Ye maun have heard of Sir Robert Redgauntlet of that Ilk, who lived
in these parts before the dear years. The country will lang mind
him; and our fathers used to draw breath thick if ever they heard him
named. He was out wi' the Hielandmen in Montrose's time; and again
he was in the hills wi' Glencairn in the saxteen hundred and
fifty-twa; and sae when King Charles the Second came in, wha was in
sic favor as the Laird of Redgauntlet? He was knighted at Lonon
court, wi' the King's ain sword; and being a red-hot prelatist, he
came down here, rampauging like a lion, with commissions of
lieutenancy (and of lunacy, for what I ken), to put down a' the Whigs
and Covenanters in the country. Wild wark they made of it; for the
Whigs were as dour as the Cavaliers were fierce, and it was which
should first tire the other. Redgauntlet was aye for the strong
hand; and his name is kenn'd as wide in the country as Claverhouse's
or Tam Dalyell's. Glen, nor dargle, nor mountain, nor cave could
hide the puir Hill-folk when Redgauntlet was out with bugle and
bloodhound after them, as if they had been sae mony deer. And troth
when they fand them, they didna mak muckle mair ceremony than a
Hielandman wi' a roebuck. It was just, "Will ye tak the test?" If
not, "Make ready--present--fire!" and there lay the recusant.
Far and wide was Sir Robert hated and feared. Men thought he had a
direct compact with Satan; that he was proof against steel, and that
bullets happed aff his buff-coat like hailstanes from a hearth; that
he had a mear that would turn a hare on the side of Carrifra
Gauns--and muckle to the same purpose, of whilk mair anon. The best
blessing they wared on him was, "Deil scowp wi' Redgauntlet!" He
wasna a bad maister to his ain folk though, and was weel aneugh liked
by his tenants; and as for the lackies and troopers that raid out wi'
him to the persecutions, as the Whigs ca'd those killing times, they
wad hae drunken themsells blind to his health at ony time.
Now you are to ken that my gudesire lived on Redgauntlet's grund;
they ca' the place Primrose Knowe. We had lived on the grund, and
under the Redgauntlets, since the riding days, and lang before. It
was a pleasant bit; and I think the air is callerer and fresher there
than onywhere else in the country. It's a' deserted now; and I sat
on the broken door-cheek three days since, and was glad I couldna see
the plight the place was in; but that's a' wide o' the mark. There
dwelt my gudesire, Steenie Steenson, a rambling, rattling chiel he
had been in his young days, and could play weel on the pipes; he was
famous at "Hoopers and Girders," a' Cumberland couldna touch him at
"Jockie Lattin," and he had the finest finger for the backlilt
between Berwick and Carlisle. The like o' Steenie wasna the sort
that they made Whigs o'. And so he became a Tory, as they ca' it,
which we now ca' Jacobites, just out of a kind of needcessity, that
he might belang to some side or other. He had nae ill-will to the
Whig bodies, and liked little to see the blude rin, though being
obliged to follow Sir Robert in hunting and hosting, watching and
warding, he saw muckle mischief, and maybe did some, that he couldna
avoid.
Now Steenie was a kind of favorite with his master, and kenn'd a' the
folks about the castle, and was often sent for to play the pipes when
they were at their merriment. Auld Dougal MacCallum, the butler,
that had followed Sir Robert through gude and ill, thick and thin,
pool and stream, was specially fond of the pipes, and aye gae my
gudesire his gude word wi' the laird; for Dougal could turn his
master round his finger.
Weel, round came the Revolution, and it had like to have broken the
hearts baith of Dougal and his master. But the change was not
a'thegither sae great as they feared, and other folk thought for.
The Whigs made an unco crawing what they wad do with their auld
enemies, and in special wi' Sir Robert Redgauntlet. But there were
ower mony great folks dipped in the same doings to mak a spick span
new warld. So Parliament passed it a' ower easy; and Sir Robert,
bating that he was held to hunting foxes instead of Covenanters,
remained just the man he was. His revel was as loud, and his hall as
weel lighted, as ever it had been, though maybe he lacked the fines
of the Nonconformists, that used to come to stock his larder and
cellar; for it is certain he began to be keener about the rents than
his tenants used to find him before, and they behoved to be prompt to
the rent-day, or else the laird wasna pleased. And he was sic an
awsome body that naebody cared to anger him; for the oaths he swore,
and the rage that he used to get into, and the looks that he put on,
made men sometimes think him a devil incarnate.
