There are few things more ludicrous, and at the same time more
interesting, than the state of a young man in love, unless, perhaps, it
be that of an old man in the same unfortunate situation. The warmth of
the admiration, the blindness of the passion, and the fond sincerity of
the enthusiasm, which gives grace and sentiment to the instinct, all
awaken sympathy, and even inspire a degree of compassionate regard;
but the extravagance of feeling beyond what any neutral person can
sympathize with, the ostrich-like simplicity of the expedients resorted
to in assignations, and that self-approved sagacity and prudence in
concealing what everybody with half an eye can see, afford the most
harmless and diverting spectacles of human absurdity. However, as we
are desirous of conciliating the reverence of the young and fair,
perhaps it may be as well to say nothing more on this head, but allow
them to enjoy, in undisturbed faith, the amiable anticipation of that
state of beatitude which Heaven, and all married personages, know is
but a very very transient enchantment.
But we cannot, with any regard to the fidelity of circumstantial
history, omit to relate what passed in young Walkinshaw’s bosom, after
he parted from his cousin.--To render it in some degree picturesque, we
might describe his appearance; but when we spoke of him as a handsome
manly youth for his inches and his eild, we said perhaps as much as
we could well say upon that head, unless we were to paint the colour
and fashion of his clothes,--a task in which we have no particular
relish;--and, therefore, we may just briefly mention that they were
in the style of the sprucest clerks of Glasgow; and everybody knows,
that if the bucks of the Trongate would only button their coats, they
might pass for gentlemen of as good blood and breeding as the best in
Bond Street. But, even though Walkinshaw had been in the practice of
buttoning his, he was that night in no condition to think of it. His
whole bosom was as a flaming furnace--raging as fiercely as those of
the Muirkirk Iron Works that served to illuminate his path.
He felt as if he had been held in a state of degradation; and had been
regarded as so destitute of all the honourable qualities of a young
man, that he would not scruple to barter himself in the most sordid
manner. His spirit then mounting on the exulting wings of youthful
hope, bore him aloft into the cloudy and meteoric region of romance,
and visions of fortune and glory almost too splendid for the aching
sight of his fancy, presented themselves in a thousand smiling forms,
beckoning him away from the smoky confines and fœtid airs of Glasgow,
and pointing to some of the brightest and beaming bubbles that allure
fantastic youth. But, in the midst of these glittering visions of
triumphant adventure, ‘a change came o’er the spirit of his dream,’
and he beheld Ellen Frazer in the simple and tasteful attire in which
she appeared so beautiful at Camrachle church. In the background of
the sunny scene was a pretty poetical cottage, with a lamb tethered by
the foot on the green, surrounded by a flock of snowy geese, enjoying
their noontide siesta, and on the ground troops of cocks and hens, with
several gabbling bandy-legged ducks; at the sight of which another
change soon came o’er the spirit of his dream; and the elegant mansion
that his uncle had made of the old house of Grippy, with all its
lawns and plantations, and stately gate and porter’s lodge, together
with an elegant carriage in the avenue, presented a most alluring
picture.--But it, too, soon vanished; and in the next change, he beheld
Robina converted into his wife, carping at all his little pranks and
humours, and studious only of her own enjoyments, without having any
consideration for those that might be his. Then all was instantly
darkened; and after a terrible burst of whirlwinds, and thunder and
lightning, the cloud again opened, and he saw in its phantasmagorial
mirror a calm and summer sunset, with his beautiful Ellen Frazer in
the shape of a venerable matron, partaking of the temperate pleasures
of an aged man, seated on a rustic seat, under a tree, on the brow of
Camrachlebank, enjoying the beauties of the view, and talking of their
children’s children; and in the visage of that aged man, he discovered
a most respectable resemblance of himself.--So fine a close of a life,
untroubled by any mischance, malady, or injustice, could not fail
to produce the most satisfactory result. Accordingly, he decidedly
resolved, that it should be his; and that, as he had previously
determined, the connexion with his uncle should thenceforth be cut for
ever.
By the time that imagination rather than reason had worked him into
this decision, he arrived at Glasgow; and being resolved to carry his
intention into immediate effect, instead of going to the house where
he was boarded, at his uncle’s expense, he went to the Leddy’s, partly
with the intention of remaining there, but chiefly to remonstrate
with her for having spoken of his attachment to Ellen Frazer; having
concluded, naturally enough, that it was from her his uncle had
received the information.
On entering the parlour he found the old lady seated alone, in her
elbow chair, at the fireside. A single slender candle stood at her
elbow, on a small claw-foot table; and she was winding the yarn from a
pirn, with a hand-reel, carefully counting the turns. Hearing the door
open, she looked round, and seeing who it was, said,--
‘Is that thee, Jamie Walkinshaw?--six and thirty--where came ye
frae--seven and thirty--at this time o’ night?--eight and thirty--sit
ye down--nine and thirty--snuff the candle--forty.’
