Glasgow, there lived, a good many years ago, a worthy man, and an
excellent weaver, of the name of Thomas Callender, and his wife, a
bustling, active woman, but, if anything, a little of what is called the
randy. We have said that Thomas's occupation was the loom. It was so;
but, be it known, that he was not a mere journeyman weaver--one who is
obliged to toil for the subsistence of the day that is passing over him,
and whose sole dependence is on the labour of his hands. By no means.
Thomas had been all his days a careful, thrifty man, and had made his
hay while the sun shone;--when wages were good, he had saved money--as
much as could keep him in a small way, independent of labour, should
sickness, or any other casualty, render it necessary for him to fall
back on his secret resources. Being, at the time we speak of, however,
suffering under no bodily affliction of any kind, but, on the contrary,
being hale and hearty, and not much past the meridian of life, he
continued at his loom, although, perhaps, not altogether with the
perseverance and assiduity which had distinguished the earlier part of
his brilliant career. The consciousness of independence, and, probably,
some slight preliminary touches from approaching eild, had rather abated
the energy of his exertions; yet Thomas still made a fair week's wage of
it, as matters went. Now, with a portion of the honest wealth which he
had acquired, Mr. Callender had built himself a good substantial
tenement--the first floor of which was occupied by looms, which were let
on hire; the second was his own place of residence; and the third was
divided into small domiciles, and let to various tenants. To the house
was attached a small garden, a kail-yard, in which he was wont,
occasionally, to recreate himself with certain botanical and
horticultural pursuits, the latter being specially directed to the
cultivation of greens, cabbages, leeks, and other savoury and useful pot
herbs. Of his house and garden altogether, Mr. Callender was, and
reasonably enough, not a little proud; for it was, certainly, a snug
little property; and, moreover, it was entirely the creation of his own
industry.
But Thomas's mansion stood not alone in its glory. A rival stood near.
This was the dwelling of Mr. John Anderson, in almost every respect the
perfect counterpart of that of Mr. Thomas Callender--a similarity which
is in part accounted for by the facts, that John was also a weaver, that
he too had made a little money by a life of industry and economy, and
that the house was built by himself. By what we have just said, then, we
have shown, we presume, that Thomas and John were near neighbours; and,
having done so, it follows, of course, that their wives were near
neighbours also; but we beg to remark, regarding the latter, that it by
no means follows that they were friends, or that they had any liking for
each other. The fact, indeed, was quite otherwise. They hated each other
with great cordiality--a hatred in which a feeling of jealousy of each
other's manifestations of wealth, whether in matters relating to their
respective houses or persons, or those of their husbands, was the
principal feature. Any new article of dress which the one was seen to
display, was sure to be immediately repeated, or, if possible, surpassed
by the other; and the same spirit of retaliation was carried throughout
every department of their domestic economy.
Between the husbands, too, there was no great good-will; for, besides
being influenced, to a certain extent, in their feelings towards each
other by their wives, they had had a serious difference on their own
account. John Anderson, on evil purpose intent, had once stoned some
ducks of Thomas Callender's out of a dub, situated in the rear of, and
midway between the two houses; claiming said dub for the especial use of
_his_ ducks alone; and, on that occasion, had maimed and otherwise
severely injured a very fine drake, the property of his neighbour,
Thomas Callender. Now, Thomas very naturally resented this unneighbourly
proceeding on the part of John; and, further, insisted that his ducks
had as good a right to the dub as Anderson's. Anderson denied the
justice of this claim; Callender maintained it; and the consequence was
a series of law proceedings, which mulcted each of them of somewhere
about fifty pounds sterling money, and finally ended in the decision,
that they should divide the dub between them in equal portions, which
was accordingly done.
The good-will, then, towards each other, between the husbands, was thus
not much greater than between their wives; but, in their case, of
course, it was not marked by any of those outbreaks and overt acts which
distinguished the enmity of their better halves. The dislike of the
former was passive, that of the latter active--most indefatigably
active; for Mrs. Anderson was every bit as spirited a woman as her
neighbour, Mrs. Callender, and was a dead match for her in any way she
might try.
