The Bride of Lammermoor 9780748698585

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T H E E D IN B U R G H E D IT IO N OF T H E W A V E R L E Y N O V ELS EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Professor David Hewitt

PATRONS

His Grace the Duke o f Buccleuch : Mrs Patricia Maxwell-Scott Th e Royal Society of Edinburgh : The University of Edinburgh C H I E F F I N A N C I A L S PONS OR

Bank of Scotland A D V I S O R Y BOARD

Sir Kenneth Alexander, Chairman Professor David Daiches, Vice-Chairman D r W .E .K . Anderson : Thomas Crawford Professor Andrew Hook : Professor R .D .S Ja c k Professor A. N .J effares : Professor D . N . MacCormick D r Douglas Mack : Professor John MacQueen Allan Massie : Professor Jane Millgate Professor David Nordloh : Sir Lewis Robertson Professor Denis Roberts (until 1990) Secretary to the Board Archie Turnbull GENERAL EDITORS

D r J .H . Alexander, University o fAberdeen D r P. D. Garside, University o f Wales ( Cardiff) Miss Claire Lamont, University o fNewcastle upon Tyne G . A. M . Wood, University ofStirling Research Fellows M rs Mairi Robinson : D r Alison Lumsden : Gerard Carruthers TypographicalAdviser Ruari M cLean

V O L U M E S E V E N [a ]

TH E

B R ID E

OF

LAM M ERM O O R

E D IN B U R G H E D IT IO N OF T H E W AVERLEY NOVELS

to be complete in thirty volumes Each volume will be published separately but original conjoint publication of certain works is indicated in the e e w n volume numbering [4a, b; 7a, b, etc.]. Where e e w n editors have been appointed, their names are listed 1 2 3 4a 4b 5 6 7a 7b

Waverley [18 14 ] Guy Mannering [ 18 15 ] P. D. Garside, Cardiff The Antiquary [18 16 ] David Hewitt, Aberdeen The Black Dwarf [ 18 16 ] P. D. Garside The Tale of Old Mortality [18 16 ] Douglas Mack, Stirling Rob Roy [18 18 ] John and Winifred MacQueen, Edinburgh The Heart of Mid-Lothian [18 18 ] The Bride of Lammermoor [ 1819 ] J. H. Alexander, Aberdeen A Legend of the Wars of Montrose [ 18 19 ] J. H. Alexander

8

Ivanhoe [ 1 8 2 0 ] G rah am T u llo ch , S . A u stralia

9 The Monastery [1820] Penelope Fielding, Trinity College, Dublin 10 The Abbot [1820] Christopher Johnson, Oxford 11 Kenilworth [ 1821 ] J. H. Alexander 12 The Pirate [1822] 13 The Fortunes of Nigel [ 1822] Frank Jordan, Miami, Ohio 14 Peveril of the Peak [1822] 15 Quentin Durward [ 1823 ] G. A. M. Wood, Stirlin g 16 Saint Ronan’s Well [ 1824 ] Mark Weinstein, Nevada 17 Redgauntlet [1824] G.A.M.Wood 1 8a The Betrothed [ 1825 ] J. B. Ellis, Edinburgh 1 8b The Talisman [ 1825 ] J. B. Ellis 19 Woodstock [1826] 20 Chronicles of the Canongate [1827 ] Claire Lamont, Newcastle 2 1 The Fair Maid of Perth [ 1828 ] A. Hook and D. Mackenzie, Glasgow 22 Anne of Geierstein [ 1829 ] J. H. Alexander 23 a Count Robert of Paris [18 3 1] Kurt Gamerschlag, Bonn 23b Castle Dangerous [18 3 1] 24 Stories from The Keepsake [1828] 25a Introductions and Notes from the Magnum Opus edition of 1829– 33 25b Introductions and Notes from the Magnum Opus edition of 1829– 33

W ALTER SCO TT

THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR

Edited by J. H. Alexander

EDINBURGH

CO LUM BIA

University Press

University Press

© The University Court of the University of Edinburgh 1995 Edinburgh University Press 2 2 George Square, Edinburgh Columbia University Press 5 6 2 West 1 13th Street, New York Typeset in Linotronic Ehrhardt by Speedspools, Edinburgh Printed and bound by C P I Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, C R 0 4Y Y

ISBN 9780748698585 (ePDF) I S B N o 7486 0571 1 (Edinburgh edition)

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Waverley Novels Fiction Scott, Sir Walter 17 7 1– 1832 New Edition Hewitt, David, Editor-in-chief The Bride of Lammermoor J. H. Alexander, editor ISBN 0 - 2 3 1 - 1 0 5 7 2 - X

(Columbia edition)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data and LC Card Number available on request No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior permission in writing from the publisher.

FO REW O RD

T h e P u b l i c a t i o n of Waverley in 1 8 1 4 marked the emergence of the modern novel in the western world. It is difficult now to recapture the impact of this and the following novels of Scott on a readership accus­ tomed to prose fiction either as picturesque romance, ‘Gothic’ quaint­ ness, or presentation of contemporary manners. For Scott not only invented the historical novel, but gave it a dimension and a relevance that made it available for a great variety o f new kinds of writing. Balzac in France, Manzoni in Italy, Gogol and Tolstoy in Russia, were among the many writers of fiction influenced by the man Stendhal called ‘notre père, Walter Scott’. What Scott did was to show history and society in motion : old ways of life being challenged by new; traditions being assailed by counterstatements; loyalties, habits, prejudices clashing with the needs of new social and economic developments. The attraction of tradition and its ability to arouse passionate defence, and simultaneously the challenge of progress and ‘improvement’, produce a pattern that Scott saw as the living fabric of history. And this history was rooted in place; events happened in localities still recognisable after the disappearance of the original actors and the establishment of new patterns of belief and behaviour. Scott explored and presented all this by means of stories, entertain­ ments, which were read and enjoyed as such. At the same time his passionate interest in history led him increasingly to see these stories as illustrations of historical truths, so that when he produced his final Magnum Opus edition of the novels he surrounded them with historical notes and illustrations, and in this almost suffocating guise they have been reprinted in edition after edition ever since. The time has now come to restore these novels to the form in which they were presented to their first readers, so that today’s readers can once again capture their original power and freshness. At the same time, serious errors of tran­ scription, omission, and interpretation, resulting from the haste of their transmission from manuscript to print can now be corrected. D avid D a i c h e s EDINBURGH

University Press

CO NTENTS Acknowledgements viii General Introduction

xi

T H E B R ID E O F L A M M E R M O O R in Tales o f my Landlord (Third Series) Volume I

.............................................

3

Volume I I ....................................................1 2 1 Volume I I I ................................................... 225

Essay on the T e x t ........................................ 271 genesis......................................................... 2 7 1 co m p o sitio n ..............................................274 later e d itio n s..............................................283 the present text..............................................292 Emendation L i s t ........................................ 305 End-of-line H y p h e n s ...................................332 Historical N o t e ............................ ........

333

Explanatory N o t e s ........................................ 339 G lo s s a r y ......................................................... 380

ACKNOW LEDGEM ENTS

The Scott Advisory Board and the editors o f the Edinburgh Edition o f the Waverley Novels wish to express their gratitude to The University Court of the University of Edinburgh for its vision in initiating and supporting the preparation o f the first critical edition o f Walter Scott’s fiction. Those Uni­ versities which employ the editors have also contributed greatly in paying the editors’ salaries, and awarding research leave and grantsfor travel and mater­ ials. Particular thanks are due to The University of Aberdeen for its support in the editing of The Bride of Lammermoor. Although the edition is the work o f scholars employed by universities, the project could not have prospered without the help o f the sponsors cited below. Their generosity has met the direct costs o f the initial research and o f the preparation o f the text o f thefirst six novels to appear in this edition. B A N K OF S C O T L A N D

The collapse o f the great Edinburgh publisherArchibald Constable in January 18 26 entailed the ruin o f S ir Walter Scott who found himself responsible for his own private debts, for the debts o f the printing business o f Jam es Ballan tyne and Co. in which he was co-partner, and for the bank advances to Archibald Constable which had been guaranteed by the printing business. Scott's largest creditors were S ir William Forbes and C o .,bankers, and the Bank o f Scotland. On the advice o f S ir William Forbes himself, the creditors did not sequester his property, but agreed to the creation o f a trust to which he committed his future literary earnings, and which ultimately repaid the debts o f over £120 ,0 0 0 for which he was legally liable. In the same year the Government proposed to curtail the rights o f the Scottish banks to issue their own notes; Scott wrote the 'Letters o f Malachi Malagrowther' in their defence, arguing that the measure was neither in the interests o f the banks nor o f Scotland. The 'Letters' were so successful that the Government was forced to withdraw its proposal and to this day the Scottish Banks issue their own notes. A portrait o f S ir Walter appears on all current bank notes o f the Bank o f Scotland because Scott was a champion o f Scottish banking, and because he was an illustrious and honourable customer not just o f the Bank o f Scotland itself, but also o f three other banks now incorporated within it— the British Linen Bank which continues today as the merchant banking arm o f the Bank o f Scotland, S ir William Forbes and Co., and Ramsays, Bonars and Company. Bank of Scotland’s support o f the EEW N continues its long and fruitful involvement with the affairs o f Walter Scott. viii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ix

P.F. C H A R I T A B L E T R U S T

The P.F. Charitable Trust is the main charitable trust o f the Fleming family which founded and still has a controlling interest in the City firm of Robert Fleming Holdings Limited. It was started in 19 5 1 by Philip Fleming and has since been added to by his son, Robin, who is now Managing Trustee. The Board and the editors are most grateful to the Trust and M r Robin Flemingfor their generosity to the Edition. EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY DEVELOPMENT TRUST

The Edinburgh University General Council Trust, now incorporated within the Edinburgh University Development Trust, derived its funds from the contributions o f graduates o f the University. To the trustees, and to all whose gifts allowed the Trust to give a generous grant to the EEWN, the Board and the editors express their thanks. The Board and editors also wish to thank Sir Gerald Elliot for a gift from his charitable trust, and the British Academy and the Carnegie Trust for the Universities o f Scotland for grants to facilitate specific aspects o f EEW N research. LIBRARIES

Without the generous assistance o f the two great repositories o f Scott manu­ scripts, the National Library of Scotland and the Pierpont Morgan Lib­ rary, New York, it would not have been possible to have undertaken the editing o f Scott’s novels, and the Board and editors cannot overstate the extent to which they are indebted to their Trustees and staffs. In particular they wish to pay tribute to the late Professor Denis Roberts, Librarian o f the National Library, who served on the Scott Advisory Board, who persuaded many o f his colleagues in Britain and throughout the world to assist the Edition, and whose determination brought about the repatriation in 19 86 o f the Pforzheimer Library’s Scott manuscripts and o f the Interleaved Set o f the Waverley Novels. THE BRITISH A C A D E M Y

The assistance o f the British Academy in awarding a series o f M ajor Research Grants in support o f the Edition ’s Research Fellows has been o f the greatest consequence, has been much appreciated, and has been received with gratitude. T H E B R I DE OF L A M M E R M O O R

The dispersal o f Scott materials means that the Scott editor is inevitably in­ debted to many institutions. The manuscript ofThe Bride of Lammermoor is in the Signet Library, Edinburgh, and the editor is most grateful to the Librarian, M r G. H. Ballantyne, for his help. Editing Scott requires knowledge and expertise beyond what can be mustered by any one person, and a great many people have assisted the editor o f The Bride o f Lammermoor. He is specifically indebted to the Edition’s Research

X

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Fellows, D r Alison Lumsden and Gerard Carruthers; to D r Ian Clark and D r Gillian Hughes; to the late D r J . C. Corsonfor the identification o f several sources, and is grateful to D r W. E. K. Anderson, D r Corson's literary executor, for making D r Corson 's material available. Thanks are also due to: many members o f the academic, library and secretarial staff'o f the University o f Aberdeen, Mrs Flora Alexander, M r M ark Alexander, D r Brian Allen, D r Penny Fielding, D r P. D. Garside, D r Douglas Gifford, M r A. P. Gorringe, M r P. E. Hewison, Professor D avid Irwin, Miss Claire Lamont, Professor John MacQueen, D r Douglas S. Mack, Mrs Patricia and Dame Jean M axwell-Scott, M rs Patricia Marshall, Professor Donald Meek, Professor Ja n e Millgate, Professor W. F. H. Nicolaisen, D r Colm J . M. Ó Baoill, D r M . G. H. Pittock, D r David Reid, D r MichaelJ . Robson, Miss Margaret Tait, Professor D. E. R. Watt, and M r G. A. M . Wood. To help editors solve specificproblems, the Edinburgh Edition o f the Waverley Novels has appointed the following as consultants: Professor David Nordloh, Indiana University (editorialpractice); D r Alan Bruford, University o f Edinburgh (popular beliefs and customs); D r John Cairns, University o f Edinburgh (Scots Law ); Professor Thomas Craik, University o f Durham (Shakespeare); M r John Ellis, University o f Edinburgh (medieval literature); D r Caroline Jackson-Houlston, Oxford Brookes University (popular song); Roy Pinkerton, University o f Edinburgh (classical literature); Mrs M airi Robinson (lan guage); Professor D avid Stevenson, University o f S t Andrews (history). O f these the editor o f The Bride of Lammermoor is particularly grateful for the advice o f the late D r Bruford, D r Cairns, Professor Craik, D r JacksonHoulston, M r Pinkerton, Mrs Robinson, and Professor Stevenson. Thanks are also due to the numerous libraries in the British Isles, North America, and Australasia that have responded to requests for details o f their Scott holdings. Particular thanks are due to Aberystwyth University Library; the Bodleian Library, Oxford; Bristol University Library; British Library, London; Cambridge University Library; Edinburgh Public Library; Edin­ burgh University Library; the Houghton Library, Harvard University; H ull University Library; National Library o f Scotland, Edinburgh; S t Andrews University Library; Selwyn College, Cambridge; Sheffield University L ib ­ rary; Stirling University Library; and the Victoria and Albert Museum. Notes from Fiona Robertson's edition o f The Bride of Lammermoor in the World's Classics are quoted by permission o f Oxford University Press. The General Editorfor this volume was Professor David Hewitt.

GENERAL

IN T R O D U C T IO N

The Edinburgh Edition of the Waverley Novels is the first authoritative edition of Walter Scott’s fiction. It is the first to return to what Scott actually wrote in his manuscripts and proofs, and the first to reconsider fundamentally the presentation of his novels in print. In the light of comprehensive research, the editors decided in principle that the text of the novels in the new edition should be based on the first editions, but that all those manuscript readings which had been lost through accident, error, or misunderstanding should be restored. As a result each novel in the Edinburgh Edition differs in thousands o f ways from the versions we have been accustomed to read, and many hundreds of readings never before printed have been recovered from the manuscripts. The indiv idual differences are often minor, but are cumulatively telling. The return to the original Scott produces fresher, less formal and less pedantic novels than we have known. Scott was the most famous and prestigious novelist of his age, but he became insolvent in 1826 following the bankruptcy of his publishers, Hurst, Robinson and Co. in London and Archibald Constable and Co. in Edinburgh. In 1827 Robert Cadell, who had succeeded Constable as Scott’s principal publisher, proposed the first collected edition of the complete Waverley Novels as one way of reducing the mountain of debt for which Scott was legally liable. Scott agreed to the suggestion and over the next few years revised the text of his novels and wrote introduc­ tions and notes. The edition was published in 48 monthly volumes from 1829 to 18 33. The full story of the making of the Magnum Opus, as it was familiarly christened by Scott, is told in Jane Millgate’s Scott's Last Edition (Edinburgh, 1987), but for present purposes what is significant is that the Magnum became the standard edition of Scott, and since his death in 18 32 all editions of the Waverley Novels, with the exceptions of Claire Lamont’s Waverley (Oxford, 19 81 ), and Tony Inglis’s The Heart o f M id-Lothian (London, 1994), have been based on it. Because Scott prepared the Magnum Opus it has long been felt that it represented his final wishes and intentions. In a literal sense this must be so, but all readers who open the pages of any edition published since 1832 and are confronted with the daunting clutter of introductions, pre­ faces, notes, and appendices, containing a miscellaneous assemblage of historical illustration and personal anecdote, must feel that the creative power which took Britain, Europe and America by storm in the preced­ ing decades is cabin’d, cribb’d, confin’d by its Magnum context. Just as the new matter of 18 2 9 – 33 is not integral to the novels as they were xi

xii

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

originally conceived, neither are the revisions and additions to the text. ‘Scholarly editors may disagree about many things, but they are in general agreement that their goal is to discover exactly what an author wrote and to determine what form of his work he wished the public to have.’ Thus Thomas Tanselle in 1976 succinctly and memorably de­ fined the business o f textual editing. The editors of the Edinburgh Edition have made this goal their own, and have returned to the original manuscripts, to the surviving proofs, and to other textually relevant material to determine exactly what Scott wrote; they have also investi­ gated each British edition and every relevant foreign edition published in Scott’s lifetime. They have discovered that ever since they were written, the Waverley Novels have suffered from textual degeneration. The first editions were derived from copies o f Scott’s manuscripts, but the pressure to publish quickly was such that they are not wholly reliable representations of what he wrote. Without exception, later edi­ tions were based on a preceding printed version, and so include most of the mistakes of their predecessors while adding their own, and in most cases Scott was not involved. There was an accumulation of error, and when Scott came to prepare the Magnum Opus he revised and cor­ rected an earlier printed text, apparently unaware of the extent to which it was already corrupt. Thus generations of readers have read versions of Scott which have suffered significantly from the changes, both deliber­ ate and accidental, of editors, compositors and proof-readers. A return to authentic Scott is therefore essential. The manuscripts provide the only fully authoritative state of the texts of the novels, for they alone proceed wholly from the author. They are for the most part remarkably coherent; the shape of Scott’s narratives seems to have been established before he committed his ideas to paper, although a close examination of what he wrote shows countless minor revisions made in the process of writing, and usually at least one layer of later revising. We are closest to Scott in the manuscripts, but they could not be the sole textual basis for the new edition. They give us his own words, free of non-authorial interventions, but they do not constitute the ‘form of his work he wished the public to have’. Scott expected his novels to be printed, usually in three volumes, and he structured his stories so that they fitted the three-volume division of the printed books. He expected minor errors to be corrected, words repeated in close proximity to each other to be removed, spelling to be normalised, and a printed-book style of punctuation, amplifying and replacing the marks he had provided in manuscript, to be inserted. There are no written instructions to the printers to this effect, but his acceptance of what was done implies approval, even although the imposition of the conventions of print had such a profound effect on the evolution of his text that the conversion of autograph text into print was less a question o f transliteration than o f translation.

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

x iii

This assumption of authorial approval is better founded for Scott than for any other writer. Walter Scott was in partnership with James Ballantyne in a firm of printers which Ballantyne managed and for which Scott generated much of the work. The contracts for new Scott novels were unusual, in that they always stipulated that the printing would be undertaken by James Ballantyne and Co., and that the pub lishers should have the exclusive right only to purchase and to manage the sales of an agreed number of copies. Thus production was con­ trolled not by the publishers but by James Ballantyne and his partner, Walter Scott. The textually significant consequence of this partnership was a mutual trust to a degree uncommon between author and printer. Ballantyne was most anxious to serve Scott and to assist him in preparing the novels for public presentation, and Scott not only permitted his but actively sought it. Theirs was a unique business and literary partnership which had a crucial effect on the public form of the Waverley Novels. Scott expected his novels to appear in the form and format in which they did appear, but in practice what was done was not wholly satisfact­ ory because of the complicated way in which the texts were processed. Until 1827, when Scott acknowledged his authorship, the novels were published anonymously and so that Scott’s well-known handwriting should not be seen in the printing works the original manuscripts were copied, and it was these copies, not Scott’s original manuscripts, which were used in the printing house. Not a single leaf is known to survive but the copyists probably began the tidying and regularising. The compos­ itors worked from the copies, and, when typesetting, did not just follow what was before them, but supplied punctuation, normalised spelling, and corrected minor errors. Proofs were first read in-house against the transcripts, and in addition to the normal checking for mistakes these proofs were used to improve the punctuation and the spelling. When the initial corrections had been made, a new set of proofs went to James Ballantyne. He acted as editor, not just as proof-reader. He drew Scott’s attention to gaps in the text and pointed out inconsistencies in detail; he asked Scott to standardise names; he substituted nouns for pronouns when they occurred in the first sentence of a paragraph, and inserted the names of speakers in dialogue; he changed incorrect punc­ tuation, and added punctuation he thought desirable; he corrected grammatical errors and removed close verbal repetitions; he told Scott when he could not follow what was happening; and when he particularly enjoyed something he said so. These annotated proofs were sent to the author, who sometimes accepted Ballantyne’s suggestions and sometimes rejected them. He made many more changes; he cut out redundant words, and substituted the vivid for the pedestrian; he refined the punctuation; he sometimes reworked and revised passages extensively, and in so doing made the proofs a stage in the composition o f the novels.

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GENERAL INTRODUCTION

When Ballantyne received Scott’s corrections and revisions, he transcribed all the changes on to a clean set of proofs so that the author’s hand would not be seen by the compositors. Further revises were prepared. Some of these were seen and read by Scott but by and large he seems to have trusted Ballantyne to make sure that the earlier correc­ tions and revisions had been correctly executed. When doing this Ballantyne did not just read for typesetting errors, but continued the process of punctuating and tidying the text. A final proof allowed the corrections to be inspected and the imposition of the type to be checked prior to printing. One might imagine that after all this activity the first editions would be perfect, but this is far from being the case. There are usually in excess of 50,000 variants in the first edition of a three-volume novel when compared with the manuscript. The great majority are in accordance with Scott’s general wishes as described above. But the intermediaries, as the copyist, compositors, proof-readers, and James Ballantyne are collectively known, made mistakes; they misread the manuscripts from time to time, and they did not always understand what Scott had written. This would not have mattered had there not also been procedural fail­ ures. The transcripts were not thoroughly checked against the original manuscripts. Scott himself does not seem to have read the proofs against the manuscripts and thus did not notice transcription errors which made sense in their context. And James Ballantyne continued his editing in post-authorial proofs; his changes may have been in the spirit of Scott’s own critical proof-reading, but it is probable that his efforts were never inspected by the author. The editors of the Edinburgh Edition of the Waverley Novels have studied every single variant in the first editions o f all the novels they have worked on to date. There are a large number o f small verbal differences, and the editors have come to the conclusion that the words originally written by Scott, though subsequently changed by the intermediaries, are nearly always justified by colloquial, dialect, or period usage. Sim ­ ilarly the punctuation supplied at times misinterprets the sense of the manuscript or the rhythm of speech, and the substitution of synonyms for repeated words was often effected too mechanically, changing meaning or spoiling rhetoric. It is not surprising that the intermediaries should make mistakes when translating the manuscripts into print. Even James Ballantyne’s knowledge of language and history was limited com­ pared to Scott’s. He was a trusted and competent editor; he was honest about his likes and dislikes and was useful to Scott in giving voice to them. But his annotations and suggestions show that he did not appreci­ ate the full variety o f Scott’s language, objected to any suggestion o f the indelicate, and tidied the text by rule. Above all, his comments were made as Scott wrote, and without knowing the outcome of the story, and thus he was inevitably unaware of the architectonics of the complete

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

XV

work of art. His views were sometimes wrong, and Scott was sometimes wrong to give way to them. The editors have normally chosen the first edition of a novel as basetext, for the first edition usually represents the culmination of the initial creative process, and, local failings excepted, usually seems closest to the form of his work he wished his public to have. After the careful collation of all pre-publication materials, and in the light of their invest­ igation into the factors governing the writing and printing of the Waverley Novels, they have incorporated into the base-text readings which were lost in the production process through accident, error or mis­ understanding. In certain cases they have also introduced into the basetexts revisions from printed texts which they believe to have emanated from Scott, or are consistent with the spirit of his own revision during the initial creative process. Only revisions which belong to the process and period of initial creation have been adopted. In addition, they have corrected various kinds of error, such as typographical and copy-editing mistakes including the misnumbering of chapters, inconsistencies in the naming of characters, egregious errors of fact that are not part of the fiction, and failures of sense which a simple emendation can restore. The result is an ideal text, which the first readers of the Waverley Novels would have read had the production process been less pressurised and more considered. The ‘new’ Scott will be visible not only in the text but also in the context. The Magnum introductions and notes are not integral to the novels as they were originally conceived, and are therefore reserved for separate publication in the final volumes of the edition where they will be treated as a distinct, final phase of Scott’s involvement in his fiction. Thus the novels appear as they were first presented. The Edinburgh Edition of the Waverley Novels offers a clean text; there are no foot­ notes or superscripts to detract from the pleasure of reading. It does not remove Scott’s own introductions only to replace them with those of modern editors; the textual essays appear at the end, where they will be encountered only after reading Scott. The essays present a detailed history of the genesis and composition of the novel, a history of the evolution o f the old text, and a description o f the distinguishing features of the new. The textual apparatus does not include a full list o f variants because for one of the major early works there would be at least 1 00,000 to record. Instead, the textual essays analyse and illustrate the evidence gleaned from the collation of the manuscripts and proofs (where these are extant) and of all relevant editions published in Scott’s lifetime. All variants from the base-text are listed in the emendation list (but as variants from the Magnum are not, the scale of the change from old editions to the new is not immediately apparent). And finally, there are explanatory notes and a glossary. Scott’s read­ ing was wide and voluminous, he was immensely knowledgeable in a

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range of disciplines, and he had a considerable understanding of the social organisation, customs and beliefs of contemporary and historical societies. Few readers are likely to appreciate the full extent of his learning without some assistance, and the notes at the end of this volume draw on a greater variety of expertise, and are more comprehensive, than any previously published. They are informative rather than expos­ itory; for instance, they identify all quotations, from the most obvious passages in the Bible and Shakespeare through to the truly recondite, but they leave the reader to consider their significance in each context. And the glossary for the first time attempts to cover comprehensively all Scott’s period, dialectal, foreign, and obscure words. The Edinburgh Edition of the Waverley Novels aims to provide an authoritative text o f Scott’s fiction, to give the reader the support required to appreciate the intellectual richness of his work, and to allow a new audience to share the excitement that the novels generated when they were first published. The editors are confident of fulfilling the first two aims. The reader must be judge of their success in the third. DA V I D H E W I T T

TALES OF MY LANDLORD, ThirdSeries, C O L L E C T E D AND REPORTED BY

JE D ID IA H C L E IS H B O T H A M , P A R I S H - C L E R K A N D S C H O O L M A S T E R OF G A N D E R C L E U G H .

H ear, L and o’ Cakes and brither Scots, Frae M aidenkirk to Jonny G roats’ , I f there’s a hole in a’ your coats, I rede ye tent it, A chiel’s amang you takin’ notes, A n ’ faith he’ll prent it. Burns.

IN FOUR VO LU M ES .

V O L S . I, II & I I I ( p a r t ).

E D IN B U R G H : P R I N T E D FOR A R C H I B A L D C O N S T A B L E A N D CO. E D I N B U R G H ; L O N G M A N , H U R S T , R E E S , ORME , A N D B R O W N , P A T E R N O S T E R - R O W ; 18CO. 90, C H E A P S I D E , L O N D O N . A N D H U R S T , R O B I N S O N , A N D .9

Ahora bien, dixo el Cura, traedme, senor huésped, aquesos libros, que los quiero ver. Que me place, respondió el, y entrando, en su aposento, sacó dél una maletilla vieja cerrada con una cadenilla, y abriéndola, halló en ella tres libros grandes y unos papeles de muy buena letra escritos de mano.— D on Q u i x o t e , Parte I. Capitulo 3 2 . It is mighty well, said the priest; pray, landlord, bring me those books, for I have a mind to see them. W ith all my heart, answered the host; and, going to his chamber, he brought out a little old cloke-bag, with a padlock and chain to it, and opening it, he took out three large volumes, and some manuscript papers written in a fine character.— J a r v i s ’ s Translation.

THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR Chapter One B y cauk and keel to win your bread, W i’ whigmaleeries for them wha need, W hilk is a gentle trade indeed T o carry the gaberlunzie on. Old Song

F e w h a v e been in my secret while I was engaged in compiling these narratives, nor is it probable that they will ever become public during the life o f their author. Even were that event to happen, I am not ambitious o f the honoured distinction, monstrari digito. I confess, that, were it safe to cherish such dreams at all, I should more enjoy the thought o f remaining behind the curtain unseen, like the ingenious manager o f Punch and his wife Joan, and enjoying the astonishment and conjectures o f my audience. Then might I, perchance, hear the productions o f the obscure Peter Pattieson praised by the judicious, and admired by the feeling, engrossing the young, and attracting even the old; while the critic traced their style and sentiments up to some name o f literary celebrity, and the question when, and by whom, these tales were written, filled up the pause o f conversation in a hundred circles and coteries. This I may never enjoy during my lifetime; but farther than this, I am certain, my vanity should never induce me to aspire. I am too stubborn in habits, and too little flexible in manners, to envy or aspire to the honours assigned to my literary contemporaries. I could not think a whit more highly o f myself, were I even found worthy to “ come in place as a lion” for a winter in the great metropolis. I cannot rise, turn round, and shew all my honours, from the shaggy mane to the tufted tail, roar ye as it were any nightingale, and so lie down again like a well-behaved beast o f show, and all at the cheap and 3

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easy rate o f a cup o f coffee, and a slice o f bread and butter as thin as a wafer. And I could ill stomach the fulsome flattery with which the lady o f the evening indulges her show-monsters on such occasions, as she crams her parrots with sugar-plumbs, in order to make them talk before company. I care not for these marks o f distinction, and, like imprisoned Sampson, I would rather remain— if such must be the alternative— all my life in the mill-house, grinding for my very bread, than be brought forth to make sport for the Philistian lords and ladies. This proceeds from no dislike, real or affected, to the aristocracy o f these realms. But they have their place, and I have mine; and, like the iron and earthen vessels in the old fable, we can scarce come into collision without my being the sufferer in every sense. It may be otherwise with the sheets which I am now writing. These may be opened and laid aside at pleasure; by amusing themselves with the perusal, the great will excite no false hopes; by neglecting or con­ demning them, they will inflict no pain; and how seldom can they converse with those whose minds have toiled for their delight, without doing either the one or the other. In the better and wiser tone o f feeling, which Ovid only expresses in one line to retract in that which follows, I can address these quires— Parve, nec invideo, sine me, liber, ibis in urbem.