Weel, my gudesire was nae manager--no that he was a very great
misguider--but he hadna the saving gift, and he got twa terms' rent
in arrear. He got the first brash at Whitsunday put ower wi' fair
word and piping; but when Martinmas came, there was a summons from
the grund-officer to come wi' the rent on a day preceese, or else
Steenie behoved to flit. Sair wark he had to get the siller; but he
was weel-freended, and at last he got the haill scraped thegither--a
thousand merks; the maist of it was from a neighbor they ca'd Laurie
Lapraik--a sly tod. Laurie had walth o' gear--could hunt wi' the
hound and rin wi' the hare--and be Whig or Tory, saunt or sinner, as
the wind stood. He was a professor in this Revolution warld; but he
liked an orra sough of this warld, and a tune on the pipes weel
aneugh at a bytime; and abune a' he thought he had gude security for
the siller he lent my gudesire ower the stocking at Primrose Knowe.
Away trots my gudesire to Redgauntlet Castle, wi' a heavy purse and a
light heart, glad to be out of the laird's danger. Weel, the first
thing he learned at the castle was that Sir Robert had fretted
himsell into a fit of the gout, because he did not appear before
twelve o'clock. It wasna a'thegither for sake of the money, Dougal
thought; but because he didna like to part wi' my gudesire aff the
grund. Dougal was glad to see Steenie, and brought him into the
great oak parlor, and there sat the laird his leesome lane, excepting
that he had beside him a great ill-favored jackanape, that was a
special pet of his--a cankered beast it was, and mony an ill-natured
trick it played; ill to please it was, and easily angered--ran about
the haill castle, chattering and yowling, and pinching and biting
folk, especially before ill weather, or disturbances in the state.
Sir Robert ca'd it Major Weir, after the warlock that was burnt;* and
few folk liked either the name or the conditions of the
creature--they thought there was something in it by ordinar--and my
gudesire was not just easy in mind when the door shut on him, and he
saw himself in the room wi' naebody but the laird, Dougal MacCallum,
and the major, a thing that hadna chanced to him before.
* A celebrated wizard, executed (1670) at Edinburgh for sorcery and
other crimes.
Sir Robert sat, or, I should say, lay, in a great armed chair, wi'
his grand velvet gown, and his feet on a cradle; for he had baith
gout and gravel, and his face looked as gash and ghastly as Satan's.
Major Weir sat opposite to him, in a red laced coat, and the laird's
wig on his head; and aye as Sir Robert girned wi' pain, the jackanape
girned too, like a sheep's-head between a pair of tangs--an
ill-faured, fearsome couple they were. The laird's buff-coat was
hung on a pin behind him, and his broadsword and his pistols within
reach; for he keepit up the auld fashion of having the weapons ready,
and a horse saddled day and night, just as he used to do when he was
able to loup on horseback, and away after ony of the Hill-folk he
could get speerings of. Some said it was for fear of the Whigs
taking vengeance, but I judge it was just his auld custom--he wasna
gien to fear onything. The rental-book, wi' its black cover and
brass clasps, was lying beside him; and a book of sculduggery sangs
was put betwixt the leaves, to keep it open at the place where it
bore evidence against the goodman of Primrose Knowe, as behind the
hand with his mails and duties. Sir Robert gave my gudesire a look
as if he would have withered his heart in his bosom. Ye maun ken he
had a way of bending his brows that men saw the visible mark of a
horseshoe in his forehead, deep-dinted, as if it had been stamped
there.
"Are ye come light-handed, ye son of a toom whistle?" said Sir
Robert. "Zounds! if you are--"
My gudesire, with as gude a countenance as he could put on, made a
leg, and placed the bag of money on the table wi' a dash, like a man
that does something clever. The laird drew it to him hastily. "Is
it all here, Steenie, man?"
"Your honor will find it right," said my gudesire.
"Here, Dougal," said the laird, "gie Steenie a tass of brandy
downstairs, till I count the siller and write the receipt."
But they werena weel out of the room when Sir Robert gied a yelloch
that garr'd the castle rock. Back ran Dougal--in flew the
livery-men--yell on yell gied the laird, ilk ane mair awfu' than the
ither. My gudesire knew not whether to stand or flee, but he
ventured back into the parlor, where a' was gaun
hirdie-girdie--naebody to say "come in" or "gae out." Terribly the
laird roared for cauld water to his feet, and wine to cool his
throat; and "Hell, hell, hell, and its flames," was aye the word in
his mouth. They brought him water, and when they plunged his swoln
feet into the tub, he cried out it was burning; and folk say that it
did bubble and sparkle like a seething caldron. He flung the cup at
Dougal's head, and said he had given him blood instead of burgundy;
and, sure aneugh, the lass washed clotted blood aff the carpet the
neist day. The jackanape they ca'd Major Weir, it jibbered and cried
as if it was mocking its master. My gudesire's head was like to
turn: he forgot baith siller and receipt, and downstairs he banged;
but as he ran, the shrieks came faint and fainter; there was a
deep-drawn shivering groan, and word gaed through the castle that the
laird was dead.
