Dreepdaily is a beautiful little town, embosomed in an amphitheatre of
hills which have such a winning way with the clouds that the summits are
seldom visible. Dreepdaily, if situated in Arabia, would be deemed a
paradise. All round it the vegetation is long, and lithe, and
luxuriant; the trees keep their verdure late; and the rush of the
nettles is amazing.
How the inhabitants contrive to live, is to me a matter of mystery.
There is no particular trade or calling exercised in the place--no busy
hum of artisans, or clanking of hammer or machinery. Round the suburbs,
indeed, there are rows of mean-looking cottages, each with its strapping
lass in the national short-gown at the door, from the interior of which
resounds the boom of the weaver's shuttle. There is also one factory at
a little distance; but when you reach the town itself, all is
supereminently silent. In fine weather, crowds of urchins of both sexes
are seen sunning themselves on the quaint-looking flights of steps by
which the doors, usually on the second story, are approached; and as you
survey the swarms of bare-legged and flaxen-haired infantry, you cannot
help wondering in your heart what has become of the adult population. It
is only towards evening that the seniors appear. Then you may find them
either congregated on the bridge discussing politics and polemics, or
lounging in the little square in affectionate vicinity to the
public-house, or leaning over the windows in their shirt-sleeves, in the
tranquil enjoyment of a pipe. In short, the cares and the bustle of the
world, even in this railroad age, seem to have fallen lightly on the
pacific burghers of Dreepdaily. According to their own account, the
town was once a peculiar favourite of royalty. It boasts of a charter
from King David the First, and there is an old ruin in the neighbourhood
which is said to have been a palace of that redoubted monarch. It may be
so, for there is no accounting for constitutions; but had I been King
David, I certainly should have preferred a place where the younger
branches of the family would have been less liable to the accident of
catarrh.
Dreepdaily, in the olden time, was among the closest of all the burghs.
Its representation had a fixed price, which was always rigorously
exacted and punctually paid; and for half a year thereafter, the
corporation made merry thereon. The Reform Bill, therefore, was by no
means popular in the council. A number of discontented Radicals and of
small householders, who hitherto had been excluded from participation in
the good things of the State, now got upon the roll, and seemed
determined for a time to carry matters with a high hand, and to return a
member of their own. And doubtless they would have succeeded, had not
the same spirit been abroad in the sister burghs of Drouthielaw and
Kittleweem; which, for some especial reason or other, known doubtless to
Lord John Russell, but utterly unintelligible to the rest of mankind,
were, though situated in different counties, associated with Dreepdaily
in the return of their future member. Each of these places had a
separate interest, and started a separate man; so that, amidst this
conflict of Liberalism, the old member for Dreepdaily, a Conservative,
again slipped into his place. The consequence was, that the three burghs
were involved in a desperate feud.
In those days there lived in Dreepdaily one Laurence Linklater, more
commonly known by the name of Tod Lowrie, who exercised the respectable
functions of a writer and a messenger-at-arms. Lowrie was a remarkably
acute individual, of the Gilbert Glossin school, by no means scrupulous
in his dealings, but of singular plausibility and courage. He had
started in life as a Radical, but finding that that line did not pay
well, he had prudently subsided into a Whig, and in that capacity had
acquired a sort of local notoriety. He had contrived, moreover, to gain
a tolerable footing in Drouthielaw, and in the course of time became
intimately acquainted with the circumstances of its inhabitants, and
under the pretext of agency had contrived to worm the greater part of
their title-deeds into his keeping.
