consternation of Buonaparte, and all the French
vagabonds emigrating over, and landing in the Firth. Keep us all! the
folk, doitit bodies, put less confidence than became them in what our
volunteer regiments were able and willing to do; yet we had a remnant
among us of the true blood, that with loud laughter laughed the creatures
to scorn; and I, for one, kept up my pluck, like a true Highlander. Does
any living soul believe that Scotland--the land of the Tweed, and the
Clyde, and the Tay--could be conquered, and the like of us sold, like
Egyptian slaves, into captivity? Fie, fie--I despise such haivers. Are
we not descended, father and son, from Robert Bruce and Sir William
Wallace, having the bright blood of freemen in our veins, and the
Pentland Hills, as well as our own dear homes and firesides, to fight
for? The rascal that would not give cut-and-thrust for his country as
long as he had a breath to draw, or a leg to stand on, should be tied
neck and heels, without benefit of clergy, and thrown over Leith pier, to
swim for his life like a mangy dog!
Hard doubtless it is--and I freely confess it--to be called by sound of
bugle, or tuck of drum, from the counter and the shopboard--men, that
have been born and bred to peaceful callings, to mount the red-jacket,
soap the hair, buckle on the buff-belt, load with ball-cartridge, and
screw bayonets; but it's no use talking. We were ever the free British;
and before we would say to Frenchmen that we were their humble servants,
we would either twist the very noses off their faces, or perish in the
glorious struggle.
It was aye the opinion of the Political folk, the Whigs, the Black-nebs,
the Radicals, the Papists, and the Friends of the People, together with
the rest of the clan-jamphrey, that it was a done battle, and that
Buonaparte would lick us back and side. All this was in the heart and
heat of the great war, when we were struggling, like drowning men, for
our very life and existence, and when our colours--the true British
flag--were nailed to the mast-head. One would have thought these rips
were a set of prophets, they were all so busy prophesying, and never
anything good. They kent (believe them) that we were to be smote hip and
thigh; and that to oppose the vile Corsican was like men with
strait-jackets out of Bedlam. They could see nothing brewing around them
but death, and disaster, and desolation, and pillage, and national
bankruptcy--our brave Highlanders, with their heads shot off, lying on
the bloody field of battle, all slaughtered to a man; our sailors,
handcuffed and shackled, musing in a French prison on the bypast days of
Camperdown, and of Lord Rodney breaking through the line; with all their
fleets sunk to the bottom of the salt sea, after being raked fore and aft
with chain-shot; and our timber, sugar, tea and treacle merchants, all
fleeing for safety and succour down to lodgings in the Abbey Strand, with
a yellow stocking on the ae leg and a black one on the other, like a
wheen mountebanks. Little could they foresee, with their spentacles of
prophecy, that a battle of Waterloo would ever be fought, to make the
confounded fugies draw in their horns, and steek up their scraighing gabs
for ever. Poor fushionless creatures!