N or do I join the regret o f the illustrious exile, that he himself could not in person accompany the volume, which he sent forth to the mart o f literature, pleasure, and luxury. Were there not a hundred similar instances on record, the fate o f my poor friend and school-fellow, Dick Tinto, would be sufficient to warn me against seeking happiness, in the celebrity which attaches itself to the successful cultivator o f the fine arts. Dick Tinto, when he wrote himself Artist, was wont to derive his origin from the ancient family o f Tinto, o f that ilk, in Lanarkshire, and occasionally hinted that he had somewhat derogated from his gentle blood, in using his pencil for his principal means o f support. But if D ick’s pedigree was correct, some o f his ancestors must have suffered a more heavy declension, since the goodman his father executed the necessary, and, I trust, the honest, but certainly not very distinguished employment, o f tailor in ordinary to the village o f Langdirdum in the west. Under his humble roof was Richard born, and to his father’s humble trade was Richard, greatly contrary to his inclination, early indentured. Old M r Tinto had, however, no reason to congratulate himself upon having compelled the youthful genius o f his son to forsake its natural bent. He fared like the school-boy, who attempts to stop with his finger the spout o f a water cistern, while the stream,

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exasperated at this compression, escapes by a thousand uncalculated spirts, and wets him all over for his pains. Even so fared the senior Tinto, when his hopeful apprentice not only exhausted all the chalk in making sketches upon the shopboard, but even executed several cari­ catures o f his father’s best customers, who began loudly to murmur, that it was too hard to have their persons deformed by the vestments o f the father, and to be at the same time turned into ridicule by the pencil o f the son. This led to discredit and loss o f practice, until the old tailor, yielding to destiny, and to the entreaties o f his son, permitted him to attempt his fortune in a line for which he was better qualified. There was about this time, in the village o f Langdirdum, a peripat­ etic brother o f the brush, who exercised his vocation sub Jo v e frigido, the object o f admiration to all the boys o f the village, but especially to Dick Tinto. T h e age had not yet adopted, amongst other unworthy retrenchments, that illiberal measure o f economy, which, supplying by written characters the lack o f symbolical representation, closes one open and easily accessible avenue o f instruction and emolument against the students o f the fine arts. It was not yet permitted to write upon the plaistered door-way o f an ale-house, or the suspended sign o f an inn, “ The Old M agpie,” or “ T he Saracen’s H ead,” substituting this cold description for the lively effigies o f the plumed chatterer, or the turban’d frown o f the terrific soldan. That early and more simple age considered alike the necessities o f all ranks, and so depicted the symbols o f good cheer as to be obvious to all capacities; well judging, that a man, who could not read a syllable, might nevertheless love a pot o f good ale as well as his better educated neighbours, or even the parson himself. Acting upon this liberal principle, publicans as yet hung forth the painted emblems o f their calling, and sign-painters, if they seldom feasted, did not at least absolutely starve. T o the worthy o f this decadent profession whom we have already indicated, Dick Tinto became an assistant; and thus, as is not unusual among heaven-born geniuses in this department o f the fine arts, began to paint before he had any notion o f drawing. His natural talent for observing nature soon induced him to rectify the errors, and soar above the instructions, o f his teacher. He particu­ larly shone in painting horses, that have been a favourite sign in the Scottish villages; and, in tracing his progress, it is beautiful to observe, how by degrees he learned to shorten the backs, and prolong the legs, o f these noble animals, until they came to look less like crocodiles, and more like nags. Detraction, which always pursues merit with strides proportioned to its advancement, has indeed alleged, that Dick once upon a time painted a horse with five legs, instead o f four. I might have rested his defence upon the licence allowed to this branch o f his

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profession, which, as it permits all sort o f singular and irregular com­ binations, may be allowed to extend itself so far as to bestow a limb supernumerary on a favourite subject. But the cause o f a deceased friend is sacred; and I disdain to bottom it so superficially. I have visited the sign in question, which yet swings exalted in the village o f Langdirdum, and I am ready to depone upon oath, that what has been idly mistaken or misrepresented as being the fifth leg o f the horse, is, in fact, the tail o f that quadruped, and, considered with reference to the posture in which he is represented, forms a circumstance, intro­ duced and managed with great and successful, though daring art. The nag being represented in a rampant or rearing posture, the tail, which is prolonged till it touches the ground, appears to form a point d 'appui, and gives the firmness o f a tripod to the figure, without which it would be difficult to conceive, placed as the feet are, how the courser could maintain his ground without tumbling backwards. This bold concep­ tion has fortunately fallen into the custody o f one by whom it is duly valued; for, when Dick, in his more advanced state o f proficience, became dubious of the propriety o f so daring a deviation from the established rules o f art, and was desirous to execute a picture o f the publican himself in exchange for this juvenile production, the courte­ ous offer was declined by his judicious employer, who had observed, it seems, that when his ale had failed to do its duty in conciliating his guests, one glance at his sign was sure to put them into good-humour. It would be foreign to my present purpose to trace the steps by which Dick Tinto improved his touch, and corrected, by the rules o f art, the luxuriance o f a fervid imagination. T h e scales fell from his eyes on viewing the sketches o f a contemporary, the Scottish Teniers, as Wilkie has been deservedly styled. He threw down the brush, took up the crayons, and, amid hunger and toil, and suspense and uncer­ tainty, pursued the path o f his profession under better auspices than those o f his original master. Still the first rude emanations o f his genius (like the nursery rhymes o f Pope, could these be recovered,) will be dear to the companions o f Dick Tinto’s youth. There is a tankard and gridiron painted over the door o f an obscure changehouse in the back-wynd o f Gandercleugh— But I feel I must tear myself from the subject, or dwell on it too long. Amid his wants and struggles, Dick Tinto had recourse, like his brethren, to levying that tax upon the vanity o f mankind which he could not extract from their taste and liberality— in a word, he painted portraits. It was in this more advanced stage o f proficiency, when Dick had soared above his original line o f business, and highly disdained all allusions to it, that, after having been estranged for several years, we again met in the village o f Gandercleugh, I holding my present situ-

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ation, and Dick painting copies o f the human face divine at a guinea per head. This was a small premium, yet, in the first burst o f business, it more than sufficed for all D ick’s moderate wants; so that he occu­ pied an apartment at the Wallace Inn, cracked his jest with impunity even upon mine host himself, and lived in respect and observance with the chambermaid, hostler, and waiter. These halcyon days were too serene to last long. When his honour the Laird o f Gandercleugh, with his wife and three daughters, the minister, the gauger, mine esteemed patron M r Jedidiah Cleishbotham, and some round dozen o f the neighbouring feuars and farmers, had been consigned to immortality by Tinto’s brush, custom began to slacken, and it was impossible to wring more than crowns and half-crowns from the hard hands o f the peasants, whose ambition led them to D ick’s painting-room. Still, though the horizon was overclouded, no storm for some time ensued. M ine host had Christian faith with a lodger, who had been a good paymaster as long as he had the means. And from a portrait o f our landlord himself, grouped with his wife and daughters, in the style o f Rubens, which suddenly appeared in the best parlour, it was evid­ ent that Dick had found some mode o f bartering art for the neces­ saries o f life. Nothing, however, is more precarious than resources o f this nature. It was observed, that Dick became in his turn the whetstone of mine host’s wit, without venturing either at defence or retaliation; that his easel was transferred to a garret-room, in which there was scarce space for it to stand upright; and that he no longer ventured to join the weekly club, o f which he had been once the life and soul. In short, Dick Tinto’s friends feared that he had acted like the animal called the sloth, which, having eaten up the very last green leaf upon the tree where it has established itself, ends by tumbling down from the top, and dying o f inanition. I ventured to hint this to Dick, recommended his transferring the exercise o f his inestimable talent to some wider sphere, and forsaking the common which he might be said to have eaten bare. “ There is an obstacle to my change o f residence,” said my friend, grasping my hand with a look o f solemnity. “ A bill due to my landlord, I am afraid,” replied I, with heartfelt sympathy; “ if any part o f my slender means can assist in this emer­ gence”— — “ No, by the soul o f Sir Joshua,” answered the generous youth, “ I will never involve a friend in the consequences o f my own misfor­ tunes. There is a mode by which I can regain my liberty; and to creep even through a common sewer, is better than to remain in prison.”

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I did not perfectly understand what my friend meant. T h e muse o f painting appeared to have failed him, and what other goddess he could invoke in his distress, was a mystery to me. We parted, however, without further explanation, and I did not again see him until three days after, when he summoned me to partake of the foy with which his landlord proposed to regale him ere his departure for Edinburgh. I found Dick in high spirits, whistling while he buckled the small knapsack, which contained his colours, brushes, pallets, and clean shirt. That he parted on the best terms with mine host, was obvious from the cold beef set forth in the low parlour, flanked by two mugs o f admirable brown stout; and I own my curiosity was excited concern­ ing the means through which the face o f my friend’s affairs had been so suddenly improved. I did not suspect Dick o f dealing with the devil, and by what earthly means he had extricated himself thus happily, I was at a total loss to conjecture. He perceived my curiosity, and took me by the hand. “ M y friend,” he said, “ fain would I conceal, even from you, the degradation to which it has been necessary to submit, in order to accomplish an honourable retreat from Gandercleugh. But what avails attempting to conceal that, which must needs betray itself even by its superior excel­ lence ? All the village— all the parish— all the world— will soon dis­ cover to what poverty has reduced Richard Tinto.” A sudden thought here struck me— I had observed that our land­ lord wore, on that memorable morning, a pair o f bran new velveteens, instead o f his ancient thicksets. “ What,” said I, drawing my right hand, with the forefinger and thumb pressed together, nimbly from my right haunch to my left shoulder, “you have condescended to resume the paternal arts to which you were first bred— long stitches, ha, D ick?” He repelled this unlucky conjecture with a frown and a “ pshaw,” indicative o f indignant contempt, and leading me into another room, shewed me, resting against the wall, the majestic head o f Sir William Wallace, grim as when severed from the trunk by the orders o f the felon Edward. T h e painting was executed on boards o f a substantial thickness, and the top decorated with irons, for suspending the honoured effigy upon a sign-post. “ T h ere,” he said, “ my friend, stands the honour o f Scotland, and my shame— yet not so— rather the shame o f those, who, instead o f encouraging art in its proper sphere, reduce it to these unbecoming and unworthy extremities.” I endeavoured to smooth the ruffled feelings o f my misused and indignant friend. I reminded him, that he ought not, like the stag in the

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fable, to despise the quality which had extricated him from difficulties, in which his talents, as a portrait or landscape painter, had been found unavailing. Above all, I praised the execution, as well as the concep­ tion, o f his painting, and reminded that far from being dishonoured by so superb a specimen o f his talents being exposed to the general view o f the public, he ought rather to congratulate himself upon the aug­ mentation o f his celebrity, to which its public exhibition must neces­ sarily give rise. “ You are right, my friend— you are right,” replied poor Dick, his eye kindling with enthusiasm; “why should I shun the name o f an— an — (he hesitated for a phrase)— an out-of-doors artist? Hogarth has introduced himself in that character in one o f his best engravings— Domenichino, or some body else, in ancient times— Moreland in our own, have exercised their talents in this manner. And wherefore limit to the rich and better classes alone the delight which the exhibition o f works o f art is calculated to inspire into all classes ? Statues are placed in the open air, why should Painting be more niggardly in displaying her master-pieces than her sister Sculpture ? And yet, my friend, we must part suddenly; the men are coming in an hour to put up the— the emblem;— and truly, with all my philosophy, and your consolatory encouragement to boot, I would rather wish to leave Gandercleugh before that operation commences.” We partook o f our genial host’s parting banquet, and I escorted Dick on his walk to Edinburgh. We parted about a mile from the village, just as we heard the distant cheer o f the boys which accompan­ ied the mounting o f the new symbol o f the Wallace-Head. Dick Tinto mended his pace to get out o f hearing, so little had either early practice or recent philosophy reconciled him to the character o f a sign-painter. In Edinburgh, Dick’s talents were discovered and appreciated, and he received dinners and hints from several distinguished judges o f the fine arts. But these gentlemen dispensed their criticism more willingly than their cash, and Dick thought he needed cash more than criticism. He therefore sought London, the universal mart o f talent, and where, as is usual in general marts o f most descriptions, much more o f the commodity is exposed to sale than can ever find purchasers. Dick, who, in serious earnest, was supposed to have considerable natural talents for his profession, and whose vain and sanguine dis­ position never permitted him to doubt for a moment o f ultimate success, threw himself headlong into the crowd which jostled and struggled for notice and preferment. He elbowed others, and was elbowed himself; and finally, by dint o f intrepidity, fought his way into some notice, painted for the prize at the Institution, had pictures at the Exhibition at Somerset-house, and damned the hanging committee.

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But poor Dick was doomed to lose the field which he fought so gallantly. In the fine arts, there is scarce an alternative betwixt distin­ guished success and absolute failure; and as D ick’s zeal and industry were unable to ensure the first, he fell into the distresses which, in his condition, were the natural consequences o f the latter alternative. He was for a time patronized by one or two o f those judicious persons who make a virtue o f being singular, and o f pitching their own opinions against those o f the world in matters o f taste and criticism. But they soon tired o f poor Tinto, and laid him down as a load, upon the principle on which a spoilt child throws away its plaything. Misery, I fear, took him up, and accompanied him to a premature grave, to which he was carried from an obscure lodging in Swallow-street, where he had been dunned by his landlady within doors, and watched by bailiffs without, until death came to his relief. A corner o f the Morning Post noticed his death, generously adding, that his manner displayed considerable genius, though his style was rather sketchy; and referred to an advertisement, which announced that M r Varnish, the well-known print-seller, had still on hand a very few drawings and paintings by Richard Tinto, Esquire, which those o f the nobility and gentry, who might wish to complete their collections o f modern art, were invited to visit without delay. So ended Dick Tinto, a lamentable proof o f the great truth, that in the fine arts mediocrity is not permit­ ted, and that he who cannot ascend to the very top o f the ladder will do well not to put his foot upon it at all. T he memory o f Tinto is dear to me, from the recollection o f the many conversations which we have had together, most o f them turn­ ing upon my present task. He was delighted with my progress, and talked o f an ornamented and illustrated edition, with heads, vignettes, and culs de lampe, all to be designed by his own patriotic and friendly pencil. He prevailed upon an old serjeant o f invalids to sit to him in the character o f Bothwell, the life-guard’s-man o f Charles the Second, and the bell-man o f Gandercleugh in that o f David Deans. But while he thus proposed to unite his own powers with mine for the illustration o f these narratives, he mixed many a dose o f salutary criticism with the panegyrics which my composition was at times so fortunate as to call forth. “ Your characters,” said he, “ my dear Pattieson, make too much use o f the gob-box; they patter too much— (an elegant phraseology, which Dick had learned while painting the scenes o f an itinerant company o f players)— there is nothing in whole pages but mere chat and dialogue.” “ T h e ancient philosopher,” said I in reply, “was wont to say, ‘Speak, that I may know thee;’ and how is it possible for an author to introduce his personæ dramatis to his readers in a more interesting and

[Chap. I ]

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effectual manner, than by the dialogue in which each is represented as supporting his own appropriate character?” “ It is a false conclusion,” said Tinto; “ I hate it, Peter, as I hate an unfilled cann. I will grant you, indeed, that speech is a faculty o f some value in the intercourse of human affairs, and I will not even insist on the doctrine o f that Pythagorean toper, who was o f opinion, that over a bottle speaking spoiled conversation. But I will not allow that a pro­ fessor o f the fine arts has occasion to embody the idea o f his scene in language, in order to impress upon the reader its reality and its effect. On the contrary, I will be judged by most o f your readers, Peter, should these tales ever become public, whether you have not given us a page o f talk for every single idea which two words might have communicated, while the posture, manner, and incident, accurately drawn, and brought out by appropriate colouring, would have pre­ served all that was worthy o f preservation, and saved these everlasting said he’s and said she’s, with which it has been your pleasure to encumber your pages.” I replied, “ that he confounded the operations o f the pencil and the pen; that the serene and silent art, as painting has been called by one o f our first living poets, necessarily appealed to the eye, because it had not the organs for addressing the ear; whereas poetry, or that species o f composition which approaches to it, lay under the necessity o f doing absolutely the reverse, and addressed itself to the ear, for the purpose o f exciting that interest which it could not attain through the medium o f the eye.” Dick was not a whit staggered by my argument, which he contended was founded on misrepresentation. Description, he said, was to the author o f a romance exactly what drawing and tinting were to a painter; words were his colours, and, if properly employed, they could not fail to place the scene, which he wished to conjure up, as effectu­ ally before the mind’s eye, as the tablet or canvas presents it to the bodily organ. The same rules, he contended, applied to both, and an exuberance o f dialogue, in the former case, was a verbose and labori­ ous mode o f composition, which went to confound the proper art of fictitious narrative with that o f the drama, a widely different species o f composition, o f which dialogue was the very essence; because all, excepting the language to be made use of, was presented to the eye by the dresses, and persons, and action o f the performers upon the stage. “ But as nothing,” said Dick, “ can be more dull than a long narrative written upon the plan o f a drama, so where you have approached most near to that species o f composition, by indulging in prolonged scenes o f mere conversation, the course o f your story has become chill and constrained, and you have lost the power o f arresting the attention and

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exciting the imagination, in which upon other occasions you may be considered as having succeeded tolerably well.” I made my bow in requital o f the compliment, which was probably thrown in by way o f placebo, and expressed myself willing at least to make one trial o f a more straight forward style o f composition, in which my actors should do more, and say less, than in my former attempts o f this kind. Dick gave me a patronizing and approving nod, and observed, that, finding me so docile, he would communicate, for the benefit o f my muse, a subject which he studied with a view to his own art. The story, he said, was, by tradition, affirmed to be truth, although, as upwards o f a hundred years had passed away since the events took place, some doubt upon all the accuracy o f the particulars might be reasonably entertained. When Dick Tinto had thus spoken, he rummaged his portfolio for the sketch from which he proposed one day to execute a picture on a canvas o f fourteen feet by eight. T h e sketch, which was cleverly executed, to use the appropriated phrase, presented an ancient hall, fitted up and furnished in what we now call the taste o f Queen Elizabeth’s age. T he light, admitted from the upper part o f a high casement, fell upon a female figure o f exquisite beauty, who, in an attitude o f speechless terror, appeared to watch the issue o f an animated debate betwixt two other persons. T he one was a young man, in the Vandyke dress common to the time o f Charles I., who, with an air o f indignant pride, testified by the manner in which he raised his head and extended his arm, seemed to be urging a claim o f right, rather than o f favour, to a lady, whose age, and some resemblance in their features, pointed her out as the mother o f the younger female, and who appeared to listen with a mixture o f dis­ pleasure and impatience. Tinto produced his sketch with an air o f mysterious triumph, and gazed on it as a fond parent looks upon a hopeful child, while he anticipates the future figure he is to make in the world, and the height to which he will raise the honour o f his family. He held it at arm’s length from me,— he held it closer,— he placed it upon the top o f a chest o f drawers, closed the lower shutters o f the casement, to adjust a downward and favourable light,— fell back to the due distance, drag­ ging me after him,— shaded his face with his hand, as if to exclude all but the favourite object,— and ended by spoiling a child’s copy-book, which he rolled up so as to serve for the darkened tube o f an amateur. I fancy my expressions o f enthusiasm had not been in proportion to his own, for he presently exclaimed with vehemence, “ M r Pattieson, I used to think you had an eye in your head.” I vindicated my claim to the usual allowance o f visual organs.

[Chap. I ]

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“ Yet, on my honour,” said Dick, “ I would swear you had been born blind, since you have failed at the first glance to discover the subject and meaning o f that sketch. I do not mean to praise my own perform­ ance— I leave these arts to others— I am sensible o f my own deficien­ cies, conscious that my drawing and colouring may be improved by the time I intend to dedicate to the art. But the conception— the expres­ sion— the positions— these tell the story to every one who looks at the sketch; and if I can finish the picture without diminution o f the original conception, the name o f Tinto shall no more be smothered by the mists o f envy and intrigue.” I replied that I admired the sketch exceedingly; but that to under­ stand its full merit, I felt it absolutely necessary to be informed o f the subject. “ That is the very thing I complain of,” answered Tinto; “you have accustomed yourself so much to these creeping twilight details of yours, that you are become incapable o f receiving that instant and vivid flash o f conviction, which darts on the mind from seeing the happy and expressive combinations o f a single scene, and which gathers from the position, attitude, and countenance of the moment, not only the history o f the past lives o f the personages represented, and the nature o f the business on which they are immediately engaged, but lifts even the veil o f futurity, and affords a shrewd guess at their future fortunes.” “ In that case,” replied I, “ Painting excels the Ape o f the renowned Gines de Passamonte, which only meddled with the past and the present; nay, she excels that very Nature who affords her subjects; for I protest to you, Dick, that were I permitted to peep into that Eliza­ beth-chamber, and see the persons whom you have sketched convers­ ing in flesh and blood, I should not be a jot nearer guessing the nature o f their business, than I am at this moment while looking at your sketch. Only generally, from the languishing look o f the young lady, and the care you have taken to present a very handsome leg on the part o f the gentleman, I presume there is some reference to a love affair between them.” “ Do you really presume to form such a bold conjecture?” said Tinto. “ And the indignant earnestness with which you see the man urge his suit— the unresisting and passive despair o f the younger female— the stern air o f inflexible determination in the elder woman, whose looks express at once consciousness that she is acting wrong, and a firm determination to persist in the course she has adopted” — — “ If her looks express all this, my dear Tinto,” replied I, “your pencil rivals the dramatic art o f M r P uff in the Critic, who crammed a whole

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complicated sentence into the expressive shake o f Lord Burleigh’s head.” “ M y good friend Peter,” replied Tinto, “ I observe you are perfectly incorrigible; however, I have compassion on your dulness, and am unwilling you should be deprived o f the pleasure o f understanding my picture, and o f gaining, at the same time, a subject for your own pen. You must know that last summer, while I was taking sketches on the coast o f East Lothian and Berwickshire, I was seduced into the moun­ tains o f Lammermoor by the account I received o f some remains o f antiquity in that district. Those with which I was most struck, were the ruins o f the ancient castle in which that Elizabeth-chamber, as you call it, once existed. I resided for two or three days at a farm-house in the neighbourhood, where the aged goodwife was well acquainted with the history o f the castle, and the events which had taken place in it. One o f these was o f a nature so interesting and singular, that my attention was divided between my wish to draw the old ruins in land­ scape, and to represent in a history-piece the singular events which have taken place in it. Here are my notes o f the tale,” said poor Dick, handing a parcel o f loose scraps, partly scratched over with his pencil, partly with his pen, where outlines o f caricatures, sketches o f turrets, mills, old gables, and dove-cotes, disputed the ground with his written memoranda. I proceeded, however, to decypher the substance o f the manuscript as well as I could, and weave it into the following Tale, in which, following in part, though not entirely, my friend Tinto’s advice, I endeavoured to render my narrative rather descriptive than dramatic. M y favourite propensity, however, has at times overcome me, and my persons, like many others in this talking world, speak now and then a great deal more than they act.

Chapter Two W ell, lords, we have not got that which we have; ’T i s not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites o f such repairing nature. Second Part o f Henry V I

I n t h e gorge o f a pass or mountain glen, ascending from the fertile plains o f East Lothian into the mountainous and moorish district o f Lammermoor, there stood in former times an extensive castle, o f which only the ruins are now visible. Its ancient proprietors were a race o f powerful and warlike barons, who bore the same name with the castle itself, which was Ravenswood. Their line extended to a remote period o f antiquity, and they had intermarried with the Douglasses,

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Homes, Swintons, Hays, and other families o f power and distinction in the same country. Their history was frequently involved in that o f Scotland itself, in whose annals their feats are recorded. T h e Castle o f Ravenswood, occupying, and in some measure commanding, a pass betwixt Berwickshire or the M erse, as the south-eastern province o f Scotland is termed, and the Lothians, was o f importance both in foreign war and domestic discord. It was frequently besieged with ardour and defended with obstinacy, and o f course, its lords and owners played a conspicuous part in story. But their house had its revolutions, like all sublunary things; became greatly declined from its splendour about the middle o f the 17th century; and towards the period of the Revolution, the last proprietor o f Ravenswood Castle saw himself compelled to part with the ancient family seat, and to remove himself to a lonely and sea-beaten tower, which, situated on the bleak shores between Saint Abb’s Head and the village o f Eye­ mouth, looked out on the lonely and boisterous German Ocean. A black domain o f wild pasture-land surrounded their new residence, and formed the remains o f their property. Lord Ravenswood, the heir o f this ruined family, was far from bending his mind to his new condition o f life. In the civil war o f 1689, he had espoused the sinking side, and although he had escaped without the forfeiture o f life or land, his blood had been attainted, and his title abolished. He was now called Lord Ravenswood only in courtesy. This forfeited nobleman inherited the pride and turbulence, though not the fortune o f his family, and, as he imputed the final declension o f his family to a particular individual, he honoured that person with his full portion o f hatred. This was the very man who had now become, by purchase, proprietor o f Ravenswood, and the domains o f which the heir o f the house now stood dispossessed. He was descended o f a family much less ancient than that o f Lord Ravenswood, and which had only risen to wealth and political import­ ance during the great civil wars. He himself had been bred to the bar, and had held high offices in the state, maintaining through life the character o f a skilful fisher in the troubled waters o f a state divided by factions, and governed by delegated authority; and o f one who con­ trived to amass considerable sums o f money in a country where there was but little to be gathered, and who equally knew the value o f wealth, and the various means o f augmenting it, and using it as an engine of increasing his power and influence. Thus qualified and gifted, he was a dangerous antagonist to the fierce and imprudent Ravenswood. Whether he had given him good cause for the enmity with which the Baron regarded him, was a point on which men spoke differently. Some said the quarrel arose merely

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from the vindictive spirit and envy o f Lord Ravenswood, who could not patiently behold another, though by just and fair purchase, become the proprietor o f the estate and castle o f his forefathers. But the greater part o f the public, prone to slander the wealthy in their absence, as to flatter them in their presence, held a less charitable opinion. They said, that the Lord Keeper, (for to this height Sir William Ashton had ascended,) had, previous to the final purchase o f the estate o f Ravenswood, been concerned in extensive pecuniary transactions with the former proprietor; and, rather intimating what was probable, than affirming any thing positively, they asked which party was likely to have the advantage in stating and enforcing the claims arising out o f these complicated affairs, and more than hinted the advantages which the cool lawyer and able politician must neces­ sarily possess over the hot, fiery, and imprudent character, whom he had involved in legal toils and pecuniary snares. Th e character o f the times aggravated these suspicions. “ In those days there was no king in Israel.” Since the departure o f Jam es VI. to assume the richer and more powerful crown o f England, there had existed in Scotland contending parties, formed among the aristocracy, by whom, as their intrigues at the court o f St Jam es’s chanced to prevail, the delegated powers o f sovereignty were alternately swayed. Th e evils attending upon this system o f government, resembled those which afflict the tenants o f an Irish estate owned by an absentee. There was no supereminent power, claiming and possessing a general interest with the community at large, to whom the oppressed might appeal from subordinate tyranny, either for justice or for mercy. Let a monarch be as indolent, as selfish, as much disposed to arbitrary power as he will, still, in a free country, his own interests are so closely connected with those o f the public at large, and the evil consequences to his own authority are so obvious and imminent when a different course is pursued, that common policy, as well as common feeling, point to the equal distribution o f justice, and to the establishment o f the throne in righteousness. Thus, even sovereigns who were remark­ able for usurpation and tyranny, have been found rigorous in the administration o f justice among their subjects, in cases where their own power and passions were not compromised. It is very different when the powers o f sovereignty are delegated to the head o f an aristocratic faction, rivalled and pressed closely in the race o f ambition by an adverse leader. His brief and precarious enjoyment o f power must be employed in rewarding his partizans, in extending his influence, in oppressing and crushing his adversaries. Even Abon Hassan, the most disinterested o f all viceroys, forgot not, during his caliphate o f one day, to send a douçeur o f one thousand

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pieces o f gold to his own household; and the Scottish vicegerents, raised to power by the strength o f their faction, failed not to embrace the same means o f rewarding them. T h e administration o f justice, in particular, was infected by the most gross partiality. Scarce a case o f importance could occur, in which there was not some ground for bias or partiality on the part o f the judges, who were so little able to withstand the temptation, that the adage, “ Show me the man, and I will show you the law,” became as prevalent as it was scandalous. One corruption led the way to others still more gross and profligate. T h e judge who lent his sacred author­ ity in one case to support a friend, and in another to crush an enemy, and whose decisions were founded on family connections, or polit­ ical relations, could not be supposed inaccessible to direct personal motives, and the purse o f the wealthy was too often believed to be thrown into the scale to weigh down the cause o f the poorer litigant. T h e subordinate officers o f the law affected little scruple concerning bribery. Pieces o f plate, and bags o f money, were sent in presents to the king’s counsel, to influence their conduct, and poured forth, says a contemporary writer, like billets o f wood upon their floors, without even the decency o f concealment. In such times, it was not over uncharitable to suppose, that the statesman, practised in courts o f law, and a powerful member o f a triumphant cabal, might find and use means o f advantage over his less skilful and less favoured adversary; and if it had been supposed that Sir William Ashton’s conscience had been too delicate to profit by these advantages, it was believed that his ambition and desire o f extending his wealth and consequence, found as strong a stimulus in the exhortations o f his lady, as the daring aim o f Macbeth in the days o f yore. Lady Ashton was o f a family more distinguished than that o f her lord, an advantage which she did not fail to use to the uttermost, in maintaining and extending her husband’s influence over others, and, unless she was greatly belied, her own over him. She had been beauti­ ful, and was still stately and majestic in her appearance. Endowed by nature with strong powers and violent passions, experience had taught her to employ the one, and to conceal, if not to moderate, the other. She was a severe and strict observer o f the external forms, at least, o f devotion; her hospitality was splendid, even to ostentation; her address and manners, agreeable to the pattern most valued in Scotland at the period, were grave, dignified, and severely regulated by the rules o f etiquette. Her character had always been beyond the breath o f slander, and yet, with all these qualities to excite respect, Lady Ashton was seldom mentioned in the terms o f love or affection.

