He chose a mournful muse
Soft pity to infuse;
He sung the Weaver wise and good,
By too severe a fate,
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate,
And weltering in his blood.
DRYDEN _Revised_.
On the morning after the debosh with Mr Cursecowl, my respected friend,
James Batter, the pattern of steadiness and sobriety, awoke in a terrible
pliskie. The decent man came to the use of his senses as from a trance,
and scarcely knew either where he was, or whether his head or heels were
uppermost. He found himself lying without his Kilmarnock, from which he
might have received deadly damage, being subject to the rheumatics in the
cuff of the neck; and every thing about him was in a most fearful and
disjaskit state. It was a long time before he could, for the life of
him, bring his mind or memory to a sense of his condition, having still
on his corduroy trowsers, and his upper and under vest, besides one of
his stockings:--his hat, his wig, his neckcloth, his shoes, his coat, his
snuff-box, his spectacles, and the other stocking, all lying on the
floor, together with a table, a chair, a candlestick, with a broken
candle, which had been knocked over;--the snuffers standing upright,
being sharp in the point, and having stuck in the deal floor.
It was a terrible business! and might have been a life-long lesson to
every one, of the truth of St Paul's maxim, that "evil communication
corrupts good manners;"--Cursecowl being the most incomprehensible fellow
that ever breathed the breath of life. To add to his calamities, James
found, on attempting to rise, that he had, in some way or other, of which
he had not a shadow of recollection, dismally sprained his left ankle,
which, to his consternation, was swelled like a door-post, and as blue as
his apron. There was also a black ugly lump on his brow, as big as a
pigeon's egg, which was horrible to look at in the bit glass. Many a
gallant soldier escaped from Waterloo with less scaith--and that they
did. Poor innocent sowl! I pitied him from the very bottom of my
heart--as who would not?
Having got an inkling of the town-talk by breakfast-time, and knowing
also that many a one--such is the corruption of human nature--would like
to have a hair in the neck of James, by taking up an evil report, I
remembered within myself that a friend in need is a friend indeed, and
cannily papped up the close, after I had got myself shaved, to see how
the land lay. And a humbling spectacle it was! James could scarcely yet
be said to be himself, for his eyes were like scored collops, and his
stomach was so sick that his face was like ill-bleached linen--pale as a
dishclout. When he tried to speak, it was between a bock and a hiccup
with him, and my feeling for his situation was such--knowing, as I did,
all the ins and outs of the business--that I could not help being very
wae for him. It therefore behoved me to make Nanse send him a cup of
well-made tea, to see if it would act as a settler, but his heart stood
at it, as if it had been 'cacuana, and do as he liked, he could not let a
drop of it down his craig. When the wife informed me of this, I at last
luckily remembered the old saying about giving one a hair of the dog that
bit him; and I made poor James swallow a thimbleful of malt spirits--the
real unadulterated creatur, with wonderfully good effects. Though then
in his sixty-first year, James declares on his honour as a gentleman,
that this was the first time he ever had fallen a victim to the barley-
fever!
How could we do otherwise! it afforded Nanse and I great pleasure--and no
mistake--in acting the part of good Samaritans, by pouring oil and wine
into his wounds; I having bound up his brow with a Sunday silk-napkin,
and she having fomented his unfortunate ankle with warm water and hog's
lard. The truth is, that I found myself in conscience bound and
obligated to take a deep interest in the decent man's distresses, he
having come to his catastrophe in a cause of mine, and having fallen a
victim to the snares and devices of Cursecowl, instead of myself, for
whom the vagabond's girn was set. Providence decided that, in this
particular case, I should escape; but a better man, James Batter, was
caught in it by the left ankle. What will a body say there?
The web of Lucky Caird, which James had promised to carry home to her on
the Saturday night, was still in the loom, and had I been up to the
craft, I would not have hesitated to have driven the shuttle myself till
I had got it off hand for him; but every man to his trade; so afraid of
consequences, I let the batter and the bobbin-box lie still, trusting to
Lucky Caird's discretion, and my friend's speedy recovery. But the
distress of James Batter was not the business of a day. In the course of
the next night, to be sure, he had some natural sleep, which cleared his
brain from the effects of that dangerous and deluding drink, the "Pap-
in;" but his ankle left him a grievous lameter hirpling on a staff; and,
although his brown scratch and his Kilmarnock helped to hide the bump
upon his temple, the dregs of it fell down upon his e'e-bree, which, to
the consternation of everybody, became as green as a docken leaf.