It then occurred to Lowrie, that, notwithstanding the discordant
situation of the burghs, something might be done to effect a union under
his own especial chieftainship. Not that he cared in his heart one
farthing about the representation--Tyrian and Trojan were in reality the
same to him--but he saw that the gain of these burghs would be of
immense advantage to his party, and he determined that the advantage
should be balanced by a corresponding profit to himself. Accordingly, he
began quietly to look to the state of the neglected register; lodged
objections to all claims given in by parties upon whom he could not
depend; smuggled a sufficient number of his own clients and adherents
upon the roll, and in the course of three years was able to intimate to
an eminent Whig partisan, that he, Laurence Linklater, held in his own
hands the representation of the Dreepdaily Burghs, could turn the
election either way he pleased, and was open to reasonable terms.
The result was, that Mr Linklater was promoted to a very lucrative
county office, and moreover, that the whole patronage of the district
was thereafter observed to flow through the Laurentian channel. Of
course all those who could claim kith or kindred with Lowrie were
provided for in the first instance; but there were stray crumbs still
going, and in no one case could even a gaugership be obtained without
the adhesion of an additional vote. Either the applicant must be ready
to sell his independence, or, if that were done already, to pervert the
politics of a relative. A Whig member was returned at the next election
by an immense majority; and for some time Linklater reigned supreme in
the government of Dreepdaily and Drouthielaw.
But death, which spares no governors, knocked at the door of Linklater.
A surfeit of mutton-pies, after the triumphant termination of a
law-suit, threw the burghs into a state of anarchy. Lowrie was gathered
unto his fathers, and there was no one to reign in his stead.
At least there was no apparent ruler. Every one observed, that the
stream of patronage and of local jobbing still flowed on as copiously as
before, but nobody could discover by what hands it was now directed.
Suspicion fastened its eyes for some time upon Provost Binkie; but the
vehement denials of that gentleman, though not in themselves conclusive,
at last gained credence from the fact, that a situation which he had
solicited from Government for his nephew was given to another person.
Awful rumours began to circulate of the existence of a secret junta.
Each man regarded his neighbour with intense suspicion and distrust,
because, for anything he knew, that neighbour might be a member of the
terrible tribunal, by means of which all the affairs of the community
were regulated, and a single ill-timed word might absolutely prove his
ruin. Such, indeed, in one instance was the case. In an evil hour for
himself, an independent town-councillor thought fit to denounce the
Clique as an unconstitutional and tyrannical body, and to table a motion
for an inquiry as to its nature, members, and proceedings. So strong was
the general alarm that he could not even find a seconder. But the matter
did not stop there. The rash meddler had drawn upon himself the
vengeance of a remorseless foe. His business began to fall off; rumours
of the most malignant description were circulated regarding his
character; two of his relatives who held situations were dismissed
without warning and without apology; his credit was assailed in every
quarter; and in less than six months after he had made that most
unfortunate harangue, the name of Thomas Gritt, baker in Dreepdaily, was
seen to figure in the Gazette. So fell Gritt a martyr, and if any one
mourned for him, it was in secret, and the profoundest awe.
Such was the political state of matters, at the time when I rode down
the principal street of Dreepdaily. I need hardly say that I did not
know a single soul in the burgh; in that respect, indeed, there was
entire reciprocity on both sides, for the requisition referred to in my
address was a felicitous fiction by M'Corkindale. I stopped before a
substantial bluff-looking house, the lower part of which was occupied as
a shop, and a scroll above informed me that the proprietor was Walter
Binkie, grocer.
A short squat man, with an oleaginous face and remarkably bushy
eyebrows, was in the act of weighing out a pennyworth of "sweeties" to a
little girl as I entered.
"Is the Provost of Dreepdaily within?" asked I.
"I'se warrant he's that," was the reply; "Hae, my dear, there's a sugar
almond t'ye into the bargain. Gae your waus hame noo, and tell your
mither that I've some grand new tea. Weel, sir, what was you wanting?"
"I wish particularly to speak to the Provost."
"Weel then, speak awa'," and he straightway squatted himself before his
ledger.
"I beg your pardon, sir! Have I really the honour of addressing--"
"Walter Binkie, the Provost of this burgh. But if ye come on Council
matters, ye're lang ahint the hour. I'm just steppin' up to denner, and
I never do business after that."
