ourselves. I have a literary friend at York, with whom I have long
corresponded on the subject of the Saxon horn that is preserved in the
Minster there; we interchanged letters for six years, and have only as
yet been able to settle the first line of the inscription. I will write
forthwith to this gentleman, Dr. Dryasdust, and be particular in my
inquiries concerning the character, etc., of your brother’s heir, of
the gentleman employed in his affairs, and what else may be likely to
further your lordship’s inquiries. In the meantime your lordship
will collect the evidence of the marriage, which I hope can still be
recovered?”
“Unquestionably,” replied the Earl: “the witnesses, who were formerly
withdrawn from your research, are still living. My tutor, who solemnized
the marriage, was provided for by a living in France, and has lately
returned to this country as an emigrant, a victim of his zeal for
loyalty, legitimacy, and religion.”
“That’s one lucky consequence of the French, revolution, my lord--you
must allow that, at least,” said Oldbuck: “but no offence; I will act
as warmly in your affairs as if I were of your own faith in politics
and religion. And take my advice--If you want an affair of consequence
properly managed, put it into the hands of an antiquary; for as they
are eternally exercising their genius and research upon trifles, it
is impossible they can be baffled in affairs of importance;--use makes
perfect--and the corps that is most frequently drilled upon the parade,
will be most prompt in its exercise upon the day of battle. And, talking
upon that subject, I would willingly read to your lordship, in order to
pass away the time betwixt and supper”--
“I beg I may not interfere with family arrangements,” said Lord
Glenallan, “but I never taste anything after sunset.”
“Nor I either, my lord,” answered his host, “notwithstanding it is said
to have been the custom of the ancients. But then I dine differently
from your lordship, and therefore am better enabled to dispense with
those elaborate entertainments which my womankind (that is, my sister
and niece, my lord) are apt to place on the table, for the display
rather of their own house-wifery than the accommodation of our wants.
However, a broiled bone, or a smoked haddock, or an oyster, or a slice
of bacon of our own curing, with a toast and a tankard--or something or
other of that sort, to close the orifice of the stomach before going
to bed, does not fall under my restriction, nor, I hope, under your
lordship’s.”
“My no-supper is literal, Mr. Oldbuck; but I will attend you at your
meal with pleasure.”
“Well, my lord,” replied the Antiquary, “I will endeavour to entertain
your ears at least, since I cannot banquet your palate. What I am about
to read to your lordship relates to the upland glens.”
Lord Glenallan, though he would rather have recurred to the subject of
his own uncertainties, was compelled to make a sign of rueful civility
and acquiescence.
The Antiquary, therefore, took out his portfolio of loose sheets, and
after premising that the topographical details here laid down were
designed to illustrate a slight essay upon castrametation, which had
been read with indulgence at several societies of Antiquaries, he
commenced as follows: “The subject, my lord, is the hill-fort of
Quickens-bog, with the site of which your lordship is doubtless
familiar--it is upon your store-farm of Mantanner, in the barony of
Clochnaben.”
“I think I have heard the names of these places,” said the Earl, in
answer to the Antiquary’s appeal.
“Heard the name? and the farm brings him six hundred a-year--O Lord!”
Such was the scarce-subdued ejaculation of the Antiquary. But his
hospitality got the better of his surprise, and he proceeded to read his
essay with an audible voice, in great glee at having secured a patient,
and, as he fondly hoped, an interested hearer.
“Quickens-bog may at first seem to derive its name from the plant
Quicken, by which, Scottice, we understand couch-grass, dog-grass, or
the Triticum repens of Linnaeus, and the common English monosyllable
Bog, by which we mean, in popular language, a marsh or morass--in
Latin, Palus. But it may confound the rash adopters of the more obvious
etymological derivations, to learn that the couch-grass or dog-grass,
or, to speak scientifically, the Triticum repens of Linnaeus, does not
grow within a quarter of a mile of this castrum or hill-fort, whose
ramparts are uniformly clothed with short verdant turf; and that we must
seek a bog or palus at a still greater distance, the nearest being that
of Gird-the-mear, a full half-mile distant. The last syllable, bog, is
obviously, therefore, a mere corruption of the Saxon Burgh, which we
find in the various transmutations of Burgh, Burrow, Brough,
Bruff, Buff, and Boff, which last approaches very near the sound in
question--since, supposing the word to have been originally borgh, which
is the genuine Saxon spelling, a slight change, such as modern organs
too often make upon ancient sounds, will produce first Bogh, and then,
elisa H, or compromising and sinking the guttural, agreeable to the
common vernacular practice, you have either Boff or Bog as it happens.