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Interest,— the interest o f her family, if not her own,— seemed too obviously the motive o f her actions; and where this is the case, the sharp-judging and malignant public are not easily imposed upon by outward show. It was seen and ascertained, that, in her most graceful courtesies and compliments, Lady Ashton no more lost sight o f her object than the falcon in his airy wheel turns his quick eye from his destined quarry; and hence, something o f doubt and suspicion quali­ fied the feelings with which her equals received her attentions. With her inferiors these feelings were mingled with fear, an impression useful to her purposes, so far as it enforced ready compliance with her requests, and implicit obedience to her commands, but detrimental, because it cannot exist with affection or regard. Even her husband, it is said, upon whose fortunes her talents and address had produced such emphatic influence, regarded her with respectful awe rather than confiding attachment; and report said, there were times when he considered his grandeur as dearly pur­ chased at the expence o f domestic thraldom. O f this, however, much might be suspected, but little could be accurately known. Lady Ashton regarded the honour o f her husband as her own, and was well aware how much it would suffer in the public eye should he appear a vassal to his wife. In all her arguments, his opinion was quoted as infallible, his taste appealed to and his sentiments received with the air o f defer­ ence, which a dutiful wife might seem to owe to a husband o f Sir William Ashton’s rank and character. But there was something under all this which rung false and hollow; and to those who watched this couple with close, and perhaps malicious scrutiny, it seemed evident, that, in the haughtiness o f a firmer character, higher birth, and more decided views o f aggrandizement, the lady looked with some con­ tempt on her husband, and that he regarded her with jealous fear rather than with love or admiration. Still, however, the leading and favourite interests o f Sir William Ashton and his lady were the same, and they failed not to work in concert, although without cordiality, and to testify, in all exterior circumstances, that respect for each other which they were aware was necessary to secure that o f the public. Their union was crowned with several children, o f whom three survived. One, the eldest son, was absent on his travels; the second, a girl o f seventeen, and the third, a boy about three years younger, resided with their parents in Edinburgh, during the sessions o f the Scottish Parliament and Privy-council, at other times in the old Gothic castle o f Ravenswood, to which the Lord Keeper had made large additions in the style o f the seventeenth century. Allan Lord Ravenswood, the late proprietor o f that ancient man­

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sion and the large estate annexed to it, continued for some time to wage ineffectual war with his successor concerning various points to which their former transactions had given rise, and which were suc­ cessively determined in favour o f the wealthy and powerful compet­ itor, until death closed the litigation, by summoning Ravenswood to a higher bar. T h e thread o f life, which had been long wasting, gave way during a fit o f violent and impotent fury, with which he was assailed on receiving the news o f the loss o f a cause, founded, perhaps, rather in equity than in law, the last which he had maintained against his powerful antagonist. His son witnessed his dying agonies, and heard the curses which he breathed against his adversary, as if they had conveyed to him a legacy o f vengeance. Other circumstances hap­ pened to exasperate a passion, which was, and had long been, a pre­ valent vice in the Scottish disposition. It was a November morning, and the cliffs which overlooked the ocean were hung with thick and heavy mist, when the portals o f the ancient and half-ruinous tower, in which Lord Ravenswood had spent the last and troubled years o f his life, opened, that his mortal remains might pass forward to an abode yet more dreary and lonely. T h e pomp o f attendance, to which the deceased had, in his latter years, been a stranger, was revived as he was about to be consigned to the realms o f forgetfulness. Banner after banner, with the various devices and coats o f this ancient family and its connections, followed each other in mournful procession from under the low-browed archway o f the court-yard. T h e principal gentry o f the country attended in the deepest mourning, and tempered the pace o f their long train o f horses to the solemn march befitting the occasion. Trumpets, with banners o f crape attached to them, sent forth their long and lugubrious notes to regu­ late the movements o f the procession. An immense train o f inferior mourners and menials closed the rear, which had not yet issued from the castle-gate, when the van had reached the chapel where the body was to be deposited. Contrary to the custom, and even to the law o f the time, the body was met by a priest o f the English communion, arrayed in his surplice, and prepared to read over the coffin o f the deceased the funeral service o f the church. Such had been the desire o f Lord Ravenswood in his last illness, and it was readily complied with by the tory gentle­ men, or cavaliers, as they affected to style themselves, in which faction most o f his kinsmen were enrolled. T h e presbyterian church-judicat­ ory o f the bounds, considering the ceremony as a bravading insult upon their authority, had applied to the Lord Keeper, as the nearest privy counsellor, for a warrant to prevent its being carried into effect;

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so that, when the clergyman had opened his prayer-book, an officer o f the law, supported by some armed men, commanded him to be silent. An insult, which fired the whole assembly with indignation, was par­ ticularly and instantly resented by the only son o f the deceased, Edgar, popularly called the M aster o f Ravenswood, a youth o f about twenty years o f age. He clapped his hand on his sword, and, bidding the official person to desist at his peril from further interruption, com­ manded the clergyman to proceed. Th e man attempted to enforce his commission, but as an hundred swords at once glittered in the air, he contented him self with protesting against the violence which had been offered to him in the execution o f his duty, and stood aloof, a sullen and moody spectator o f the ceremonial, humming as who should say, “ You’ll rue the day that clogs me with this answer.” T h e scene was worthy o f an artist’s pencil. In the very arch o f the house o f death, the clergyman, affrighted at the scene, and trembling for his own safety, hastily and unwillingly rehearsed the solemn ser­ vice o f the church, and spoke dust to dust, and ashes to ashes, over ruined pride and decayed posterity. Around stood the relations o f the deceased, their countenances more in anger than in sorrow, and the drawn swords which they brandished forming a violent contrast with their deep mourning habits. In the countenance o f the young man alone, resentment seemed for the moment overpowered by the deep agony with which he beheld his nearest, and almost his only friend, consigned to the tomb o f his ancestry. A relative observed him turn deadly pale, when, all rites being now duly observed, it became the duty o f the chief mourner to lower down into the charnel vault, where mouldering coffins shewed their tattered velvet and decayed plating, the head o f the corpse which was to be their partner in corruption. He stept to the youth and offered his assistance, which, by a mute motion, Edgar Ravenswood rejected. Firmly, and without a tear, he performed that last duty. T h e stone was laid on the sepulchre, the door o f the aisle was locked, and the youth took possession o f its massive key. As the crowd left the chapel, he paused on the steps which led to its Gothic chancel. “ Gendemen and friends,” he said, “you have this day done no common duty to the body o f your deceased kinsman. The rites o f due observance, which, in other countries, are allowed as the due o f the meanest Christian, would this day have been denied to the body o f your relative— not certainly sprung o f the meanest house in Scotland— had it not been assured to him by your courage. Others bury their dead in sorrow and tears, in silence and in reverence; our funeral rites are marred by the intrusion o f bailiffs and ruffians, and our grief—the grief due to our departed friend— is chased from our cheeks by the glow o f just indignation. But it is well that I know from

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what quiver this arrow hath come forth. It was only he that dug the grave who could have the mean cruelty to disturb the obsequies; and Heaven do as much to me and more, if I requite not to this man and his house the ruin and disgrace he has brought on me and mine.” Th e more numerous part o f the assembly applauded this speech, as the spirited expression o f just resentment; but the more cool and judicious regretted that it had been uttered. The fortunes o f the heir o f Ravenswood were too low to brave the further hostility which they imagined these open expressions o f resentment must necessarily pro­ voke. Their apprehensions, however, proved groundless, at least in the immediate consequences o f this affair. T h e mourners returned to the tower, there, according to a custom but recently abolished in Scotland, to carouse deep healths to the memory o f the deceased, to make the house o f sorrow ring with sounds o f joviality and debauch, and to diminish, by the expense o f a large and profuse entertainment, the limited revenues o f the heir of him whose funeral they thus strangely honoured. It was the custom, however, and on the present occasion it was fully observed. The tables swam in wine, the populace feasted in the court-yard, the yeomen in the kitchen and buttery, and two years’ rent o f Ravenswood’s remain­ ing property hardly defrayed the charge o f the funereal revel. The wine did its office on all but the M aster o f Ravenswood, a title which he still retained, though forfeiture had attached to that o f his father. He, while passing around the cup which he himself did not taste, soon listened to a thousand exclamations against the Lord Keeper, and passionate protestations o f attachment to himself, and to the honour o f his house. He listened with dark and sullen brow to ebullitions which he considered justly as equally evanescent with the crimson bubbles on the brink o f the goblet, or at least with the vapours which the draughts excited in the brains o f the revellers around him. When the last flask was emptied, they took their leave, with deep protestations— to be forgotten on the morrow, if, indeed, those who made them should not think it necessary for their safety to make a more solemn retractation. Accepting their adieus with an air o f contempt which he could scarce conceal, Ravenswood at length beheld his ruinous habitation cleared o f this confluence o f riotous guests, and returned to the deserted hall, which now appeared doubly lonely from the cessation o f that clamour to which it had so lately echoed. But its space was peopled by phantoms, which the imagination o f the young heir con­ jured up before him— the tarnished honour and degraded fortunes of his family, the destruction o f his own hopes, and the triumph o f that family by whom they had been ruined. T o a mind naturally o f a gloomy

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cast, here was ample room for meditation, and the musings o f young Ravenswood were deep and unwitnessed. T h e peasant, who shows the ruins o f the tower, which still crown the beetling cliff and behold the war o f the waves, though no more tenanted save by the sea-mew and cormorant, even yet affirms, that on this fatal night the M aster o f Ravenswood, by the bitter exclamations o f his despair, evoked some evil fiend, under whose malignant influ­ ence the future tissue o f incidents was woven. Alas ! what fiend can suggest more desperate counsels, than those adopted under the guid­ ance o f our own violent and unresisted passions ?

C hapter T h ree

Over Gods forebode, then, said the King, That thou shouldst shoot at me. A da m B e ll, Clym o f the Clough, and W illiam o f Cloudesly

O n t h e morning after the funeral, the legal officer, whose authority had been found insufficient to effect an interruption o f the funeral solemnities o f the late Lord Ravenswood, hastened to state before the Keeper the interruption which he had received in the execution o f his office. T h e statesman was seated in a spacious library, once a banquettingroom in the old Castle o f Ravenswood, as was evident from the armor­ ial insignia still displayed on the carved roof, which was vaulted with Spanish chesnut, and on the stained glass o f the casement, through which gleamed a dim yet rich light, on the long rows o f shelves, bending under the weight o f legal commentators and monkish histor­ ians, whose ponderous volumes formed the chief and most valued contents o f a Scottish library o f the period. On the massive oaken table and reading-desk, lay a confused mass o f letters, petitions, and parch­ ments; to toil amongst which was the pleasure at once and plague o f Sir William Ashton’s life. His appearance was grave and even noble, well becoming one who held an high office in the state; and it was not, save after long and intimate conversation with him upon topics o f pressing and personal interest, that a stranger could have discovered something vacillating and uncertain in his resolution; an infirmity o f purpose, arising from a cautious and somewhat timid disposition, which, as he was conscious o f its internal influence on his mind, he was, from pride as well as policy, most anxious to conceal from others. He listened with great apparent composure to an exaggerated account o f the tumult which had taken place at the funeral, o f the contempt thrown on his own authority, and that o f the church and

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state; nor did he seem moved even by the faithful report o f the insulting and threatening language which had been uttered by young Ravenswood and others, and obviously directed against himself. He heard, also, what the man had been able to collect, in a very distorted and aggravated shape, o f the toasts which had been drunk, and the menaces uttered at the subsequent entertainment. In fine, he made careful notes o f all these particulars, and o f the names o f the persons by whom, in case o f need, an accusation, founded upon these violent proceedings, could be witnessed and made good, and dismissed his informer, secure that he was now master o f the remaining fortune, and even the personal liberty, o f young Ravenswood. When the door had closed upon the officer o f the law, the Lord Keeper remained for a moment in deep meditation; then, starting from his seat, paced the apartment as one about to take a sudden and energetic resolution. “ Young Ravenswood,” he muttered, “ is now mine— he is my own— he has placed himself in my hand, and he shall bend or break. I have not forgot the determined and dogged obstinacy with which his father fought every point to the last, resisted every offer at compromise, embroiled me in law-suits, and attempted to assail my character when he could not otherwise impugn my rights. This boy he has left behind him— this Edgar— this hot-headed, hare-brained fool, has wrecked his vessel before she has cleared the harbour. I must see he gains no advantage o f some turning tide which may again float him off. These memoranda, properly stated to the Privy-council, cannot but be construed into an aggravated riot, in which the dignity both o f the civil and ecclesiastical authorities stand committed. A heavy fine might be imposed— an order for committing him to Edin­ burgh or Blackness Castle seems not improper— even a charge o f treason might be laid on many o f these words and expressions— though God forbid I should prosecute the matter to that extent— No — I will not— I will not touch his life, even if it should be in my power — and yet, if he lives till a change o f times, what follows ? Restitution— perhaps revenge— I know Athole promised his interest to old Ravens­ wood, and here is his son already bandying and making a faction by his own contemptible influence— What a ready tool he would be for the use o f those who are watching the downfall o f our administration !” While these thoughts were agitating the mind o f the wily statesman, and while he was persuading him self that his own interest and safety, as well as those o f his friends and party, depended on using the pre­ sent advantage to the uttermost against young Ravenswood, the Lord Keeper sate down to his desk, and proceeded to draw up, for the information o f the Privy-council, an account o f the disorderly pro­ ceedings which, in contempt o f his warrant, had taken place at the

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funeral o f Lord Ravenswood. The names o f most o f the parties con­ cerned, as well as the fact itself, would, he was well aware, sound odi­ ously in the ears o f his colleagues in administration, and most likely instigate them to make an example o f young Ravenswood at least, in terrorem. It was a point o f delicacy, however, to select such expressions as might infer his culpability, without seeming directly to urge it, which, on the part o f Sir William Ashton, his father’s ancient antagonist, could not but appear odious and invidious. While he was in the act o f composition, labouring to find words which might indicate Edgar Ravenswood to be the cause o f the uproar, without directly urging the charge, Sir William, in a pause o f his task, chanced, in looking upward, to see the crest o f the family for whose heir he was whetting the arrows and disposing the toils o f the law, carved upon one o f the corbeilles from which the vaulted roof o f the apartment sprung. It was a black bull’s head, with the legend, “ I bide my tim e;” and the occasion upon which it was adopted mingled itself singularly and impressively with the subject o f his present reflections. It was said by a constant tradition, that a Malisius de Ravenswood had, in the thirteenth century, been deprived o f his castle and lands by a powerful usurper, who had for a while enjoyed his spoils in quiet. At length, on the eve o f a costly banquet, Ravenswood, who had watched his opportunity, introduced himself into the castle with a small band o f faithful retainers. T h e serving o f the expected feast was impatiently looked for by the guests, and clamorously demanded by the temporary master o f the castle. Ravenswood, who had assumed the disguise o f a sewer upon the occasion, answered, in a stern voice, “ I bide my time;” and at the same moment a bull’s head, the ancient symbol o f death, was placed upon the table. Th e explosion o f the conspiracy took place upon the signal, and the usurper and his followers were put to death. Perhaps there was something in this still known and often repeated story, which came immediately home to the breast and conscience o f the Lord K eeper; for, putting from him the paper on which he had begun his report, and carefully locking the memoranda which he had prepared, into a cabinet which stood beside him, he proceeded to walk abroad, as if for the purpose o f collecting his ideas, and reflecting farther on the consequences o f the step which he was about to take, ere yet they became unavoidable. In passing through a large Gothic anti-room, Sir William Ashton heard the sound o f his daughter’s lute. M usic, when the performers are concealed, affects us with a pleasure mingled with surprise, and reminds us o f the natural concert o f birds among the leafy bowers. T h e statesman, though little accustomed to give way to emotions o f

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this natural and simple class, was still a man and a father. He stopped, therefore, and listened, while the silver tones o f Lucy Ashton’s voice mingled with the accompaniment in an ancient and solemn air, to which some one had adapted the following words :—

“Look not thou on Beauty’s charming,— Sit thou still when Kings are arming,— Taste not when the wine-cup glistens,— Speak not when the people listens,— Stop thine ear against the singer,— From the red gold keep thy finger,— Vacant heart, and hand, and eye,— Easy live and quiet die.”

T he sounds ceased, and the Keeper entered his daughter’s apart­ ment. T h e words she had chosen seemed peculiarly adapted to her char­ acter; for Lucy Ashton’s exquisitely beautiful, yet somewhat girlish features, were formed to express peace o f mind, serenity, and indif­ ference to the tinsel o f worldly pleasure. Her locks, which were o f shadowy gold, divided on a brow o f exquisite whiteness, like a gleam o f broken and pallid sunshine upon a hill o f snow. T h e expression of the countenance was in the last degree gentle, soft, timid, and femin­ ine, and seemed rather to shrink from the most casual look o f a stranger, than to court his admiration. Something there was o f a Madonna cast, perhaps the result o f delicate health, and o f residence in a family, where the dispositions o f the inmates were fiercer, more active, and more energetic than her own. Yet her passiveness o f disposition was by no means owing to an indifferent or unfeeling mind. Left to the impulse o f her own taste and feelings, Lucy Ashton was peculiarly accessible to those o f a romantic cast. H er secret delight was in the old legendary tales o f ardent devo­ tion and unalterable affection, chequered as they so often are with strange adventures and supernatural horrors. This was her favoured fairy realm, and here she erected her aërial palaces. But it was only in secret that she laboured at this delusive, but delightful architecture. In her retired chamber, or in the woodland bower which she had chosen for her own, and called after her name, she was in fancy distributing the prizes at the tournament, or raining down influence from her eyes on the valiant combatants, or she was wandering in the wilderness with Una, or she was identifying herself with the simple, yet nobleminded Miranda, in the isle o f wonder and enchantment. But in her exterior relations to things o f this world, Lucy willingly received the ruling impulse from those around her. Th e alternative was, in general, too indifferent to her to render resistance desirable, and she willingly found a motive for decision in the opinion o f her

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friends, which perhaps she might have sought for in vain in her own choice. Every reader must have observed in some family o f his acquaintance, some individual o f a temper so soft and yielding, who, mixed with stronger and more ardent minds, is borne along by the will o f others, with as little power o f opposition as the flower which is flung into a running stream. It usually happens that such a compliant and easy disposition, which resigns itself without murmur to the guidance o f others, becomes the darling o f those to whose inclinations its own seem to be offered, in ungrudging and ready sacrifice. This was eminently the case with Lucy Ashton. H er politic, wary, and worldly father, felt for her an affection, the strength o f which sometimes surprised him into unusual emotion. H er elder brother, who trode the path o f ambition with a haughtier step than his father, had also more o f human and domestic affection. A soldier, and in a dissolute age, he preferred his sister Lucy even to pleasure, and to military preferment and distinction. Her younger brother, at an age when trifles chiefly occupied his mind, made her the confidante o f all his pleasures and anxieties,— his success in field-sports, and his quar­ rels with his tutor and instructors. T o these details, however trivial, Lucy lent patient and not indifferent attention. They moved and interested Henry, and that was enough to secure her ear. H er mother alone did not feel that distinguished and predominat­ ing affection, with which the rest o f the family cherished Lucy. She regarded what she termed her want o f spirit, as a decided mark, that the more plebeian blood o f her father predominated in Lucy’s veins, and used to call her in derision her Lammermoor Shepherdess. T o dislike so gentle and inoffensive a being was impossible; but Lady Ashton preferred her eldest son, on whom had descended a large portion o f her own ambitious and undaunted disposition, to a daugh­ ter whose softness o f temper seemed allied to feebleness o f mind. H er eldest son was the more partially beloved by his mother, because, contrary to the usual custom in Scottish families o f distinction, he had been named after the head o f her house. “ M y Sholto,” she said, “will support the untarnished honour o f his maternal house, and elevate and support that o f his father. Poor Lucy is unfit for courts, or crowded halls. Some country laird must be her husband, rich enough to supply her with every comfort, without an effort on her own part, so that she may have nothing to shed a tear for but the tender apprehension lest he may break his neck in a fox-chase. It was not so, however, that our house was raised, nor is it so that it can be fortified and augmented. T h e Lord K eeper’s dignity is yet new; it must be borne as if we were used to its weight, worthy o f it, and prompt to assert and maintain it. Before ancient authorities, men

[Chap. 3]

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bend, from customary and hereditary deference; in our presence, they will stand erect, unless they are compelled to prostrate themselves. A daughter fit for the sheep-fold, or the cloister, is ill qualified to exact respect where it is yielded with reluctance; and since Heaven refused us a third boy, Lucy should have held a character fit to supply his place. T he hour will be a happy one which disposes her hand in marriage to some one whose energy is greater than her own, or whose ambition is o f as low an order.” So meditated a mother, to whom the qualities o f her children’s hearts, as well as the prospect o f their domestic happiness, seemed light in comparison to their rank and temporal greatness. But, like many a parent o f hot and impatient character, she was mistaken in estimating the feelings o f her daughter, who, under a semblance o f extreme indifference, nourished the germ o f those passions which sometimes spring up in one night, like the gourd o f the prophet, and astonish the observer by their unexpected ardour and intensity. In fact, Lucy’s feelings seemed dull, because nothing had occurred to interest or awaken them : her life had hitherto flowed on in an uniform and gentle tenor, and happy for her had not its present smoothness o f current resembled that o f the stream as it glides downwards to the waterfall ! “ So Lucy,” said her father, entering as her song was ended, “ does your musical philosopher teach you to contemn the world before you know it?— that is surely something premature— or did you but speak according to the fashion o f fair maidens, who are always to hold the pleasures o f life in contempt till they are pressed upon them by the address o f some gentle knight?” Lucy blushed, disclaimed any inference respecting her own choice being inferred from her selection o f a song, and readily laid aside her instrument at her father’s request that she would attend him in his walk. A large and well wooded park, or rather chase, stretched along the hill behind the castle, which occupying, as we have noticed, a pass ascending from the plain, seemed built in its very gorge to defend the forest ground which arose behind it in shaggy majesty. Into this romantic region the father and daughter proceeded, arm in arm, by a noble avenue overarched by embowering elms, beneath which groups o f the fallow-deer were seen to stray in distant per­ spective. As they paced slowly on, admiring the different points o f view, for which Sir William Ashton, notwithstanding the nature o f his usual avocations, had considerable taste and feeling, they were overtaken by the forester, or park-keeper, who, intent on sylvan sport, was proceeding with his cross-bow over his arm, and a hound

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led in leash by his boy, into the interior o f the wood. “ Going to shoot us a piece o f venison, Norman ?” said his master, as he returned the woodsman’s salutation. “ Saul, your honour, and that I am— wull it please you to see the sport?” “ O no,” said his lordship, after looking at his daughter, whose colour fled at the idea o f seeing the deer shot, although, had he expressed his wish that they should accompany Norman, it was prob­ able she would not even have hinted her reluctance. T h e forester shrugged his shoulders. “ It was a disheartening thing,” he said, “when none o f the gentles came doun to see the sport. He hoped M r Sholto would be soon hame, or he might shut up his shop entirely; for M r Harry was kept sae close wi’ his Latin nonsense, that, though his will was very gude to be in the wood from morning till night, there would be a hopeful lad lost, and no making a man o f him. It was not so, he had heard, in Lord Ravenswood’s time— when a buck was to be killed, man and mother’s son ran to see; and when the deer fell, the knife was always presented to the knight, and he never gave less than a dollar for the compliment. And there was Edgar Ravenswood— Master o f Ravenswood that is now— when he goes up to the wood there hasna been a better hunter since Tristrem ’s time— When Sir Edgar hauds out, down goes the deer, faith— But we hae lost a’ sense o f wood-craft on this side o f the hill.” There was much in this harangue highly displeasing to the Lord K eeper’s feelings; he could not help observing that his menial des­ pised him almost avowedly for not possessing the taste for sport, which in these times was deemed the natural and indispensible attri­ bute o f a real gentleman. But the master o f the game is, in all country houses, a man o f great importance, and entitled to use considerable freedom o f speech. Sir William, therefore, only smiled and replied, he had something else to think upon to-day than killing deer; meantime, taking out his purse, he gave the ranger a dollar for his encourage­ ment. T h e fellow received it as the waiter o f a fashionable hotel receives double his proper fee from the hand o f a country gentleman, — that is, with a smile, in which pleasure at the gift is mingled with contempt for the ignorance o f the donor. “ Your honour is the bad paymaster,” he said, “who pays before it is due. What would you do were I to miss the buck after you have paid me my wood-fee ?” “ I suppose,” said the Keeper, smiling, “you would hardly guess what I mean were I to tell you o f a condictio indebiti.” “ Not I, on my saul— I guess it is some law phrase— but sue a beggar, and your honour knows what follows.— Well, but I will be just with you, and if bow and brach fail not, you shall have a piece o f

[Chap. 3]

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game two fingers fat on the brisket.” As he was about to go off, his master again called him, and asked, as if by accident, whether the Master o f Ravenswood was actually so brave a man and so good a shooter as the world spoke him. “ Brave?— brave enough, I warrant ye,” answered Norman; “ I was in the wood at Tyninghame, when there was a sort o f gallants hunting with my lord; on my saul, there was a buck turned to bay made us all stand back; a stout old Trojan o f the first-head, ten-tyned branches, and a brow as broad as e’er a bullock’s. Egad, he dashed at the old lord, and there would have been inlake among the peerage, if the Master had not whipt roundly in, and hamstrung him with his cutlace. He was but sixteen then, bless his heart!” “ And he is as ready with the gun as with the couteau?” said Sir William. “ H e’ll strike this silver dollar out from between my finger and thumb at fourscore yards, and I’ll hold it out for a gold merk; what more would ye have o f eye, hand, lead, and gunpowder?” “ O no more to be had, certainly,” said the Lord K eeper; “ but we keep you from your sport, Norman— good morrow, good Norman.” And humming his rustic roundelay, the yeoman went on his road, the sound o f his rough voice gradually dying away as the distance betwixt them increased. “T h e m o n k m u s t a r ise w h e n th e m a tin s r in g , T h e a b b o t m a y s le e p to th e ir c h im e ; B u t th e y e o m a n m u s t sta r t w h e n th e b u g le s s in g , ’T i s tim e , m y h e a r ts, ’tis tim e . “T h e r e ’s b u c k s a n d r a e s in B ilh o p e b r a e s, T h e r e ’s a h e r d in S h o r t w o o d S h a w ; B u t a lily w h ite d o e in th e g a r d e n g a e s , S h e ’s fa ir ly w o r th t h e m a ’.” “ Has this fellow,” said the Lord Keeper, when the yeoman’s song had died on the wind, “ ever served the Ravenswood people, that he seems so much interested in them ? I suppose you know, Lucy, for you make it a point o f conscience to record the special history o f every boor about the castle.” “ I am not quite so faithful a chronicler, my dear father; but I believe that Norman once served here while a boy, and before he went to Ledington, whence you hired him. But if you want to know any thing about the former family, old Alice is the best authority.” “ And what should I have to do with them, pray, Lucy,” said her father, “ or with their history or accomplishments ?” “ Nay, I do not know, sir; only that you were asking questions at Norman about young Ravenswood.”

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“ Pshaw, child !”— replied her father, yet immediately added, “ And who is old Alice ? I think you know all the old women in the country. ” “ T o be sure I do, or how could I help the old creatures when they are in hard times ? And as to old Alice, she is the very empress o f old women, and queen o f gossips, so far as legendary lore is concerned. She is blind, poor old soul, but when she speaks to you, you would think she has some way o f looking into your very heart. I am sure I often cover my face, or turn it away, for it seems as if she saw one change colour, though she has been blind these twenty years. She is worth visiting, were it but to say you had seen a blind and paralytic old woman have so much acuteness o f perception, and dignity o f manner. I assure you, she might be a countess from her language and behavi­ our.— Come, you must go to see Alice; we are not a quarter o f a mile from her cottage.” “ All this, my dear,” said the Lord Keeper, “ is no answer to my question, who this woman is, and what is her connection with the former proprietor’s family?” “ O, it was something o f nourice-ship, I believe; and she remained here, because her two grandsons were engaged in your service. But it was against her will, I fancy; for the poor old creature is always regretting the change o f times and o f property.” “ I am much obliged to her,” answered the Lord Keeper. “ She and her folks eat my bread and drink o f my cup, and are lamenting all the while that they are not still under a family which never could do good, either to themselves or any one else.” “ Indeed,” replied Lucy, “ I am certain you do old Alice injustice. She has nothing mercenary about her, and would not accept a penny in charity, if it were to save her from being starved. She is only talkative, like all old folks, when you put them upon stories o f their youth; and she speaks about the Ravenswoods because she lived under them so many years. But I am sure she is grateful to you, sir, for your protection, and that she would rather speak to you, than to any other person in the whole world beside. Do, sir, come and see old Alice— her cottage is so bad besides, and I am sure you will cause Former the carpenter put it somewhat to rights if you see how decayed it is— Do come to see old Alice.” And with the freedom o f an indulged daughter, she dragged on the Lord Keeper in the direction she desired.