"But perhaps you will allow me--"
"I will allow nae man, sir, to interrupt my leisure. If ye're wanting
onything, gang to the Town-Clerk."
"Permit me one moment--my name is Dunshunner."
"Eh, what!" cried the Provost, bounding from his stool, "speak lower or
the lad will hear ye. Are ye the gentleman that's stannin' for the
burrows?"
"The same."
"Lord-sake! what for did ye no say that afore? Jims! I say, Jims! Look
after the shop! Come this way, sir, up the stair, and take care ye dinna
stumble on that toom cask o' saut."
I followed the Provost up a kind of corkscrew stair, until we emerged
upon a landing-place in his own proper domicile. We entered the
dining-room. It was showily furnished; with an enormous urn of paper
roses in the grate, two stuffed parroquets upon the mantelpiece, a
flamingo-coloured carpet, enormous worsted bell-pulls, and a couple of
portraits by some peripatetic follower of Vandyke, one of them
representing the Provost in his civic costume, and the other bearing
some likeness to a fat female in a turban, with a cairngorm brooch about
the size of a platter on her breast, and no want of carmine on the space
dedicated to the cheeks.
The Provost locked the door, and then clapped his ear to the key-hole.
He next approached the window, drew down the blinds so as effectually to
prevent any opposite scrutiny, and motioned me to a seat.
"And so ye're Mr Dunshunner?" said he. "Oh man, but I've been wearyin'
to see you!"
"Indeed! you flatter me very much."
"Nae flattery, Mr Dunshunner--nane! I'm a plain honest man, that's a',
and naebody can say that Wattie Binkie has blawn in their lug. And sae
ye're comin' forrard for the burrows? It's a bauld thing, sir--a bauld
thing, and a great honour ye seek. No that I think ye winna do honour to
it, but it's a great trust for sae young a man; a heavy responsibility,
as a body may say, to hang upon a callant's shouthers."
"I hope, Mr Binkie, that my future conduct may show that I can at least
act up to my professions."
"Nae doubt, sir--I'm no misdoubtin' ye, and to say the truth ye profess
weel. I've read yer address, sir, and I like yer principles--they're the
stench auld Whig anes--keep a' we can to ourselves, and haud a gude
grup. But wha's bringing ye forrard? Wha signed yer requisition? No the
Kittleweem folk, I hope?--that wad be a sair thing against ye."
"Why, no--certainly not. The fact is, Mr Binkie, that I have not seen
the requisition. Its contents were communicated by a third party, on
whom I have the most perfect reliance; and as I understood there was
some delicacy in the matter, I did not think it proper to insist upon a
sight of the signatures."
The Provost gave a long whistle.
"I see it noo!" he said; "I see it! I ken't there was something gaun on
forbye the common. Ye're a lucky man, Mr Dunshunner, and ye're election
is as sure as won. Ye've been spoken to by them ye ken o'!"
"Upon my word, I do not understand--"
"Ay--ay! Ye're richt to be cautious. Weel I wat they are kittle cattle
to ride the water on. But wha was't, sir,--wha was't? Ye needna be
feared of me. I ken how to keep a secret."
"Really, Mr Binkie, except through a third party, as I have told you
already, I have had no communication with any one."
"Weel--they _are_ close--there's nae denyin' that. But ye surely maun
hae some inkling o' the men--Them that's ahint the screen, ye ken?"
"Indeed, I have not. But stay--if you allude to the Clique----"
"Wheest, sir, wheest!" cried the Provost, in an agitated tone of voice.
"Gudesake, tak care what ye say--ye dinna ken wha may hear ye. Ye hae
spoken a word that I havena heard this mony a day without shaking in my
shoon. Aye speak ceevily o' the deil--ye dinna ken how weel ye may be
acquaunt!"