The word Quickens requires in like manner to be altered,--decomposed,
as it were,--and reduced to its original and genuine sound, ere we can
discern its real meaning. By the ordinary exchange of the Qu into
Wh, familiar to the rudest tyro who has opened a book of old Scottish
poetry, we gain either Whilkens, or Whichensborgh--put we may suppose,
by way of question, as if those who imposed the name, struck with the
extreme antiquity of the place, had expressed in it an interrogation, To
whom did this fortress belong?’--Or, it might be Whackens-burgh, from the
Saxon Whacken, to strike with the hand, as doubtless the skirmishes
near a place of such apparent consequence must have legitimated such a
derivation,” etc. etc. etc.
I will be more merciful to my readers than Oldbuck was to his guest;
for, considering his opportunities of gaining patient attention from a
person of such consequence as Lord Glenallan were not many, he used, or
rather abused, the present to the uttermost.
CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.
Crabbed age and youth
Cannot live together:--
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare.
Shakspeare.
In the morning of the following day, the Antiquary, who was something
of a sluggard, was summoned from his bed a full hour earlier than his
custom by Caxon. “What’s the matter now?” he exclaimed, yawning and
stretching forth his hand to the huge gold repeater, which, bedded upon
his India silk handkerchief, was laid safe by his pillow--“what’s the
matter now, Caxon?--it can’t be eight o’clock yet.”
“Na, sir,--but my lord’s man sought me out, for he fancies me your
honour’s valley-de-sham,--and sae I am, there’s nae doubt o’t, baith your
honour’s and the minister’s--at least ye hae nae other that I ken
o’--and I gie a help to Sir Arthur too, but that’s mair in the way o’ my
profession.”
“Well, well--never mind that,” said the Antiquary--“happy is he that is
his own valley-de-sham, as you call it--But why disturb my morning’s
rest?”
“Ou, sir, the great man’s been up since peep o’ day, and he’s steered
the town to get awa an express to fetch his carriage, and it will be
here briefly, and he wad like to see your honour afore he gaes awa.”
“Gadso!” ejaculated Oldbuck, “these great men use one’s house and time
as if they were their own property. Well, it’s once and away. Has Jenny
come to her senses yet, Caxon?”
“Troth, sir, but just middling,” replied the barber; “she’s been in a
swither about the jocolate this morning, and was like to hae toomed it
a’ out into the slap-bason, and drank it hersell in her ecstacies--but
she’s won ower wi’t, wi’ the help o’ Miss M’Intyre.”
“Then all my womankind are on foot and scrambling, and I must enjoy my
quiet bed no longer, if I would have a well-regulated house--Lend me my
gown. And what are the news at Fairport?”
“Ou, sir, what can they be about but this grand news o’ my lord,”
answered the old man, “that hasna been ower the door-stane, they threep
to me, for this twenty years--this grand news of his coming to visit your
honour?”
“Aha!” said Monkbarns; “and what do they say of that, Caxon?”
“‘Deed, sir, they hae various opinions. Thae fallows, that are the
democraws, as they ca’ them, that are again’ the king and the law, and
hairpowder and dressing o’ gentlemen’s wigs--a wheen blackguards--they
say he’s come doun to speak wi’ your honour about bringing doun his hill
lads and Highland tenantry to break up the meetings of the Friends o’
the People;--and when I said your honour never meddled wi’ the like o’
sic things where there was like to be straiks and bloodshed, they said,
if ye didna, your nevoy did, and that he was weel ken’d to be a kingsman
that wad fight knee-deep, and that ye were the head and he was the hand,
and that the Yerl was to bring out the men and the siller.”
“Come,” said the Antiquary, laughing--“I am glad the war is to cost me
nothing but counsel.”
“Na, na,” said Caxon--“naebody thinks your honour wad either fight
yoursell, or gie ony feck o’ siller to ony side o’ the question.”
“Umph! well, that’s the opinion of the democraws, as you call them--What
say the rest o’ Fairport?”
“In troth,” said the candid reporter, “I canna say it’s muckle better.