My friend, however, be it added to this, was not more a sufferer in body
than in estate; for the illness, being of his own bringing on, he could
not make application to the Weavers' Society--of which he had been a
regular member for forty odd years--for his lawful sick-money. But,
being a philosopher, James submitted to his bed of thorns without a
murmur; Nanse and I soothing his calamities, as we best could, by a bowl
of sheep-head broth; a rizzar'd haddock; a tankard of broo-and-bread; a
caller egg; a swine's trotter; and other circumstantialities needless to
repeat--as occasion required.
As for Cursecowl, the invincible reprobate, so ashamed was he of his
infamous conduct, that he did not dare, for the life in his body, to show
himself before my shop-window--far less in my presence--for more than a
week; yet, would ye believe it! he made a perfect farce of the whole
business among his own wauf cronies; and, instead of repentance, I verily
believe, would not have cared twopence to have played me the same pliskie
that he did my douce and worthy friend. But away with him! he is not
worth speaking about; and ye'll get nothing from a sow but--grumph!
Being betimes on the mending order, James sent down, one to request, with
his compliments, that I would hand him up by the bearer old Taffy with
the Pigtail's bundle of papers,--as having more leisure in his hands than
either he liked, or well knew how to dispose of, it might afford him some
diversion to take a reading of them, for the purpose of enquiring farther
into the particulars of the Welsh gentleman's history--which undoubtedly
was a wee mysterious; consisting of matters lying heads and thraws; and
of odds and ends, that no human skill could dovetail into a Christian
consistency.
On the night of the next day--I mind it weel, for it was on that dividual
evening that Willie, the minister's man, married Mysie Clouts, the keeper
of the lodging-house called the Beggars' Opera--it struck me, seeing the
general joy of the weans on the street, and the laughing, daffing, and
hallabuloo that they were making, that poor James must be lonely at his
ingle side, and that a drink of porter and a crack would do his old heart
good. Accordingly, I made Nanse send the bit lassie, our servant, Jenny
Heggins, for a couple of bottles of Deacon Jaffrey's best brown stout,
asking if he could pawn his word anent its being genuine, as it was for a
gentleman in delicate health. So, brushing the sawdust off the doup of
one of them, and slipping it into my coat pocket, which was gey an'
large, I popped at leisure up the close to pay my neighbour a friendly
visit.
'Od, but comfort is a grand thing. If ever ye saw an ancient patriarch,
there was one. James was seated in his snug old easy-chair by the
fireside, as if he had been an Edinburgh Parliament House lawyer,
studying his hornings, duplies, and fugie warrants, with his left leg
paraded out on a stool, with a pillow smoothed down over it, and all the
Welshman's papers docketed on the bit table before him. The cat was
lying streaked out on the hearth, pur-purring away to herself, and the
kettle by the fire cheek was singing along with her, as if to cheer the
heart of their mutual master. As for Mr Batter, he looked as prejinct as
a pikestaff, and so taken up was he with his papers, that, when I asked
him how he felt, his answer, to my wonderment, was, that "in the Song of
Songs, Solomon had likened the nose of his beloved to the tower of
Lebanon, which looketh towards Damascus." So brown was he in his
studies, that for a while, I feared the fall had produced some crack in
his pan, and that his seven senses had gone a wool-gathering; but the
story will out, as ye will hear, and being naturally a wee-camstairie, I
gave him time to gather the feet of his faculties before pressing him too
hard; but even the sight of the bottle of porter toasting by the cheek of
the fire, hardly brought him at once to his right mind.