‘I’ll wait till ye’re done,’ said he, ‘as I wish to tell you
something--for I have been out at Kittlestonheugh, where I had some
words with my uncle.’
‘No possible!--nine and forty,’--replied the Leddy;--‘what hast been
about?--fifty’----
‘He seems to regard me as if I had neither a will nor feelings, neither
a head nor a heart.’
‘I hope ye hae baith--five and fifty--but hae ye been
condumacious?--seven and--plague tak the laddie, I’m out in my count,
and I’ll hae to begin the cut again; so I may set by the reel. What
were you saying, Jamie, anent an outcast wi’ your uncle?’
‘He has used me exceedingly ill--ripping up the obligations he has laid
me under, and taunting me with my poverty.’
‘And is’t no true that ye’re obligated to him, and that, but for the
uncly duty he has fulfilled towards you, ye would this night hae been a
bare lad?--gude kens an ye would na hae been as scant o’ cleeding as a
salmon in the river.’
‘It may be so, but when it is considered that he got the family estate
by a quirk of law, he could scarcely have done less than he did for my
unfortunate father’s family. But I could have forgiven all that, had he
not, in a way insulting to my feelings, intimated that he expected I
would break with Ellen Frazer, and offer myself to Robina.’
‘And sure am I, Jamie,’ replied the Leddy, ‘that it will be lang before
you can do better.’
‘My mind, however, is made up,’ said he; ‘and to-morrow morning I shall
go to Camrachle, and tell my mother that I have resolved to leave
Glasgow.--I will never again set my foot in the counting-house.’
‘Got ye ony drink, Jamie, in the gait hame, that ye’re in sic a
wud humour for dancing “Auld Sir Simon the King”, on the road to
Camrachle?--Man, an I had as brisk a bee in the bonnet, I would set
aff at ance, cracking my fingers at the moon and seven stars as I gaed
louping alang.--But, to speak the words of soberness, I’m glad ye hae
discretion enough to tak a night’s rest first.’
‘Do not think so lightly of my determination--It is fixed--and, from
the moment I quitted Kittlestonheugh, I resolved to be no longer
under any obligation to my uncle--He considers me as a mere passive
instrument for his own ends.’
‘Hech, sirs! man, but ye hae a great share o’ sagacity,’ exclaimed
the Leddy; ‘and because your uncle is fain that ye should marry his
only dochter, and would, if ye did sae, leave you for dowry and tocher
a braw estate and a bank o’ siller, ye think he has pookit you by the
nose.’
‘No--not for that; but because he thinks so meanly of me, as to expect
that, for mercenary considerations, I would bargain away both my
feelings and my principles.’
‘Sure am I he would ne’er mint ony sic matter,’ replied the Leddy;
‘and if he wantit you to break wi’ yon galloping nymph o’ the Highland
heather, and draw up wi’ that sweet primrose-creature, your cousin
Beenie, wha is a lassie o’ sense and composity, and might be a match to
majesty, it was a’ for your honour and exaltation.’
‘Don’t distress me any further with the subject,’ said he. ‘Will you
have the goodness to let me stay here to-night? for, as I told you,
there shall never now be any addition made to the obligations which
have sunk me so low.’
‘’Deed, my lad, an ye gang on in that deleerit manner, I’ll no only gie
you a bed, but send baith for a doctor and a gradawa, that your head
may be shaved, and a’ proper remedies--outwardly and inwardly--gotten
to bring you back to a right way o’ thinking. But to end a’ debates,
ye’ll just pack up your ends and your awls and gang hame to Mrs.
Spruil’s, for the tow’s to spin and the woo’s to card that ’ill be the
sheets and blankets o’ your bed in this house the night--tak my word
for’t.’
‘In that case, I will at once go to Camrachle. The night is fine, and
the moon’s up.’
‘Awa wi’ you, and show how weel ye hae come to years o’ discretion, by
singing as ye gang,--
Scotsman ho! Scotsman lo!
Where shall this poor Scotsman go?
Send him east, send him west,
Send him to the craw’s nest.’
Notwithstanding the stern mood that Walkinshaw was in, this latter
sally of his grandmother’s eccentric humour compelled him to laugh, and
he said gaily, ‘But I shall be none the worse of a little supper before
I set out. I hope you will not refuse me that?’
The old Lady, supposing that she had effectually brought him, as she
said, round to himself, cheerfully acquiesced; but she was not a little
disappointed, when, after some light and ludicrous conversation on
general topics, he still so persisted either to remain in the house or
to proceed to his mother’s, that she found herself obliged to order a
bed to be prepared for him--at the same time she continued to express
her confidence that he would be in a more docile humour next morning.
‘I hope,’ said she, ‘nevertheless, that the spirit of obedience will
soople that stiff neck o’ thine, in the slumbers and watches of the
night, or I ne’er would be consenting to countenance such outstrapulous
rebellion.’