Captain Coquet, of the volunteers--that’s him that’s to be the new
collector,--and some of the other gentlemen of the Blue and a’ Blue Club,
are just saying it’s no right to let popists, that hae sae mony French
friends as the Yerl of Glenallan, gang through the country, and--but your
honour will maybe be angry?”
“Not I, Caxon,” said Oldbuck; “fire away as if you were Captain Coquet’s
whole platoon--I can stand it.”
“Weel then, they say, sir, that as ye didna encourage the petition about
the peace, and wadna petition in favour of the new tax, and as you were
again’ bringing in the yeomanry at the meal mob, but just for settling
the folk wi’ the constables--they say ye’re no a gude friend to
government; and that thae sort o’ meetings between sic a powerfu’ man as
the Yerl, and sic a wise man as you,--Od they think they suld be lookit
after; and some say ye should baith be shankit aff till Edinburgh
Castle.”
“On my word,” said the Antiquary, “I am infinitely obliged to my
neighbours for their good opinion of me! And so I, that have never
interfered with their bickerings, but to recommend quiet and moderate
measures, am given up on both sides as a man very likely to commit high
treason, either against King or People?--Give me my coat, Caxon--give me
my coat;--it’s lucky I live not in their report. Have you heard anything
of Taffril and his vessel?”
Caxon’s countenance fell.--“Na, sir, and the winds hae been high,
and this is a fearfu’ coast to cruise on in thae eastern gales,--the
headlands rin sae far out, that a veshel’s embayed afore I could sharp
a razor; and then there’s nae harbour or city of refuge on our coast--a’
craigs and breakers;--a veshel that rins ashore wi’ us flees asunder like
the powther when I shake the pluff--and it’s as ill to gather ony o’t
again. I aye tell my daughter thae things when she grows wearied for
a letter frae Lieutenant Taffril--It’s aye an apology for him. Ye sudna
blame him, says I, hinny, for ye little ken what may hae happened.”
“Ay, ay, Caxon, thou art as good a comforter as a valet-de-chambre.--Give
me a white stock, man,--dye think I can go down with a handkerchief about
my neck when I have company?”
“Dear sir, the Captain says a three-nookit hankercher is the maist
fashionable overlay, and that stocks belang to your honour and me that
are auld warld folk. I beg pardon for mentioning us twa thegither, but
it was what he said.”
“The Captain’s a puppy, and you are a goose, Caxon.”
“It’s very like it may be sae,” replied the acquiescent barber: “I am
sure your honour kens best.”
Before breakfast, Lord Glenallan, who appeared in better spirits than he
had evinced in the former evening, went particularly through the various
circumstances of evidence which the exertions of Oldbuck had formerly
collected; and pointing out the means which he possessed of completing
the proof of his marriage, expressed his resolution instantly to go
through the painful task of collecting and restoring the evidence
concerning the birth of Eveline Neville, which Elspeth had stated to be
in his mother’s possession.
“And yet, Mr. Oldbuck,” he said, “I feel like a man who receives
important tidings ere he is yet fully awake, and doubt whether they
refer to actual life, or are not rather a continuation of his dream.
This woman--this Elspeth,--she is in the extremity of age, and approaching
in many respects to dotage. Have I not--it is a hideous question--have I
not been hasty in the admission of her present evidence, against that
which she formerly gave me to a very--very different purpose?”
Mr. Oldbuck paused a moment, and then answered with firmness--“No, my
lord; I cannot think you have any reason to suspect the truth of what
she has told you last, from no apparent impulse but the urgency of
conscience. Her confession was voluntary, disinterested, distinct,
consistent with itself, and with all the other known circumstances of
the case. I would lose no time, however, in examining and arranging
the other documents to which she has referred; and I also think her
own statement should be taken down, if possible in a formal manner. We
thought of setting about this together. But it will be a relief to
your lordship, and moreover have a more impartial appearance, were I to
attempt the investigation alone in the capacity of a magistrate. I will
do this--at least I will attempt it, so soon as I shall see her in a
favourable state of mind to undergo an examination.”
Lord Glenallan wrung the Antiquary’s hand in token of grateful
acquiescence. “I cannot express to you,” he said, “Mr. Oldbuck, how
much your countenance and cooperation in this dark and most melancholy
business gives me relief and confidence. I cannot enough applaud myself
for yielding to the sudden impulse which impelled me, as it were, to
drag you into my confidence, and which arose from the experience I had
formerly of your firmness in discharge of your duty as a magistrate,
and as a friend to the memory of the unfortunate. Whatever the issue of
these matters may prove,--and I would fain hope there is a dawn breaking
on the fortunes of my house, though I shall not live to enjoy its
light,--but whatsoever be the issue, you have laid my family and me under
the most lasting obligation.”