Mr Batter's noddle, however, after a little patience, clearing up, we
leisurely discussed between us the porter, which was in prime condition,
with a ream as yellow as a marigold; together with half a dozen of butter-
bakes, crimp and new-baked, it being batch-day with Thomas Burlings, who,
like his father and grandfather before him, have been notorious in the
biscuit department. It soon became clear to me, that the dialogue about
Lebanon and Damascus, which was followed up with a clishmaclaver anent
dirks, daggers, red cloaks, and other bloody weapons which made all my
flesh grue, had some connexion with Taffy's papers on the table--out of
which James had been diverting himself by reading bits here and there, at
random like.
In the course of our confab, he told me a monstrous heap about them; but,
in general, the things were so out of the course of Providence, and so
queer and leeing-like, that I, for one, would not believe them without
solemn affidavy. Indeed, I began at length to question within myself--for
the subject naturally resolved itself into two heads; firstly, whether
Taffy's master might not have had a bee in his bonnet; or, secondly,
whether he was a person not over-scrupulous regarding the matter of
truth. As for James, he declared him a nonsuch, and said, that although
poor, he would not have hesitated to have given him sixpence for a lock
of his hair, just to keep beside him for a keepsake; (did any body ever
hear such nonsense?) Before parting, he insisted that I should bear with
him, till he read me over the story he had just finished as I came in,
and which had been running in his noddle. At such a late hour, for it
was now wearing on to wellnigh ten o'clock, I was not just clear about
listening to any thing bloody; but not to vex the old boy who, I am sure,
would not have sleeped a wink through the night for disappointment, had
he not got a free breast made of it, I at long and last
consented--provided his story was not too long. My chief particularity
on this point, as I should mention, was, that it was past Benjie's
bedtime, and the callant had a hoast, which required all his mother's as
well as my own good doctoring--having cost us two bottles of Dantzic
black beer with little effect; besides not a few other recommendations of
friends and skielly acquaintances.
It was best, therefore, to consent with a good grace; so, after clearing
his windpipes, James wiped the eyes of his spectacles with the corner of
his red-check pocket-napkin; and thereafter fixing them on his beak, he
commenced preaching away in grand style at some queer outlandish stuff,
which fairly baffled my gumption. I must confess, however, both in
fairness to Taffy and to James, that, as I had been up since five in the
morning, (having pawned my word to send home Duncan Imrie, the
heel-cutter's new duffle great-coat by breakfast time, as he had to go
into the Edinburgh leather-market by eleven,) my een were gathering
straws; and it was only at the fearsome parts that I could for half a
moment keep them sundry. "Many men," however, "many minds," as the copy-
line book says; and as every one has a right to judge for himself, I
requested James to copy the concern out for me; and ye here have it, word
for word, without subtraction, multiplication, or addition.
THE MAID OF DAMASCUS.
"All close they met, all eves, before the dusk
Had taken from the stars its pleasant veil,
Close in a bower of hyacinth and musk,
Unknown of any, free from whispering tale."
KEATS.
In the reign of the Greek Emperor Heraclius, when the beautiful city of
Damascus was at the height of its splendour and magnificence, dwelt
therein a young noble, named Demetrius, whose decayed fortunes did not
correspond with the general prosperity of the times. He was a youth of
ardent disposition, and very handsome in person: pride kept him from
bettering his estate by the profession of merchandise, yet more keenly
did he feel the obscurity to which adverse fates had reduced him, that in
his lot was involved the fortune of one dearer than himself.
It so happened that, in that quarter of the city which faces the row of
palm-trees, within the gate Keisan, dwelt a wealthy old merchant, who had
a beautiful daughter. Demetrius had by chance seen her some time before,
and he was so struck with her loveliness, that, after pining for many
months in secret, he ventured on a disclosure, and, to his delighted
surprise, found that Isabelle had longed silently nursed a deep and
almost hopeless passion for him also; so, being now aware that their love
was mutual, they were as happy as the bird that, all day long, sings in
the sunshine from the summits of the cypress-trees.