[Chap. 4]

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Chapter four T h r o u g h to p s o f th e h ig h tr e e s s h e d id d e s c r y A little s m o k e , w h o s e v a p o u r , th in a n d lig h t, R e e k in g a lo ft, u p r o lle d to th e sk y , W h ic h c h e e r f u l s ig n d id s e n d u n to h e r sig h t, T h a t in th e sa m e d id w o n n e s o m e liv in g w ig h t. S penser L u c y acted as her father’s guide, for he was too much engrossed with his political labours, or with society, to be perfectly acquainted with his own extensive domains, and, moreover, was generally an inhabit­ ant o f the city o f Edinburgh; and she, on the other hand, had, with her mother, resided the whole summer in Ravenswood, and, partly from taste, partly from want o f any other amusement, had, by her frequent rambles, learned to know each lane, alley, dingle, or bushy dell,

And every bosky bourne from side to side.

We have said, that the Lord Keeper was not indifferent to the beauties o f nature, and we must add, in justice to him, that he felt them doubly, when pointed out by the beautiful, simple, and interest­ ing girl, who, hanging on his arm with filial fondness, now called him to admire the size o f some ancient oak, and now the unexpected turn, where the path developing its maze from glen or dingle, suddenly reached an eminence commanding an extensive view o f the plains beneath them, and then gradually glided away from the prospect to lose itself among rocks and thickets, and guide to scenes o f deeper seclusion. It was when pausing on one o f those points o f extensive and com­ manding view, that Lucy told her father they were close by the cottage o f her blind protegée; and on turning from the little hill, a path which led around it, worn by the daily step o f the infirm inmate, brought them in sight o f the hut, which, embosomed in a deep and obscure dell, seemed to have been situated purposely to bear a corres­ pondence with the darkened state o f its inhabitant. T h e cottage was situated immediately under a tall rock, which in some measure beetled over it, as if threatening to drop some detached fragment from its brow on the frail tenement beneath. T h e hut itself was constructed o f turf and stones, and rudely roofed over with thatch, much o f which was in a dilapidated condition. T h e thin blue smoke rose from it in a light column, and curled upward along the white face o f the incumbent rock, giving to the scene a tint o f exquisite softness. In a small and rude garden, surrounded by strag­ gling elder bushes, which formed a sort o f imperfect hedge, sat near

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to the bee-hives, by the produce o f which she lived, that “woman old,” whom Lucy had brought her father hither to visit. Whatever there had been which was disastrous in her fortune— whatever there was miserable in her dwelling, it was easy to judge, by the first glance, that neither years, poverty, misfortune, nor infirmity, had broken the spirit o f this remarkable woman. She occupied a turf-seat, placed under a weeping birch o f unusual magnitude and age, as Judah is represented in coins sitting under her palm-tree, with an air at once o f majesty and o f dejection. H er figure was tall, commanding, and but little bent by the infirmities o f old age. H er dress, though that o f a peasant, was remarkably clean, forming in that particular a strong contrast to those o f her rank, and was disposed with an attention to neatness, and even to taste, equally unusual. But it was her expression o f countenance which chiefly struck the spectator, and induced most persons to address her with a degree o f deference and civility very inconsistent with the miserable state o f her dwelling; and which, nevertheless, she received with that easy composure which showed she felt it to be her due. She had once been beautiful, but her beauty had been o f a bold and masculine cast, such as does not survive the bloom o f youth; yet her features continued to express strong sense, deep reflection, and a character o f sober pride, which, as we have already said o f her dress, appeared to argue a conscious superiority to those o f her own rank. It scarce seemed possible that a face, deprived o f the advantage o f sight, could have expressed character so strongly; but her eyes, which were almost totally closed, did not, by the display o f their sightless orbs, mar the countenance to which they could add nothing. She seemed in a ruminating posture, soothed, perhaps, by the murmurs o f the busy tribe around her, to abstraction, though not to slumber. Lucy undid the latch o f the little garden gate, and solicited the old woman’s attention. “ M y father, Alice, is come to see you.” “ He is welcome, M iss Ashton, and so are you,” said the old woman, turning and inclining her head towards her visitors. “ This is a fine morning for your bee-hives, mother,” said the Lord Keeper, who, struck with the outward appearance o f Alice, was some­ what curious to know if her conversation would correspond with it. “ I believe so, my lord,” she replied; “ I feel the air breathe milder than o f late.” “ You do not,” resumed the statesman, “ take charge o f these bees yourself, mother— how do you manage them?” “ By delegates, as kings do their subjects,” returned Alice, “ and I am fortunate in a prime minister— Here, Babie.” She whistled on a small silver call which hung around her neck, and

[Chap. 4]

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which at that time was sometimes used to summon domestics, and Babie, a girl o f fifteen, made her appearance from the hut, not alto­ gether so cleanly arrayed as she would probably have been had Alice had the use o f her eyes, but with a greater air o f neatness than was upon the whole to have been expected. “ Babie,” said her mistress, “ offer some bread and honey to the Lord Keeper and M iss Ashton; they will excuse your awkwardness, if you use cleanliness and despatch.” Babie performed her mistress’s command with the grace which was naturally to be expected, moving to and again in a lobster-like gesture, her feet and legs tending one way, while her head, turned in a different direction, was fixed in wonder upon the laird, who was more fre­ quently heard o f than seen by his tenants and dependents. T h e bread and honey, however, deposited on a plantain leaf, was offered and accepted in all due courtesy. T h e Lord Keeper, still keeping the place which he had occupied on the decayed trunk o f a felled tree, looked as i f he wished to prolong the interview, but was at a loss how to intro­ duce a suitable subject. “You have been long a resident on this property,” he said, after a pause. “ It is now nearly sixty years since I first knew Ravenswood,” answered the old dame, whose conversation, though perfectly civil and respectful, seemed cautiously limited to the unavoidable and necessary task o f replying to Sir William. “ You are not, I should judge by your accent, o f this country origin­ ally,” said Sir William in continuation. “ No; I am by birth an Englishwoman.” “ Yet you seem attached to this country as if it were your own.” “ It is here,” replied the blind woman, “ that I have drank the cup o f joy and o f sorrow which Heaven destined for me— I was here the wife o f an upright and affectionate husband for more than twenty years— I was here the mother o f six promising children— it was here that God deprived me o f all these blessings— it was here they died, and yonder, by yon ruined chapel, they lie all buried— I had no country but theirs while they lived— I have none but theirs now they are no more.” “ But your house,” said the Lord Keeper, looking at it, “ is miserably ruinous.” “ Do, my dear father,” said Lucy, eagerly, yet bashfully, catching at the hint, “ give orders to make it better,— that is, if you think it proper.” “ It will last my time, my dear M iss Lucy,” said the blind woman; “ I would not have my lord give himself the least trouble about it.” “ But,” said Lucy, “you once had a much better house, and were rich, and now in your old age to live in this hovel !”

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“ It is as good as I deserve, M iss Lu cy; if my heart has not broken with what I have suffered, and seen others suffer, it must have been strong enough, and the rest o f this old frame has no right to call itself weaker.” “ You must have witnessed many changes,” said the Lord K eeper; “ but your experience must have taught you to expect them.” “ It has taught me to endure them, my lord,” was the reply. “ Yet you knew that they must needs arrive in the course o f years ?” said the statesman. “ Ay; as I know that the stump, on or beside which you sit, once a tall and lofty tree, must needs one day fall by decay, or by the axe; yet I hoped my eyes might not witness the downfall o f the tree which over­ shadowed my dwelling.” “ D o not suppose,” said the Lord Keeper, “ that you will lose any interest with me, for looking back with regret to the days when another family possessed my estates— you had reason, doubtless, to love them, and I respect your gratitude. I will order some repairs on your cottage, and I hope we shall live to be friends when we know each other better.” “ Those o f my age,” returned the dame, “ make no new friends. I thank you for your bounty— it is well intended undoubtedly; but I have all I want, and I cannot accept more at your lordship’s hands.” “Well then,” continued the Lord Keeper, “ at least allow me to say, that I look upon you as a woman o f sense and education beyond your appearance, and that I hope you will continue to reside on this prop­ erty o f mine rent-free for your life.” “ I hope I shall,” said the old dame, composedly; “ I believe that was made an article in the sale o f Ravenswood to your lordship, though such a trifling circumstance may have escaped your recollection.” “ I remember— I recollect,” said his lordship, somewhat confused. “ I perceive you are too much attached to your old friends to accept any benefit from their successor.” “ Far from it, my lord; I am grateful for the benefits which I decline, and I wish I could pay you for offering them better than by what I am now about to say.” T he Lord Keeper looked at her in some surprise, but said not a word. “ M y lord,” she continued, in an impressive and solemn tone, “ take care what you do— you are on the brink o f a precipice.” “ Indeed ?” said the Lord Keeper, his mind reverting to the political circumstances o f the country; “ has any thing come to your knowledge — any plot or conspiracy?” “ No, my lord; those who traffic in such commodities do not call into their councils the old, blind, and infirm. M y warning is o f another

[Chap. 4]

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kind. You have driven matters hard on with the house o f Ravenswood. Believe a true tale— they are a fierce house, and there is danger in dealing with men when they become desperate.” “ T u sh ,” answered the K eeper; “what has been between us has been the work o f the law, not my doing; and to the law they must look, if they would impugn my proceedings.” “ Ay, but they may think otherwise, and take the law into their own hand, when they fail o f other means o f redress.” “What mean you?” said the Lord Keeper. “ Young Ravenswood would not have recourse to personal violence?” “ God forbid I should say so; I know nothing o f the youth but what is honourable and open— honourable and open, said I ?— I should have added, free, generous, noble— but he is still a Ravenswood, and may bide his time— remember the fate o f Sir George Lockhart.” * T he Lord Keeper started as she called to his recollection a tragedy so deep and so recent. The old woman proceeded, “ Chiesley, who did the deed, was a relative o f Lord Ravenswood. In the hall at Ravens­ wood, in my presence, and in that o f others, he avowed publicly his determination to do the cruelty which he afterwards committed. I could not keep silence, though to speak ill became my station. ‘You are devising a dreadful crime,’ I said, ‘for which you must reckon before the judgment-seat.’ Never shall I forget his look, as he replied, ‘I must reckon then for many things, and will reckon for this also.’ Therefore I may well say beware o f pressing a desperate man with the hand o f authority. There is blood o f Chiesley in the veins o f Ravenswood, and one drop o f it were enough to fire him in the circumstances in which he is placed— I say beware o f him.” T h e old dame had, either intentionally or by accident, harped * President of the Court of Session. He was pistolled in the High Street of Edinburgh, by John Chiesley, of Dairy, in the year 1689. The revenge of this desperate man was stimulated by an opinion that he had sustained injustice in a decreet-arbitral pronounced by the President, assigning an alimentary provision of about 931. in favour of his wife and children. He is said at first to have designed to shoot the judge while attending upon divine worship, but was diverted by some feeling concerning the sanctity of the place. After the congregation was dismissed, he dogged his victim as far as the head of the small close on the south side of the Lawnmarket, in which the President’s house was situated, and shot him dead as he was about to enter it. This act was done in the presence of numerous spectators. The assassin made no attempt to fly, but boasted of the deed, saying, “ I have taught the President how to do justice.” He had at least given him fair warning, as Jack Cade says on a similar occasion. The murderer, after undergoing the torture, by a special Act of the Estates of Parliament, was tried before the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, as High Sheriff, and condemned to be dragged on a hurdle to the place of execution, to have his right hand struck off while he yet lived, and finally, to be hung on the gallows with the pistol wherewith he shot the President tied round his neck. This execution took place on the 3d April, 1 689; and the incident was long remembered as a dreadful instance of what the law books call the petfervidum ingenium Scotorum.

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aright the fear o f the Lord Keeper. T he desperate and dark resource o f private assassination, so familiar to a Scottish baron in former times, had even in the present age been too frequently resorted to under the pressure o f unusual temptation, or where the mind o f the actor was prepared for such a crime. Sir William Ashton was aware o f this; as also that young Ravenswood had received injuries sufficient to prompt him to that sort o f revenge, which becomes a frequent though fearful consequence o f the partial administration o f justice. He endeavoured to disguise from Alice the nature o f the apprehen­ sions which he entertained, but so ineffectually, that a person even o f less penetration than nature had endowed her with must necessarily have been aware that the subject lay near his bosom. His voice was changed in its accent as he replied to her, that the Master o f Ravens­ wood was a man o f honour; and, were it otherwise, that the fate o f Chiesley o f Dairy was a sufficient warning to any one who should dare to assume the office o f avenger o f his own imaginary wrongs. And having hastily uttered these expressions, he rose and left the place without waiting for a reply.

Chapter Five —

—

Is she a Capulet?

O dear account ! my life is my foe’ s debt. S hakespeare

T h e L ord Keeper walked for nearly a quarter o f a mile in profound silence. His daughter, naturally timid and bred up in those ideas o f filial awe and implicit obedience which were inculcated upon the youth o f that period, did not venture to interrupt his meditations. “ Why do you look so pale, Lu cy?” said her father, turning suddenly around and breaking silence. According to the ideas o f the time, which did not permit a young woman to offer her sentiments on any subject o f importance unless especially required to do so, Lucy was bound to appear ignorant o f the meaning o f all that had passed betwixt Alice and her father, and imputed the emotion he had observed to the fear o f the wild cattle which grazed in that part o f the extensive chase through which they were now walking. O f these animals, the descendants o f the savage herds which anciently roamed free in the Caledonian forests, it was formerly a point o f state to preserve a few in the parks o f the Scottish nobility. Specimens continued within the memory o f man to be kept at least at three houses o f distinction, Hamilton namely, Drumlanrick, and Cumbernauld. They were degenerated from the ancient race in

[Chap. 5]

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size and strength, if we are to judge from the accounts o f old chron­ icles, and from the formidable remains frequently discovered in bogs and morasses when drained and laid open. The bull had lost the shaggy honours o f his mane, and the race was small and light-made, in colour a dingy white, or rather a pale yellow, with black horns and hoofs. They retained, however, in some measure, the ferocity o f their ancestry, could not be domesticated on account o f their antipathy to the human race, and were often dangerous if approached unguardedly, or wantonly disturbed. It was this last reason which has occasioned their being extirpated at the places we have mentioned, where probably they would otherwise have been retained as appropri­ ate inhabitants o f the Scottish woodland, and fit tenants for a baronial forest. A few, if I mistake not, are yet preserved at Chillingham Castle, in Northumberland, the seat o f the Earl o f Tankerville. It was to her finding herself in the vicinity o f a group o f three or four o f these animals, that Lucy thought proper to impute those signs o f fear, which had arisen in her countenance for a different reason. For she had been familiarized with the appearance o f the wild cattle, during her walks in the chace; and it was not then, as now, a necessary part of a young lady’s education, to indulge in causeless tremors o f the nerves. On the present occasion, however, she speedily found cause for real terror. Lucy had scarcely replied to her father in the words we have men­ tioned, and he was just about to rebuke her supposed timidity, when a bull, stimulated either by the scarlet colour o f M iss Ashton’s screen or mantle, or by one o f those fits o f capricious ferocity to which their dispositions are liable, detached himself suddenly from the group which were feeding at the upper extremity o f a grassy glade, that seemed to lose itself among the crossing and entangled boughs o f the forest. T h e animal approached the intruders on his pasture ground, at first slowly, pawing the ground with his hoof, bellowing from time to time, and tearing up the sand with his horns, as if to lash himself up into rage and violence. The Lord Keeper, who observed the animal’s demeanour, was aware that he was about to become mischievous, and, drawing his daughter’s arm under his own, began to walk fast along the avenue, in hopes to get out o f his sight and his reach. This was the most injudi­ cious course he could have adopted, for, encouraged by the appear­ ance o f flight, the bull began to pursue them at full speed. Assailed by a danger so imminent, firmer courage than that o f the Lord Keeper might have given way. But paternal tenderness, “ love strong as death,” supported him. He continued to support and drag onward his daugh­ ter, until, her fears altogether depriving her o f the power o f flight, she

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sunk down by his side; and when he could no longer assist her to escape, he turned round and placed himself betwixt her and the raging animal, which advancing in full career, its brutal fury enhanced by the rapidity o f the pursuit, was now within a few yards o f them. T h e Lord Keeper had no weapons : his age and gravity dispensed even with the usual appendage o f a walking sword,— could such appendage have availed him any thing. It seemed inevitable that the father or daughter, or both, should have fallen victims to the impending danger, when a shot from the neighbouring thicket arrested the progress o f the animal. He was so truly struck between the junction o f the spine with the skull, that the wound, which in any other part o f his body might scarce have impeded his career, proved instantly fatal. Stumbling forward with a hideous bellow, the progressive force o f his previous motion, rather than any operation o f his limbs, carried him up to within three yards o f the astonished Lord Keeper, where he rolled on the ground, his limbs darkened with the black death-sweat, and quivering with the last convulsions o f muscular motion. Lucy lay senseless on the ground, insensible o f the wonderful deliv­ erance which she had experienced. Her father was almost equally stupified, so rapid and so unexpected had been the transition from the horrid death which seemed inevitable, to perfect security. He gazed on the animal, terrible even in death, with a species o f mute and confused astonishment, which did not permit him distinctly to under­ stand what had taken place; and so inaccurate was his consciousness o f what had passed, that he might have supposed the bull had been arrested in its career by a thunderbolt, had he not observed among the branches o f the thicket the figure o f a man, with a short gun or musquetoon in his hand. This instantly recalled him to a sense o f their situation— a glance at his daughter reminded him of the necessity o f procuring her assist­ ance. He called to the man, whom he concluded to be one o f his foresters, to give immediate attention to M iss Ashton, while he himself hastened to call assistance. T h e huntsman approached them accordingly, and the Lord Keeper saw he was a stranger, but was too much agitated to make any farther remarks. In a few hurried words, he directed the shooter, as stronger and more active than himself, to carry the young lady to a neighbouring fountain, while he went back to Alice’s hut to procure more aid. T h e man to whose timely interference they had been so much indebted, did not seem inclined to leave his good work half finished. He raised Lucy from the ground in his arms, and conveying her through the glades o f the forest by paths with which he seemed well

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acquainted, stopped not until he laid her in safety by the side o f a plentiful and pellucid fountain, which had been once covered in, screened and decorated with architectural ornament o f a Gothic char­ acter. But now the vault which had covered it being broken down and riven, and the Gothic front ruined and demolished, the stream burst forth from the recess o f the earth in open day, and winded its way among the broken sculpture and moss-grown stones which lay in confusion around its source. Tradition, always busy, at least in Scotland, to grace with a legend­ ary tale a spot in itself interesting, had ascribed a cause o f peculiar veneration to this fountain. A beautiful young lady met one o f the Lords o f Ravenswood while hunting near this spot, and, like a second Egeria, had captivated the affections o f the feudal Numa. They met frequently afterwards, and always at sunset, the charms o f the nymph’s mind completing the conquest which her beauty had begun, and the mystery o f the intrigue adding zest to both. She always appeared and disappeared close by the fountain, with which, there­ fore, her lover judged she had some inexplicable connection. She placed certain restrictions on their intercourse, which also savoured o f mystery. They met only once a week; Friday was the appointed day, and she explained to the Lord o f Ravenswood, that they were under the necessity o f separating so soon as the bell o f a chapel, belonging to a hermitage in the adjoining wood, now long ruinous, tolled the hour o f vespers. In the course o f his confession, the Baron o f Ravenswood entrusted the hermit with the secret o f this singular amour, and Father Zachary drew the necessary and obvious consequence, that his patron was enveloped in the toils o f Satan, and in danger o f destruc­ tion both to body and soul. He urged these perils to the Baron with all the force o f monkish rhetoric, and described, in the most frightful colours, the real character and person o f the apparently lovely Naiad, whom he hesitated not to denounce as a limb o f the kingdom o f darkness. Th e lover listened with obstinate incredulity; and it was not until worn out by the obstinacy o f the anchoret, that he consented to put the state and condition o f his mistress to a certain trial, and for that purpose acquiesced in Zachary’s proposal, that on their next inter­ view the vespers bell should be rung at half an hour later than usual. The hermit maintained and bucklered his opinion, by quotations from the Malleus Maleficarum, Sprengerus, Remigius, and other learned dæmonologists, that the Evil One, thus seduced to remain behind the appointed hour, would assume her true shape, and having appeared to her terrified lover as a fiend o f hell, would vanish from him in a flash o f sulphureous lightning. Raymond o f Ravenswood acquiesced in the experiment, not incurious concerning the issue, though confident it

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would disappoint the expectations o f the hermit. On the appointed hour the lovers met, and their interview was protracted beyond that at which they usually parted, by the delay o f the priest to ring his usual curfew. No change took place upon the nymph’s outward form; but as soon as the lengthening shadows made her aware that the usual hour o f the vesper chime was passed, she tore herself from her lover’s arms with a shriek o f despair, bid him adieu for ever, and plunging into the fountain, disappeared from his eyes. T h e bubbles occasioned by her descent were crimsoned with blood as they arose, leading the distracted Baron to infer, that his ill-judged curiosity had occasioned the death o f this interesting and mysterious being. T h e remorse which he felt, as well as the recollection o f her charms, proved the penance o f his future life, which he lost in the battle o f Flodden not many months after. But, in memory o f his Naiad, he had previously ornamented the fountain in which she appeared to reside, and secured its waters from profanation or pollution, by the small vaulted building o f which the fragments still remained scattered around it. From this period the house o f Ravenswood was supposed to have dated its decay. Such was the generally received legend, which some, who would seem wiser than the vulgar, explained, as obscurely intimating the fate o f a beautiful maid o f plebeian rank, the mistress o f this Raymond, whom he slew in a fit o f jealousy, and whose blood was mingled with the waters o f the locked fountain, as it was commonly called. Others imagined that the tale had a more remote origin in the ancient heathen mythology. All however agreed, that the spot was fatal to the Ravens­ wood family; and that to drink o f the waters o f the well, or even approach its brink, was as ominous to the descendant o f that house, as for a Grahame to wear green, a Bruce to kill a spider, or a St Clair to cross the Ord on a Monday. It was in this ominous spot that Lucy Ashton first drew breath after her long and almost deadly swoon. Beautiful and pale as the fabulous Naiad in the last agony o f separation from her lover, she was seated so as to rest with her back against a part o f the ruined wall, while her mantle, dripping with the water that her protector had used profusely to recal her senses, clung to her slender and beautifully proportioned form. T h e first moment o f recollection brought to her mind the danger which had overpowered her senses— the next remembered that o f her father. She looked around— he was no where to be seen— “ M y father— my father!” was all that she could ejaculate. “ Sir William is safe,” answered the voice o f a stranger— “ perfectly safe, and will be with you instantly.”

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“ Are you sure o f that?” exclaimed Lucy— “ the bull was close by us — do not stop me— I must go to seek my father.” And she arose with that purpose; but her strength was so much exhausted, that, far from possessing the power to execute her purpose, she must have fallen against the stone on which she had leant, prob­ ably not without sustaining serious injury. Th e stranger was so near to her, that, without actually suffering her to fall, he could not avoid catching her in his arms, which, however, he did with a momentary reluctance, very unusual when youth interposes to prevent beauty from danger. It seemed as if her weight, slight as it was, proved too heavy for her young and athletic assistant, for, without feeling the temptation o f detaining her in his arms even for a single instant, he again placed her on the stone from which she had risen, and retreating a few steps, repeated hastily, “ Sir William Ashton is perfectly safe, and will be here instantly. Do not make yourself anxious on his account— Fate has singularly preserved him— You, madam, are exhausted, and must not think o f rising until you have some assistance more suitable than mine.” Lucy, whose senses were by this time more effectually collected, was naturally led to look at the stranger with attention. There was nothing in his appearance which should have rendered him unwilling to offer his arm to a young lady who required support, or which could have induced her to refuse his assistance; and she could not help wonder, even in that moment, that he seemed cold and reluctant to offer it. A shooting-dress o f dark green, richly laced with gold, intim­ ated the rank o f the wearer, though concealed in part by a large and loose cloak o f a dark brown colour. A Montero cap and a black feather drooped over the wearer’s brow, and partly concealed his features, which, so far as seen, were dark, regular, and full o f majestic, though somewhat sullen, expression. Some secret sorrow, or the brooding spirit o f some moody passion, had quenched the light and the ingenu­ ous vivacity o f youth in a countenance singularly fitted to display both, and it was not easy to gaze on the stranger without a secret impression either o f pity or fear, or at least o f doubt and curiosity allied to both. Th e impression which we have necessarily been long in describing, Lucy felt in the glance o f a moment, and had no sooner encountered the keen black eyes o f the stranger, than her own were bent on the ground with a mixture o f bashful embarrassment and fear. Yet there was a necessity to speak, or at least she thought so, and in a fluttered accent began to mention her wonderful escape, in which she was sure that the stranger must, under Heaven, have been her father’s pro­ tector, and her own. He seemed to shrink from her expressions o f gratitude, while he

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replied abruptly, “ I leave you, madam;” the deep melody o f his voice rendered powerful, but not harsh, by something like a severity o f tone — “ I leave you to the protection o f those to whom you have been this day a guardian angel.” Lucy was surprised at the ambiguity o f his language, and, with a feeling o f artless and unaffected gratitude, began to deprecate the idea o f having intended to give any offence, as if such a thing had been possible. “ I have been unfortunate,” she said, “ in endeavouring to express my thanks— I am sure it must be so, though I cannot recollect what I said— but would you but stay till my father— till the Lord K eeper comes— would you only permit him to pay you his thanks, and to enquire your name— — ” “ M y name is unnecessary,” answered the stranger; “your father— I would rather say Sir William Ashton— will learn it soon enough, for all the pleasure it will afford him.” “ You mistake him,” said Lucy earnestly; “ he will be grateful for my sake and for his own— you do not know my father, or you are deceiving me with a story o f his safety, when he has already fallen a victim to the fury o f that animal.” When she had caught this idea, she started from the ground, and endeavoured to press towards the avenue in which the accident had taken place, while the stranger, though he seemed to hesitate between the desire to assist and the wish to leave her, was obliged, in common humanity, to oppose her both by entreaty and action. “ On the word o f a gentleman, madam, I tell you the truth; your father is in perfect safety; you will expose yourself to injury if you venture back where the herd o f wild cattle graze— I f you will go”— for, having once adopted the idea that her father was still in danger, she pressed forwards in spite o f him— “ if you will go, accept my arm, though I am not the person who can with most propriety offer you support.” But, without heeding this intimation, Lucy took him at his word. “ O if you be a man,” she said,— “ if you be a gentleman, assist me to find my father— You shall not leave me— you must go with me— he is dying perhaps while we are talking here.” Then, without listening to excuse or apology, and holding fast by the stranger’s arm, though unconscious o f any thing save the support which it gave, and without which she could not have moved, mixed with a vague feeling o f preventing his escape from her, she was urging, and almost dragging him forward, when Sir William Ashton came up, followed by the female attendant o f blind Alice, and by two wood­ cutters, whom he had summoned from their occupation to his assist­ ance. His joy at seeing his daughter safe, overcame the surprise with

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which he would at another time have beheld her hanging as familiarly on the arm o f a stranger, as she might have done upon his own. “ Lucy, my dear Lucy, are you safe?— are you well?” were the only words that broke from him as he embraced her in ecstacy. “ I am well, sir— thank God— and still more that I see you so; — but this gentleman,” she said, quitting his arm, and shrinking from him, “what must he think o f me ?” and her eloquent blood, flushing over neck and brow, spoke how much she was ashamed o f the freedom with which she had craved, and even compelled his assistance. “ This gentleman,” said Sir William Ashton, “will, I trust, not regret the trouble we have given him, when I assure him o f the gratitude o f the Lord Keeper for the greatest service which one man ever ren­ dered to another— for the life o f my child— for my own life, which he has saved by his bravery and presence o f mind. He will, I am sure, permit us to request”— — “ Request nothing o f m e , my lord,” said the stranger, in a stern and peremptory tone; “ I am the Master of Ravenswood.” There was a dead pause o f surprise, not unmixed with less pleasing feelings. T he Master wrapt himself in his cloak, made a haughty inclination towards Lucy, muttering a few words o f courtesy, as indis­ tinctly heard as they seemed to be reluctantly uttered, and turning from them was immediately lost in the thicket. “ T he M aster o f Ravenswood !” said the Lord Keeper, when he had recovered his momentary astonishment. “ Hasten after him— stop him — beg him to speak to me for a single moment.” T h e two foresters accordingly set o ff in pursuit o f the stranger. They speedily returned, and, in an embarrassed and awkward man­ ner, said the gentleman would not return. T h e Lord Keeper took one o f the fellows aside, and questioned him more closely what the Master o f Ravenswood said. “ He just said he wadna come back,” said the man, with the caution o f a prudent Scotchman, who cared not to be the bearer o f an unpleas­ ant errand. “ He said something more, sir,” said the Lord Keeper, “ and I insist on knowing what it was.” “Why, then, my lord,” said the man, looking down, “ he said— but it wad be nae pleasure to your lordship to hear it, for I dare say the M aster meant nae ill.” “ That’s none o f your concern, sir; I desire to hear the very words.” “ Weel then,” replied the man, “ he said, tell Sir William Ashton, that the next time he and I forgather, he will not be half sae blythe o f our meeting as o f our parting.” “ Very well, sir,” said the Lord Keeper, “ I believe he alludes to a