Thus stood matters between these two rival houses of York and
Lancaster, when Mrs. Callender, on looking from one of her windows one
day, observed that the head of her rival's husband, who was at the
moment recreating himself in his garden, was comfortably set off with a
splendid new striped Kilmarnock nightcap. Now, when Mrs. Callender saw
this, and recollected the very shabby, faded article of the same
denomination--"mair like a dish-cloot," as she muttered to herself,
"than onything else"--which her Thomas wore, she determined on instantly
providing him with a new one; resolved, as she also remarked to herself,
not to let the Anderson's beat her, even in the matter of a nightcap.
But Mrs. Callender not only resolved on rivalling her neighbour, in the
matter of having a new nightcap for her husband, but in surpassing her
in the quality of the said nightcap. She determined that her "man's"
should be a red one; "a far mair genteeler thing," as she said to
herself, "than John Anderson's vulgar striped Kilmarnock." Having
settled this matter to her own satisfaction, and having dexterously
prepared her husband for the vision of a new nightcap--which she did by
urging sundry reasons, totally different from those under whose
influence she really acted, as she knew that he would never give into
such an absurdity as a rivalship with his neighbour in the matter of a
nightcap--this matter settled then, we say, the following day saw Mrs.
Callender sailing into Glasgow, to purchase a red nightcap for her
husband--a mission which, we need not say, she very easily accomplished.
Her choice was one of the brightest hue she could find--a flaming
article, that absolutely dazzled Thomas with the intensity of its glare,
when it was triumphantly unrolled before him.
"Jenny," said the latter, in perfect simplicity of heart, and utter
ignorance of the true cause of his wife's care of his comfort in the
present instance--"Jenny, but that _is_ a bonny thing," he said, looking
admiringly at the gaudy commodity, into which he had now thrust his hand
and part of his arm, in order to give it all possible extension, and
thus holding it up before him as he spoke.
"Really it _is_ a bonny thing," he repeated, "and, I warrant, a
comfortable."
"Isna't?" replied his wife, triumphantly. And she would have added, "How
far prettier and mair genteeler a thing than John Anderson's!" But, as
this would have betrayed secrets, she refrained, and merely added, "Now,
my man, Tammas, ye'll just wear't when ye gang about the doors and the
yard. It'll mak ye look decent and respectable--what ye wasna in that
creeshy cloot ye're wearin, that made ye look mair like a tauty bogle
than a Christian man."
Thomas merely smiled at these remarks, and made no reply in words.
Thus far, then, Mrs. Callender's plot had gone on swimmingly. There
only wanted now her husband's appearance in the garden in his new red
nightcap; where the latter could not but be seen by her rival, to
complete her triumph--and this satisfaction she was not long denied.
Thomas, at her suggestion, warily and cautiously urged however,
instantly took the field in his new nightcap; and the result was as
complete and decisive as the heart of a woman, in Mrs. Callender's
circumstances, could desire. Mrs. Anderson saw the nightcap, guessed the
cause of its appearance, and resolved to be avenged. In that moment,
when her sight was blasted, her pride humbled, and her spirits roused,
which they were all at one and the same time by the vision of Thomas
Callender's new red nightcap, she resolved on getting her husband to
strike the striped cap, and mount one of precisely the same
description--better if possible, but she was not sure if this could be
had.
Now, on prevailing on _her_ husband to submit to the acquisition of
another new nightcap, Mrs. Anderson had a much more difficult task to
perform than her rival; for the cap that John was already provided with,
unlike Thomas's, was not a week out of the shop, and no earthly good
reason, one would think, could therefore be urged, why he should so soon
get another. But what will not woman's wit accomplish? Anything! As
proof of this, if proof were wanted, we need only mention that Mrs.
Anderson _did_ succeed in this delicate and difficult negotiation, and
prevailed upon John, first, to allow her to go into Glasgow to buy him a
new red nightcap, and to promise to wear it when it should be bought.
How she accomplished this--what sort of reasoning she employed--we know
not; but certain it is that it was done. Thus fully warranted, eagerly
and cleverly did Mrs. Anderson, on the instant, prepare to execute the
mission to which this warrant referred. In ten minutes she was dressed,
and, in one more was on her way to Glasgow to make the desiderated
purchase. Experiencing, of course, as little difficulty in effecting
this matter as her rival had done, Mrs. Anderson soon found herself in
possession of a red nightcap, as bright, every bit, as Mr. Callender's;
and this cap she had the happiness of drawing on the head of her
unconscious husband, who, we need scarcely add, knew as little of the
real cause of his being fitted out with this new piece of head-gear as
his neighbour, Callender.
