CHAPTER II.

THE COLONEL-COMMANDANT.

The General refilled his glass and his meerschaum, and remained sunk

in thought after the departure of his nephew, and more than once he

sighed heavily, knit his brows, and shook his head.

He was not drinking schiedam with water, but good Farintosh whisky,

kegs of which were regularly sent to him by a Scottish merchant from

the Scotsch Dyk at Rotterdam--Farintosh which was then free from all

Excise duty, and remained so till five years after the period of our

story.

We have said that General Kinloch was a handsome man and in the

flower of manhood; and a fine picture he would have made as he sat

there, in his graceful old-fashioned uniform, with heavily-laced

lapels and skirts, his hair powdered and queued, with a Khevenhüller

hat (not unlike that of Napoleon I.) close by, adorned with a stiff

upright feather and Dutch cockade, and his silk sash worn crossways

in the old Scottish fashion.

The old Scottish officer who took a turn of service in France was

jaunty in air, tone, and bearing, as Scott describes his Baron of

Bradwardin to have been; but his countryman who served the States of

Holland became, under the influence of his flat, stale and stolid

surroundings, rather another style of man--equally brave and gallant

in war, but less gallant in the ball-room or the boudoir--often

grave, grim, and starched amid the influence of Dutch society and

Presbyterianism.

It was only thirty-four years before that Culloden had been fought;

and though his political sympathies were not with the exiled King

James VIII., his mind was full of the bitter memories of that

atrocious field left in every right-thinking Scottish heart; and his

orphan nephew, Lewie Baronald, was the son of his only sister, one of

those enthusiastic Jacobite ladies who kept guard at Edinburgh Cross

with a drawn sword when the King was proclaimed, who danced at the

famous Holyrood ball, and who, like more than one old lady in

Scottish history and tradition, had never allowed her husband to kiss

her, after the Prince did so, and after making his bed, when an exile

and fugitive, with her own hands, had laid aside the sheets thereof

to be a shroud for herself, in the true spirit of loyalty 'and that

sublime devotion which the Saxon never knew.'

Long as he had been in Holland, the eyes of our Scot--accustomed as

he had been to the grand mountain scenery of his native land--had

never become accustomed to the utter monotony, flatness, and

insipidity of the Dutch landscape, or to the brusqueness of the

natives, their stolidity and general dulness of demeanour; but the

pay was good, the quarters were comfortable, and--when not

fighting--the service was easy enough. His sword was almost his

inheritance, as the estate he inherited, Thominean, was drowned in

debt; and their High Mightinesses the States-General were sure and

generous paymasters.

Yet, times there were when he thought with the author of 'Vathek,'

that there must have been a period when Holland was all water, 'and

the ancestors of the present inhabitants fish. A certain

_oysterishness_ of eye and flabbiness of complexion are almost

proof-sufficient of this aquatic descent; and pray tell me for what

purpose are such galligaskins as the Dutch burthen themselves with

contrived, but to tuck up a flouncing tail, and thus cloak the

deformity of a dolphin-like termination.'

Reflecting angrily and sadly upon the recent conversation with his

favourite, the General continued to smoke and gaze down the long

vista of the quaint Dutch street, with its stiff rows of trees

reflected downward in the canal that lay parallel with them, and its

quaint gables on each of which, nearly, a stork was perched; the

little mirrors projecting from the windows to enable the ladies

within to see those who passed outside; the knockers tied up with

pincushions and plaited lace to indicate that a 'goodwife was in the

straw.'

There were women in the mobcaps, print-gowns, and gaudy satin aprons

wore by all ranks alike; men in broad, round, conical hats, puckered

jackets, and capacious breeches, now no longer to be seen but in very

remote districts; an occasional dominie or clergyman in his

court-like costume, ruff and cocked hat, passing homeward after

having a pipe with some parishioner, or a dish of coffee with his

vrouw.

There was the clatter of wooden shoes in the ill-paved street; the

oil-lamps were beginning to glimmer like glow-worms, and were

reflected in the slime of the canals; the drums and fifes of the

Scots Brigade, in the adjacent caserne, were playing out the dying

day, and sweetly stole upon the ambient evening the old air:

'Oh, the Lowlands o' Holland

Hae parted my love and me;'

but the General was in shadow-land, thinking of other times and

long-vanished faces, and wondering when the guilders of their High

Mightinesses, and the prize-money won from the French and Spaniards,

would free his inheritance from all its wadsets and incumbrances, and

he would be able to hang his sword, where still his father's hung, in

the old dining-hall of Thominean.