"Surely, sir, there can be no harm in mentioning the----"
"No under that name, Mr Dunshunner--no under that name, and no here. I
wadna ca' them that on the tap of Ben-Nevis without a grue. Ay--and sae
THEY are wi' ye, are they? Weel, they are a queer set!"
"You know the parties, then, Mr Binkie?"
"I ken nae mair aboot them than I ken whaur to find the caverns o' the
east wind. Whether they are three, or thretty, or a hunder, surpasses my
knowledge; but they hae got the secret o' the fern seed, and walk about
invisible. It is a'thegether a great mystery, but doubtless ye will
obtain a glimpse. In the mean time, since ye come from that quarter, I
am bound to obey."
"You are very kind, I am sure, Mr Binkie. May I ask, then, your opinion
of matters as they stand at present?"
"Our present member, Mr Whistlerigg, will no stand again. He's got some
place or ither up in London; and, my certie, he's worked weel for it!
There's naebody else stannin' forbye that man Pozzlethwaite, and he
disna verra weel ken what he is himsel'. If it's a' richt yonder,"
continued the Provost, jerking his thumb over his left shoulder, "ye're
as gude as elected."
As it would have been extremely impolitic for me under present
circumstances to have disclaimed all connection with a body which
exercised an influence so marked and decided, I allowed Provost Binkie
to remain under the illusion that I was the chosen candidate of the
Clique. In fact, I had made up my mind that I should become so at any
cost, so soon as it vouchsafed to disclose itself and appear before my
longing eyes. I therefore launched at once into practical details, in
the discussion of which the Provost exhibited both shrewdness and
goodwill. He professed his readiness at once to become chairman of my
committee, drew out a list of the most influential persons in the burgh
to whom I ought immediately to apply, and gave me much information
regarding the politics of the other places. From what he said, I
gathered that, with the aid of the Clique, I was sure of Dreepdaily and
Drouthielaw--as to the electors of Kittleweem, they were, in his
opinion, "a wheen dirt," whom it would be useless to consult, and
hopeless to conciliate. I certainly had no previous idea that the bulk
of the electors had so little to say in the choice of their own
representative. When I ventured to hint at the remote possibility of a
revolt, the Provost indignantly exclaimed--
"They daurna, sir--they daurna for the lives of them do it! Set them up
indeed! Let me see ony man that wad venture to vote against the Town
Council and the--and _them_, and I'll make a clean sweep of him out of
Dreepdaily!"
Nothing, in short, could have been more satisfactory than this
statement.
Whilst we were conversing together, I heard of a sudden a jingling in
the next apartment, as if some very aged and decrepid harpsichord were
being exorcised into the unusual effort of a tune. I glanced inquiringly
to the door, but the Provost took no notice of my look. In a little
time, however, there was a short preliminary cough, and a female voice
of considerable compass took up the following strain. I remember the
words not more from their singularity, than from the introduction to
which they were the prelude:--
"I heard a wee bird singing clear,
In the tight, tight month o' June--
'What garr'd ye buy when stocks were high,
And sell when shares were doun?
'Gin ye hae play'd me fause, my luve,
In simmer 'mang the rain;
When siller's scant and scarce at Yule,
I'll pay ye back again!
'O bonny were the Midland Halves,
When credit was sae free!--
But wae betide the Southron loon
That sold they Halves to me!'"
I declare, upon the word of a Railway Director, that I was never more
taken aback in my life. Attached as I have been from youth to the
Scottish ballad poetry, I never yet had heard a ditty of this peculiar
stamp, which struck me as a happy combination of tender fancy with the
sterner realities of the Exchange. Provost Binkie smiled as he remarked
my amazement.
"It's only my daughter Maggie, Mr Dunshunner," he said. "Puir thing!
It's little she has here to amuse her, and sae she whiles writes thae
kind o' sangs hersel'. She's weel up to the railroads; for ye ken I was
an auld Glenmutchkin holder."