Thus far, then, with Mrs. Anderson too, went the plot of the nightcaps
smoothly; and all that she also now wanted to attain the end she aimed
at, was her husband's appearance in _his_ garden, with his new
acquisition on.
This consummation she also quickly brought round. John sallied out with
his red nightcap; and, oh, joy of joys! Mrs. Callender saw it. Ay, Mrs.
Callender saw it--at once recognised in it the spirit which had dictated
its display; and deep and deadly was the revenge that she vowed.
"Becky, Becky," she exclaimed, in a tone of lofty indignation--and thus
summoning to her presence, from an adjoining apartment, her daughter, a
little girl of about ten years of age--"rin owre dereckly to Lucky
Anderson's and tell her to give me my jeely can immediately." And Mrs.
Callender stamped her foot, grew red in the face, and exhibited sundry
other symptoms of towering passion. Becky instantly obeyed the order so
peremptorily given; and, while she is doing so, we may throw in a
digressive word or two, by the way of more fully enlightening the reader
regarding the turn which matters seemed now about to take. Be it known
to him, then, that the demand for the jelly pot, which was now about to
be made on Mrs. Anderson, was not a _bona fide_ proceeding. It was not
made in good faith; for Mrs. Callender knew well, and had been told so
fifty times, that the said jelly pot was no longer in existence as a
jelly pot; and moreover, she had been, as often as she was told this,
offered full compensation, which might be about three farthings sterling
money of this realm, for the demolished commodity. Moreover, again, it
was three years since it had been borrowed. From all this, the reader
will at once perceive, what was the fact, that the sending for the said
jelly pot, on the present occasion, and in the way described, was a mere
breaking of ground previous to the performance of some other
contemplated operations. It was, in truth, entirely a tactical
proceeding--a dexterously and ingeniously laid pretext for a certain
intended measure which could not decently have stood on its own simple
merits. In proof of this, we need only state, that it is beyond all
question that nothing could have disappointed Mrs. Callender more than
the return of the desiderated jelly pot. But this, she knew, she had not
to fear, and the result showed that she was right. The girl shortly came
back with the usual reply--that the pot was broken; but that Mrs.
Anderson would cheerfully pay the value of it, if Mrs. Callender would
say what that was. To the inexpressible satisfaction of the latter,
however, the message, on this occasion, was accompanied by some
impertinences which no woman of spirit could tamely submit to. She was
told, for instance, that "she made mair noise aboot her paltry, dirty
jelly mug, a thousand times, than it was a' worth," and was ironically,
and, we may add, insultingly entreated, "for ony sake to mak nae mair
wark aboot it, and a dizzen wad be sent her for't."
"My troth, and there's a stock o' impidence for ye!" said Mrs.
Callender, on her little daughter having delivered herself of all the
small provocatives with which she had been charged. "There's impidence
for ye!" she said, planting her hands in her sides, and looking the very
personification of injured innocence. "Was the like o't ever heard?
First to borrow, and then to break my jeely mug, and noo to tell me,
whan I'm seekin my ain, that I'm makin mair noise aboot it than it's a'
worth! My certy, but she _has_ a brazen face. The auld wizzened,
upsettin limmer that she is. Set _them_ up, indeed wi' red nicht-caps."
Now, this was the last member of Mrs. Callender's philippic, but it was
by no means the least. In fact, it was the whole gist of the matter--the
sum and substance, and, we need not add, the real and true cause of her
present amiable feeling towards her worthy neighbours, John Anderson and
his wife. Adjusting her _mutch_ now on her head, and spreading her apron
decorously before her, Mrs. Callender intimated her intention of
proceeding instantly to Mrs. Anderson's to demand her jelly pot in
person, and to seek, at the same time, satisfaction for the insulting
message that had been sent her. Acting on this resolution, she forthwith
commenced her march towards the domicile of John Anderson, nursing, the
while, her wrath to keep it warm. On reaching the door, she announced
her presence by a series of sharp, open-the-door-instantly knocks, which
were promptly attended to, and the visitor courteously admitted.
"Mrs. Anderson," said Mrs. Callender, on entering, and assuming a
calmness and composure of demeanour that was sadly belied by the
suppressed agitation, or rather fury, which she could not conceal, "I'm
just come to ask ye if ye'll be sae guid, _Mem_, as gie me my jeely
mug."
