you, de monksh understood de magisterium.”
“Let us leave talking of the magisterium, Mr. Dousterswivel, and think a
little about the magistrate. Are you aware that this occupation of yours
is against the law of Scotland, and that both Sir Arthur and myself are
in the commission of the peace?”
“Mine heaven! and what is dat to de purpose when I am doing you all de
goot I can?”
“Why, you must know that when the legislature abolished the cruel laws
against witchcraft, they had no hope of destroying the superstitious
feelings of humanity on which such chimeras had been founded; and to
prevent those feelings from being tampered with by artful and designing
persons, it is enacted by the ninth of George the Second, chap. 5, that
whosoever shall pretend, by his alleged skill in any occult or crafty
science, to discover such goods as are lost, stolen or concealed, he
shall suffer punishment by pillory and imprisonment, as a common cheat
and impostor.”
“And is dat de laws?” asked Dousterswivel, with some agitation.
“Thyself shall see the act,” replied the Antiquary.
“Den, gentlemens, I shall take my leave of you, dat is all; I do not
like to stand on your what you call pillory--it is very bad way to take
de air, I think; and I do not like your prisons no more, where one
cannot take de air at all.”
“If such be your taste, Mr. Dousterswivel,” said the Antiquary, “I
advise you to stay where you are, for I cannot let you go, unless it be
in the society of a constable; and, moreover, I expect you will attend
us just now to the ruins of St. Ruth, and point out the place where you
propose to find this treasure.”
“Mine heaven, Mr. Oldenbuck! what usage is this to your old friend, when
I tell you so plain as I can speak, dat if you go now, you will not get
so much treasure as one poor shabby sixpence?”
“I will try the experiment, however, and you shall be dealt with
according to its success,--always with Sir Arthur’s permission.”
Sir Arthur, during this investigation, had looked extremely embarrassed,
and, to use a vulgar but expressive phrase, chop-fallen. Oldbuck’s
obstinate disbelief led him strongly to suspect the imposture of
Dousterswivel, and the adept’s mode of keeping his ground was less
resolute than he had expected. Yet he did not entirely give him up.
“Mr. Oldbuck,” said the Baronet, “you do Mr. Dousterswivel less than
justice. He has undertaken to make this discovery by the use of his art,
and by applying characters descriptive of the Intelligences presiding
over the planetary hour in which the experiment is to be made; and you
require him to proceed, under pain of punishment, without allowing him
the use of any of the preliminaries which he considers as the means of
procuring success.”
“I did not say that exactly--I only required him to be present when we
make the search, and not to leave us during the interval. I fear he
may have some intelligence with the Intelligences you talk of, and that
whatever may be now hidden at Saint Ruth may disappear before we get
there.”
“Well, gentlemens,” said Dousterswivel, sullenly, “I will make no
objections to go along with you but I tell you beforehand, you shall not
find so much of anything as shall be worth your going twenty yard from
your own gate.”
“We will put that to a fair trial,” said the Antiquary; and the
Baronet’s equipage being ordered, Miss Wardour received an intimation
from her father, that she was to remain at Monkbarns until his return
from an airing. The young lady was somewhat at a loss to reconcile this
direction with the communication which she supposed must have passed
between Sir Arthur and the Antiquary; but she was compelled, for the
present, to remain in a most unpleasant state of suspense.
The journey of the treasure-seekers was melancholy enough. Dousterswivel
maintained a sulky silence, brooding at once over disappointed
expectation and the risk of punishment; Sir Arthur, whose golden dreams
had been gradually fading away, surveyed, in gloomy prospect, the
impending difficulties of his situation; and Oldbuck, who perceived that
his having so far interfered in his neighbours affairs gave the Baronet
a right to expect some actual and efficient assistance, sadly pondered
to what extent it would be necessary to draw open the strings of his
purse. Thus each being wrapped in his own unpleasant ruminations, there
was hardly a word said on either side, until they reached the Four
Horse-shoes, by which sign the little inn was distinguished. They
procured at this place the necessary assistance and implements for
digging, and, while they were busy about these preparations, were
suddenly joined by the old beggar, Edie Ochiltree.
“The Lord bless your honour,” began the Blue-Gown, with the genuine
mendicant whine, “and long life to you!--weel pleased am I to hear that
young Captain M’Intyre is like to be on his legs again sune--Think on
your poor bedesman the day.”
“Aha, old true-penny!” replied the Antiquary. “Why, thou hast never come
to Monkbarns since thy perils by rock and flood--here’s something for
thee to buy snuff,”--and, fumbling for his purse, he pulled out at the
same time the horn which enclosed the coins.