True is the adage of the poet, that "the course of true love never did
run smooth;" and, in the father of the maiden, they found that a
stumbling-block lay in the path of their happiness, for he was of an
avaricious disposition, and they knew that he valued gold more than
nobility of blood. Their fears grew more and more, as Isabelle, in her
private conversations, endeavoured to sound her father on this point; and
although the suspicions of affection are often more apparent than real,
in this they were not mistaken; for, without consulting his child--and as
if her soul had been in his hand--he promised her in marriage to a rich
old miser, ay, twice as rich, and nearly as old as himself.
Isabelle knew not what to do; for, on being informed by her father of the
fate he had destined for her, her heart forsook her, and her spirit was
bowed to the dust. Nowhere could she rest, like the Thracian bird that
knoweth not to fold its wings in slumber--a cloud had fallen for her over
the fair face of nature--and, instead of retiring to her couch, she
wandered about weeping, under the midnight stars, on the terrace on the
house-top--wailing over her hapless fate, and calling on death to come
and take her from her sorrows.
At morning she went forth alone into the garden; but neither could the
golden glow of the orange-trees, nor the perfumes of the rosiers, nor the
delicate fragrance of the clustering henna and jasmine, delight her; so
she wearied for the hour of noon, having privately sent to Demetrius,
inviting him to meet her by the fountain of the pillars at that time.
Poor Demetrius had, for some time, observed a settled sorrow in the
conduct and countenance of his beautiful Isabelle--he felt that some
melancholy revelation was to be made to him; and, all eagerness, he came
at the appointed hour. He passed along the winding walks, unheeding of
the tulips streaked like the ruddy evening clouds--of the flower
betrothed to the nightingale--of the geranium blazing in scarlet
beauty,--till, on approaching the place of promise, he caught a glance of
the maid he loved--and, lo! she sate there in the sunlight, absorbed in
thought; a book was on her knee, and at her feet lay the harp whose
chords had been for his ear so often modulated to harmony.
He laid his hand gently on her shoulder, as he seated himself beside her
on the steps; and seeing her sorrowful, he comforted her, and bade her be
of good cheer, saying, that Heaven would soon smile propitiously on their
fortunes, and that their present trials would but endear them the more to
each other in the days of after years. At length, with tears and sobs,
she told him of what she had learned; and, while they wept on each
other's bosoms, they vowed over the Bible, which Isabelle held in her
hand, to be faithful to each other to their dying day.
Meantime the miser was making preparations for the marriage ceremony, and
the father of Isabelle had portioned out his daughter's dowery; when the
lovers, finding themselves driven to extremity, took the resolution of
escaping together from the city.
Now, it so happened, in accordance with the proverb, which saith that
evils never come single, that, at this very time, the city of Damascus
was closely invested by a mighty army, commanded by the Caliph Abubeker
Alwakidi, the immediate successor of Mahomet; and, in leaving the walls,
the lovers were in imminent hazard of falling into their cruel hands;
yet, having no other resource left, they resolved to put their perilous
adventure to the risk.
'Twas the Musselman hour of prayer Magrib: the sun had just disappeared,
and the purple haze of twilight rested on the hills, darkening all the
cedar forests, when the porter of the gate Keisan, having been bribed
with a largess, its folding leaves slowly opened, and forthwith issued a
horseman closely wrapt up in a mantle; and behind him, at a little space,
followed another similarly clad. Alas! for the unlucky fugitives it so
chanced that Derar, the captain of the night-guard, was at that moment
making his rounds, and observing what was going on, he detached a party
to throw themselves between the strangers and the town. The foremost
rider, however, discovered their intention, and he called back to his
follower to return. Isabelle--for it was she--instantly regained the
gate, which had not yet closed, but Demetrius fell into the hands of the
enemy.
As wont in those bloody wars, the poor prisoner was immediately carried
by an escort into the presence of the Caliph, who put the alternative in
his power of either, on the instant, renouncing his religion, or
submitting to the axe of the headsman. Demetrius told his tale with a
noble simplicity; and his youth, his open countenance, and stately
bearing, so far gained on the heart of Abubeker, that, on his refusal to
embrace Mahomedism, he begged of him seriously to consider of his
situation, and ordered a delay of the sentence, which he must otherwise
pronounce, until the morrow.