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wager we have on our hawks— it is a matter o f no consequence.” He turned to his daughter, who was by this time so much recovered as to be able to walk home. But the effect which the various recol­ lections, connected with a scene so terrific, made upon a mind which was susceptible in an extreme degree, was more permanent than the injury which her nerves had sustained. Visions o f terror, both in sleep and in waking reveries, recalled to her the form o f the furious animal, and the dreadful bellow with which he accompanied his career; and it was always the image o f the M aster o f Ravenswood, with his native nobleness o f countenance and form, that seemed to interpose betwixt her and assured death. It is, perhaps, at all times dangerous for a young person to suffer their recollection to dwell repeatedly, and with too much complacence, on the same individual; but in Lucy’s situ­ ation it was almost unavoidable. She had never happened to see a young man o f mien and features so romantic and so striking as young Ravenswood; but had she seen an hundred his equals or his superiors in those particulars, no one else could have been linked to her heart by the strong associations o f remembered danger and escape, o f gratit­ ude, wonder, and curiosity. I say curiosity, for it is likely that the singularly restrained and unaccommodating manners o f the M aster o f Ravenswood, so much at variance with the natural expression o f his features and grace o f his deportment, as they excited wonder by the contrast, had their effect in rivetting her attention to the recollection. She knew little o f Ravenswood, or the disputes which had existed betwixt her father and his, and perhaps could in her gentleness o f mind hardly have comprehended the angry and bitter passions which they had engendered. But she knew that he was come o f noble stem; was poor, though descended from the noble and the wealthy; and she felt that she could sympathize with the feelings o f a proud mind, which urged him to recoil from the proffered gratitude o f the new propri­ etors o f his father’s house and domains. Would he have equally shunned their acknowledgments and avoided their intimacy, had her father’s request been urged more mildly, less abruptly, and softened with the grace which women so well know how to throw into their manner, when they mean to mediate betwixt the headlong passions o f the ruder sex? This was a perilous question to ask her own mind— perilous both in the idea and in its consequences. Lucy Ashton, in short, was involved in those mazes o f the imagina­ tion which are most dangerous to the young and the sensitive. Tim e, it is true, absence, change o f place and o f face, might probably have destroyed the illusion in her instance as it has done in many others; but her residence remained solitary, and her mind without those means o f dissipating her pleasing visions. This solitude was chiefly

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owing to the absence o f Lady Ashton, who was at this time in Edinburgh, watching the progress o f some state-intrigue; the Lord Keeper only received society out o f policy or ostentation, and was by nature rather reserved and unsociable; and thus no cavalier appeared to rival or to obscure the ideal picture o f chivalrous excellence which Lucy had pictured to herself in the Master o f Ravenswood. While Lucy indulged in these dreams, she made frequent visits to old blind Alice, hoping it would be easy to lead her to talk on the subject, which at present she had imprudently admitted to occupy so large a portion o f her thoughts. But Alice did not in this particular altogether gratify her wishes and expectations. She spoke readily, and with pathetic feeling, concerning the family in general, but seemed to observe an especial and cautious silence on the subject o f the present representative. T h e little she said o f him was not altogether so favour­ able as Lucy had anticipated. She hinted that he was o f a stem and unforgiving character, more ready to resent than to pardon injuries; and Lucy combined with great alarm the hints which she now dropped o f these dangerous qualities, with Alice’s advice to her father, so emphatically given, “ to beware o f Ravenswood.” But that very Ravenswood, o f whom such unjust suspicions had been entertained, had, almost immediately after they had been uttered, confuted them by saving at once her father’s life and her own. Had he nourished such black revenge as Alice’s dark hints seemed to indicate, no deed o f active guilt was necessary for the full gratification o f that evil passion. He needed but to have withheld for an instant his indispensable and effective assistance, and the object o f his resent­ ment must have perished, without any direct aggression on his part, by a death equally fearful and certain. She conceived, therefore, that some secret prejudice, or the suspicions incident to age and to misfor­ tune, had led Alice to form conclusions injurious to the character, and irreconcileable both with the generous conduct and noble features o f the Master o f Ravenswood. And in this belief Lucy reposed her hope, and went on weaving her enchanted web o f fairy tissue, as beautiful and transient as the film o f the gossamer, when it is pearled with the morning dew, and glimmering to the morning sun. H er father, in the meanwhile, as well as the Master o f Ravens­ wood, were making reflections, as frequent, though more solid than those o f Lucy, upon the singular event which had taken place. His first task, when he returned home, was to ascertain by medical assistance that his daughter had sustained no injury from the dan­ gerous and alarming situation in which she had been placed. Satis­ fied on this topic, he proceeded to revise the memoranda which he had taken down from the mouth o f the person employed to interrupt

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the funeral service o f the late Lord Ravenswood. Bred to casuistry, and well accustomed to practise the ambi-dexter ingenuity o f the bar, it cost him little trouble to soften the features o f the tumult which he had been at first so anxious to exaggerate. He preached to his col­ leagues o f the privy council the necessity o f using conciliating meas­ ures with young men whose blood and temper were hot, and their experience o f life limited. He did not hesitate to attribute some cen­ sure to the conduct o f the officer, as having been unnecessarily irrit­ ating. These were the contents o f his public dispatches. T h e letters which he wrote to those private friends into whose management the matter was like to fall, were o f a yet more favourable tenor. He represented that lenity in this case would be equally politic and popular, whereas, considering the high respect with which the rites o f interment are regarded in Scotland, any severity exercised against the Master o f Ravenswood for protecting those o f his father from interruption, would be on all sides most unfavourably construed. And, finally, assuming the language o f a generous and high-spirited man, he made it his particular request that this affair should be passed over without severe notice. He alluded with delicacy to the predicament in which he himself stood with young Ravenswood, as having succeeded in the long train o f litigation by which the fortunes o f that noble house had been so much reduced, and confessed it would be most peculiarly acceptable to his own feelings, could he find means in some sort to counterbalance the disadvantages which he had occasioned the fam­ ily, though only in the prosecution o f his just and lawful rights. He therefore made it his particular and personal request that the matter should have no further consequences, and insinuated a desire that he him self should have the merit o f having put a stop to it by his favour­ able report and intercession. It was particularly remarkable, that, con­ trary to his uniform practice, he made no special communication to Lady Ashton upon the subject o f the tumult; and although he men­ tioned the alarm which Lucy had received from one o f the wild cattle, yet he gave no detailed account o f an incident so interesting and terrible. There was much surprise among Sir William Ashton’s political friends and colleagues on receiving letters o f a tenor so unexpected. On comparing notes together, one smiled, one put up his eye-brows, a third nodded acquiescence in the general wonder, and a fourth asked, if they were sure these were all the letters the Lord Keeper had written on the subject. “ It runs strangely in my mind, my lords, that none o f these advices contain the root o f the matter.” But no secret letters o f a contrary nature had been received,

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although the question seemed to imply the possibility o f their exist­ ence. “W eel,” said an old grey-headed statesman, who had contrived, by shifting and trimming, to maintain his post at the steerage through all the changes o f course which the vessel had held for thirty years, “ I thought Sir William would hae verified the auld Scottish saying, ‘as soon comes the lamb’s skin to market as the auld tup’s.’ ” “We must please him after his own fashion,” said another, “ though it be an unlooked-for one.” “ A wilful man maun hae his way,” answered the old counsellor. “ T he Keeper will rue this before year and day are out,” said a third; “ the Master o f Ravenswood is the lad to wind him a pirn.” “Why, what would you do, my lords, with the poor young fellow?” said a noble Marquis present; “ the Lord Keeper has got all his estate — he has not a cross to bless himself with.” T o which the ancient Lord Turntippet replied,

“If he hasna gear to fine, He has shins to pine—

And that was our way before the Revolution— Luitur cum persona, qui luere non potest cum crumena— Hegh, my lords, that’s gude law Latin.” “ I can see no motive,” replied the Marquis, “ that any noble lord can have for urging this matter farther; let the Lord Keeper have the power to deal in it as he pleases.” “ Agree, agree— remit to the Lord Keeper, with any other person for fashion’s sake— Lord Hirplehooly, who is bed-ridden— one to be a quorum— Make your entry in the minutes, M r Clerk.— And now, my lords, there is that young scattergood, the Laird o f Bucklaw’s fine to be disponed upon— I suppose it goes to my Lord Treasurer.” “ Shame be in my meal-poke then,” exclaimed Lord Turntippet, “ and your hand aye in the nook o f it. I had set that down for a bye bit between meals for mysel.” “ T o use one o f your favourite saws, my lord,” replied the Marquis, “you are like the miller’s dog, that licks his lips before the bag is untied — the man is not fined yet.” “ But that costs but twa skarts o f a pen,” said Lord Turntippet; “ and surely there is nae noble lord that will presume to say, that I, wha hae complied wi’ a’ compliances, tane all manner o f tests, abjured all that was to be abjured, and sworn a’ that was to be sworn, for these thirty years by-past, sticking fast by my duty to the state through good report and bad report, shouldna hae something now and than to synde my mouth wi’ after sic drouthy wark.” “ It would be very unreasonable indeed, my lord,” replied the Marquis, “ had we either thought that your lordship’s drought was

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quenchable, or observed any thing stick in your throat that required washing down.” And so we close the scene on the Privy-council o f that period.

Chapter Six

For this are all these warriors come, To hear an idle tale; And o’er our death-accustomed arms Shall silly tears prevail? O n t h e evening o f the day when the Lord Keeper and his daughter were saved from such eminent peril, two strangers were seated in the most private apartment o f a small obscure inn, or rather alehouse, called the T o d ’s-hole, about five or six miles from the Castle o f Ravenswood, and as far from the ruinous tower o f Wolfscrag, betwixt which two places it was situated. One o f these strangers was about forty years o f age, tall, and thin in the flanks, with an aquiline nose, dark penetrating eyes, and a shrewd but sinister cast o f countenance. T h e other was about fifteen years younger, short, stout, ruddy-faced, and red-haired, with an open, resolute, and cheerful eye, to which careless and fearless freedom, and inward daring, gave fire and expression, notwithstanding its light grey colour. A stoup o f wine, for in those days it was served out from the cask in pewter flaggons, was placed on the table, and each had his quaigh or bicker* before him. But there was little appearance of conviviality. With folded arms, and looks o f anxious expectation, they eyed each other in silence, each wrapt in his own thoughts, and hold­ ing no communication with his neighbour. At length the younger broke silence by exclaiming, “What the foul fiend can detain the Master so long? he must have miscarried in his enterprize.— Why did you dissuade me from going with him?” “ One man is enough to right his own wrong,” said the taller and older personage; “we venture our lives for him in coming thus far on such an errand.” “ You are but a craven after all, Craigengelt,” answered the younger, “ and that’s what many folks have thought you before now.” “ But what none has dared to tell me,” said Craigengelt, laying his hand on the hilt o f his sword; “ and, but that I hold a hasty man no better than a fool, I would— — ” he paused for his companion’s answer. * Drinking cups, of different sizes, made out of staves hooped together. The quaigh was used chiefly for drinking wine or brandy: it might hold about a gill, and was often composed of rare wood, and curiously ornamented with silver.

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“ Wouldyou?” said the other coolly; “ and why do you not then?” Craigengelt drew his cutlass an inch or two, and then returned it with violence into the scabbard— “ Because there is a deeper stake than the lives o f twenty hair-brained gowks like you.” “ You are right there,” said his companion, “ for if it were not that these forfeitures, and that last fine that the old driveller Turntippit is gaping for, and which, I dare say, is laid on by this time, have fairly driven me out o f house, I were a coxcomb and a cuckoo to boot, to trust your fair promises o f getting me a commission in the Irish brigade. What have I to do with the Irish brigade? I am a plain Scotchman, as my father was before me; and my grand aunt, Lady Girnington, cannot live for ever.” “ Ay, Bucklaw,” observed Craigengelt, “ but she may live many a long day; and for your father, he had land and living, kept himself close from wadsetters and money-lenders, paid each man his due, and lived on his own.” “ And whose fault is it that I have not done so too ?” said Bucklaw— “whose but the devil’s and your’s, and such like as you, that have led me to the far end o f a fair estate; and now I shall be obliged, I suppose, to skelder and shift about like yourself—live one week upon a line o f secret intelligence from Saint Germains— another upon a report o f a rising in the Highlands— get my breakfast and morning draught of sack from old Jacobite ladies, and give them locks o f my old wig for the Chevalier’s hair— second my friend in his quarrel till he comes to the field, and then flinch from him lest so important a political agent should perish from the way. All this I must do for bread, besides calling m yself a captain !” “ You think you are making a fine speech now,” said Craigengelt, “ and shewing much wit at my expence. Is starving or hanging better than the life I am obliged to lead, because the present fortunes o f the king cannot sufficiently support his envoys?” “ Starving is honester, Craigengelt, and hanging is like to be the end on’t— But what you mean to make o f this poor fellow Ravenswood, I know not— he has no money left, any more than I— his lands are all pawned and pledged, and the annual rent eats up the rents, and is not satisfied, and what do you hope to make by meddling in his affairs ?” “ Content yourself, Bucklaw; I know my business,” replied Craig­ engelt. “ Besides that his name, and his father’s services in 1689, wil l make such an acquisition sound well both at Versailles and Saint Germains, you will also please be informed, that the Master of Ravenswood is a very different kind o f a young fellow from you. He has parts and address, as well as courage and talents, and will present himself abroad like a young man o f head as well as heart, who knows

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something more than the speed of a horse or the flight o f a hawk. I have lost credit o f late, by bringing over no one that had sense to know more than how to unharbour a stag, or take and reclaim an eyess— the M aster has education, sense, and penetration.” “ And yet not wise enough to escape the tricks o f a kidnapper, Craigengelt— but don’t be angry; you know you will not fight, and so it is as well to leave your hilt in peace and quiet, and tell me in sober guise how you drew the Master into your confidence.” “ By flattering his love o f vengeance, Bucklaw— he has always dis­ trusted me— but I watched my time, and struck while his temper was red-hot with the sense o f insult and o f wrong. He goes now to expostulate, as he says— and perhaps thinks— with Sir William Ash­ ton.— I say, that if they meet, and the lawyer puts him to his defence, the Master will kill him; for he had that sparkle in his eye which never deceives you when you would read a man’s purpose. At any rate, he will give him such a tight bullying as will be construed into an assault on a privy-counsellor. So there will be a total breach betwixt him and government; Scotland will be too hot for him, France will gain him, and we will all set sail together in the French brig L ’Espoir, which is hovering for us o ff Eyemouth.” “ Content am I,” said Bucklaw; “ Scotland has little left that I care about; and if carrying the M aster with us will get us a better reception in France, why, so be it, a G od’s name. I doubt our own merits will procure us but slender preferment. And I trust he will send a ball through the Keeper’s head before he joins us. One or two o f these scoundrel statesmen should be shot once a-year, just to keep the others on their good behaviour.” “ That is very true,” replied Craigengelt; “ and it reminds me that I must go and see that our horses have been fed, and are in readiness; for, should such deed be done, it will be no time for grass to grow beneath their heels.” He proceeded as far as the door, then turned back with a look o f earnestness, and said to Bucklaw, “Whatever should come o f this business, I am sure you will do me the justice to remember, that I said nothing to the Master which could imply my accession to any act o f violence which he may take it into his head to commit.” “ No, no, not a single word like accession,” replied Bucklaw; “you know too well the risk belonging to those two terrible words, art and part.” Then, as if to himself, he recited the following lines : “ T h e dial spoke not, but it made shrewd signs, And pointed full upon the stroke o f murder.”

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“ Nothing— only two lines I have heard upon the stage,” replied his companion. “ Bucklaw,” said Craigengelt, “ I sometimes think you should have been a stage-player yourself; all is fancy and frolic with you.” “ I have often thought so myself,” said Bucklaw. “ I believe it would be safer than acting with you in the Fatal Conspiracy.— But away, play you your own part, and look after the horses like a groom as you are.— A play-actor! a stage-player! that would have deserved a stab, but that Craigengelt’s a coward— And yet I should like the profession well enough. Stay— let me see— ay— I would come out in Alex­ ander— T h u s from the grave I rise to save my love, D raw all your swords, and quick as lightning move; W hen I rush on, sure none will dare to stay, ’T is love commands, and glory leads the w ay.”

As with a voice o f thunder, and his hand upon his sword, Bucklaw repeated the ranting couplets o f poor Lee, Craigengelt re-entered with a face o f alarm. “We are undone, Bucklaw ! the M aster’s led horse has cast himself over his halter in the stable, and is dead lame— his hackney will be set up with the day’s work, and now he has no fresh horse; he will never get off.” “ Egad there will be no moving with the speed o f lightning this bout,” said Bucklaw, drily. “ But stay, you can give him yours.” “ What, and be taken myself? I thank you for the proposal,” said Craigengelt. “Why, if the Lord Keeper should have met with a mischance, which for my part I cannot suppose, for the Master is not the lad to shoot an old and unarmed man— But i f there should have been a fray at the Castle, you are neither art nor part in it you know, so have nothing to fear.” “ True, true,” answered the other, with embarrassment; “ but con­ sider my commission from Saint Germains.” “Which many men think is a commission o f your own making, noble captain. Well, if you will not give him your horse, why, d— n it, he must have mine.” “Yours?” said Craigengelt. “ Ay, mine,” repeated Bucklaw; “ it shall never be said that I agreed to back a gentleman in a little affair o f honour, and neither helped him on with it or o ff from it.” “ You will give him your horse ? and have you considered the loss ?” “ Loss ! why G rey Gilbert cost me twenty Jacobuses, that’s true; but then his hackney is worth something, and his Black M oor is worth

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twice as much were he sound, and I know how to handle him.— Take a fat sucking mastiff whelp, flay and bowel him, stuff the body full of black and grey snails, roast a reasonable time, and baste with oil of spikenard, saffron, cinnamon and honey, anoint with the dripping, working it in”— — “ Yes, Bucklaw, but in the meanwhile, before the sprain is cured, nay before the whelp is roasted, you will be caught and hung. Depend on it, the chase will be hard after Ravenswood. I wish we had made our place o f rendezvous nearer to the coast.” “ On my faith then,” said Bucklaw, “ I had best off just now, and leave my horse for him— Stay, stay, he comes, I hear a horse’s feet.” “ Are you sure there is only one ?” said Craigengelt; “ I fear there is a chase; I think I hear three or four galloping together; I am sure I hear more horses than one.” “ Pooh, pooh, it is the wench o f the house that is clattering to the well in her pattens : by my faith, captain, you should give up both your captainship and your secret service, for you are as easily scared as a wild goose. But here comes the Master alone, and looking as gloomy as a night in November.” T h e Master o f Ravenswood entered the room accordingly, his cloak muffled around him, his arms folded, his looks stern, and at the same time dejected. He flung his cloak from him as he entered, threw him self upon a chair, and appeared sunk in a profound reverie. “What has happened? What have you done?” was hastily demanded by Craigengelt and Bucklaw in the same moment. “ Nothing,” was the short and sullen answer. “ Nothing? and left us, so determined to call the old villain to account for all the injuries that you, we, and the country have received at his hand ? Have you seen him ?” “ I have,” replied the Master o f Ravenswood. “ Seen him and come away without settling scores which have been so long due ?” asked Bucklaw; “ I would not have expected that at the hand o f the Master o f Ravenswood.” “ No matter what you expected,” replied Ravenswood; “ it is not to you, sir, that I shall be disposed to render any reason for my conduct.” “ Patience, Bucklaw,” said Craigengelt, interrupting his compan­ ion, who seemed about to make an angry reply. “ Th e Master has been interrupted in his purpose by some accident, but he must excuse the anxious curiosity o f friends, who are devoted to his cause like you and ” me. “ Friends, Captain Craigengelt!” retorted Ravenswood haughtily, “ I am ignorant what familiarity has passed betwixt us to entitle you to use that expression. I think our friendship amounts to this, that we

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agreed to leave Scotland together so soon as I should have visited the alienated mansion o f my fathers, and had an interview with its present possessor, I will not call him proprietor.” “Very true, M aster,” answered Bucklaw; “ and as we thought you had a mind to do something to put your neck in jeopardy, Craigie and I very courteously agreed to tarry for you, although ours might run some risk in consequence. As to Craigie, indeed, it does not very much signify, he had gallows written on his brow in the hour o f his birth; but I should not like to discredit my parentage by coming to such an end in another man’s cause.” “ Gentlemen,” said the M aster o f Ravenswood, “ I am sorry if I have occasioned you any inconvenience, but I must claim the right of judging what is best for my own affairs, without rendering any explanations to any one. I have altered my mind, and do not design to leave the country this season.” “ Not to leave the country, Master !” exclaimed Craigengelt. “ Not to go over, after all the trouble and expence I have incurred— after all the risk o f discovery, and the expence o f freight and demurrage !” “ S ir,” replied the Master o f Ravenswood, “when I designed to leave this country in haste, I made use of your obliging offer to procure me means o f conveyance; but I do not recollect that I pledged myself to go off, if I found occasion to alter my mind. For your trouble on my account, I am sorry, and I thank you; your expence,” he added, put­ ting his hand in his pocket, “ admits a more solid compensation— freight and demurrage are matters with which I am unacquainted, Captain Craigengelt, but take my purse and pay yourself according to your own conscience.” And accordingly he tendered a purse with some gold in it to the soi-disant captain. But here Bucklaw interposed in his turn. “ Your fingers, Craigie, seem to itch for that same piece o f green net-work,” said he; “but I make my vow to God, that if they offer to close upon it, I will chop them off with my whinger. Since the Master has changed his mind, I suppose we need stay here no longer; but in the first place I beg leave to tell him” —— “ T ell him any thing you will,” said Craigengelt, “ if you will first allow me to state to him the inconveniencies to which he will expose himself by quitting our society, to remind him o f the obstacles to his remaining here, and o f the difficulties attending his proper introduc­ tion at Versailles and Saint Germains, without the countenance o f those who have established useful connections.” “ Besides forfeiting the friendship,” said Bucklaw, “ o f at least one man o f spirit and honour.” “ Gentlemen,” said Ravenswood, “ permit me once more to assure

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you, that you have been pleased to attach to our temporary connection more importance than I ever meant that it should have. When I repair to foreign courts, I shall not need the introduction o f an intriguing adventurer, nor is it necessary for me to set value on the friendship o f an hot-headed bully.” With these words, and without waiting for an answer, he left the apartment, remounted his horse, and was heard to ride off. “ Mortbleu !” said Captain Craigengelt, “ my recruit is lost.” “ Ay, captain,” said Bucklaw, “ the salmon is o ff with hook and all. But I will after him, for I have had more o f his insolence than I can well digest.” Craigengelt offered to accompany him, but Bucklaw replied, “ No, no, captain, keep you the cheek o f the chimney-nook till I come back. Its good sleeping in a hale skin. L ittle kens the auld wife that sits by the fire, H ow cauld the wind blaws in hurle-burle-sw ire.”

And singing as he went, he left the apartment.

Chapter S e ven N ow , Billy Bewick, keep good heart, A nd o f thy talking let me be; But if thou art a man, as I’m sure thou art, Com e ower the dike and fight with me. O ld Ballad

T h e M a s t e r o f Ravenswood had mounted the ambling hackney which he before rode, on finding the accident which had happened to his led horse, and, for the animal’s ease, was proceeding at a slow pace from the T o d ’s-hole towards his old tower o f Wolfscrag, when he heard the gallopping o f a horse behind him, and, looking back, per­ ceived that he was pursued by young Bucklaw, who had been delayed a few minutes in the pursuit by the irresistible temptation o f giving the hostler at the T o d ’s-hole some receipt for treating the lame horse. This brief delay he had made up by hard gallopping, and now overtook the M aster where the road traversed a waste moor. “ Halt, sir,” cried Bucklaw; “ I am no political agent— no Captain Craigengelt, whose life is too important to be hazarded in defence o f his honour. I am Frank Hayston o f Bucklaw, and no man injures me by word, deed, sign, or look, but he must render me an account o f it.” “ This is all very well, M r Hayston o f Bucklaw,” replied the M aster o f Ravenswood, in a tone the most calm and indifferent; “but I have no quarrel with you, and desire to have none. Our roads homeward,

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and our roads through life, lie in different directions; there is no occasion for our crossing each other.” “ Is there not?” said Bucklaw, impetuously. “ By Heaven! but I say that there is though— you called us intriguing adventurers.” “ Be correct in your recollection, M r Hayston; it was to your com­ panion only I applied that epithet, and you know him to be no better.” “ And what then? he was my companion for the time, and no man shall insult my companion, right or wrong, while he is in my com­ pany.” “ Then, M r Hayston,” replied Ravenswood, with the same compos­ ure, “you should chuse your society better, or you are like to have much work in your capacity o f their champion. G o home, sir, sleep, and have more reason in your wrath to-morrow.” “ Not so, Master, you have mistaken your man; high airs and wise saws shall not carry it off thus. Besides, you termed me bully, and you shall retract the word before we part.” “ Faith, scarcely,” said Ravenswood, “ unless you shew me better reason for thinking myself mistaken than you are now producing.” “ Then, M aster,” said Bucklaw, “ though I should be sorry to offer it to a man o f your quality, if you will not justify your uncivility, or retract it, or name a place o f meeting, you must here undergo the hard word and the hard blow.” “ Neither will be necessary,” said Ravenswood; “ I am satisfied with what I have done to avoid an affair with you— if you are serious, this place will serve as well as another.” “ Dismount then, and draw,” said Bucklaw, setting him the ex­ ample. “ I always thought and said you were a pretty man; I should be sorry to report you otherwise.” “ You shall have no reason, sir,” said Ravenswood, alighting, and putting himself into a posture o f defence. Their swords crossed, and the combat commenced with great spirit on the part o f Bucklaw, who was well accustomed to affairs o f the kind, and distinguished by address and dexterity at his weapon. In the present case, however, he did not use his skill to the best advantage; for having lost temper at the cool and contemptuous manner in which the Master o f Ravenswood had long refused, and at length granted him satisfaction, and urged by his impatience, he adopted the part of an assailant with inconsiderate eagerness. T he Master, with equal skill, and much greater composure, remained chiefly on the defensive, and even declined to avail himself of one or two advantages afforded him by the eagerness o f his adversary. At length, in a desperate lounge, which he followed up with an attempt to close, Bucklaw’s foot slipped, and he fell on the short grassy turf on which they were

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fighting. “ Take your life, sir,” said the Master of Ravenswood, “ and mend it, if you can.” “ It would be but a cobbled piece o f work, I fear,” said Bucklaw, rising slowly and gathering up his sword, much less disconcerted with the issue o f the combat than could have been expected from the impetuosity o f his temper. “ I thank you for my life, M aster,” he pursued. “ There is my hand, I bear no ill will to you either for my bad luck, or your better swordmanship.” T h e Master looked steadily at him for an instant, then extended his hand to him.— “ Bucklaw,” he said, “ you are a generous fellow, and I have done you wrong. I heartily ask your pardon for the expression which offended you; it was hastily and incautiously uttered, and I am convinced it is totally misapplied.” “ Are you indeed, Master ?” said Bucklaw, his face resuming at once its natural expression o f light-hearted carelessness and audacity; “ that is more than I expected o f you, for, Master, men say you are not too ready to retract your opinions and your language.” “ Not when I have well considered them,” said the Master. “ Then you are little wiser than I am; for I always give my friend satisfaction first, and explanation afterwards— if one o f us falls, all accounts are settled— if not, men are never so ready for peace as after war. But what does that bawling beast o f a boy want ?” said Bucklaw. “ I wish to Heaven he had come a few minutes sooner, and yet it must have been ended some time, and perhaps this way is as well as any other.” As he spoke, the boy he mentioned came up, cudgelling an ass, on which he was mounted, to the top o f its speed, and sending, like one o f Ossian’s heroes, his voice before him,— “ Gentlemen,— gentlemen, save yoursells, for the gudewife bade us tell ye that there were folk in her house had ta’en Captain Craigengelt, and were seeking for Bucklaw, and that ye behoved to ride for it.” “ By my faith, and that’s very true, my man,” said Bucklaw; “ and there is a silver sixpence for your news, and I would give any man twice as much would tell me which way I should ride.” “ That will I, Bucklaw,” said Ravenswood; “ ride home to Wolfscrag with me; there are places in the old tower you might lie hid, were a thousand men to seek you.” “ But that will bring you into trouble yourself, M aster; and unless you be in the Jacobite scrape already, it is needless for me to drag you in.” “ Not a whit; I have nothing to fear.” “ Then I will ride with you blithely, for, to say the truth, I do not know the rendezvous that Craigie was to guide us to this night; and I

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am sure that, if he is taken, he will tell all the truth on me, and twenty lies on you, in order to save himself from the withie.” They mounted, and rode off in company accordingly, striking off the ordinary road, and holding their way by wild moorish unfrequen­ ted paths, with which the gentlemen were well acquainted from the exercise o f the chace, but through which others would have had much difficulty in tracing their course. They rode for some time in silence, making such haste as the condition o f Ravenswood’s horse permitted, until night having gradually closed around them, they discontinued their speed, both from the difficulty of discovering their path, and from the hope that they were beyond the reach o f pursuit or observa­ tion. “ And now that we have drawn bridle a bit,” said Bucklaw, “ I would fain ask you a question, M aster.” “ Ask, and welcome,” said Ravenswood, “ but forgive my not an­ swering it, unless I think proper.” “Well, it is simply this,” answered his late antagonist, “What, in the name o f old Sathan, could make you, who stand so high on your reputation, think for a moment o f drawing up with such a rogue as Craigengelt, and such a scape-grace as folks call Bucklaw?” “ Simply, because I was desperate, and sought desperate associ­ ates.” “ And what made you break o ff from us at the nearest?” again demanded Bucklaw. “ Because I had changed my mind,” said the Master, “ and renounced my enterprize, at least for the present. And now that I have answered your questions fairly and frankly, tell me what makes you associate with Craigengelt, so much beneath you both in birth and in spirit?” “ In plain terms,” answered Bucklaw, “because I am a fool, who have gambled away my land in these times. M y grand-aunt, Lady Girnington, has ta’en a new tack o f life, I think, and I could only hope to get something by a change o f government. Craigie was a sort of gambling acquaintance. He saw my condition, and, as the devil is always at one’s elbow, told me fifty lies about his credentials from Versailles, and his interest at Saint Germains, promised me a cap­ tain’s commission at Paris, and I have been ass enough to put my thumb under his belt. I dare say, by this time, he has told a dozen pretty stories o f me to the government. And this is what I have got by wine, women, and dice, cocks, dogs, and horses.” “ Yes, Bucklaw,” said the Master, “you have indeed nourished in your bosom the snakes that are now stinging you.” “ That’s home as well as true, M aster,” replied his companion;