“Ay, and there’s something to pit it in,” said the mendicant, eyeing the
ram’s horn--“that loom’s an auld acquaintance o’ mine. I could take my
aith to that sneeshing-mull amang a thousand--I carried it for mony a
year, till I niffered it for this tin ane wi’ auld George Glen, the
dammer and sinker, when he took a fancy till’t doun at Glen-Withershins
yonder.”
“Ay! indeed?” said Oldbuck;--“so you exchanged it with a miner? but
I presume you never saw it so well filled before”--and opening it, he
showed the coins.
“Troth, ye may swear that, Monkbarns: when it was mine it neer had abune
the like o’ saxpenny worth o’ black rappee in’t at ance. But I reckon
ye’ll be gaun to mak an antic o’t, as ye hae dune wi’ mony an orra thing
besides. Od, I wish anybody wad mak an antic o’ me; but mony ane will
find worth in rousted bits o’ capper and horn and airn, that care unco
little about an auld carle o’ their ain country and kind.”
“You may now guess,” said Oldbuck, turning to Sir Arthur, “to whose good
offices you were indebted the other night. To trace this cornucopia of
yours to a miner, is bringing it pretty near a friend of ours--I hope we
shall be as successful this morning, without paying for it.”
“And whare is your honours gaun the day,” said the mendicant, “wi’ a’
your picks and shules?--Od, this will be some o’ your tricks, Monkbarns:
ye’ll be for whirling some o’ the auld monks down by yonder out o’ their
graves afore they hear the last call--but, wi’ your leave, I’se follow ye
at ony rate, and see what ye mak o’t.”
The party soon arrived at the ruins of the priory, and, having gained
the chancel, stood still to consider what course they were to pursue
next. The Antiquary, meantime, addressed the adept.
“Pray, Mr. Dousterswivel, what is your advice in this matter? Shall we
have most likelihood of success if we dig from east to west, or from
west to east?--or will you assist us with your triangular vial of
May-dew, or with your divining-rod of witches-hazel?--or will you have
the goodness to supply us with a few thumping blustering terms of art,
which, if they fail in our present service, may at least be useful
to those who have not the happiness to be bachelors, to still their
brawling children withal?”
“Mr. Oldenbuck,” said Dousterswivel, doggedly, “I have told you already
that you will make no good work at all, and I will find some way of mine
own to thank you for your civilities to me--yes, indeed.”
“If your honours are thinking of tirling the floor,” said old Edie, “and
wad but take a puir body’s advice, I would begin below that muckle stane
that has the man there streekit out upon his back in the midst o’t.”
“I have some reason for thinking favourably of that plan myself,” said
the Baronet.
“And I have nothing to say against it,” said Oldbuck: “it was not
unusual to hide treasure in the tombs of the deceased--many instances
might be quoted of that from Bartholinus and others.”
The tombstone, the same beneath which the coins had been found by Sir
Arthur and the German, was once more forced aside, and the earth gave
easy way to the spade.
“It’s travell’d earth that,” said Edie, “it howks gae eithly--I ken it
weel, for ance I wrought a simmer wi’ auld Will Winnet, the bedral, and
howkit mair graves than ane in my day; but I left him in winter, for
it was unco cald wark; and then it cam a green Yule, and the folk died
thick and fast--for ye ken a green Yule makes a fat kirkyard; and I never
dowed to bide a hard turn o’ wark in my life--sae aff I gaed, and left
Will to delve his last dwellings by himsell for Edie.”
The diggers were now so far advanced in their labours as to discover
that the sides of the grave which they were clearing out had been
originally secured by four walls of freestone, forming a parallelogram,
for the reception, probably, of the coffin.
“It is worth while proceeding in our labours,” said the Antiquary to Sir
Arthur, “were it but for curiosity’s sake. I wonder on whose sepulchre
they have bestowed such uncommon pains.”
“The arms on the shield,” said Sir Arthur, and sighed as he spoke it,
“are the same with those on Misticot’s tower, supposed to have been
built by Malcolm the usurper. No man knew where he was buried, and there
is an old prophecy in our family, that bodes us no good when his grave
shall be discovered.”
“I wot,” said the beggar, “I have often heard that when I was a bairn--
If Malcolm the Misticot’s grave were fun’,
The lands of Knockwinnock were lost and won.”