He saw it in fancy, that old house of Thominean ('the hill of

birds'), with its grey crow-stepped gables and conical pepper-box

turrets of the days of James VI., overlooked by the green range of

the lovely Ochills; and he laughed softly as he remembered how in

boyhood there he had trembled at the thought of the tiny elves, who,

on their festival nights, were alleged to make great noises under the

green turf, opening and shutting large chests of gold, and clattering

with goblets and copper kettles; and how still more did he tremble at

the story of a mysterious mirror, in which occasionally the figure of

a pale woman, clad in white, could be distinctly seen _behind_ the

reflection of the person who stood before the glass, and how it was

said to have appeared therein on the night his beloved sister, the

Lady Baronald, died, and left her only son penniless in the world.

Thus Lewie, in his boyhood, became a soldier. On an evening that he

never forgot, there came marching bravely down the quaint High Street

of Kinross a recruiting-party of the Scots Brigade, with ribbons

fluttering, drawn swords gleaming, the shrill pipes and hoarse drums,

making every lane and alley bordering on Loch Leven to re-echo 'The

Lowlands o' Holland;' and halting in front of the Bruce Arms Inn, a

portly sergeant, after a libation of Farintosh had been duly poured

forth, harangued the gathered rustics. He invited 'all lads of

spirit to join that battalion of the Scots Brigade, commanded by the

noble and valiant Henry Douglas, Earl of Drumlanrig, under their High

Mightinesses the States-General of Holland, to fight the frog-eating

French and popish Spaniards; all who so entered to have complete new

clothing, arms and accoutrements as became a gentleman and soldier,

two guineas bounty, and a crown to drink to the health of their High

Mightinesses, and to the confusion of their enemies!'

A loud hurrah and much brandishing of broadswords followed this

invitation, and ere 'The Point of War' was fully beaten, Lewie

Baronald had shaken hands with this Scottish Sergeant Kite, and had

the Dutch cockade pinned on his blue bonnet by a cunning corporal,

who showed him an old watch like a silver turnip, and worth

half-a-crown, which he boldly alleged had been presented to him 'by

his Royal Highness the Prince of Orange in person.'

His uncle's influence soon procured him 'a pair of colours,' as the

phrase was then, for a commission; and he soon proved himself worthy

of the distinction by the daring and courage he displayed, when the

battalion of Drumlanrig was employed with other Dutch troops in 1774,

at the Cape of Good Hope, in driving the natives from the Bokkeveld

and Roggeveld, back into the deserts on the south-west coast of

Africa; and since his return to Holland his name, the popularity of

his regiment, his handsome face and figure, were equally passports to

the best society in the Hague and at Amsterdam.

But now, it seemed to his uncle and patron, the Colonel-Commandant of

the Brigade, that his prospects were on the point of being marred by

this unlucky passion for the daughter of the Countess van Renslaer.

Kinloch's antipathy to women was well known in the Brigade, and it

was a standing joke among the battalions, that once, when the

coquettish wife of the Grand Pensionary of Amsterdam had lured him

into a game of battledore and shuttlecock, and contrived to let the

latter drop into her ample bosom, and pointing thereto, piteously

besought the General to take it out, that he--obtuse as Uncle Toby

with the Widow Wadman--deftly abstracted it with the tongs.

'The lad will succeed me in time, as Laird of Thominean,' he

muttered, after a time; 'the forfeited baronetcy may be restored: so

why shouldn't he marry because I--I--but better not! They are all

alike--all alike, these women: so he will be safer with the left wing

of Dundas's Battalion in the West Indies, than philandering here at

the Hague.'

But even while giving utterance to his thoughts, his features

relaxed: his irritation or annoyance seemed to abate as other

thoughts stole into his mind, and a shade of melancholy came over his

face; and resting his head upon his hands, he remained for a time in

deep and apparently painful thought.

Then he rose slowly, and selecting a key from a small bunch, opened

an elaborately-carved Dutch cabinet, and from a secret drawer

thereof, curiously and ingeniously hidden by a movable lion's head,

he drew forth the oval miniature of a young girl, and gazed upon it

long, sorrowfully, and tenderly.

There was something quaint and childlike in the beauty of the girl

depicted there, with a string of pearls round her white and slender

throat. Her complexion was clear and pure, her expression innocent,

with golden-brown hair, and golden-brown eyes that seemed to smile on

him again as he gazed on them.

A hot tear started in the eyes of Kinloch, yet he bit his lip, and,

as if angry with himself for the emotion that came over him, he

closed the miniature-case with a sharp snap, and restored it to its

place of concealment hurriedly, muttering:

'Fool that I was--fool that I am now! Heaven grant that this Dolores

of Lewie's may not make the dupe of him that girl made of me! I must

save him from himself. I shall write the Director-General of the

Forces--Berbice or Essequibo it must be. Poor Lewie! I am loth to

part with him; but, der Duyvel! he shall not be the victim of this

old jade and her daughter.'

The 'Scots Brigade,' and other tales · 第 2 / 13 章