"Indeed! Was that song Miss Binkie's own composition?" asked I, with
considerable interest.
"Atweel it is that, and mair too. Maggie, haud your skirling!--ye're
interrupting me and the gentleman."
"I beg, on no account, Mr Binkie, that I may be allowed to interfere
with your daughter's amusement. Indeed, it is full time that I were
betaking myself to the hotel, unless you will honour me so far as to
introduce me to Miss Binkie."
"Deil a bit o' you gangs to the hotel to-night!" replied the hospitable
Provost. "You bide where you are to denner and bed, and we'll hae a
comfortable crack over matters in the evening. Maggie! come ben, lass,
and speak to Mr Dunshunner."
Miss Binkie, who I am strongly of opinion was all the while conscious of
the presence of a stranger, now entered from the adjoining room. She was
really a pretty girl--tall, with lively sparkling eyes, and a profusion
of dark hair, which she wore in the somewhat exploded shape of ringlets.
I was not prepared for such an apparition, and I daresay stammered as I
paid my compliments.
Margaret Binkie, however, had no sort of _mauvaise honte_ about her. She
had received her final polish in a Glasgow boarding-school, and did
decided credit to the seminary in which the operation had been
performed. At all events, she was the reverse of shy; for in less than a
quarter of an hour we were rattling away as though we had been
acquainted from childhood; and, to say the truth, I found myself getting
into something like a strong flirtation. Old Binkie grinned a delighted
smile, and went out to superintend the decanting of a bottle of port.
I need not, I think, expatiate upon the dinner which followed. The
hotch-potch was unexceptionable, the salmon curdy, and the lamb roasted
without a fault; and if the red-armed Hebe who attended was somewhat
awkward in her motions, she was at least zealous to a degree. The
Provost got into high feather, and kept plying me perpetually with wine.
When the cloth was removed, he drank with all formality to my success;
and as Margaret Binkie, with a laugh, did due honour to the toast, I
could not do less than indulge in a little flight of fancy as I proposed
the ladies, and, in connection with them, the Flower of Dreepdaily--a
sentiment which was acknowledged with a blush.
After Miss Binkie retired, the Provost grew more and more convivial. He
would not enter into business, but regaled me with numerous anecdotes of
his past exploits, and of the lives and conversation of his compatriots
in the Town Council--some of whom appeared, from his description, to be
very facetious individuals indeed. More particularly, he dwelt upon the
good qualities and importance of a certain Mr Thomas Gills, better known
to his friends and kinsfolk by the sobriquet of Toddy Tam, and
recommended me by all means to cultivate the acquaintance of that
personage. But, however otherwise loquacious, nothing would persuade the
Provost to launch out upon the subject of the Clique. He really seemed
to entertain as profound a terror of that body as ever Huguenot did of
the Inquisition, and he cut me short at last by ejaculating--
"Sae nae mair on't, Mr Dunshunner--sae nae mair on't! It's ill talking
on thae things. Ye dinna ken what the Clique is, nor whaur it is. But
this I ken, that they are everywhere, and a' aboot us; they hear
everything that passes in this house, and I whiles suspect that Mysie,
the servant lass, is naething else than are o' them in petticoats!"
More than this I could not elicit. After we had finished a considerable
quantum of port, we adjourned to the drawing-room, and, tea over, Miss
Binkie sang to me several of her own songs, whilst the Provost snored
upon the sofa. Both the songs and the singer were clever, the situation
was interesting, and, somehow or other, I found my fingers more than
once in contact with Maggie's, as I turned over the leaves of the music.
At last the Provost rose, with a stertoracious grunt. I thought this
might be the signal for retiring to rest; but such were not the habits
of Dreepdaily. Salt herrings and finnan-haddocks were produced along
with the hot water and accompaniments; and I presume it was rather late
before my host conducted me to my chamber. If I dreamed at all that
night, it must have been of Margaret Binkie.