Oldbuck, with his spectacles on his nose, had already knelt down on the
monument, and was tracing, partly with his eye, partly with his finger,
the mouldered devices upon the effigy of the deceased warrior. “It is
the Knockwinnock arms, sure enough,” he exclaimed, “quarterly with the
coat of Wardour.”
“Richard, called the red-handed Wardour, married Sybil Knockwinnock,
the heiress of the Saxon family, and by that alliance,” said Sir Arthur,
“brought the castle and estate into the name of Wardour, in the year of
God 1150.”
“Very true, Sir Arthur; and here is the baton-sinister, the mark of
illegitimacy, extended diagonally through both coats upon the shield.
Where can our eyes have been, that they did not see this curious
monument before?”
“Na, whare was the through-stane, that it didna come before our een till
e’enow?” said Ochiltree; “for I hae ken’d this auld kirk, man and bairn,
for saxty lang years, and I neer noticed it afore; and it’s nae sic mote
neither, but what ane might see it in their parritch.”
All were now induced to tax their memory as to the former state of the
ruins in that corner of the chancel, and all agreed in recollecting a
considerable pile of rubbish which must have been removed and spread
abroad in order to make the tomb visible. Sir Arthur might, indeed, have
remembered seeing the monument on the former occasion, but his mind was
too much agitated to attend to the circumstance as a novelty.
While the assistants were engaged in these recollections and
discussions, the workmen proceeded with their labour. They had already
dug to the depth of nearly five feet, and as the flinging out the soil
became more and more difficult, they began at length to tire of the job.
“We’re down to the till now,” said one of them, “and the neer a coffin
or onything else is here--some cunninger chiel’s been afore us, I
reckon;”--and the labourer scrambled out of the grave.
“Hout, lad,” said Edie, getting down in his room--“let me try my hand for
an auld bedral;--ye’re gude seekers, but ill finders.”
So soon as he got into the grave, he struck his pike-staff forcibly
down; it encountered resistance in its descent, and the beggar
exclaimed, like a Scotch schoolboy when he finds anything, “Nae halvers
and quarters--hale o’ mine ain and ‘nane o’ my neighbour’s.”
Everybody, from the dejected Baronet to the sullen adept, now caught the
spirit of curiosity, crowded round the grave, and would have jumped into
it, could its space have contained them. The labourers, who had begun to
flag in their monotonous and apparently hopeless task, now resumed their
tools, and plied them with all the ardour of expectation. Their shovels
soon grated upon a hard wooden surface, which, as the earth was cleared
away, assumed the distinct form of a chest, but greatly smaller than
that of a coffin. Now all hands were at work to heave it out of the
grave, and all voices, as it was raised, proclaimed its weight and
augured its value. They were not mistaken.
When the chest or box was placed on the surface, and the lid forced up
by a pickaxe, there was displayed first a coarse canvas cover, then
a quantity of oakum, and beneath that a number of ingots of silver. A
general exclamation hailed a discovery so surprising and unexpected. The
Baronet threw his hands and eyes up to heaven, with the silent rapture
of one who is delivered from inexpressible distress of mind. Oldbuck,
almost unable to credit his eyes, lifted one piece of silver after
another. There was neither inscription nor stamp upon them, excepting
one, which seemed to be Spanish. He could have no doubt of the purity
and great value of the treasure before him. Still, however, removing
piece by piece, he examined row by row, expecting to discover that the
lower layers were of inferior value; but he could perceive no difference
in this respect, and found himself compelled to admit, that Sir Arthur
had possessed himself of bullion to the value, perhaps of a thousand
pounds sterling. Sir Arthur now promised the assistants a handsome
recompense for their trouble, and began to busy himself about the mode
of conveying this rich windfall to the Castle of Knockwinnock, when the
adept, recovering from his surprise, which had equalled that exhibited
by any other individual of the party, twitched his sleeve, and having
offered his humble congratulations, turned next to Oldbuck with an air
of triumph.
“I did tell you, my goot friend, Mr. Oldenbuck, dat I was to seek
opportunity to thank you for your civility; now do you not think I have
found out vary goot way to return thank?”
“Why, Mr. Dousterswivel, do you pretend to have had any hand in our good
success?--you forget you refused us all aid of your science, man; and you
are here without your weapons that should have fought the battle which
you pretend to have gained in our behalf: you have used neither charm,
lamen, sigil, talisman, spell, crystal, pentacle, magic mirror, nor
geomantic figure. Where be your periapts, and your abracadabras man?
your Mayfern, your vervain,
Your toad, your crow, your dragon, and your panther,
Your sun, your moon, your firmament, your adrop,
Your Lato, Azoch, Zernich, Chibrit, Heautarit,
With all your broths, your menstrues, your materials,
Would burst a man to name?--
Ah! rare Ben Jonson! long peace to thy ashes for a scourge of the quacks
of thy day!--who expected to see them revive in our own?”