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“ but, by your leave, you have nursed in your bosom one great goodly snake that has swallowed all the rest, and is as sure to devour you as my half dozen are to make a meal on all that’s left o f Bucklaw, which is but what lies between bonnet and boot-heel.” “ I must not,” answered the M aster o f Ravenswood, “ challenge the freedom o f speech in which I have set example. What, to speak with­ out a metaphor, do you call this monstrous passion which you charge me with fostering?” “ Revenge, my good sir, revenge, which, if it be as gentleman-like a sin as wine and wassail, with all their et cæteras, is equally unchristian, and not quite so bloodless. It is better breaking a park-pale to watch a doe or damsel, than to shoot at an old man.” “ I deny the purpose,” said the M aster o f Ravenswood. “ On my soul, I had no such intention; I meant but to confront the oppressor ere I left my native land, and upbraid him with his tyranny and its consequences. I would have stated my wrongs so that they would have shaken his soul within him.” “ Y es,” answered Bucklaw, “ and he would have collared you, and cried help, and then you would have shaken the soul out o f him, I suppose. Your very look and manner would have frightened the old man to death.” “ Consider the provocation,” answered Ravenswood,— “ consider the ruin and death procured and caused by his hard-hearted cruelty— an ancient house destroyed, an affectionate father murdered. Why, in our old Scottish days, he that sat quiet under such wrongs, would have been held neither fit to back a friend or face a foe.” “Well, Master, I am glad to see that the devil deals as cunningly with other folks as he does with me; for whenever I am about to commit any folly, he persuades me it is the most necessary, gallant, gentlemanlike thing on earth, and I am up to saddlegirths in the bog before I see that the ground is soft. And you, Master, might have turned out a murd — — a homicide, just out o f pure respect for your father’s memory.” “ There is more sense in your language, Bucklaw,” replied the Master, “ than might have been expected from your conduct— it is too true, our vices steal upon us in forms outwardly as fair as those o f the demons whom the superstitious represent as intriguing with the human race, and are not discovered in their native hideousness until we have clasped them in our arms.” “ But we may throw them from us though,” said Bucklaw, “ and that is what I shall think o f doing one o f these days, that is when old Lady Gimington dies.” “ Did you ever hear the expression o f the English divine?” said Ravenswood— “ ‘Hell is paved with good intentions’— As much as to

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say, they are more often formed than executed.” “W ell,” replied Bucklaw, “ but I will begin this blessed night, and not drink above one quart o f wine— unless your claret be o f extraord­ inary quality.” “ You will find little to tempt you at Wolfscrag,” said the Master. “ I know not that I can promise you more than the shelter o f my roof; all, and more than all our stock o f wine and provisions were exhausted on the late occasion.” “ Long may it be ere provision is needed for the like purpose,” answered Bucklaw; “ but you should not drink up the last flask at a dirgie; there is ill luck in that.” “ There is ill luck, I think, in whatever belongs to me,” said Ravenswood. “ But yonder is Wolfscrag, and whatever it still contains is at your service.” The roar o f the sea had long announced their approach to the cliffs, on the summit o f which, like the nest o f some sea-eagle, the founder o f the fortalice had perched his eyry. T he pale moon, which had hitherto been contending with flitting clouds, now shone out, and gave them a view o f the solitary and naked tower, situated on a projecting cliff that beetled over the German ocean. On three sides the rock was precipitous; on the fourth, which was that towards the land, it had been originally fenced by an artificial ditch and draw­ bridge, but the latter was broken down and ruinous, and the former had been in part filled up, so as to allow passage for a horseman into the narrow court-yard, encircled on two sides with low offices and stables, partly ruinous, and closed on the landward front by a low embattled wall, while the remaining side o f the quadrangle was occu­ pied by the tower itself, which, tall and narrow, and built o f a greyish stone, stood glimmering in the moonlight, like the sheeted spectre o f some huge giant. A wilder, or a more disconsolate dwelling, it was perhaps difficult to conceive. T h e sombrous and heavy sound o f the billows, successively dashing against the rocky beach at a profound distance beneath, was to the ear what the landscape was to the eye— a symbol o f unvaried and monotonous melancholy, not unmingled with horror. Although the night was not far advanced, there was no sign o f living inhabitant about this forlorn abode, excepting that one, and only one, o f the narrow and staunchelled windows which appeared at irregular heights and distances in the walls o f the building, showed a small glimmer o f light. “ T h ere,” said Ravenswood, “ sits the only male domestic that remains to the house o f Ravenswood; and it is well that he does remain there, since otherwise, we had little hope to find either light or

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fire. But follow me cautiously; the road is narrow, and admits only one horse in front.” In effect, the path led along a kind o f an isthmus, at the peninsular extremity o f which the tower was situated, with that exclusive atten­ tion to strength and security, in preference to every circumstance o f convenience, which dictated to the Scottish barons the choice o f their situations, as well as their style o f building. By adopting the cautious mode o f approach recommended by the proprietor o f this wild hold, they entered the court-yard in safety. But it was long ere the efforts o f Ravenswood, though loudly exerted by knocking at the low-browed entrance, and repeated shouts to Caleb to open the gate and admit them, received any answer. “ T he old man must be departed,” he began to say, “ or he has fallen into some fit; for the noise I have made would have waked the seven sleepers.” At length a timid and hesitating voice replied,— “ Master— Master o f Ravenswood— is it you?” “ Yes, it is I, Caleb; open the door quickly.” “ But is it you in very blood and body?— for I would sooner face fifty devils as my master’s ghaist, or even his wraith,— wherefore aroint ye, if ye were ten times my master, unless ye come in bodily shape, lith and limb.” “ It is I, you old fool,” answered Ravenswood, “ in bodily shape, and alive, save that I am half dead with cold.” T h e light at the upper window disappeared, and glancing from loop-hole to loop-hole in slow succession, gave intimation that the bearer was in the act o f descending, with great deliberation, a winding stair-case occupying one o f the turrets which graced the angles o f the old tower. Th e tardiness o f its descent extracted some exclamations o f impatience from Ravenswood, and several oaths from his less patient and more mercurial companion. Caleb again paused ere he unbolted the door, and once more asked, if they were men o f mould that demanded entrance at this time o f night? “Were I near you, you old fool,” said Bucklaw, “ I would give you sufficient proofs o f my bodily condition.” “ Open the gate, Caleb,” said his master, in a more soothing tone, partly from his regard to the ancient and faithful seneschal, partly perhaps because he thought that angry words would be thrown away, so long as Caleb had a stout iron-clenched oaken door betwixt his person and the speakers. At length Caleb, with a trembling hand, undid the bars, opened the heavy door, and stood before them, exhibiting his thin grey hairs, bald forehead, and sharp high features, illuminated by a quivering lamp which he held in one hand, while he shaded and protected its flame

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with the other. The timorous cautious glance which he threw around him— the effect o f the partial light upon his white hair and illumined features, might have made a good painting; but our travellers were too impatient for security against the rising storm, to permit them to indulge themselves in studying the picturesque. “ Is it you, my dear master ? is it yoursell indeed ?” exclaimed the old domestic. “ I am wae ye suld hae stude waiting at your ain yate, but wha wad hae thought o’ seeing ye sae sune, and a strange gentleman with a’— (here he exclaimed apart as it were, and to some inmate o f the tower, in a voice not meant to be heard by those in the court)— M ysie— Mysie, woman — stir for dear life and get the fire mended— take the auld threelegged stool, or ony thing that’s readiest that will mak a lowe.— I doubt we are but puirly provided, no expecting ye this some months, when doubtless ye wad hae been received conform till your rank, as gude right is; but natheless”— — “ Natheless, Caleb,” said the Master, “we must have our horses put up, and ourselves too, the best way we can. I hope ye are not sorry to see me sooner than you expected?” “ Sorry, my lord !— I am sure ye sall aye be my lord wi’ honest folk, as your noble ancestors hae been these three hundred years, and never asked a whig’s leave— sorry to see the Lord o f Ravenswood at ane 0’ his ain castles!— (Then again apart to his unseen associate behind the screen)— Mysie, kill the brood-hen without thinking twice on it; let them care that come ahint.— No to say its our best dwelling,” he added, turning to Bucklaw, “ but just a strength, Sir, for the Lord o f Ravenswood to flee until,— that is, no to flee, but to retreat until in troublous times, like the present, when it was ill convenient for him to live farther in the country in ony o f his better and mair principal manors; but, for its antiquity, maist folks think that the outside o f Wolfscrag is worthy o f a large perusal.” “ And you are determined we shall have time to make it,” said Ravenswood, somewhat amused with the shifts the old man used to detain them without doors, until his confederate Mysie had made her preparations within. “ O, never mind the outside o f the house, my good friend,” said Bucklaw; “ let us see the inside, and let our horses see the stable, that’s all.” “ O yes, sir— ay, sir— unquestionably, sir,— my lord and ony o f his honourable companions”— — “ But our horses, my old friend— our horses; they will be deadfoundered by standing here in the cold after riding hard, and mine is too good to be spoiled— therefore, once more, our horses,” exclaimed Bucklaw.

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“ T rue— ay— your horses— yes— I will call the groom s;” and stur­ dily did Caleb roar till the old tower rung again,— “John— William— Saunders !— T h e lads are gane out, or sleeping,” he observed, after pausing for an answer, which he knew that he had no human chance o f receiving. “ A ’ gaes wrang when the M aster’s out bye; but I’ll take care 0’ your cattle mysell.” “ I think you had better,” said Ravenswood, “ otherwise I see little chance o f their being attended to at all.” “ Whisht, my lord,— whisht, for G od’s sake,” said Caleb, in an imploring tone, and apart to his master; “ i f ye dinna regard your ain credit, think on mine; we’ll hae hard eneugh wark to make a decent night o’t, wi’ a’ the lies I can tell.” “ Well, well, never mind,” said his master; “ go to the stable— there is hay and corn, I trust?” “ Ow ay, plenty o f hay and corn; ” this was uttered boldly and aloud, and, in a lower voice, “ there was some half fous o’ aits, and some taits 0’ meadow-hay, left after the burial.” “ Very well,” said Ravenswood, taking the lamp from his domestic’s unwilling hand, “ I will shew the stranger up stairs myself.” “ I canna think o’ that, my lord; — if ye wad but have five minutes, or ten minutes, or, at maist, a quarter o f an hour’s patience, and look at the fine moonlight prospect o f the Bass and North-Berwick Law till I sort the horses, I would marshal ye up, as reason is ye suld be mar­ shalled, your lordship and your honourable visitor. And I hae lockit up the siller candlesticks, and the lamp is not fit”— — “ It will do very well in the meantime,” said Ravenswood, “ and you will have no difficulty for want o f light in the stable, for, if I recollect right, half the roof is off.” “Vera true, my lord,” replied the trusty adherent, and with ready wit instantly added, “ and the lazy sclater loons have never come to put it on a’ this while, your lordship.” “ I f I were disposed to jest at the calamities o f my house,” said Ravenswood, as he led the way up stairs, “ poor old Caleb would furnish me with ample means. His passion consists in representing things about our miserable menage, not as they are, but as, in his opinion, they ought to be; and, to say truth, I have been often diverted with the poor wretch’s expedients to supply what he thought was essential for the credit o f the family, and his still more ingenious apologies for the want o f those articles for which his ingenuity could discover no substitute. But though the tower is none o f the largest, I shall have some trouble without him to find the apartment in which there is a fire.” As he spoke thus, he opened the door o f the hall. “ Here, at least,”

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he said, “ there is neither hearth nor harbour.” It was indeed a scene o f desolation. A large vaulted room, the beams o f which, combined like those o f Westminster-Hall, were rudely carved at the extremities, remained nearly in the situation in which it had been left after the entertainment at Allan Lord Ravenswood’s funeral. Overturned pitchers, and black jacks, and pewter stoups, and flagons, still cumbered the large oaken table; glasses, those more perishable implements o f conviviality, many o f which had been volun­ tarily sacrificed by the guests in their enthusiastic pledges to favourite toasts, strewed the stone floor with their fragments. As for the articles o f plate, lent for the purpose by friends and kinsfolks, these had been carefully withdrawn so soon as the ostentatious display o f festivity, equally unnecessary and strangely timed, had been made and ended. Nothing, in short, remained that indicated wealth : all the signs were those o f recent wastefulness, and present desolation. The black cloth hangings, which, on the late mournful occasion, had replaced the tattered and moth-eaten tapestries, had been partly pulled down, and, dangling from the wall in irregular festoons, disclosed the rough stone-work o f the building, unsmoothed either by plaster or hewn stone. T he seats thrown down, or left in disorder, intimated the care­ less confusion which had concluded the mournful revel. “ This room,” said Ravenswood, holding up the lamp— “ this room, M r Hayston, was riotous when it should have been sad; it is a just retribution that it should now be sad when it ought to be cheerful.” They left this disconsolate apartment, and went up stairs, where, after opening one or two doors in vain, Ravenswood led the way into a little matted anti-room, in which, to their great joy, they found a tolerably good fire, which Mysie, by some such expedient as Caleb had suggested, had supplied with a reasonable quantity o f fuel. Glad at the heart to see more o f comfort than the castl e had yet seemed to offer, Bucklaw rubbed his hands heartily over the fire, and now lis­ tened with more complacence to the apologies which the Master o f Ravenswood offered. “ Comfort,” he says, “ I cannot provide for you, for I have it not for myself; it is long since these walls have known it, if, indeed, they were ever acquainted with it. Shelter and safety, I think, I can promise you.” “ Excellent matters, M aster,” replied Bucklaw, “ and, with a mouth­ ful o f food and wine, positively all that I can require to-night.” “ I fear,” said the Master, “your supper will be a poor one— I hear the matter in discussion betwixt Caleb and Mysie— poor Balderstone is something deaf, amongst his other accomplishments, so that much o f what he means should be spoken aside is overheard by the whole audience, and especially by those from whom he is most anxious to

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conceal his private manœuvres— H ark!” They listened, and heard the old domestic’s voice in conversation with Mysie to the following effect. “Just mak the best o’t, mak the best o’t, woman; it is easy to put a fair face on ony thing.” “ But the auld brood-hen?— she’ll be as teugh as bow-strings and bend-leather.” “ Say ye made a mistak— say ye made a mistak, M ysie,” replied the faithful seneschal, in a soothing and undertoned voice; “ tak it a’ on yoursel; never let the credit 0’ the house suffer.” “ But the brood-hen,” remonstrated M ysie,— “ ou, she’s sitting some gate aneath the dais in the hall— and I am feared to gae in in the dark for the bogle— and if I didna see the bogle, I could as ill see the hen, for it’s pit-mirk, and there’s no another light in the house, save that very blessed lamp whilk the Master has in his ain hand— and if I had the hen, she’s to pu’, and to draw, and to dress— and how can I do that, and them sitting by the only fire we hae ?” “Weel, weel, M ysie,” said the butler, “ bide ye there a wee, and I’ll try to get the lamp wiled away frae them.” Accordingly, Caleb Balderstone entered the apartment, little aware that so much o f his bye-play had been audible there. “Well, Caleb, my old friend, is there any chance o f supper?” said the Master o f Ravenswood. “Chance o f supper, your lordship ?” said Caleb, with an emphasis of strong scorn at the implied doubt,— “ How should there be ony ques­ tion 0’ that, and we in your lordship’s house ?— Chance o f supper, indeed?— but ye’ll no be for butcher-meat— there’s walth 0’ fat poultry, ready either for spit or brander— T h e fat capon, M ysie,” he added, calling out as boldly as if such a thing had been in existence. “ Quite unnecessary,” said Bucklaw, who deemed himself bound in courtesy to relieve some part o f the anxious Butler’s perplexity, “ if you have any thing cold, or a morsel o f bread.” “ Th e best o f bannocks!” exclaimed Caleb, much relieved; “ and, for cauld meat, aw that we hae is cauld aneugh,— howbeit maist o f the cauld meat and pastry was gi’en to the poor folk after the ceremony of interment, as gude reason was; nevertheless”— — “ Come, Caleb,” said the Master o f Ravenswood, “ I must cut this matter short— this is the young laird o f Bucklaw— he is under hiding, and therefore you know”— — “ H e’ll be nae nicer than your lordship’s honour, I’se warrant,” answered Caleb, chearfully, with a nod of intelligence; “ I am sorry that the gentleman is under distress, but I am blyth that he canna say mickle again our house-keeping, for I believe his ain pinches may match ours; — no that we are pinched, thank G od,” he added, retract­

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ing the admission which he had made in his first burst o f joy, “ but nae doubt we are waur aff than we hae been, or suld be. And for eating,— what signifies telling a lee ? there’s just the hinder end o f the muttonham that has been but three times on the table, and the nearer the bane the sweeter, as your honours weel ken— and there’s the heel o f the ewe-milk kebbuck, wi’ a bit o f nice butter, and— and— and that’s a’ that’s to trust to.” And with great alacrity he produced his slender stock o f provisions, and placed them with great formality upon a small round table betwixt the two gentlemen, who were not deterred either by the homely quality or limited quantity o f the repast from doing it full justice. Caleb in the mean-while waited on them with grave offi­ ciousness, as if anxious to make up, by his own respectful assiduity, for the want o f all other attendance. But alas ! how little on such occasions can form, however anxiously and scrupulously observed, supply the lack o f substantial fare ! Bucklaw, who had eagerly cut a considerable portion o f the thrice sacked mutton-ham, now began to demand ale. “ I wadna just presume to recommend our ale,” said Caleb; “ the maut was ill made, and there was awfu’ thunner last week; but siccan water as the Tower well has, ye’ll seldom see, Bucklaw, and that I’se engage fur.” “ But if your ale is bad you can let us have some wine,” said Bucklaw, making a grimace at the mention o f the pure element which Caleb so earnestly recommended. “ Wine,” answered Caleb undauntedly, “ eneugh o f wine; it was but twa days syne— waes me for the cause— there was as much wine drunk in this house as would hae floated a pinnace. There never was lack o f wine at W olfscrag.” “ Do fetch us some then,” said his master, “ instead o f talking about it.” And Caleb boldly departed. Every expended butt in the old cellar did he set atilt and shake with the desperate expectation o f collecting enough o f the grounds o f claret to fill the large pewter measure which he carried in his hand. Alas ! each had been too devoutly drained; and, with all the squeezing and manœuvring which his craft as a butler suggested, he could only collect about half a quart that seemed presentable. Still, however, Caleb was too good a general to renounce the field without a stratagem to cover his retreat. He undauntedly threw down an empty flagon, as if he had stumbled at the entrance o f the apartment; called upon Mysie to wipe up the wine that had never been spilt, and placing the other vessel on the table, hoped there was still enough left for their honours. There was indeed; for even Bucklaw, sworn friend to the grape as he was, found no encouragement to renew his first attack

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upon the vintage o f Wolfscrag, but contented himself, however reluct­ antly, with a draught o f fair water. Arrangements were now made for his repose; and as the secret chamber was assigned for this purpose, it furnished Caleb with a first-rate and most plausible apology for all deficiencies o f furniture, bedding, &c. “ For wha,” said he, “would have thought o f the secret chaumer being needed? it has not been used since the time o f the Gowrie Conspiracy, and I durst never let a woman ken o f the entrance to it, or your honour will allow that it wad not hae been a secret chaumer lang.”

Chapter Eight T h e hearth in hall was black and dead, N o board was dight in bower within, N o r merry bowl nor welcome bed; “ H ere’s sorry cheer,” quoth the H eir o f Linne. O ld Ballad

T h e f e e l i n g s o f the prodigal Heir o f Linne, as expressed in that excellent old song, when, after dissipating his whole fortune, he found himself the deserted inhabitant o f “ the lonely lodge,” might perhaps have some resemblance to those o f the Master o f Ravenswood in his deserted mansion o f Wolfscrag. T h e Master, however, had this advantage over the spendthrift in the legend, that if he was in similar distress, he could not impute it to his own imprudence. His misery had been bequeathed to him by his father, and, joined to his high blood, and to a title which the courteous might give, or the churlish withhold at their pleasure, it was the whole inheritance he had derived from his ancestry. Perhaps this melancholy, yet consolatory reflection, crossed the mind o f this unfortunate young nobleman with a breathing o f comfort. Favourable to calm reflection, as well as to the M uses, the morning, while it dispelled the shades o f night, had a composing and sedative effect upon the stormy passions by which the Master o f Ravenswood had been agitated on the preceding day. He now felt himself able to analyze the different feelings by which he was agitated, and much resolved to combat and to subdue them. T h e morning, which had arisen calm and bright, gave a pleasant effect even to the waste moor­ land view which was seen from the castle on looking to the landward; and the glorious ocean, crisped with a thousand rippling waves o f silver, extended on the other side in awful yet complacent majesty to the verge o f the horizon. With such scenes o f calm sublimity the

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human heart sympathizes even in its most disturbed moods, and deeds o f honour and virtue are inspired by their majestic influence. T o seek out Bucklaw in the retreat which he had afforded him was the first occupation o f the Master, after he had performed, with a scrutiny unusually severe, the important task o f self-examination. “ How now, Bucklaw ?” was his morning salutation— “ how like you the couch in which the exiled Earl o f Angus once slept in security, when he was pursued by the full energy o f a king’s resentment?” “ Umph !” returned the sleeper awakened; “ I have little to complain o f where so great a man was quartered before me, only the mattress is o f the hardest, the vault somewhat damp, the rats more mutinous than I would have expected from the state o f Caleb’s larder; and if there were shutters to that grated window, or a curtain to the bed, I should think it, upon the whole, an improvement in your accommodation.” “ It is, to be sure, forlorn enough,” said the Master, looking around the small vault; “ but if you will rise and leave it, Caleb will endeavour to find you a better breakfast than your supper o f last night.” “ Pray, let it be no better,” said Bucklaw, getting up and endeavour­ ing to dress himself as well as the obscurity o f the place would permit, — “ let it, I say, be no better, if you mean me to persevere in my proposed reformation. T h e very recollection o f Caleb’s beverage has done more to suppress my longing to open the day with a morningdraught than twenty sermons would have done. And you, M aster?— have you been able to give battle valiantly to your bosom-snake ? you see I am in the way o f smothering my vipers one by one.” “ I have commenced the battle, at least, Bucklaw, and I have had a fair vision o f an angel who descended to my assistance,” replied the Master. “Woes me !” said his guest, “ no vision can I expect, unless my aunt, Lady Girnington, should betake herself to the tomb; and then it would be the substance o f her heritage rather than the appearance o f her phantom that I should consider as the support o f my good resolu­ tions.— But this same breakfast, Master,— does the deer that is to make the pasty run yet on foot, as the ballad has it?” “ I will enquire into that matter,” said his entertainer; and, leaving the apartment, he went in search o f Caleb, whom, after some diffi­ culty, he found in an obscure sort o f dungeon, which had been in former times the buttery o f the castle. Here the old man was employed busily in the doubtful task o f burnishing a pewter flagon until it should take the hue and semblance o f silver-plate. “ I think it may do— I think it might pass, if they winna bring it ower mickle in the light o’ the window; ” were ejaculations which he muttered from time to time as if to encourage himself in his undertaking, when he was interrupted by

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the voice o f his master. “ Take this,” said the Master o f Ravenswood, “ and get what is necessary for the family.” And with these words he gave to the old butler the purse which had on the preceding evening so narrowly escaped the fangs o f Craigengelt. The old man shook his silvery and thin locks, and looked with an expression o f the most heartfelt anguish at his master as he weighed in his hand the slender treasure, and said in a sorrowful voice, “ And is this a’ that’s left?” “ All that is left at present,” said the Master, affecting more cheer­ fulness than perhaps he really felt, “ is just the green purse and the wee pickle gowd, as the old song says; but we shall do better one day, Caleb.” “ Before that day comes,” said Caleb, “ I doubt there will be an end o f an auld sang, and an auld serving-man to boot. But it disna become me to speak that gate to your honour, and you looking sae pale. T ak back the purse, and keep it to be making a shew before company; for if your honour would just tak a bidding, and be whiles taking it out afore folk and putting it up again, there’s naebody would refuse us trust, for a’ that’s come and gane yet.” “ But, Caleb,” said the Master, “ I still intend to leave this country very soon, and desire to do so with the reputation o f an honest man, leaving no debt behind me, at least o f my own contracting.” “ And gude right ye suld gang away as a true man, and so ye shall; for auld Caleb can tak the wyte o f whatever is ta’en on for the house, and then it will be a’ just ae man’s burden; and I will live just as weel in the tolbooth as out o f it, and the credit o f the family will be a’ safe and sound.” His master endeavoured, in vain, to make Caleb comprehend, that the butler’s incurring the responsibility o f debts in his own person would rather add to than remove the objections which he had to their being contracted. He spoke to a premier, too busy in devising ways and means to puzzle himself with refuting the arguments offered against their justice or expediency. “ T h ere’s Eppie Sm a’trash will trust us for ale,” said Caleb to him­ self; “ she has lived a’ her life under the family— and maybe wi’ a sowp brandy— I canna say for wine— she is but a lone woman, and gets her claret by a runlet at a time— but I’ll work a wee drap out o’ her by fair means or foul. For doos, there’s the doo-cot— There will be poultry amang the tenants, though Luckie Chirnside says she has paid the kain twice ower— W e’ll mak shift, an it like your honour— w e’ll mak shift— Keep your heart aboon, for the house sall keep its credit, as lang as auld Caleb is to the fore.” T he entertainment which Caleb’s exertions o f various kinds enabled him to present to the young gentlemen for three or four days

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was certainly o f no splendid description, but it may readily be believed it was set before no critical guests; and even the distresses, excuses, evasions, and shifts o f Caleb, afforded amusement to the young men, and added a sort o f interest to the scrambling and irregular style of their table. They had indeed occasion to seize on every circumstance that might serve to diversify or enliven time, which otherwise past away so heavily. Bucklaw, shut out from his usual field-sports and joyous carouses by the necessity o f remaining concealed within the walls o f the castle, became a joyless and uninteresting companion. When the Master o f Ravenswood would no longer fence or play at shovel-board— when he himself had polished to the extremity the coat o f his palfrey with brush, curry-comb, and hair-cloth— when he had seen him eat his provender, and quietly lie down in his stall, he could hardly help envying the animal’s apparent acquiescence in a life so monotonous. “ The stupid brute,” he said, “ thinks neither o f the race-ground or the hunting-field, or his green paddock at Bucklaw, and enjoys himself as comfortably when haltered to the rack in this ruinous vault, as if he had been foaled in it; and I, who have the freedom o f a prisoner at large, to range through the dungeons o f this wretched old tower, can hardly, betwixt whistling and sleeping, contrive to pass away the hour to dinner-time.” And with this disconsolate reflection he wended his way to the bartizan or battlements o f the tower, to watch what objects might appear upon the distant moor, or to pelt, with pebbles and pieces of lime, the sea-mews and cormorants which established themselves incautiously within the reach o f an idle young man. Ravenswood, with a mind incalculably deeper and more powerful than that o f his companion, had his own anxious subjects o f reflec­ tion, which wrought for him the same unhappiness that sheer ennui and want o f occupation inflicted on his companion. The first sight o f Lucy Ashton had been less impressive than her image proved to be upon reflection. As the depth and violence o f that revengeful pas­ sion, by which he had been actuated in seeking an interview with the father, began to abate by degrees, he looked back on his conduct towards the daughter as harsh and unworthy towards a female of rank and beauty. Her looks o f grateful acknowledgment— her words o f affectionate courtesy, had been repelled with something which approached to disdain; and if the Master o f Ravenswood had sus­ tained wrongs at the hand o f Sir William Ashton, his conscience told him they had been unhandsomely resented towards his daughter. When his thoughts took this turn o f self-reproach, the recollection o f Lucy Ashton’s beautiful features, rendered yet more interesting by

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the circumstances in which their meeting had taken place, made an impression upon his mind at once soothing and painful. Th e sweet­ ness o f her voice, the delicacy o f her expressions, the vivid glow o f her filial affection, embittered his regret at having repulsed her gratitude with rudeness, while, at the same time, they placed before his ima­ gination a picture o f the most seducing sweetness. Even young Ravenswood’s strength o f moral feeling and rectitude o f purpose at once increased the danger o f cherishing these recol­ lections, and the propensity to entertain them. Firmly resolved as he was to subdue, if possible, the predominating vice in his character, he admitted with willingness— nay, he summoned up in his imagina­ tion, the ideas by which it could be most powerfully counteracted, and these were powerfully connected with the image o f Lucy Ash­ ton; and, on the other hand, a sense o f his own harsh conduct towards her naturally induced him, as if by way o f recompense, to invest her with more o f grace and beauty than perhaps she could actually claim. Had any one at this period told the Master o f Ravenswood that he who had so lately vowed vengeance against the whole lineage o f him whom he considered, not unjustly, as author o f his father’s ruin and death, was now opening his bosom to a passion for the daughter o f that very person, he might at first have repelled the charge as a foul calumny; yet, upon serious self-examination, he would have been compelled to admit, that, if it were not already founded in truth it might, according to the present tone o f his sentiments, very soon be so. There already existed in his bosom two contradictory passions,— a desire to revenge the death o f his father, strangely qualified by admiration o f his enemy’s daughter. Against the former feeling he had struggled, until it seemed to him upon the wane; against the latter he used no means o f resistance, for he did not suspect its existence. That this was actually the case, was chiefly evinced by his resuming his resolution to leave Scotland. Yet, though he told Bucklaw, and though probably he himself believed that such was his purpose, he remained day after day at Wolfscrag, without taking measures for carrying it into execution. It is true, that he had written to one or two kinsmen, who resided in a distant quarter o f Scotland, and particularly to the M ar­ quis o f A— — , intimating his purpose; and when pressed upon the subject by Bucklaw, he was wont to allege the necessity o f waiting for their reply, especially that o f the Marquis, before taking so decisive a measure. T h e Marquis was rich and powerful; and although he was sus­ pected to entertain sentiments unfavourable to the government estab-