Heart-broken and miserable, Demetrius was loaded with chains, and carried
to a gloomy place of confinement. In the solitude of the night-hours he
cursed the hour of his birth--bewailed his miserable situation--and
feeling that all his schemes of happiness were thwarted, almost rejoiced
that he had only a few hours to live.
The heavy hours lagged on towards daybreak, and, quite exhausted by the
intense agony of his feelings, he sank down upon the ground in a profound
sleep, from which a band, with crescented turbans and crooked
sword-blades, awoke him. Still persisting to reject the Prophet's faith,
he was led forth to die; but, in passing through the camp, the Soubachis
of the Caliph stopped the troop, as he had been commanded, and Demetrius
was ushered into the tent, where Abubeker, not yet risen lay stretched on
his sofa. For a while the captive remained resolute, preferring death to
the disgrace of turning a renegado; but the wily Caliph, who had taken a
deep and sudden interest in the fortunes of the youth, knew well the
spring, by the touch of which his heart was most likely to be affected.
He pointed out to Demetrius prospects of preferment and grandeur, while
he assured him that, in a few days, Damascus must to a certainty
surrender, in which case his mistress must fall into the power of a
fierce soldiery, and be left to a fate full of dishonour, and worse than
death itself; but, if he assumed the turban, he pledged his royal word
that especial care should be taken that no harm should alight on her he
loved.
Demetrius paused, and Abubeker saw that the heart of his captive was
touched. He drew pictures of power, and affluence, and domestic love,
that dazzled the imagination of his hearer; and while the prisoner
thought of his Isabelle, instead of rejecting the impious proposal, as at
first he had done, with disdain and horror, his soul bent like iron in
the breath of the furnace flame, and he wavered and became irresolute.
The keen eye of the Caliph saw the working of his spirit within him, and
allowed him yet another day to form his resolution. When the second day
was expired, Demetrius craved a third; and on the fourth morning,
miserable man, he abjured the faith of his fathers, and became a
Mussulman.
Abubeker loved the youth, assigning him a post of dignity, and all the
mighty host honoured him whom the Caliph delighted to honour. He was
clad in rich attire, and magnificently attended, and, to all eyes,
Demetrius seemed a person worthy of envy; yet, in the calm of thought,
his conscience upbraided him, and he was far less happy than he seemed to
be.
Ere yet the glow of novelty had entirely ceased to bewilder the
understanding of the renegade, preparations were made for the assault;
and after a fierce but ineffectual resistance under their gallant leaders
Thomas and Herbis, the Damascenes were obliged to submit to their
imperious conqueror, on condition of being allowed, within three days, to
leave the city unmolested.
When the gates were opened, Demetrius, with a heart over-flowing with
love and delight, was among the first to enter. He enquired of every one
he met of the fate of Isabelle; but all turned from him with disgust. At
length he found her out, but what was his grief and surprise--in a
nunnery! Firm to the troth she had so solemnly plighted, she had
rejected the proposition of her mercenary parent; and, having no idea but
that her lover had shared the fate of all Christian captives, she had
shut herself up from the world, and vowed to live the life of a vestal.
The surprise, the anguish, the horror of Isabelle, when she beheld
Demetrius in his Moslem habiliments, cannot be described. Her first
impulse, on finding him yet alive, was to have fallen into his arms; but,
instantly collecting herself, she shrunk back from him with loathing, as
a mean and paltry dastard. "No, no," she cried, "you are no longer the
man I loved; our vows of fidelity were pledged over the Bible; that book
you have renounced as a fable; and he who has proved himself false to
Heaven, can never be true to me!"
Demetrius was conscience-struck; too late he felt his crime, and foresaw
its consequences. The very object for whom he had dared to make the
tremendous sacrifice had deserted him, and his own soul told him with how
much justice; so, without uttering a syllable, he turned away,
heart-broken, from the holy and beautiful being whose affections he had
forfeited for ever.