The answer of the adept to the Antiquary’s tirade we must defer to our
next CHAPTER.
CHAPTER THIRD.
Clause.--You now shall know the king o’ the beggars’ treasure:--
Yes--ere to-morrow you shall find your harbour
Here,--fail me not, for if I live I’ll fit you.
The Beggar’s Bush.
The German, determined, it would seem, to assert the vantage-ground
on which the discovery had placed him, replied with great pomp and
stateliness to the attack of the Antiquary.
“Maister Oldenbuck, all dis may be very witty and comedy, but I have
nothing to say--nothing at all--to people dat will not believe deir own
eye-sights. It is vary true dat I ave not any of de things of de art,
and it makes de more wonder what I has done dis day. But I would ask of
you, mine honoured and goot and generous patron, to put your hand into
your right-hand waistcoat pocket, and show me what you shall find dere.”
Sir Arthur obeyed his direction, and pulled out the small plate of
silver which he had used under the adept’s auspices upon the former
occasion. “It is very true,” said Sir Arthur, looking gravely at the
Antiquary; “this is the graduated and calculated sigil by which Mr.
Dousterswivel and I regulated our first discovery.”
“Pshaw! pshaw! my dear friend,” said Oldbuck, “you are too wise to
believe in the influence of a trumpery crown-piece, beat out thin, and
a parcel of scratches upon it. I tell thee, Sir Arthur, that if
Dousterswivel had known where to get this treasure himself, you would
not have been lord of the least share of it.”
“In troth, please your honour,” said Edie, who put in his word on all
occasions, “I think, since Mr. Dunkerswivel has had sae muckle merit
in discovering a’ the gear, the least ye can do is to gie him that o’t
that’s left behind for his labour; for doubtless he that kend where to
find sae muckle will hae nae difficulty to find mair.”
Dousterswivel’s brow grew very dark at this proposal of leaving him to
his “ain purchase,” as Ochiltree expressed it; but the beggar, drawing
him aside, whispered a word or two in his ear, to which he seemed to
give serious attention.
Meanwhile Sir Arthur, his heart warm with his good fortune, said aloud,
“Never mind our friend Monkbarns, Mr. Dousterswivel, but come to the
Castle to-morrow, and I’ll convince you that I am not ungrateful for the
hints you have given me about this matter--and the fifty Fairport dirty
notes, as you call them, are heartily at your service. Come, my lads,
get the cover of this precious chest fastened up again.”
But the cover had in the confusion fallen aside among the rubbish, or
the loose earth which had been removed from the grave--in short, it was
not to be seen.
“Never mind, my good lads, tie the tarpaulin over it, and get it away to
the carriage.--Monkbarns, will you walk? I must go back your way to take
up Miss Wardour.”
“And, I hope, to take up your dinner also, Sir Arthur, and drink a glass
of wine for joy of our happy adventure. Besides, you should write about
the business to the Exchequer, in case of any interference on the part
of the Crown. As you are lord of the manor, it will be easy to get
a deed of gift, should they make any claim. We must talk about it,
though.”
“And I particularly recommend silence to all who are present,” said Sir
Arthur, looking round. All bowed and professed themselves dumb.
“Why, as to that,” said Monkbarns, “recommending secrecy where a dozen
of people are acquainted with the circumstance to be concealed, is only
putting the truth in masquerade, for the story will be circulated under
twenty different shapes. But never mind--we will state the true one to
the Barons, and that is all that is necessary.”
“I incline to send off an express to-night,” said the Baronet.
“I can recommend your honour to a sure hand,” said Ochiltree; “little
Davie Mailsetter, and the butcher’s reisting powny.”
“We will talk over the matter as we go to Monkbarns,” said Sir Arthur.
“My lads” (to the work-people), “come with me to the Four Horse-shoes,
that I may take down all your names.--Dousterswivel, I won’t ask you to
go down to Monkbarns, as the laird and you differ so widely in opinion;
but do not fail to come to see me to-morrow.”
Dousterswivel growled out an answer, in which the words, “duty,”--“mine
honoured patron,”--and “wait upon Sir Arthurs,”--were alone
distinguishable; and after the Baronet and his friend had left the
ruins, followed by the servants and workmen, who, in hope of reward and
whisky, joyfully attended their leader, the adept remained in a brown
study by the side of the open grave.