“My lord,” answered the Antiquary, “I must necessarily have the greatest
respect for your lordship’s family, which I am well aware is one of
the most ancient in Scotland, being certainly derived from Aymer de
Geraldin, who sat in parliament at Perth, in the reign of Alexander II.,
and who by the less vouched, yet plausible tradition of the country, is
said to have been descended from the Marmor of Clochnaben. Yet, with all
my veneration for your ancient descent, I must acknowledge that I find
myself still more bound to give your lordship what assistance is in my
limited power, from sincere sympathy with your sorrows, and detestation
at the frauds which have so long been practised upon you.--But, my lord,
the matin meal is, I see, now prepared--Permit me to show your lordship
the way through the intricacies of my cenobitium, which is rather a
combination of cells, jostled oddly together, and piled one upon the top
of the other, than a regular house. I trust you will make yourself some
amends for the spare diet of yesterday.”
But this was no part of Lord Glenallan’s system. Having saluted the
company with the grave and melancholy politeness which distinguished his
manners, his servant placed before him a slice of toasted bread, with a
glass of fair water, being the fare on which he usually broke his fast.
While the morning’s meal of the young soldier and the old Antiquary
was despatched in much more substantial manner, the noise of wheels was
heard.
“Your lordship’s carriage, I believe,” said Oldbuck, stepping to the
window. “On my word, a handsome quadriga,--for such, according to the
best scholium, was the vox signata of the Romans for a chariot which,
like that of your lordship, was drawn by four horses.”
“And I will venture to say,” cried Hector, eagerly gazing from the
window, “that four handsomer or better-matched bays never were put in
harness--What fine forehands!--what capital chargers they would make!--
Might I ask if they are of your lordship’s own breeding?”
“I--I--rather believe so,” said Lord Glenallan; “but I have been so
negligent of my domestic matters, that I am ashamed to say I must apply
to Calvert” (looking at the domestic).
“They are of your lordship’s own breeding,” said Calvert, “got by Mad
Tom out of Jemina and Yarico, your lordship’s brood mares.”
“Are there more of the set?” said Lord Glenallan.
“Two, my lord,--one rising four, the other five off this grass, both very
handsome.”
“Then let Dawkins bring them down to Monkbarns to-morrow,” said the
Earl--“I hope Captain M’Intyre will accept them, if they are at all fit
for service.”
Captain M’Intyre’s eyes sparkled, and he was profuse in grateful
acknowledgments; while Oldbuck, on the other hand, seizing the Earl’s
sleeve, endeavoured to intercept a present which boded no good to his
corn-chest and hay-loft.
“My lord--my lord--much obliged--much obliged--But Hector is a pedestrian,
and never mounts on horseback in battle--he is a Highland soldier,
moreover, and his dress ill adapted for cavalry service. Even Macpherson
never mounted his ancestors on horseback, though he has the impudence to
talk of their being car-borne--and that, my lord, is what is running in
Hector’s head--it is the vehicular, not the equestrian exercise, which he
envies--
Sunt quos curriculo pulverem Olympicum
Collegisse juvat.
His noddle is running on a curricle, which he has neither money to buy,
nor skill to drive if he had it; and I assure your lordship, that the
possession of two such quadrupeds would prove a greater scrape than any
of his duels, whether with human foe or with my friend the phoca.”
“You must command us all at present, Mr. Oldbuck,” said the Earl
politely; “but I trust you will not ultimately prevent my gratifying my
young friend in some way that may afford him pleasure.”
“Anything useful, my lord,” said Oldbuck, “but no curriculum--I protest
he might as rationally propose to keep a quadriga at once--And now I
think of it, what is that old post-chaise from Fairport come jingling
here for?--I did not send for it.”
“I did, sir,” said Hector, rather sulkily, for he was not much gratified
by his uncle’s interference to prevent the Earl’s intended generosity,
nor particularly inclined to relish either the disparagement which he
cast upon his skill as a charioteer, or the mortifying allusion to his
bad success in the adventures of the duel and the seal.
“You did, sir?” echoed the Antiquary, in answer to his concise
information. “And pray, what may be your business with a post-chaise?