"Yer jeely mug, Mrs. Callender!" exclaimed Mrs. Anderson, raising
herself to her utmost height, and already beginning to exhibit symptoms
of incipient indignation. "Yer jeely mug, Mrs. Callender!" she repeated,
with a provokingly ironical emphasis. "Dear help me, woman, but ye _do_
mak an awfu wark about that jeely mug o' yours. I'm sure it wasna sae
muckle worth; and ye hae been often tell't that it was broken, but that
we wad willingly pay ye for't."
"It's no payment I want, Mrs. Anderson," replied Mrs. Callender, with a
high-spirited toss of the head. "I want my mug, and my mug I'll hae. Do
ye hear that?" And here Mrs. Callender struck her clenched fist on the
open side of her left hand, in the impressive way peculiar to some
ladies when under the influence of passion. "And, since ye come to that
o't, let me tell ye ye're a very insultin, ill-bred woman, to tell me
that it wasna muckle worth, after ye hae broken't."
"My word, lass," replied Mrs. Anderson, bridling up, with flushed
countenance, and head erect, to the calumniator, "but ye're no blate to
ca' me thae names i' my ain house."
"Ay, I'll ca' ye thae names, and waur too, in yer ain house, or onywhar
else," replied the other belligerent, clenching her teeth fiercely
together, and thrusting her face with most intense ferocity into the
countenance of her antagonist. "Ay, here or onywhar else," she replied,
"I'll ca' ye a mean-spirited, impident woman--an upsettin impident
woman! Set your man up, indeed, wi' a red nichtkep!"
"An' what for no?" replied Mrs. Anderson with a look of triumphant
inquiry. "He's as weel able to pay for't as you, and maybe, if a' was
kent, a hantle better. A red nichtkep, indeed, ye impertinent hizzy!"
"'Od, an' ye hizzy me, I'll te-e-e-eer the liver out o' ye!" exclaimed
the now infuriated Mrs. Callender, at the same instant seizing her
antagonist by the hair of the head and _mutch_ together, and, in a
twinkling, tearing the latter into a thousand shreds. Active hostilities
being now fairly commenced, a series of brilliant operations, both
offensive and defensive, immediately ensued. The first act of aggression
on the part of Mrs. Callender--namely, demolishing her opponent's
head-gear--was returned by the latter by a precisely similar proceeding;
that is, by tearing _her_ mutch into fragments.
This preliminary operation performed, the combatants resorted to
certain various other demonstrative acts of love and friendship; but now
with such accompaniments of screams and exclamations as quickly filled
the apartment which was the scene of strife, with neighbours, who
instantly began to attempt to effect a separation of the combatants.
While they were thus employed, in came John Anderson, who had been out
of the way when the tug of war began, and close upon his heels came Mr.
Callender, whose ears an alarming report of the contest in which his
gallant spouse was engaged, had reached. Both gentlemen were, at the
moment, in their red nightcaps, and might thus be considerd as the
standard bearers of the combatants.
"Whats' a' this o't?" exclaimed Mr. Anderson, pushing into the centre of
the crowd by which the two women were surrounded.
"O, the hizzy!" exclaimed his wife, who had, at the instant, about a
yard of her antagonist's hair rolled about her hand. "It's a' aboot your
nichtkep, John, and her curst jeely mug. A' aboot your nichtkep, and the
jeely mug."
Now, this allusion to the jelly pot, John perfectly understood, but that
to the nightcap he did not, nor did he attend to it; but, as became a
dutiful and loving husband to do in such circumstances, immediately took
the part of his wife, and was in the act of thrusting her antagonist
aside, which operation he was performing somewhat rudely, when he was
collared from behind by his neighbour, Thomas Callender, who naturally
enough enrolled himself at once on the side of his better half.
"Hauns aff, John!" exclaimed Mr. Callender--their old grudge fanning
the flame of that hostility which was at this moment rapidly increasing
in the bosoms of both the gentlemen, as he gave Mr. Anderson sundry
energetic tugs and twists, with a view of putting him _hors de combat_.
"Hauns aff, neebor!" he said. "Hauns aff, if ye please, till we ken wha
has the richt o' this bisness, and what it's a' about."
"Pu' doon their pride, Tam!--pu' doon their pride!" exclaimed Mrs.
