"To lie in kilns and barns at e'en,
When banes are crazed and blude is thin,
Is doubtless great distress;"
the bard reckons up, with true poetical spirit, the free enjoyment
of the beauties of nature, which might counterbalance the hardship
and uncertainty of the life even of a mendicant. In one of his prose
letters, to which I have lost the reference, he details this idea yet
more seriously, and dwells upon it, as not ill adapted to his habits
and powers.
"As the life of a Scottish mendicant of the eighteenth century, seems to
have been contemplated without much horror by Robert Burns, the author
can hardly have erred in giving to Edie Ochiltree something of poetical
character and personal dignity, above the more abject of his miserable
calling. The class had, in fact, some privileges. A lodging, such as it
was, was readily granted to them in some of the outhouses, and the usual
_awmous_ (alms) of a handful of meal (called a _gowpen_) was
scarce denied by the poorest cottager. The mendicant disposed of these,
according to their different quality, in various bags around his person,
and thus carried about with him the principal part of his sustenance,
which he literally received for the asking. At the houses of the gentry,
his cheer was mended by scraps of broken meat, and perhaps a Scottish
'twal-penny,' or English penny, which was expended in snuff or whisky.
In fact, these indolent peripatetics suffered much less real hardship
and want of food, than the poor peasants from whom they received alms.
"If, in addition to his personal qualifications, the mendicant chanced
to be a King's Bedesman, or Blue Gown, he belonged, in virtue thereof,
to the aristocracy of his order, and was esteemed a person of great
importance."
An extract then follows from an account of payments to "Blew Gownis," by
Sir Robert Melvill, of Murdocarney, treasurer-depute of King James VI.,
furnished to the author of "Waverley," by an officer of the Register
House; after which Sir Walter proceeds as follows:--
"I have only to add, that although the institution of King's Bedesmen
still subsists, they are now seldom to be seen in the streets of
Edinburgh, of which their peculiar dress made them rather a
characteristic feature.
"Having thus given an account of the genus and species to which Edie
Ochiltree appertains, the author may add, that the individual he had
in his eye was Andrew Gemmells, an old mendicant of the character
described, who was many years since well known, and must still be
remembered, in the vales of Gala, Tweed, Ettrick, Yarrow, and the
adjoining country.
"The author has in his youth repeatedly seen and conversed with Andrew,
but cannot recollect whether he held the rank of Blue Gown. He was a
remarkably fine old figure, very tall, and maintaining a soldier-like,
or military manner and address. His features were intelligent, with a
powerful expression of sarcasm. His motions were always so graceful,
that he might almost have been suspected of having studied them; for
he might, on any occasion, have served as a model for an artist, so
remarkably striking were his ordinary attitudes. Andrew Gemmells had
little of the cant of his calling; his wants were food and shelter, or a
trifle of money, which he always claimed, and seemed to receive, as his
due. He sang a good song, told a good story, and could crack a severe
jest with all the acumen of Shakspeare's jesters, though without using,
like them, the cloak of insanity. It was some fear of Andrew's satire,
as much as a feeling of kindness or charity, which secured him the
general good reception which he enjoyed every where. In fact, a jest of
Andrew Gemmells, especially at the expense of a person of consequence,
flew round the circle which he frequented, as surely as the bon-mot of
a man of established character for wit glides through the fashionable
world. Many of his good things are held in remembrance, but are
generally too local and personal to be introduced here.
"Andrew had a character peculiar to himself among his tribe, for aught
I ever heard. He was ready and willing to play at cards or dice with
any one who desired such amusement. This was more in the character of
the Irish itinerant gambler, called in that country a _carrow_,
than of the Scottish beggar. But the late Reverend Doctor Robert Douglas,
minister of Galashiels, assured the author, that the last time he saw
Andrew Gemmells, he was engaged in a game at brag with a gentleman of
fortune, distinction, and birth. To preserve the due gradations of rank,
the party was made at an open window of the chateau, the laird sitting
on his chair in the inside, the beggar on a stool in the yard; and they
played on the window-sill. The stake was a considerable parcel of
silver. The author expressing some surprise, Dr. Douglas observed, that
the laird was no doubt a humorist or original; but that many decent
persons in those times would, like him, have thought there was nothing
extraordinary in passing an hour, either in card-playing or
conversation, with Andrew Gemmells.
"This singular mendicant had generally, or was supposed to have, as much
money about his person, as would have been thought the value of his life
among modern footpads. On one occasion, a country gentleman, generally
esteemed a very narrow man, happening to meet Andrew, expressed great
regret that he had no silver in his pocket, or he would have given him
sixpence:--'I can give you change for a note laird,' replied Andrew.
"Like most who have arisen to the head of their profession, the modern
degradation which mendicity has undergone was often the subject of
Andrew's lamentations. As a trade, he said, it was forty pounds a year
worse since he had first practised it. On another occasion he observed,
begging was in modern times scarcely the profession of a gentleman, and
that if he had twenty sons, he would not easily be induced to breed one
of them up in his own line. When or where this _laudator temporis
acti_ closed his wanderings, the author never heard with certainty;
but most probably, as Burns says--
"----he died a cadger-powny's death
At some dike side."
"The author may add another picture of the same kind as Edie Ochiltree
and Andrew Gemmells; considering these illustrations as a sort of
gallery, open to the reception of any thing which may elucidate former
manners, or amuse the reader.
"The author's contemporaries at the university of Edinburgh will
probably remember the thin wasted form of a venerable old Bedesman, who
stood by the Potter-row Port, now demolished; and, without speaking a
syllable, gently inclined his head, and offered his hat, but with the
least possible Degree of urgency, towards each individual who passed.
This man gained, by silence and the extenuated and wasted appearance of
a palmer from a remote country, the same tribute which was yielded to
Andrew Gemmells's sarcastic humour and stately deportment. He was
understood to be able to maintain a son a student in the theological
classics of the University, at the gate of which the father was a
mendicant. The young man was modest and inclined to learning, so that a
student of the same age, and whose parents were rather of the lower
order, moved by seeing him excluded from the society of other scholars
when the secret of his birth was suspected, endeavoured to console him
by offering him some occasional civilities. The old mendicant was
grateful for this attention to his son, and one day, as the friendly
student passed, he stooped forward more than usual, as if to intercept
his passage. The scholar drew out a halfpenny, which he concluded was
the beggar's object, when he was surprised to receive his thanks for the
kindness he had shown to Jemmie, and at the same time a cordial
invitation to dine with them next Sunday, 'on a shoulder of mutton and
potatoes,' adding, 'ye'll put on your clean sark, as I have company.'
The student was strongly tempted to accept of this hospitable proposal,
as many in his place would probably have done; but as the motive might
have been capable of misrepresentation, he thought it most prudent,
considering the character and circumstances of the old man, to decline
the invitation.
"Such are a few traits of Scottish mendicity, designed to throw light on
a novel in which a character of that description plays a prominent part.
We conclude, that we have vindicated Edie Ochiltree's right to the
importance assigned him; and have shown, that we have known one beggar
take a hand at cards with a person of distinction, and another give
dinner parties."
The curious reader who is anxious to pursue the character still further,
will be gratified with "a few particulars with which his biographer
appears to be unacquainted,"--by a Correspondent of the _Literary
Gazette_, No. 664.
* * * * *