Is this splendid equipage--this biga, as I may call it--to serve for an
introduction to a quadriga or a curriculum?”
“Really, sir,” replied the young soldier, “if it be necessary to give
you such a specific explanation, I am going to Fairport on a little
business.”
“Will you permit me to inquire into the nature of that business,
Hector?” answered his uncle, who loved the exercise of a little brief
authority over his relative. “I should suppose any regimental affairs
might be transacted by your worthy deputy the sergeant--an honest
gentleman, who is so good as to make Monkbarns his home since his
arrival among us--I should, I say, suppose that he may transact any
business of yours, without your spending a day’s pay on two dog-horses,
and such a combination of rotten wood, cracked glass, and leather--such a
skeleton of a post-chaise, as that before the door.”
“It is not regimental business, sir, that calls me; and, since you
insist upon knowing, I must inform you Caxon has brought word this
morning that old Ochiltree, the beggar, is to be brought up for
examination to-day, previous to his being committed for trial; and I’m
going to see that the poor old fellow gets fair play--that’s all.”
“Ay?--I heard something of this, but could not think it serious. And
pray, Captain Hector, who are so ready to be every man’s second on all
occasions of strife, civil or military, by land, by water, or on the
sea-beach, what is your especial concern with old Edie Ochiltree?”
“He was a soldier in my father’s company, sir,” replied Hector; “and
besides, when I was about to do a very foolish thing one day, he
interfered to prevent me, and gave me almost as much good advice, sir,
as you could have done yourself.”
“And with the same good effect, I dare be sworn for it--eh, Hector?--
Come, confess it was thrown away.”
“Indeed it was, sir; but I see no reason that my folly should make me
less grateful for his intended kindness.”
“Bravo, Hector! that’s the most sensible thing I ever heard you say.
But always tell me your plans without reserve,--why, I will go with you
myself, man. I am sure the old fellow is not guilty, and I will assist
him in such a scrape much more effectually than you can do. Besides, it
will save thee half-a-guinea, my lad--a consideration which I heartily
pray you to have more frequently before your eyes.”
Lord Glenallan’s politeness had induced him to turn away and talk with
the ladies, when the dispute between the uncle and nephew appeared to
grow rather too animated to be fit for the ear of a stranger, but the
Earl mingled again in the conversation when the placable tone of the
Antiquary expressed amity. Having received a brief account of the
mendicant, and of the accusation brought against him, which Oldbuck did
not hesitate to ascribe to the malice of Dousterswivel, Lord Glenallan
asked, whether the individual in question had not been a soldier
formerly?--He was answered in the affirmative.
“Had he not,” continued his Lordship, “a coarse blue coat, or gown, with
a badge?--was he not a tall, striking-looking old man, with grey beard
and hair, who kept his body remarkably erect, and talked with an air
of ease and independence, which formed a strong contrast to his
profession?”
“All this is an exact picture of the man,” refumed Oldbuck.
“Why, then,” continued Lord Glenallan, “although I fear I can be of no
use to him in his present condition, yet I owe him a debt of gratitude
for being the first person who brought me some tidings of the utmost
importance. I would willingly offer him a place of comfortable
retirement, when he is extricated from his present situation.”
“I fear, my lord,” said Oldbuck, “he would have difficulty in
reconciling his vagrant habits to the acceptance of your bounty, at
least I know the experiment has been tried without effect. To beg from
the public at large he considers as independence, in comparison to
drawing his whole support from the bounty of an individual. He is so far
a true philosopher, as to be a contemner of all ordinary rules of hours
and times. When he is hungry he eats; when thirsty he drinks; when weary
he sleeps; and with such indifference with respect to the means and
appliances about which we make a fuss, that I suppose he was never ill
dined or ill lodged in his life. Then he is, to a certain extent, the
oracle of the district through which he travels--their genealogist, their
newsman, their master of the revels, their doctor at a pinch, or their
divine;--I promise you he has too many duties, and is too zealous in
performing them, to be easily bribed to abandon his calling. But I
should be truly sorry if they sent the poor light-hearted old man to
lie for weeks in a jail. I am convinced the confinement would break his
heart.”
Thus finished the conference. Lord Glenallan, having taken leave of
the ladies, renewed his offer to Captain M’Intyre of the freedom of his
manors for sporting, which was joyously accepted.