Callender, who, although intently engaged at the moment in tearing out a
handful of her opponent's hair, was yet aware of the reinforcement that
had come to her aid. "Pu' doon their pride, Tam. Tack a claut o' John's
nichtkep. The limmer says they're better able to afford ane than we
are."
While Mrs. Callender was thus expressing the particular sentiments
which occupied her mind at the moment, John Anderson had turned round to
resent the liberty which the former had taken of collaring him; and this
resentment he expressed by collaring his assailant in turn. The
consequence of this proceeding was a violent struggle, which finally
ended in a close stand-up fight between the male combatants, who shewed
great spirit, although, perhaps, not a great deal of science. John
Anderson, in particular, struck out manfully, and, in a twinkling,
tapped the claret of his antagonist, Tom Callender. Tom, in return, made
some fair attempts at closing up the day-lights of John Anderson, but,
truth compels us to say, without success. The fight now became
general--the wives having quitted their holds of each other, and flown
to the rescue of their respective husbands. They were thus all bundled
together in one indiscriminate and unintelligible melee. One leading
object or purpose, however, was discernible on the part of the female
combatants. This was to get hold of the red nightcaps--each that of her
husband's antagonist; and, after a good deal of scrambling, and
clutching, and punching, they both succeeded in tearing off the
obnoxious head-dress, with each a handful of the unfortunate wearer's
hair along with it. While this was going on, the conflicting, but firmly
united mass of combatants, who were all bundled, or rather locked
together in close and deadly strife, was rolling heavily, sometimes one
way, and sometimes another, sometimes ending with a thud against a
partition, that made the whole house shake, sometimes with a ponderous
lodgment against a door, which, unable to resist the shock, flew open,
and landed the belligerents at their full length on the floor, where
they rolled over one another in a very edifying and picturesque manner.
But this could not continue very long, and neither did it. A
consummation or catastrophe occurred, which suddenly, and at once, put
an end to the affray. In one of those heavy lee-lurches which the
closely united combatants made, they came thundering against the frail
legs of a dresser, which was ingeniously contrived to support two or
three tiers of shelves, which, again, were laden with stoneware, the
pride of Mrs. Anderson's heart, built up with nice and dexterous
contrivance, so as to shew to the greatest advantage. Need we say what
was the consequence of this rude assault on the legs of the
aforementioned dresser, supporting, as it did, this huge superstructure
of shelves and crockery? Scarcely. But we will. Down, then, came the
dresser; and down, as a necessary corollary, came also the shelves,
depositing their contents with an astounding crash upon the floor, not a
jug out of some eight or ten, of various shapes and sizes, not a plate
out of some scores, not a bowl out of a dozen, not a cup or saucer out
of an entire set, escaping total demolition. The destruction was
frightful--unprecedented in the annals of domestic mishaps. On the
combatants the effect of the thundering crash of the crockery, or
smashables, as they have been sometimes characteristically designated,
was somewhat like that which has been known to be produced in a
sea-fight by the blowing up of a ship. Hostilities were instantly
suspended; all looking with silent horror on the dreadful scene of ruin
around them. Nor did any disposition to renew the contest return. On the
contrary, there was an evident inclination, on the part of two of the
combatants--namely, Mr. Callender and his wife--to evacuate the
premises. Appalled at the extent of the mischief done, and visited with
an awkward feeling of probable responsibility, they gradually edged
towards the door, and, finally, sneaked out of the house without saying
a word.
"If there's law or justice in the land," exclaimed Mrs. Anderson, in
high excitation, as she swept together the fragments of her demolished
crockery, "I'll hae't on Tam Callender and his wife. May I niver see the
morn, if I haena them afore the Shirra before a week gangs owre my head!
I hae a set aff, noo, against her jeely mug, I think."
"It's been a bonny business," replied her husband; "but what on earth
was't a' aboot?"
"What was't a' aboot!" repeated his wife, with some asperity of manner,
but now possessed of presence of mind enough to shift the ground of
quarrel, which she felt would comprise her with her husband. "Didna I
tell ye that already? What should it be a' aboot, but her confounded
jeely mug! But I'll mak her pay for this day's wark, or I'm sair
cheated. It'll be as bad a job this for them as the duck-dub, I'm
thinkin."
"We hadna muckle to brag o' there oursels, guidwife," interposed her
husband, calmly.