Weel, away came my gudesire wi' his finger in his mouth, and his best
hope was that Dougal had seen the moneybag, and heard the laird speak
of writing the receipt. The young laird, now Sir John, came from
Edinburgh to see things put to rights. Sir John and his father never
gree'd weel. Sir John had been bred an advocate, and afterward sat
in the last Scots Parliament and voted for the Union, having gotten,
it was thought, a rug of the compensations; if his father could have
come out of his grave he would have brained him for it on his awn
hearthstane. Some thought it was easier counting with the auld rough
knight than the fair-spoken young ane--but mair of that anon.
Dougal MacCallum, poor body, neither grat nor graned, but gaed about
the house looking like a corpse, but directing, as was his duty, a'
the order of the grand funeral. Now, Dougal looked aye waur and waur
when night was coming, and was aye the last to gang to his bed, whilk
was in a little round just opposite the chamber of dais, whilk his
master occupied while he was living, and where he now lay in state,
as they ca'd it, weel-a-day! The night before the funeral, Dougal
could keep his awn counsel nae langer: he came doun with his proud
spirit, and fairly asked auld Hutcheon to sit in his room with him
for an hour. When they were in the round, Dougal took ae tass of
brandy to himsell and gave another to Hutcheon, and wished him all
health and lang life, and said that, for himsell, he wasna lang for
this world; for that, every night since Sir Robert's death, his
silver call had sounded from the state chamber, just as it used to do
at nights in his lifetime, to call Dougal to help to turn him in his
bed. Dougal said that, being alone with the dead on that floor of
the tower (for naebody cared to wake Sir Robert Redgauntlet like
another corpse), he had never daured to answer the call, but that now
his conscience checked him for neglecting his duty; for, "though
death breaks service," said MacCallum, "it shall never break my
service to Sir Robert; and I will answer his next whistle, so be you
will stand by me, Hutcheon."
Hutcheon had nae will to work, but he had stood by Dougal in battle
and broil, and he wad not fail him at this pinch; so down the carles
sat ower a stoup of brandy, and Hutcheon, who was something of a
clerk, would have read a chapter of the Bible; but Dougal would hear
naething but a blaud of Davie Lindsay, whilk was the waur preparation.
When midnight came, and the house was quiet as the grave, sure aneugh
the silver whistle sounded as sharp and shrill as if Sir Robert was
blowing it, and up gat the twa auld serving-men and tottered into the
room where the dead man lay. Hutcheon saw aneugh at the first
glance; for there were torches in the room, which showed him the foul
fiend in his ain shape, sitting on the laird's coffin! Ower he
couped as if he had been dead. He could not tell how lang he lay in
a trance at the door, but when he gathered himsell he cried on his
neighbor, and getting nae answer, raised the house, when Dougal was
found lying dead within twa steps of the bed where his master's
coffin was placed. As for the whistle, it was gaen anes and aye; but
mony a time was it heard at the top of the house on the bartizan, and
amang the auld chimneys and turrets, where the howlets have their
nests. Sir John hushed the matter up, and the funeral passed over
without mair bogle-wark.
But when a' was ower, and the laird was beginning to settle his
affairs, every tenant was called up for his arrears, and my gudesire
for the full sum that stood him in the rental-book. Weel, away he
trots to the castle, to tell his story, and there he is introduced to
Sir John, sitting in his father's chair, in deep mourning, with
weepers and hanging cravat, and a small walking rapier by his side,
instead of the auld broadsword that had a hundredweight of steel
about it, what with blade, chape, and basket-hilt. I have heard
their communing so often tauld ower, that I almost think I was there
mysell, though I couldna be born at the time. (In fact, Alan, my
companion mimicked, with a good deal of humor, the flattering,
conciliating tone of the tenant's address, and the hypocritical
melancholy of the laird's reply. His grandfather, he said, had,
while he spoke, his eye fixed on the rental-book, as if it were a
mastiff-dog that he was afraid would spring up and bite him.)
"I wuss ye joy, sir, of the head seat, and the white loaf, and the
braid lairdship. Your father was a kind man to friends and
followers; muckle grace to you, Sir John, to fill his shoon--his
boots, I suld say, for he seldom wore shoon, unless it were muils
when he had the gout."
"Ay, Steenie," quoth the laird, sighing deeply, and putting his
napkin to his een, "his was a sudden call, and he will be missed in
the country; no time to set his house in order: weel prepared
Godward, no doubt, which is the root of the matter, but left us
behind a tangled hesp to wind, Steenie. Hem! hem! We maun go to
business, Steenie; much to do, and little time to do it in."
Here he opened the fatal volume. I have heard of a thing they call
Doomsday Book--I am clear it has been a rental of back-ganging
tenants.
"Stephen," said Sir John, still in the same soft, sleekit tone of
voice--"Stephen Stevenson, or Steenson, ye are down here for a year's
rent behind the hand, due at last term."