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 footman here, and caíd
himsell (heís a civil pleasant young gentleman), to see when the
broidered saddle-cloth for his sorrel horse will be ready, for he wants
it agane 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, wií the
crests, coronets, housings, and mountings conform, are no sent hame
according to promise gien.”
“Weel, weel, weel--weel, weel, gudewife,” said Saddletree, “if he gangs
daft, weíll hae him cognosced--itís aí very weel.”
“Itís weel that ye think sae, Mr. Saddletree,” answered his helpmate,
rather nettled at the indifference with which her report was received;
“thereís mony ane wad hae thought themselves affronted, if sae mony
customers had caíd and naebody to answer them but women-folk; for aí 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 wií your nonsense; I was under the necessity of being
elsewhere--_non omnia_--as Mr. Crossmyloof said, when he was called by
two macers at once--_non omnia possumus--pessimus--possimis_--I ken our
law-latin offends Mr. Butlerís 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 itís a decent thing to leave your wife to
look after young gentlemenís 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 understand. Díye think I was
born to sit here brogging an elshin 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 kingís 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 wií bend-leather guns, and then itís 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.”
* [_Close-head,_ the entrance of a blind alley.]
“I tell ye, woman,” said Saddletree, in high dudgeon, “that ye ken
naething about these matters. In Sir William Wallaceís days there was nae
man pinned down to sic a slavish wark as a saddlerís, 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.”
“Itís 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 Institutes--Justinianís Institutes, Mr. Saddletree?” said
Butler.
“Institutes and substitutes are synonymous words, Mr. Butler, and used
indifferently as such in deeds of tailzie, as you may see in Balfourís
Practiques, or Dallas of St. Martinís 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
_Non 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 _quivis,_ and now I heard ye say _cuivis_ with my ain
ears, as plain as ever I heard a word at the fore-bar.”
“Give me your patience, Mr. Saddletree, and Iíll explain the discrepancy
in three words,” said Butler, as pedantic in his own department, though
with infinitely more judgment and learning, as Bartoline was in his
self-assumed profession of the law--“Give me your patience for a
moment--Youíll 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--Youíll 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.”
“I am sure Iíll no grant it, though,” said Saddletree.
“Then, what the _deevil_ díye 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.
“Iíll tell you that at leisure, Mr. Butler,” said Saddletree, with a very
knowing look; “Iíll take a day to see and answer every article of your
condescendence, and then Iíll hold you to confess or deny as accords.”
“Come, come, Mr. Saddletree,” said his wife, “weíll hae nae confessions
and condescendences here; let them deal in thae sort oí wares that are
paid for them--they suit the like oí us as all as a demipique saddle
would suit 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,” continued his
helpmate, “since ye say ye hae skeel oí the law, to try if ye can do
onything for Effie Deans, puir thing, thatís lying up in the tolbooth
yonder, cauld, and hungry, and comfortless--A servant lass of ours, Mr.
Butler, and as innocent a lass, to my thinking, and as usefuí in the
shop--When Mr. Saddletree gangs out,--and yeíre aware heís seldom at hame
when thereís ony oí the plea-houses open,--poor Effie used to help me to
tumble the bundles oí barkened leather up and down, and range out the
gudes, and suit aí bodyís humours--And troth, she could aye please the
customers wií 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
thereís ower mony folks crying on me at anes, and nane but ae tongue to
answer them, folk maun speak hastily, or theyíll neíer get through their
wark--Sae I miss Effie daily.”
“_De die in diem,_” added Saddletree.
“I 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, thatís just puir Effie,” said her mistress. “How she was
abandoned to hersell, or whether she was sackless oí the sinful deed, God
in Heaven knows; but if sheís been guilty, sheís 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. Leonardís 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 speak to Mr. Saddletree when he
was at hame? It wasna that I thought Mr. Saddletree could do her or ony
ither body muckle good or ill, but it wad aye serve to keep the puir
thingís heart up for a wee while; and let sorrow come when sorrow maun.”
“Yeíre 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 saxteen hundred and ninety, chapter
one--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 waeís my heart, I had been
tender aí the simmer, and scarce ower the door oí my room for twal weeks.
And as for Mr. Saddletree, he might be in a lying-in hospital, and neíer
find out what the women cam there for. Sae I could see little or naething
oí her, or I wad hae had the truth oí her situation out oí her, Iíse
warrant ye--But we aí think her sister maun be able to speak something to
clear her.”
“The haill Parliament House,” said Saddletree, “was speaking oí naething
else, till this job oí Porteousís put it out oí head--Itís a beautiful
point of presumptive murder, and thereís been nane like it in the
Justiciar Court since the case of Luckie Smith the howdie, that suffered
in the year saxteen hundred and seventy-nine.”
“But whatís the matter wií you, Mr. Butler?” said the good woman; “ye are
looking as white as a sheet; will ye tak 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 oí
getting the scule, Mr. Butler?”
“Yes--no--I do not know,” answered the young man vaguely. But Mrs.
Saddletree kept him to point, partly out of real interest, partly from
curiosity.
“Ye dinna ken whether ye are to get the free scule oí Dumfries or no,
after hinging on and teaching it aí 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 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, thereís enough said.--And yeíre
eíen come back to Liberton to wait for dead menís shoon?--and for as
frail as Mr. Whackbairn 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, itís 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;
“thereís whiles we lose patience in spite of baith book and Bible--But ye
are no gaun awa, and looking sae poorly--yeíll stay and take some kale
wií us?”
Mr. Saddletree laid aside Balfourís Practiques (his favourite study, and
much good may it do him), to join in his wifeís hospitable importunity.
But the teacher declined all entreaty, and took his leave upon the spot.
“Thereís something in aí this,” said Mrs. Saddletree, looking after him
as he walked up the street; “I wonder what makes Mr. Butler sae
distressed about Effieís 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 oí Dumbiedikesí land. Mr. Butler wad ken her
father, or some oí her folk.--Get up, Mr. Saddletree--ye have set
yoursell down on the very brecham that wants stitching--and hereís little
Willie, the prentice.--Ye little rin-there-out 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 by, and be a better bairn another
time, and tell Peggy to gie ye a bicker oí broth, for yeíll be as gleg as
a gled, Iíse warrant ye.--Itís a fatherless bairn, Mr. Saddletree, and
motherless, whilk in some cases may be waur, and ane would take care oí
him if they could--itís a Christian duty.”
“Very true, gudewife,” said Saddletree in reply, “we are _in 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 tutoris,_
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. Poor Effie! can ye tell me now really, wií aí 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 wifeís attention arrested by a topic of legal discussion--“Whoy,
there are two sorts of _murdrum_ or _murdragium,_ or what you
_populariter et vulgariser_ call murther. I mean there are many sorts;
for thereís your _murthrum per vigilias 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 wií Effieís misfortune.”
“The case of Effie (or Euphemia) Deans,” resumed Saddletree, “is one of
those cases of murder presumptive, that is, a murder of the lawís
inferring or construction, being derived from certain _indicia_ or
grounds of suspicion.”
“So that,” said the good woman, “unless poor Effie has communicated her
situation, sheíll 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 law 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 farther 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.