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lished at the Revolution, he had nevertheless address enough to head a party in the Scottish Privy Council, connected with the high church faction o f England, and powerful enough to menace those to whom the Lord Keeper adhered, with a probable subversion o f their power. T h e consulting with a personage o f such importance was a plausible excuse, which Ravenswood used to Bucklaw, and probably to himself, for continuing his residence at W olfscrag; and it was rendered yet more so by a general report which began to be current, o f a probable change o f ministers and measures in the Scottish administration. These rumours, strongly asserted by some, and as resolutely denied by others, as their wishes or interest dictated, found their way even into the ruinous tower o f Wolfscrag, chiefly through the medium o f Caleb the butler, who, among his other excellencies, was an ardent politician, and seldom made an excursion from the old fortress to the neighbouring village o f Wolfshope, without bringing back what tid­ ings were current in the vicinity. But if Bucklaw could not offer any satisfactory objections to the delay o f the Master in leaving Scotland, he did not the less suffer with impatience the state o f inaction to which it confined him, and it was only the ascendance which his new companion had acquired over him, that induced him to submit to a course o f life so alien to his habits and inclinations. “ You were wont to be thought a stirring active young fellow, M aster,” was his frequent remonstrance; “ and yet here you seem determined to live on and on like a rat in a hole, with this trifling difference, that the wiser vermin chuses a hermitage where he can find food at least; but as for us, Caleb’s excuses become longer as his diet turns more spare, and I fear we shall realize the stories they tell o f the sloth,— we have almost eat up the last green leaf on the plant, and have nothing left for it but to drop from the tree and break our necks.” “ Do not fear it,” said Ravenswood; “ there is a fate watches for us, and we too have a stake in the revolution which is now impending, and which already has alarmed many a bosom.” “What fate— what revolution?” answered his companion. “ We have had one revolution too much already, I think.” Ravenswood interrupted him by putting into his hands a letter. “ O ,” answered Bucklaw, “ my dream’s out— I thought I heard Caleb this morning pressing some unfortunate fellow to a drink o f cold water, and assuring him it was better for his stomach in the morning than ale or brandy.” “ It was my Lord o f A— — ’s footpost,” said Ravenswood, “who was doomed to experience his ostentatious hospitality, which I believe

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ended in sour beer and herrings— Read, and you will see the news he has brought us.” “ I will as fast as I can,” said Bucklaw; “ but I am no great clerk, nor does his lordship seem to be the first o f scribes.” T h e reader will peruse, in a few seconds, by the aid o f our friend Ballantyne’s types, what took Bucklaw a good half hour in perusal, though assisted by the Master o f Ravenswood. T he tenor was as follows :— “R i g h t H o n o u r a b l e o u r C o u s i n , “ Our hearty commendations premised, these come to assure you o f the interest which we take in your welfare, and in your purposes towards its augmentation. I f we have been less active in shewing forth our effective good will towards you than, as a loving kinsman and blood-relative, we would willingly have desired, we request that you will impute it to lack o f opportunity to shew our good liking, not to any coldness o f our will. Touching your resolution to travel in foreign parts, as at this time we hold the same little advisable, in respect that your ill-willers may, according to the custom o f such persons, impute motives for your journey, whereof, although we know and believe you to be as clear as we ourselves, yet natheless their words may find credence in places where the belief in them may much prejudice you, and which we should see with more unwillingness and displeasure than with means o f remeid. “ Having thus, as becometh our kindred, given you our poor mind on the subject o f your journeying forth o f Scotland, we would willingly add reasons o f weight, which may materially advantage you and your father’s house, thereby to determine you to abide at Wolfscrag, until this harvest season ensuing shall be passed over. But what sayeth the proverb, verbum sapienti,— a word is more to him that hath wisdom than a sermon to a fool. And albeit we have written this poor scroll with our own hand, and are well assured o f the fidelity o f our messen­ ger, as him that is many ways bounden to us, yet so it is, that sliddery ways crave wary walking, and that we may not peril upon paper matters which we would gladly impart to you by word o f mouth. Wherefore, it was our purpose to have prayed you heartily to come to this our barren Highland country to kill a stag, and to treat o f the matters which we are now more painfully inditing to you anent. But commodity does not serve at present for such our meeting, which, therefore, shall be deferred until sic time as we may in all mirth rehearse those things whereof we now keep silence. Meantime, we pray you to think that we are, and will still be your good kinsman and well-wisher, waiting but for times o f whilk we do, as it were, entertain a twilight prospect, and

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appear and hope to be also your effectual well-doer. And in which hope we heartily write ourself, “ Right honourable, Your loving cousin, A— — .” “ Given from our poor house o f B — — & c.” Superscribed— “ For the right honourable, and our honoured kins­ man, the M aster o f Ravenswood— These— With haste, haste, post­ haste— ride and run until these be delivered.” “What think you o f this epistle, Bucklaw?” said the Master, when his companion had hammered out all the sense, and almost all the words o f which it consisted. “ Truly that the M arquis’s meaning is as great a riddle as his manu­ script. He is really in much need o f Wit’s Interpreter, or the Complete Letter-Writer, and were I you, I would send him a copy by the bearer. H e writes you very kindly to remain wasting your time and your money in this vile, stupid, oppressed country, without so much as offering you the countenance and shelter o f his house. In my opinion, he has some scheme in view in which he supposes you can be useful, and he wishes to keep you at hand, to make use o f you when it ripens, reserving the power o f turning you adrift, should his plot fail in the concoction.” “ His plot?— then you suppose it is a treasonable business,” answered Ravenswood. “What else can it be?” replied Bucklaw; “ the Marquis has been long suspected to have an eye to Saint Germ ains.” “ He should not engage me rashly in such an adventure,” said Ravenswood; “when I recollect the times o f the first and second Charles, and o f the last Jam es, truly, I see little reason, that, as a man or patriot, I should draw my sword for their descendants.” “ H um ph!” replied Bucklaw; “ so you are set yourself down to mourn over the crop-eared dogs, whom honest Claverse treated as they deserved.” “ They gave the dog an ill name, and then they hanged him,” replied Ravenswood. “ I hope to see the day when justice shall be open to Whig and Tory, and when these nick-names shall only be used among coffee-house politicians, as slut and jade are among applewomen, as cant terms o f idle spite and rancour.” “ That will not be in our days, Master— the iron has entered too deeply into our sides and our souls.” “ It will be, however, one day,” replied the M aster; “ men will not

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always start at these nick-names as at a trumpet-sound— as social life is better protected, its comforts will become too dear to be hazarded without some better reason than speculative politics.” “ It is fine talking,” answered Bucklaw; “but my heart is with the old song,— T o see good corn upon the rigs, A nd a gallows built to hang the W higs, A nd the right restored where the right should be, O that is the thing that would wanton m e.”

“ You may sing as loudly as you will, cantabit vacuus,” — answered the M aster; “ but I believe the Marquis is too wise— at least too wary, to join you in such a burthen. I suspect he alludes to a revolution in the Scottish Privy-council, rather than in the British kingdoms.” “ O, confusion to your state-tricks,” exclaimed Bucklaw, “your cold calculating manœuvres, which old gentlemen in wrought night-caps and furred gowns execute like so many games at chess, and displace a treasurer or lord commissioner as they would take a rook or a pawn. Tennis for my sport, and battle for my earnest— my racket and my sword for my play-thing and my bread-winner. And you, Master, so deep and considerate as you would seem, you have that within you makes the blood boil faster than suits your present humour o f moral­ izing on political truths. You are one o f those wise men who see every thing with great composure till their blood is up, and then— woe to any one should put them in mind o f their own prudential maxims.” “ Perhaps,” said Ravenswood, “you read me more rightly than I can myself. But to think justly will certainly go some length in helping me to act so. But hark! I hear Caleb tolling the dinner-bell.” “ Which he always does with the more sonorous grace, in proportion to the meagreness o f the cheer which he has provided,” said Bucklaw, “ as if that infernal clang and jangle, which will one day bring the old belfry down the cliff, could convert a starved hen into a fat capon, and a blade-bone o f mutton into a haunch o f venison.” “ I wish we may be so well o ff as your worst conjectures surmize, Bucklaw, for from the extreme solemnity and ceremony with which Caleb seems to place on the table that solitary covered dish” — — “ Uncover, Caleb ! uncover, for Heaven’s sake !” said Bucklaw; “ let us have what you can give us without preface— why it stands well enough, man,” he continued, addressing impatiently the ancient but­ ler, who, without reply, kept shifting the dish, until he had at length placed it with mathematical precision in the very midst o f the table. “ What have we got here, Caleb ?” enquired the Master in his turn. “ Ahem ! sir, ye suld have known before; but his honour the Laird o f Bucklaw is so impatient,” answered Caleb, still holding the dish with

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one hand, and the cover with the other, with evident reluctance to disclose the contents. “ But what is it, a G od’s name— not a pair o f clean spurs, I hope, in the Border fashion o f old times ?” “ Ahem ! ahem !” reiterated Caleb, “your honour is pleased to be facetious— natheless I might presume to say it was a convenient fashion, and used, as I have heard, in an honourable and thriving family. But touching your present dinner, I judged that this being Saint Magdalen’s Eve, who was a worthy queen o f Scotland in her day, your honours might judge it decorous, if not altogether to fast, yet only to sustain nature with some slight reflection, as ane saulted herring or the like.” And uncovering the dish, he displayed four o f the savoury fishes which he mentioned, adding, in a subdued tone, “ that they were no just common herrings neither, being every ane melters, and sauted with uncommon care by the housekeeper (poor M ysie) for his hon­ our’s especial use.” “ Out upon all apologies,” said the Master, “ let us eat the herrings since there is nothing better to be had— but I begin to think with you, Bucklaw, that we are consuming the last green leaf, and that, in spite o f the M arquis’s political machinations, we must positively shift camp for want o f forage, without waiting the issue o f them.”

Chapter Nine Aye, and when huntsmen wind the merry horn, And from its covert starts the fearful prey, W ho, warm ’d with youth’s blood in his swelling veins, W ould like a lifeless clod outstretched lie, Shut out from all the fair creation offers ?

Ethwald, Act I. Scene I L i g h t meals procure light slumbers; and therefore it is not surpris­ ing, that, considering the fare which Caleb’s conscience, or his neces­ sity, assuming, as will sometimes happen, that disguise, had assigned to the guests o f Wolfscrag, their slumbers should have been short. In the morning Bucklaw rushed into his host’s apartment with a view hollo, which might have waked the dead. “ Up ! up ! in the name o f Heaven— the hunters are out, the only piece o f sport I have seen this month; and you lie here, Master, on a bed that has little to recommend it, except that it may be something softer than the stone floor o f your ancestors’ vault.” “ I wish,” said Ravenswood, raising his head peevishly, “you had forborne so early a jest, M r Hayston— it is really no pleasure to lose the very short repose which I had just begun to enjoy, after a night

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spent in thoughts upon fortune far harder than my couch, Bucklaw.” “ Pshaw! pshaw !” replied his guest, “ get up— get up— the hounds are abroad— I have saddled our horses myself, for old Caleb was calling for grooms and lacqueys, and would never have proceeded without two hours’ apology, for the absence o f men that were a hun­ dred miles off—get up, Master— I say the hounds are out— get up, I say— the hunt is up.” And o ff ran Bucklaw. “ And I say,” said the Master, rising slowly, “ that nothing can con­ cern me less— Whose hounds come so near us ?” “ T h e Honourable Lord Bittlebrain’s,” answered Caleb, who had followed the impatient Laird o f Bucklaw into his master’s bed-room, “ and truly I ken nae title they have to be yowling and howling within the freedoms and immunities o f your lordship’s right o f free-forestry.” “ Nor I, Caleb,” replied Ravenswood, “ excepting that they have bought both the lands and the right o f forestry, and may think them­ selves entitled to exercise the rights they have paid their money for.” “ It may be sae, my lord,” replied Caleb; “ but its no gentleman’s deed o f them to come here and exercise such a like right, and your lordship living at your ain castle o f Wolfscrag. Lord Bittlebrain wad do weel to remember what his folks have been.” “ And we what we now are,” said the Master, with suppressed bitterness o f feeling. “ But reach me my cloak, Caleb, and I will indulge Bucklaw with a sight o f this chase. It is selfish to sacrifice my guest’s pleasure to my own.” “ Sacrifeese?” echoed Caleb, in a tone which seemed to imply the total absurdity o f his master making the least concession in deference to any one— “ Sacrifeese indeed?— but I crave your honour’s pardon — and whilk doublet is it your pleasure to wear?” “ Any one you will, Caleb— my wardrobe, I suppose, is not very extensive.” “ Not extensive ?” echoed his assistant; “when there is the grey and silver that your lordship bestowed on Hew Hildebrand, your out-rider — and the French velvet that went with my lord your father (Be gracious to him)— my lord your father’s auld wardrope to the puir friends o f the family, and the drap-de-berry”— — “ Which I gave to you, Caleb, and which, I suppose, is the only dress we have any chance to come at, except that I wore yesterday— pray, hand me that, and say no more about it.” “ I f your honour has a fancy,” replied Caleb, “ and doubtless it’s a sad-coloured suit, and you are in mourning— nevertheless I have never say’d on the drap-de-berry— ill wad it become me— and your honour having no change o f claiths at this present— and it weel

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brushed, and as there are leddies doun yonder”— — “ Ladies?” said Ravenswood; “ and what ladies?” “ What do I ken, your lordship ?— looking down at them from the Warden’s Tower, I could but see them glent by wi’ their bridles ringing, and their feathers fluttering, like the court o f Elfland.” “Well, well, Caleb,” replied the Master, “ help me on with my cloak, and hand me my sword-belt.— What clatter is that in the court-yard ?” “Just Bucklaw bringing out the horses,” said Caleb, after a glance through the window, “ as if there werena men aneugh in the castle, or as if I couldna serve the turn o f ony o’ them that are out o’ the gate.” “ Alas ! Caleb, we should want little, if your ability was equal to your will,” replied his master. “ And I hope your lordship disna want that mickle,” said Caleb; “ for considering a’ things, I trust we support the credit o f the family sae weel as things will permit of. Only Bucklaw is aye sae frack and sae forward, and there he has brought out your lordship’s palfrey, without the saddle being decored wi’ the broidered sumpter-cloath, and I could have brushed it in a minute.” “ It is all very well,” said his master, escaping from him, and des­ cending the narrow and steep winding stair-case, which led to the court-yard. “ It may be a’ very weel,” said Caleb, somewhat peevishly; “ but if your lordship wad tarry a bit, I will tell you what will not be very weel. ” “ And what is that?” said Ravenswood impatiently, but stopping at the same time. “Why, just that ye suld speer ony gentleman hame to denner; for I canna mak anither fast on the feast day, and sae, if your lordship wad but please to cast yoursell in the way o f dining wi’ Lord Bittlebrain, I’se warrand I wad cast about brawly for the morn; or if, stead 0’ that, ye wad but dine wi’ them at the Change-house, ye might mak some shift for the lawing; ye might say ye had forgot your purse — or that the carline awed ye rent, and that ye wold allow it in the settlement.” “ Or any other lie that came uppermost, I suppose,” said his mas­ ter. “ Good bye, Caleb; I commend your care for the honour o f the family.” And, throwing him self on his horse, he followed Bucklaw, who, at the manifest risk o f his neck, had begun to gallop down the steep path which led to the tower, as soon as he saw Ravenswood have his foot in the stirrup. Caleb Balderstone looked anxiously after them, and shook his thin grey locks— “ And I trust they will come to no evil— but they have reached the plain, and folks cannot say but that the horse are hearty and in spirits.”

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Animated by the natural impetuosity and fire o f his temper, young Bucklaw rushed on with the careless speed o f a whirlwind. Ravenswood was scarce more moderate in his pace, for his was a mind unwillingly roused from contemplative inactivity, but which, when once put into motion, acquired a spirit o f forcible and violent progres­ sion. Neither was his eagerness proportioned in all cases to the motive o f impulse, but might be compared to the speed o f a stone, which rushes with like fury down the hill, whether it was first put in motion by the arm o f a giant or the hand o f a boy. He felt, therefore, in no ordinary degree, the headlong impulse o f the chase, a pastime so natural to youth o f all ranks, that it seems rather to be an inherent passion in our animal nature, which levels all differences o f rank and education, than an acquired habit o f rapid exercise. T h e repeated blasts o f the French horn, which were then always used for the encouragement and direction o f the hounds— the deep, though distant baying o f the pack— the half-heard cries o f the hunts­ men— the half-seen forms which were discovered now emerging from glens which crossed the moor, now sweeping over its surface, now picking their way where it was impeded by morasses, and, above all, the feeling o f his own rapid motion, animated the M aster o f Ravenswood, at least for the moment, above the recollections o f a more painful nature by which he was surrounded. The first thing which recalled him to those unpleasing circumstances was feeling that his horse, notwithstanding all the advantages which he received from his rider’s knowledge o f the country, was unable to keep up with the chace. As he drew his bridle up with the bitter feeling that his poverty excluded him from the favourite recreation o f his forefathers, and indeed their sole employment when not engaged in military pursuits, he was accosted by a well-mounted stranger, who, unobserved, had kept near him during the earlier part o f his career. “ Your horse is blown, sir,” said the man, with a complaisance seldom used in a hunting-field; “ Might I crave your honour to make use o f mine ?” “ S ir,” said Ravenswood, more surprised than pleased at such a proposal, “ I really do not know how I have merited such a favour at a stranger’s hands.” “ Never ask a question about it, M aster,” said Bucklaw, who, with great unwillingness, had hitherto reined in his own gallant steed, not to outride his host and entertainer. “ Take the goods the gods provide you, as the great John Dryden says— or stay— here, my friend, lend me that horse; I see you have been puzzled to rein him up this half hour. I’ll take the devil out o f him for you.— Now, Master, do you ride mine, which will carry you like an eagle.”

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And throwing the rein o f his own horse to the Master o f Ravenswood, he sprung upon that which the stranger resigned to him, and continued his career at full speed. “Was ever so thoughtless a being,” said the M aster; “ and you, my friend, how could you trust him with your horse ?” “ T he horse,” said the man, “belongs to a person who will make your honour, or any o f your honourable friends, most welcome to him, flesh and fell.” “ And the owner’s name i s — — ?” asked Ravenswood. “Your honour must excuse me, you will learn that from himself—if you please to take your friend’s horse, and leave me your galloway, I will meet you after the fall o f the stag, for I hear they are blowing him at bay.” “ I believe, my friend, it will be the best way to recover your good horse for you,” answered Ravenswood; and mounting the horse o f his friend Bucklaw, he made all the haste in his power to the spot where the blast o f the horn announced that the stag’s career was nearly terminated. These jovial sounds were intermixed with the huntsmen’s shouts o f “ Hyke a T albot ! Hyke a Teviot ! now, boys, now !” and similar cheer­ ing halloos o f the olden hunting field, to which the impatient yelling o f the hounds, now close on the object of their pursuit, gave a lively and unremitting chorus. The straggling riders began now to rally towards the scene o f action, collecting from different points as to a common centre. Bucklaw kept the start which he had gotten, and arrived first at the spot, where the stag, incapable o f sustaining a more prolonged flight, had turned upon the hounds, and, in the hunter’s phrase, was at bay. With his stately head bent down, his sides white with foam, his eyes strained betwixt rage and terror, the hunted animal had now in his turn become an object o f intimidation to his pursuers. T h e hunters came up one by one, and watched an opportunity to assail him with some advantage, which, in such circumstances, can only be done with caution. T h e dogs stood aloof and bayed loudly, intimating at once eagerness and fear, and each o f the sportsmen seemed to expect that his comrade would take upon him the perilous task o f assaulting and disabling the animal. T h e ground, which was a hollow in the com­ mon or moor, afforded little advantage for approaching the stag unobserved, and general was the shout o f triumph when Bucklaw, with the dexterity proper to an accomplished cavalier o f the day, sprang from his horse, and dashing suddenly and swiftly at the stag, brought him to the ground by a cut on the hind leg, with his short hunting sword. T he pack rushing in upon their disabled enemy, soon

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ended his painful struggles, and solemnized his fall with their clamour — the hunters with their horns and voices whooping and blowing a mort, or death-note, which resounded far over the billows o f the adjacent ocean. Th e huntsman then withdrew the hounds from the throttled stag, and on his knee presented his knife to a fair female form, on a white palfrey, whose terror, or perhaps her compassion, had till then kept her at some distance. She wore a black silk riding mask, which was then a common fashion, as well for preserving the complexion from sun and rain, as from an idea o f decorum, which did not permit a lady to appear bare-faced while engaged in a boisterous sport, and attended by a promiscuous company. T he richness o f her dress, how­ ever, as well as the mettle and form o f her palfrey, together with the sylvan compliment paid to her by the huntsman, pointed her out to Bucklaw as the principal person in the field. It was not without a feeling o f pity, approaching even to contempt, that this enthusiastic hunter observed her refuse the huntsman’s knife, presented to her for the purpose o f making the first incision in the stag’s breast, and thereby discovering the quality o f the venison. He felt more than half inclined to pay his compliments to her; but it had been Bucklaw’s misfortune, that his habits o f life had not rendered him familiarly acquainted with the higher and better classes o f female society, so that, with all his natural audacity, he felt sheepishly bashful when it became necessary to address a lady o f distinction. Taking unto himself heart o f grace (to use his own phrase,) he did at length summon up resolution enough to give the fair huntress good time o f the day, and trust that her sport had answered her expectation. H er answer was very courteously and modestly expressed, and testi­ fied some gratitude to the gallant cavalier, whose exploit had termin­ ated the chase so adroitly, when the hounds and huntsmen seemed somewhat at a stand. “ Uds daggers and scabbard, madam,” said Bucklaw, whom this observation brought at once upon his own ground, “ there is no diffi­ culty or merit in that matter at all, so that a fellow is not too much afraid o f having a pair o f antlers in his guts. I have hunted at force five hundred times, madam; and I never yet saw the stag at bay, by land or water, but I durst have gone roundly in on him. It is all use and wont, madam; and I ’ll tell you, madam, for all that, it must be done with good heed and caution; and you will do well, madam, to have your hunting-sword both right sharp and double-edged, that you may strike either fore-handed or back-handed, as you see reason, for a hurt with a buck’s horn is a perilous and somewhat venomous matter. ” “ I am afraid, sir,” said the young lady, and her smile was scarce

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concealed by her vizard, “ I shall have little use for such careful pre­ paration.” “ But the gentleman says very right for all that, my lady,” said an old huntsman, who had listened to Bucklaw’s harangue with no small edification; “ and I have heard my father say, who was a forester at the Cabrach, that a wild-boar’s gaunch is more easily healed than a hurt from the deer’s-horn, for so says the old woodsman rhyme,

If thou be hurt with horn of hart, it brings thee to thy bier; But tusk of boar shall leeches heal—thereof have lesser fear.”

“ And if I might advise,” continued Bucklaw, who was now in his element, and desirous o f assuming the whole management, “ as the hounds are surbated and weary, the head o f the stag should be cabaged in order to reward them; and if I may presume to speak, the huntsman, who is to break up the stag, ought to drink to your good ladyship’s health a good lusty bicker o f ale, or a tass o f brandy; for if he breaks him up without drinking, the venison will not keep well.” This very agreeable prescription received, as will be readily believed, all acceptation from the huntsman, who in requital offered to Bucklaw the compliment o f his knife, which the young lady had declined. This polite proffer was seconded by his mistress. “ I believe, sir,” said she, withdrawing herself from the circle, “ that my father, for whose amusement Lord Bittlebrain’s hounds have been out to-day, will readily surrender all care o f these matters to a gentleman o f your experience.” Then, bending gracefully from her horse, she wished him good morning; and attended by one or two domestics, who seemed immediately attached to her service, retired from the scene o f action, to which Bucklaw, too much delighted with an opportunity o f display­ ing his wood-craft to care about man or woman either, paid little attention; but was soon stript to his doublet, with tucked-up sleeves, and naked arms up to the elbows in blood and grease, slashing, cut­ ting, hacking, and hewing, with the precision o f Sir Tristrem himself, and wrangling and disputing with all around him concerning nombles, briskets, flankards, and raven-bones, then usual terms o f the art of hunting, or o f butchery, whichever the reader chuses to call it, which are now probably antiquated. When Ravenswood, who followed a short space behind his friend, saw that the stag had fallen, his temporary ardour for the chace gave way to that feeling o f reluctance which he felt, at encountering in his fallen fortunes the gaze whether o f equals or inferiors. He reined up his horse on the top o f a gentle eminence, from which he observed the busy and gay scene beneath him, and heard the whoops o f the hunts­ men gaily mingled with the cry o f the dogs, and the neighing and

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trampling o f the horses. But these jovial sounds fell sadly on the ear o f the ruined nobleman. The chace, with all its train o f excitations, has ever since feudal times been accounted the almost exclusive privilege o f the aristocracy, and was anciently their chief employment in times o f peace. T he sense that he was excluded by his situation from enjoy­ ing the sylvan sport, which his rank assigned to him as a special prerogative, and the feeling that new men were now exercising it over the downs, which had been jealously reserved by his ancestors for their own amusement, while he, the heir o f the domain, was fain to hold himself at a distance from their party, awaked reflections calcu­ lated to press deeply a mind like Ravenswood’s, which was naturally contemplative and melancholy. His pride, however, soon shook o ff this feeling o f dejection, and it gave way to impatience upon finding that his volatile friend Bucklaw seemed in no hurry to return with his borrowed steed, which Ravenswood, before leaving the field, wished to see restored to the obliging owner. As he was about to move towards the groupe o f assembled huntsmen, he was joined by a horseman, who like himself had kept aloof during the fall o f the deer. This personage seemed stricken in years. He wore a scarlet cloak, buttoning high upon his face, and his hat was unlooped and slouched, probably by way o f defence against the weather. His horse, a strong and steady palfrey, was calculated for a rider who proposed to witness the sport o f the day, rather than to share it. An attendant waited at some distance, and the whole equipment was that o f an elderly gentle­ man o f rank and fashion. He accosted Ravenswood very politely, but not without some embarrassment. “ You seem a gallant young gentleman, sir,” he said, “ and yet appear as indifferent to this brave sport as if you had my load o f years on your shoulders.” “ I have followed the sport with more spirit on other occasions,” replied the M aster; “ at present late events in my family must be my apology— and besides,” he added, “ I was but indifferently mounted at the beginning o f the sport.” “ I think,” said the stranger, “ one o f my attendants had the sense to accommodate your friend with a horse.” “ I was much indebted to his politeness and yours,” replied Ravenswood. “ M y friend is M r Hayston o f Bucklaw, whom I dare say you will be sure to find in the thick o f the keenest sportsmen. He will return your servant’s horse, and take my poney in exchange — and will add,” he concluded, turning his horse’s head from the stranger, “ his best acknowledgments to mine for the accommoda­ tion.” Th e M aster o f Ravenswood having thus expressed himself, began

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to move homewards, with the manner o f one who has taken leave o f his company. But the stranger was not so to be shaken off. He turned his horse at the same time, and rode in the same direction so near to the Master, that, without out-riding him, which the formal civility o f the time, and the respect due to the stranger’s age and recent civility, would have rendered improper, he could not easily escape from his company. T h e stranger did not long remain silent. “ This then,” he said, “ is the ancient Castle o f Wolfscrag, often mentioned in the Scottish records,” looking to the old tower then darkening under the influence o f a stormy cloud, that formed its background; for at the distance o f a short mile, the chace having been circuitous had brought the hunters back nearly to the point which they had attained when Ravenswood and Bucklaw set forth to join them. Ravenswood answered his observation with a cold and distant assent. “ It was, as I have heard,” continued the stranger, unabashed by his coldness, “ one o f the most early possessions o f the honourable family o f Ravenswood?” “ Their earliest possession,” answered the Master, “ and probably their latest.” “ I— I— I should hope not, sir,” answered the stranger, clearing his voice with more than one cough, and making an effort to overcome a certain degree o f hesitation,— “ Scotland knows what she owes to this ancient family, and remembers their frequent and honourable achievements. I have little doubt, that, were it properly represented to her majesty that so ancient and noble a family were subjected to dilapidation— I mean to decay— means might be found, ad re-ædifi­ candam antiquam domum”— — “ I will save you the trouble, sir, o f discussing this point farther,” said the M aster haughtily. “ I am the heir o f that unfortunate House— I am the M aster o f Ravenswood— and you, sir, who seem a gentleman o f fashion and education, must be sensible, that the next mortification after being unhappy, is the being loaded with undesired commisera­ tion.” “ I beg your pardon, sir,” said the elder horseman— “ I did not know — I am sensible I ought not to have mentioned— nothing could be farther from my thoughts than to suppose”— — “ There are no apologies necessary, sir,” answered Ravenswood, “ for here, I suppose, our roads separate, and I assure you that we part in perfect equanimity on my side.” As speaking these words, he directed his horse’s head towards a narrow causeway, the ancient approach to Wolfscrag, o f which it

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might be truly said, in the words o f the Bard o f Hope, that

Frequented by few was the grass-cover’d road, Where the hunter of deer and the warrior trode, To his hills that encircle the sea.