When the patriots left Damascus, Isabelle accompanied them. Retiring to
Antioch, she lived with the sisterhood for many years; and, as her time
was passed between acts of charity and devotion, her bier was watered
with many a tear, and the hands of the grateful duly strewed her grave
with flowers. To Demetrius was destined a briefer career. All-conscious
of his miserable degradation, loathing himself, and life, and mankind, he
rushed back from the city into the Mahomedan camp; and entering, with a
hurried step, the tent of the Caliph, he tore the turban from his brow,
and cried aloud--"Oh, Abubeker! behold a God-forsaken wretch. Think not
it was the fear of death that led me to abjure my religion--the religion
of my fathers--the only true faith. No; it was the idol of Love that
stood between my heart and heaven, darkening the latter with its shadow;
and had I remained as true to God as I did to the Maiden of my love, I
had not needed this." So saying, and ere the hand of Abubeker could
arrest him, he drew a poniard from his embroidered vest, and the heart-
blood of the renegade spouted on the royal robes of the successor of
Mahomet.
* * * * *
So grandly had James spooted this bloody story, that notwithstanding my
sleepiness, his words whiles dirled through my marrow like quicksilver,
and set all my flesh a grueing. In the middle of it, he was himself so
worked up, that twice he pulled his Kilmarnock from his head,
silk-napkin, bandage and all, and threw them down with a thump on the
table, which once wellnigh capsized the candlestick.
The porter and the stabbing, also, very nearly put me beside myself; and
I felt so queerish and eerie when I took my hat to wish him a
good-night--knowing that baith Nanse and Benjie would be neither to hold
nor bind, it being now half-past ten o'clock--that, had it not been for
the shame of the thing, and that I remembered being one of the King's
gallant volunteers, I fear I would have asked James for the lend of his
lantern, to show me down the dark close.
The reader will thus perceive that the adventure of the killing-coat,
stuck alike in the measurement and in the making by Tammie Bodkin, was
destined, in the great current of human events, to form a prominent
feature, not only in my own history, but in that of worthy James Batter.
To me it might be considered as a passing breeze--having been accustomed
to see and suffer a vast deal; but my friend, I fear much, will bear
marks of it to his grave. Yet I cannot blame myself with a safe
conscience for James having fallen the victim to Cursecowl. I had tried
every thing to solder up matters which the heart of man could suggest;
and knowing that it was a catastrophe which would bring down open war and
rebellion throughout the whole parish, my thoughts were all of peace, and
how to stave off the eruption of the bloody heathen. I had thought over
the thing seriously in my bed; and, reckoning plainly that Cursecowl was
not one likely soon to hold out a flag of truce, I had come to the
determination within myself to sound a parley--and offer either to take
back the coat or refund part of the purchase-money. I may add, that
having an unbounded regard for his judgment and discretion, I had, in my
own mind, selected James Batter to be sent as the ambassador. The same
day, however, brought round the extraordinary purchase of the
Willie-goat's head, and gave a new and unexpected turn to the whole
business.
Folk, moreover, should never be so over-proud as not to confess when they
are in fault; and from what happened, I am free to admit, that James,
harmless as a sucking dove, was no match in such a matter for the like of
Cursecowl, who was a perfect incarnation, for devilry and cunning, of the
old Serpent himself.
My intentions, however, were good, and those of a Christian; for, had
Cursecowl accepted the ten shillings by way of blood-money, which it was
thus my intention to have offered, this fearful and bloody stramash would
have been hushed up without the world having become a whit the wiser. But
"there is many a slip," as the proverb says, "between the cup and the
lip;" and the best intentions often fall to the ground, like the
beggarman between the two stools.
The final conclusion of the whole tragedy was, as it behoves me to
mention, that Cursecowl, in consideration of a month's gratis work in the
slaughter-house, made a brotherly legacy of the coat to his nephew, young
Killim. The laddie was a perfect world's wonder every Sunday, and would
have been laughed at out of his seven senses, had he not at last rebelled
and fairly thrown it off. I make every allowance for the young man; and
am sorry to confess that it was indeed a perfect shame to be seen. At
Dalkeith, where one is well known, any thing may pass; but I was always
in bodily terror, that, had he gone to Edinburgh, he would have been
taken up by the police, on suspicion of being either a Spanish pawtriot
or a highway robber.