“Who was it as could have thought this?” he ejaculated unconsciously.
“Mine heiligkeit! I have heard of such things, and often spoken of such
things--but, sapperment! I never, thought to see them! And if I had gone
but two or dree feet deeper down in the earth--mein himmel! it had been
all mine own--so much more as I have been muddling about to get from this
fool’s man.”
Here the German ceased his soliloquy, for, raising his eyes, he
encountered those of Edie Ochiltree, who had not followed the rest
of the company, but, resting as usual on his pike-staff, had planted
himself on the other side of the grave. The features of the old man,
naturally shrewd and expressive almost to an appearance of knavery,
seemed in this instance so keenly knowing, that even the assurance
of Dousterswivel, though a professed adventurer, sunk beneath their
glances. But he saw the necessity of an e’claircissement, and, rallying
his spirits, instantly began to sound the mendicant on the occurrences
of the day. “Goot Maister Edies Ochiltrees”--
“Edie Ochiltree, nae maister--your puir bedesman and the king’s,”
answered the Blue-Gown.
“Awell den, goot Edie, what do you think of all dis?”
“I was just thinking it was very kind (for I darena say very simple) o’
your honour to gie thae twa rich gentles, wha hae lands and lairdships,
and siller without end, this grand pose o’ silver and treasure (three
times tried in the fire, as the Scripture expresses it), that might hae
made yoursell and ony twa or three honest bodies beside, as happy and
content as the day was lang.”
“Indeed, Edie, mine honest friends, dat is very true; only I did not
know, dat is, I was not sure, where to find the gelt myself.”
“What! was it not by your honours advice and counsel that Monkbarns and
the Knight of Knockwinnock came here then?”
“Aha--yes; but it was by another circumstance. I did not know dat dey
would have found de treasure, mine friend; though I did guess, by such a
tintamarre, and cough, and sneeze, and groan, among de spirit one other
night here, dat there might be treasure and bullion hereabout. Ach, mein
himmel! the spirit will hone and groan over his gelt, as if he were
a Dutch Burgomaster counting his dollars after a great dinner at the
Stadthaus.”
“And do you really believe the like o’ that, Mr. Dusterdeevil!--a
skeelfu’ man like you--hout fie!”
“Mein friend,” answered the adept, foreed by circumstances to speak
something nearer the truth than he generally used to do, “I believed it
no more than you and no man at all, till I did hear them hone and moan
and groan myself on de oder night, and till I did this day see de cause,
which was an great chest all full of de pure silver from Mexico--and what
would you ave nae think den?”
“And what wad ye gie to ony ane,” said Edie, “that wad help ye to sic
another kistfu’ o’ silver!”
“Give?--mein himmel!--one great big quarter of it.”
“Now if the secret were mine,” said the mendicant, “I wad stand out for
a half; for you see, though I am but a puir ragged body, and couldna
carry silver or gowd to sell for fear o’ being taen up, yet I could find
mony folk would pass it awa for me at unco muckle easier profit than
ye’re thinking on.”
“Ach, himmel!--Mein goot friend, what was it I said?--I did mean to say
you should have de tree quarter for your half, and de one quarter to be
my fair half.”
“No, no, Mr. Dusterdeevil, we will divide equally what we find, like
brother and brother. Now, look at this board that I just flung into the
dark aisle out o’ the way, while Monkbarns was glowering ower a’ the
silver yonder. He’s a sharp chiel Monkbarns--I was glad to keep the like
o’ this out o’ his sight. Ye’ll maybe can read the character better than
me--I am nae that book learned, at least I’m no that muckle in practice.”
With this modest declaration of ignorance, Ochiltree brought forth from
behind a pillar the cover of the box or chest of treasure, which, when
forced from its hinges, had been carelessly flung aside during the
ardour of curiosity to ascertain the contents which it concealed, and
had been afterwards, as it seems, secreted by the mendicant. There was a
word and a number upon the plank, and the beggar made them more distinct
by spitting upon his ragged blue handkerchief, and rubbing off the clay
by which the inscription was obscured. It was in the ordinary black
letter.
“Can ye mak ought o’t?” said Edie to the adept.
“S,” said the philosopher, like a child getting his lesson in the
primer--“S, T, A, R, C, H,--Starch!--dat is what de woman-washers put into
de neckerchers, and de shirt collar.”
“Search!” echoed Ochiltree; “na, na, Mr. Dusterdeevil, ye are mair of a
conjuror than a clerk--it’s search, man, search--See, there’s the Ye clear
and distinct.”