But ere he could disengage himself from his companion, the young lady we have already mentioned came up to join the stranger, followed by her servants. “ Daughter,” said the stranger to the masked damsel, “ this is the M aster o f Ravenswood.” It would have been natural that the gentleman should have replied to this introduction; but there was something in the graceful form and retiring modesty o f the female to whom he was thus presented, which not only prevented him from enquiring to whom, and by whom, the annunciation had been made, but which even for the time struck him absolutely mute. At this moment the cloud which had long lowered above the height on which Wolfscrag is situated, and which now, as it advanced, spread itself in darker and denser folds both over land and sea, hiding the distant objects and obscuring those which were more near, turning the sea to a leaden complexion, and the heath to a darker brown, began now, by one or two distant peals, to announce the thunders with which it was fraught; while two flashes o f lightning, following each other very closely, shewed in the distance the grey turrets o f Wolfscrag, and, more nearly, the rolling billows o f the sea, crested suddenly with red and dazzling light. T h e horse o f the fair huntress shewed symptoms o f impatience and restiveness, and it became impossible for Ravenswood, as a man or a gentleman, to leave her abruptly to the care o f an aged father or her menial attendants. He was, or believed himself, obliged in courtesy to take hold o f her bridle, and assist her in managing the unruly animal. While he was thus engaged, the old gentleman observed that the storm seemed to increase— that they were far from Lord Bittlebrain’s, whose guests they were for the present— and that he would be obliged to the M aster o f Ravenswood to point him the way to the nearest place o f refuge from the storm. At the same time he cast a wistful and embarrassed look towards the Tower o f Wolfscrag, which seemed to render it almost impossible for the owner to avoid offering an old man and a lady, in such an emergency, the temporary use o f his house. Indeed, the condition o f the young huntress rendered this courtesy indispensable; for, in the course o f the services which he rendered, he could not but perceive that she trembled much, and was extremely agitated, from her apprehensions, doubtless, o f the coming storm. I know not if the M aster o f Ravenswood shared her terrors, but he was not entirely free from something like a similar disorder o f nerves,

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as he observed, “ T he Tower o f Wolfscrag has nothing to offer beyond the shelter o f its roof, but if that can be acceptable at such a moment” — he paused, as if the rest o f the invitation stuck in his throat. But the old gentleman, his self-constituted companion, did not allow him to recede from the invitation, which he had rather suffered to be implied than directly expressed. “ Th e storm,” said the stranger, “ must be an apology for waiving ceremony— his daughter’s health was weak— she had suffered much from a recent alarm— he trusted their intrusion on the Master o f Ravenswood’s hospitality would not be altogether unpardonable in the circumstances o f the case— his child’s safety must be dearer to him than ceremony.” There was no room to retreat. T h e Master o f Ravenswood led the way, continuing to keep hold o f the lady’s bridle to prevent her horse from starting at some unexpected explosion o f thunder. He was not so bewildered in his own hurried reflections, but what he remarked, that the deadly paleness which had occupied her neck and temples, and such o f her features as the riding-mask left exposed, gave place to a deep and rosy suffusion; and he felt with embarrassment that a flush was by a tacit sympathy excited in his own cheeks. T h e stranger, with a watchfulness which he disguised under apprehensions for the safety o f his daughter, continued to observe the expression o f the M aster’s countenance as they ascended the hill to Wolfscrag. When they stood in front o f that ancient fortress, Ravenswood’s emotions were o f a very complicated description; and as he led the way into the rude court­ yard, and halloo’d to Caleb to give attendance, there was a tone o f sternness, almost o f fierceness, which seemed somewhat alien from the courtesies o f one who is receiving honoured guests. Caleb came and saw— and not the paleness o f the fair stranger at the first approach o f the thunder, nor the paleness o f any other person, in any other circumstances whatsoever, equalled that which overcame the thin cheeks o f the disconsolate seneschal, when he beheld this accession o f guests to the castle, and reflected that the dinner hour was fast approaching. “ Is he daft?” he muttered to himself,— “ is he clean daft a’thegither, to bring lords and leddies, and a host o f folk behint them, and twal-o’-clock chappit?” Then approaching the Master, he craved pardon for having permitted the rest o f his people to go out to see the hunt, observing, that “ they wad never think o f his lordship coming back till mirk night, and that he dreaded they might play the truant.” “ Silence, Balderstone!” said Ravenswood sternly; “your folly is unseasonable.— Sir and madam,” he said, turning to his guests, “ this old man, and a yet older and more imbecile female domestic, furnish

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my whole retinue. Our means o f refreshing you are more scanty than even so miserable a retinue, and a dwelling so dilapidated, might seem to promise; but, such as it is, you may command it.” T h e elder stranger, struck with the ruined and even savage appear­ ance o f the tower, rendered still more disconsolate by the lowering and gloomy sky, and perhaps not altogether unmoved by the grave and determined voice in which their host addressed them, looked round him anxiously, as if he half repented the readiness with which he had accepted the offered hospitality. But there was now no opportunity o f receding from the situation in which he had placed himself. As for Caleb, he was so utterly stunned by his master’s public and unqualified acknowledgment o f the nakedness o f the land, that for two minutes he could only mutter within his hebdomadal beard, which had not felt the razor for six days, “ H e’s daft— clean daft— red wud, and awa’ wi’t ! But de’il hae Caleb Balderstone,” said he, collect­ ing his powers o f invention and resource, “ if the family shall lose credit, if he were as mad as the seven wise masters.” He then boldly advanced, and in spite o f his master’s frowns and impatience, gravely asked, “ if he should not serve up some slight refection for the young leddy, and a glass o f tokay, or old sack— or”— — “ Truce to this ill-timed foolery,” said the Master, sternly— “ put the horses into the stable, and interrupt us no more with your absurd­ ities.” “Your honour’s pleasure is to be obeyed aboon a’ thing,” said Caleb; “ nevertheless, as for the sack and tokay which it is not your noble guests’ pleasure to accept” — — But here the voice o f Bucklaw, heard even above the clattering o f hoofs and braying o f horns with which it intermingled, announced that he was scaling the path-way to the tower at the head o f the greater part o f the gallant hunting train. “ T h e de’il be in me,” said Caleb, taking heart in spite o f this new invasion o f Philistines, “ if they shall beat me yet. T h e hellicat ne’erdo-weel !— to bring such a crew here, that will expect to find brandy as plenty as ditch-water, and he kenning sae absolutely the case in whilk we stand for the present. But I trow, could I get rid o f these gaping gowks o f flunkies that hae won into the court-yard at the back o f their betters, as mony a man gets preferment, I could make a’ right yet.” T h e measures which he took to execute this dauntless resolution, the reader shall learn in the next chapter.

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Chapter Ten

With throat unslaked, with black lips baked, Agape they heard him call; Gramercy they for joy did grin, And all at once their breath drew in As they had been drinking all. C o l e r i d g e ’ s “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” H a y s t o n o f Bucklaw was one o f the thoughtless class who never hesitate between their friend and their jest. When it was announced that the principal persons o f the chace had taken their route towards Wolfscrag, the huntsmen, as a point o f civility, offered to transfer the venison to that mansion, a proffer which was readily accepted by Bucklaw, who thought much o f the astonishment which their arrival in full body would occasion poor old Caleb Balderstone, and very little of the dilemma to which he was about to expose his friend the Master, so ill circumstanced to receive such a party. But in old Caleb he had to do with a crafty and alert antagonist, prompt at supplying, upon all emer­ gencies, evasions and excuses suitable, as he thought, to the dignity o f the family. “ Praise be blessed!” said Caleb to himself, “ ae leaf o f the muckle yate has been swung to wi’ yestreen’s wind, and I think I can manage to shut the ither.” But he was desirous, like a prudent governor, at the same time to get rid, if possible, o f the internal enemy, in which light he considered almost every thing which eat and drank, ere he took measures to exclude those whom their jocund noise now pronounced to be nearhand. He waited, therefore, with impatience until his master had shewn his two principal guests into the tower, and then commenced his operations. “ I think,” said he to the stranger menials, “ that, as they are bringing the stag’s head to the castle in all honour, we, who are in-dwellers, should receive them at the gate.” T h e unwary grooms had no sooner hurried out, in compliance with this insidious hint, than one leaf o f the ancient gate being already closed by the wind, as has been already intimated, honest Caleb lost no time in shutting the other with a clang, which resounded from donjon-vault to battlement. Having thus secured the pass, he forth­ with indulged the excluded huntsmen in brief parley, from a small projecting window, or shot-hole, through which, in former days, the warders were wont to reconnoitre those who presented themselves

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before the gates. He gave them to understand, in a short and pithy speech, that the gate o f the Castle was never on any account opened during meal-times— that his honour, the M aster o f Ravenswood, and some guests o f quality, had just set down to dinner— that there was excellent brandy at the hostler-wife’s at Wolfshope down below— and he held out some obscure hope that the reckoning would be dis­ charged by the M aster; but this was uttered in a very dubious and oracular strain, for, like Louis XIV., Caleb Balderstone hesitated to carry finesse so far as direct falsehood, and was content to deceive, if possible, without directly lying. This annunciation was received with surprise by some, with laugh­ ter by others, and with dismay by the expelled lacqueys, who endeav­ oured to demonstrate that their right o f re-admission, for the purpose o f waiting upon their master and mistress, was at least indisputable. But Caleb was not in a humour to understand or admit any distinc­ tions. He stuck to his original proposition with that dogged, but con­ venient pertinacity, which is armed against all conviction and deaf to all reasoning. Bucklaw now came from the rear o f the party, and demanded admittance in a very angry tone. But the resolution o f Caleb was immovable. “ I f the king on the throne were at the yate,” he declared, “ that his ten fingers should never open it contrair to the established use and wont o f the family o f Ravenswood, and his duty as their head-ser­ vant.” Bucklaw was now extremely incensed, and with more oaths and curses than we care to repeat, declared him self most unworthily treated, and demanded peremptorily to speak with the M aster o f Ravenswood himself. But to this Caleb also turned a deaf ear. “ H e’s as soon a-bleeze as a tap o f tow the lad Bucklaw,” he said, “ but the de’il o f ony master’s face he shall see till he has sleep’d and waked on’t. H e’ll ken himsel better the morn’s morn. It sets the like o f him, to be bringing a crew o f drunken hunters here, when he kens there is but little preparation to sloken his ain drought.” And he disappeared from the window, leaving them all to digest their exclu­ sion as they best might. But another person, o f whose presence, Caleb, in the animation o f debate, was not aware, had listened in silence to its progress. This was the principal domestic o f the stranger— a man o f trust and con­ sequence— the same, who, on the hunting-field, had accommodated Bucklaw with the use o f his horse. He was in the stable when Caleb had contrived the expulsion o f his fellow-servants, and thus avoided sharing the same fate from which his personal importance would certainly not have otherwise saved him.

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This personage perceived the manœuvre o f Caleb, easily appreci­ ated the motive o f his conduct, and knowing his master’s intentions towards the family o f Ravenswood, had no difficulty as to the line o f conduct he ought to adopt. He took the place o f Caleb (unperceived by the latter,) at the post o f audience which he had just left, and announced to the assembled domestics, “ that it was his master’s pleasure that Lord Bittlebrain’s retinue and his own should go down to the adjacent change-house, and call for what refreshments they might have occasion for, and he should take care to discharge the lawing.” The jolly troop o f huntsmen retired from the inhospitable gate o f Wolfscrag, execrating, as they descended the steep path-way, the niggard and unworthy disposition o f the proprietor, and damning, with more than sylvan licence, both the castle and its inhabitants. Bucklaw, with many qualities which would have made him a man o f worth and judgment in more favourable circumstances, had been so utterly neglected in point o f education, that he was apt to think and feel according to the ideas o f the companions o f his pleasures. The praises which had recently been heaped upon himself he contrasted with the general abuse now levelled against Ravenswood— he recalled to his mind the dull and monotonous days he had spent in the tower o f Wolfscrag, compared with the joviality o f his usual life— he felt, with great indignation, his exclusion from the castle, which he considered as a gross affront, and every mingled feeling led him to break o ff the union which he had formed with the Master o f Ravenswood. On arriving at the Change-house o f the village o f Wolfshope, he unexpectedly met with an old acquaintance just alighting from his horse. This was no other than the very respectable Captain Craigen gelt, who immediately came up to him, and, without appearing to retain any recollection o f the indifferent terms on which they had parted, shook him by the hand in the warmest manner possible. A warm grasp o f the hand was what Bucklaw could never help returning with cordiality, and no sooner had Craigengelt felt the pressure o f his fingers than he knew the terms on which he stood with him. “ Long life to you, Bucklaw,” he exclaimed; “ there’s life for honest folks in this bad world yet !” T h e jacobites at this period, with what propriety I know not, used, it must be noticed, the term o f honest men as peculiarly descriptive of their own party. “ Ay, and for others besides, it seems,” answered Bucklaw; “ otherways how came you to venture hither, noble Captain?” “Who— I ?— I am as free as the wind at Martinmas, that pays nei­ ther land-rent nor annual; all is explained— all settled with the honest

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old drivellers yonder o f Auld Reekie— pooh ! pooh ! they dared not keep me a week o f days in durance. A certain person has better friends among them than you wot of, and can serve a friend when it is least likely.” “ Pshaw !” answered Hayston, who perfectly knew and thoroughly despised the character o f this man, “ none o f your cogging gibberish— tell me truly, are you at liberty and in safety?” “ Free and safe as a whig baillie on the causeway o f his own burgh, or a canting presbyterian minister in his own pulpit— and I came to tell you that you need not remain in hiding any longer.” “ Then I suppose you call yourself my friend, Captain Craigengelt?” said Bucklaw. “ Friend !” replied Craigengelt, “ my cock o f the pit? why, I am thy very Achates, man, as I have heard scholars say— hand and glove— bark and tree— thine to life and death.” “ I ’ll try that in a moment,” said Bucklaw. “ Thou art never without money, however thou comest by it.— Lend me two pieces to wash the dust out o f these honest fellows’ throats, in the first place, and then”— — “ Tw o pieces?— twenty are at thy service, my lad— and twenty to back them.” “ Aye— say you so ?” said Bucklaw, pausing, for his natural penetra­ tion led him to suspect some extraordinary motives lay couched under such an excess o f generosity. “ Craigengelt, you are either an honest fellow in right good earnest, and I scarce know how to believe that— or you are cleverer than I took you for, and I scarce know how to believe that neither.” “L ’un n ’empêche pas l’autre,” said Craigengelt, “ touch and try— the gold is good as ever was weighed.” He put a quantity o f gold pieces into Bucklaw’s hand, which he thrust into his pocket without either counting or looking at them, only observing he was so circumstanced that he must enlist, though the devil offered the press-money; and then turning to the huntsmen, he called out, “ Come along, my lads— all is at my cost.” “ Long life to Bucklaw !” shouted the men o f the chase. “ And d— — n to him that takes his share o f the sport, and leaves the hunters as dry as a drum-head,” added another, by way o f corollary. “ T h e house o f Ravenswood was ance a gude and an honourable house in this land,” said an old man, “ but it’s lost its credit this day, and the M aster has shewn himself no better than a greedy cullion.” And with this conclusion, which was unanimously agreed to by all who heard it, they rushed tumultuously into the house o f entertain­ ment, where they revelled till a late hour. T he jovial temper o f Buck-

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law seldom permitted him to be nice in the choice o f his associates; and on the present occasion, when his joyous debauch received addi­ tional zest from the intervention o f an unusual space o f sobriety, and almost abstinence, he was as happy in leading the revels, as if his comrades had been sons o f princes. Craigengelt had his own pur­ poses, in fooling him up to the top o f his bent; and having some low humour, much impudence, and the power o f singing a good song, understanding besides thoroughly the disposition o f his regained associate, he readily succeeded in involving him bumper-deep in the festivity o f the meeting. A very different scene was in the meantime passing in the tower o f Wolfscrag. When the Master o f Ravenswood left the court-yard, too much busied with his own perplexed reflections to pay attention to the manœuvres o f Caleb, he ushered his guests into the great hall o f the castle. T he indefatigable Balderstone, who, from choice or habit, worked on from morning to night, had, by degrees, cleared this desolate apartment o f the confused reliques o f the funeral banquet, and restored it to some order. But not all his skill and labour, in disposing to advantage the little furniture which remained, could remove the dark and disconsolate appearance o f those ancient and disgarnished walls. T h e narrow windows, flanked by deep indentures into the wall, seemed formed rather to exclude than to admit the cheerful light; and the heavy and gloomy appearance o f the thunder-sky added still fur­ ther to the obscurity. As Ravenswood, with the grace o f a gallant o f that period, but not without a certain stiffness and embarrassment o f manner, handed the young lady to the upper end o f the apartment, her father remained standing more near to the door, as if about to disengage him self from his hat and cloak. At this moment the clang o f the portal was heard, a sound at which the stranger started, stepped hastily to the window, and looked with an air o f alarm at Ravenswood, when he saw that the gate o f the court was shut, and his domestics excluded. “ You have nothing to fear, sir,” said Ravenswood, gravely; “ this roof retains the means o f giving protection, though not welcome. Methinks,” he added, “ it is time that I should know who they are that have thus highly honoured my ruined dwelling?” The young lady remained silent and motionless, and the father, to whom the question was more directly addressed, seemed in the situation o f a performer who has ventured to take upon himself a part which he finds himself unable to perform, and who comes to a pause when it is most to be expected that he should speak. While he endeavoured to cover his embarrassment with exterior ceremonials o f

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a well-bred demeanour, it was obvious, that in making his bow, one foot shuffled forward, as if to advance— the other backward, as with the purpose o f escape— and as he undid the cape o f his cloak, and raised his beaver from his face, his fingers fumbled as if the one had been linked with rusted iron, or the other had weighed a stone o f lead. Th e darkness o f the sky seemed to increase, as if to supply the want o f those mufflings which he laid aside with such evident reluctance. The impatience o f Ravenswood increased also in proportion to the delay o f the stranger, and he appeared to labour under agitation, though prob­ ably from a very different cause. He laboured to restrain his desire to speak, while the stranger, to all appearance, was at a loss for words to express what he felt it necessary to say. At length Ravenswood’s impa­ tience broke the bounds he had imposed upon it. “ I perceive,” he said, “ that Sir William Ashton is unwilling to announce himself in the Castle o f W olfscrag.” “ I had hoped it was unnecessary,” said the Lord Keeper, relieved from his silence, as a spectre by the voice o f the exorcizer; “ and I am obliged to you, M aster o f Ravenswood, for breaking the ice at once, where circumstances— unhappy circumstances let me call them— rendered self-introduction peculiarly awkward.” “ And I am not then,” said the M aster o f Ravenswood, gravely, “ to consider the honour o f this visit as purely accidental.” “ Let us distinguish a little,” said the Keeper, assuming an appear­ ance o f ease which perhaps his heart was a stranger to; “ this is an honour which I have eagerly desired for some time, but which I might never have obtained, save for the accident o f the storm. M y daughter and I are alike grateful for this opportunity o f thanking the brave man, to whom she owes her life and I mine.” T h e hatred which divided the great families in the feudal times had lost little o f its bitterness, though it no longer expressed itself in deeds o f open violence. Not the feelings which Ravenswood had begun to entertain towards Lucy Ashton, not the hospitality due to his guests, were able entirely to subdue, though they warmly combatted, the deep passion which arose within him, at beholding his father’s foe standing in the hall o f the family o f which he had in a great measure accelerated the ruin. His looks glanced from the father to the daughter with an irresolution, o f which Sir William Ashton did not think it proper to await the conclusion. He had now disembarrassed him self o f his riding-dress, and walking up to his daughter, he undid the fastening o f her mask. “ Lucy, my love,” he said, raising her, and leading her towards Ravenswood, “ lay aside your mask, and let us express our gratitude to the M aster openly and barefaced.”

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“ I f he will condescend to accept it,” was all that Lucy uttered, but in a tone so sweetly modulated, and which seemed to imply at once a feeling and a forgiving o f the cold reception to which they were exposed, that, coming from a creature so innocent and so beautiful, her words cut Ravenswood to the very heart for his harshness. He muttered something o f surprise, something o f confusion, and, ending with a warm and eager expression o f his happiness at being able to afford her shelter under his roof, he saluted her, as the ceremonial o f the time enjoined upon such occasions. Their cheeks had touched and were withdrawn from each other— Ravenswood had not quitted the hand which he had taken in kindly courtesy— a blush which attached more consequence by far than was usual to such ceremony still mantled on Lucy Ashton’s beautiful cheek, when the apartment was suddenly illuminated by a flash o f lightning, which seemed abso­ lutely to swallow the darkness o f the hall. Every object might have been for an instant seen distinctly. T h e slight and half-sinking form o f Lucy Ashton, the well-proportioned and stately figure o f Ravens­ wood, his dark features, and the fiery, yet irresolute expression o f his eye,— the old arms and scutcheons which hung on the walls o f the apartment, were for a second distinctly visible to the Keeper by a strong red brilliant glare o f light. Its disappearance was almost instantly followed by a burst o f thunder, for the storm-cloud was very near the castle; and the peal was so sudden and dreadful, that the old tower rocked to its foundation, and every inmate concluded it was falling upon them. Soot, which had not been disturbed for centuries, showered down the huge tunnelled chimnies— lime and dust flew in clouds from the wall; and whether the lightning had actually struck the castle, or whether through the violent concussion o f the air, sev­ eral heavy stones were hurled from the mouldering battlements into the roaring sea beneath. It seemed as if the ancient founder o f the castle was bestriding the thunder-storm, and proclaiming his dis­ pleasure at the reconciliation o f his descendant with the enemy o f his house. The consternation was general, and it required the efforts o f both the Lord Keeper and Ravenswood to keep Lucy from fainting. Thus was the Master a second time engaged in the most delicate and dangerous o f all tasks, that o f affording support and assistance to a beautiful and helpless being, whose idea, as seen before in a similar situation, had already become a favourite to his imagination, both when awake and when slumbering. I f the Genius o f the House really condemned a union betwixt the Master and his fair guest, the means by which he expressed his sentiments were as unhappily chosen as if he had been a mere mortal. Th e train o f little attentions, absolutely

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necessary to sooth the young lady’s mind, and aid her in composing her spirits, necessarily threw the Master o f Ravenswood into such an intercourse with her father, as was calculated, for the moment at least, to break down the barrier o f feudal enmity which divided them. T o express him self churlishly, or even coldly, towards an old man, whose daughter (and such a daughter) lay before them, overpowered with natural terror— and all this under his own roof—the thing was impossible; and by the time that Lucy, extending a hand to each, was able to thank them for their kindness, the M aster felt that his sentiments o f hostility towards the Lord Keeper were by no means predominant in his bosom. T h e weather, her state o f health, the absence o f her attendants, all prevented the possibility o f Lucy Ashton renewing her journey to Bittlebrain-House, which was full five miles distant; and the M aster o f Ravenswood could not but, in common courtesy, offer the shelter o f his roof for the rest o f the day and for the night. But a flash o f less soft expression, a look much more habitual to his features, resumed pre­ dominance when he mentioned how meanly he was provided for the entertainment o f his guests. “ Do not mention deficiencies,” said the Lord Keeper, eager to interrupt him and prevent his resuming an alarming topic; “you are designed for the continent, and your house is probably for the present displenished. All this we understand; but if you mention inconveni­ ence, you will oblige us to seek accommodations in the hamlet.” As the Master o f Ravenswood was about to reply, the door o f the hall opened, and Caleb Balderstone rushed in.

C hapter Ele ve n

Let them have meat enough, woman—half a hen; There be old rotten pilchards—put them off too; ’T is but a little new anointing of them, And a strong onion, that confounds the savour. Love's Pilgrimage

T he t h u n d e r - b o l t , which had stunned all who were within hearing o f it, had only served to awaken the bold and inventive genius o f the flower o f M ajors-Dom o. Almost before the clatter had ceased, and while there was yet scarce an assurance whether the castle was standing or falling, Caleb exclaimed, “ Heaven be praised !— this comes to hand like the boul o f a pint-stoup.” He then barred the kitchen-door in the face o f the Lord K eeper’s servant, whom he per­ ceived returning from the parley at the gate, and muttering, “ how the de’il came he in?— but de’il may care— Mysie, what are sitting

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shaking and greeting in the chimlay-nuik for? Come here— or stay where ye are, and skirl— it’s a’ ye’se guid for— I say, ye auld deevil, skirl— skirl as loud as ye can— louder— louder woman!— gar the gentles hear ye in the ha’— I have heard ye as far o ff as the Bass for a less matter. And stay— doun wi’ that crockery— — ” And with a sweeping blow, he threw down from a shelf some art­ icles o f pewter and earthen ware. He exalted his voice amid the clatter, shouting and roaring in a manner which changed M ysie’s hysterical apprehensions o f the thunder into fears that her old fellow-servant was gone distracted. “ He has dung down a’ the bits o’ pigs too— the only thing we had left to haud a soup milk— and he has spilt the hatted kitt that was for the M aster’s dinner. M ercy save us, the auld man’s ga’en wud wi’ the thunner !” “ Haud your tongue, ye b— — ,” said Caleb, in the impetuous and overbearing triumph o f successful invention, “ a’s provided now— denner and a’ thing— the thunner’s done it a’ in the clap o f a hand !” “ Puir man ! he’s muckle astray,” said Mysie, looking at him with a mixture o f pity and alarm; “ I wish he may ever come hame to himsell again.” “ Here, ye auld doited deevil,” said Caleb, still exulting in his extrication from a dilemma which seemed insurmountable; “ keep the strange man out of the kitchen— swear the thunner come down the chimlay, and spoiled the best dinner ye ever dressed— B e ef—bacon — kid— lark— leveret— wild-fowl— venison, and what not. Lay it on thick, and never mind expences. I’ll awa’ up to the ha’— make a’ the confusion ye can— but be sure ye keep out the strange servant.” With these charges to his ally, Caleb posted up to the hall, but stopping to reconnoitre through an aperture, which time, for the convenience o f many a domestic in succession, had made in the door, and perceiving the situation o f M iss Ashton, he had prudence enough to make a pause, both to avoid adding to her alarm, and in order to secure attention to his account o f the disastrous effects o f the thunder. But when he perceived that the lady was recovered, and heard the conversation turn upon the accommodation and refreshment which the castle afforded, he thought it time to burst into the room in the manner announced in the last chapter. “ Wull a wins !— wull a wins !— such a misfortune to befa’ the House o f Ravenswood, and I to live to see it!” “What is the matter, Caleb ?” said his master, somewhat alarmed in his turn; “ has any part o f the castle fallen?” “ Castle fa’an?— na, but the sute’s fa’an, and the thunner’s come right doun the kitchen-lumm, and the things are a’ lying here awa’, there awa’, like the Laird 0’ Hotchpotch’s lands— and wi’ brave guests

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o f honour and quality to entertain,” — a low bow here to Sir William Ashton and his daughter,— “ and naething left in the house fit to present for dinner— or for supper either, for aught that I can see.” “ I verily believe you, Caleb,” said Ravenswood drily. Balderstone here turned to his master a half-upbraiding, half imploring countenance, and edged towards him as he repeated, “ It was nae grit matter o f preparation; but just something added to your honour’s ordinary course o f fare—p etty cover, as they say at the Louver — three courses and the fruit.” “ Keep your intolerable nonsense to yourself, you old fool,” said Ravenswood, mortified at his officiousness, yet not knowing how to contradict him, without the risk o f giving rise to scenes yet more ridiculous. Caleb saw his advantage, and resolved to improve it. But first, observing that the Lord K eeper’s servant entered the apartment, and spoke apart with his master, he took the same opportunity to round a few words into Ravenswood’s ear— “ Haud your tongue for Heaven’s sake, sir— if it’s my pleasure to hazard my soul in telling lies for the honour o f the family, it’s nae business o f yours— and if ye let me gang on quietly, I’se be moderate in my banquet; but if ye contradict me, de’il but I dress ye a dinner for a duke.” Ravenswood, in fact, thought it would be best to let his officious butler run on, who proceeded to enumerate upon his fingers,— “ No muckle provision— might hae served four persons o f honour,— first course, capons in white broth— roast kid— bacon with reverence— second course, roasted leverit— butter crabs— a veal florentine— third course, black-cock— it’s black eneugh now wi’ the sute— plumdamas— a tart— a flam— and some nonsense sweet things, and comfits— And that’s a,” he said, seeing the impatience o f his master; “ that’s just a’ was o’t— forbye the apples and pears.” M iss Ashton had by degrees gathered her spirits, so far as to pay some attention to what was going on; and observing the restrained impatience o f Ravenswood, contrasted with the peculiar determina­ tion o f manner with which Caleb detailed his imaginary banquet, the whole struck her as so ridiculous, that, despite every effort to the contrary, she burst into a fit o f incontrolable laughter, in which she was joined by her father, though with more moderation, and finally by the Master o f Ravenswood himself, though conscious that the jest was at his own expence. Their mirth— for a scene which we read with little emotion often appears extremely ludicrous to the spectators— made the old vault ring again. They ceased— they renewed— they ceased— they renewed again their shouts o f laughter! Caleb in the meantime stood his ground with a grave, angry, and scornful dignity, which

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greatly enhanced the ridicule o f the scene, and the mirth o f the spec­ tators. At length, when the noise, and nearly the strength o f the laughers, was exhausted, he exclaimed, with very little ceremony, “ The de’il’s in the gentles ! they breakfast sae lordly, that the loss o f the best dinner ever cook pat fingers to, makes them as merry as if it were the best jeest in a’ George Buchanan. I f there was as little in your honours’ wames, as there is in Caleb Balderstane’s, less cackling wad serve ye on sic a gravaminous subject.” Caleb’s blunt expression o f resentment again awakened the mirth o f the company, which, by the way, he regarded not only as an aggres­ sion upon the dignity o f the family, but a special contempt o f the eloquence with which he himself had summed up the extent o f their supposed losses;— “ a description o f a dinner,” as he said afterwards to Mysie, “ that wad hae made a fu’ man hungry, and them to sit there laughing at it.” “ But,” said M iss Ashton, composing her countenance as well as she could, “ are all these delicacies so totally destroyed, that no scrap can be collected ?” “ Collected, my leddy ! what wad ye collect out o f the sute and the ass? Ye may gang doun yoursell, and look into our kitchen— the cookmaid in the trembling exies— the gude vivers lying a’ about— beef — capons, and white broth— florentine and flams— bacon wi’ rever­ ence, and a’ the sweet confections and whim-whams; ye’ll see them a’, my leddy— that is,” he said correcting himself, “ye’ll no see ony of them now, for the cook has sweepit them up, as was weel her part; but ye’ll see the white broth where it was spilt— I pat my finger in it, and it tastes as like sour-milk as ony thing else; if that isna the effect o f thunner, I kenna what is.— This gentleman here couldna but hear the clash o f our haill dishes, china and silver thegither.” The Lord K eeper’s domestic, though a statesman’s attendant, and o f course trained to command his countenance upon all occasions, was somewhat discomposed by this appeal, to which he only answered by a bow. “ I think, M r Butler,” said the Lord Keeper, who began to be afraid lest the prolongation o f this scene should anew displease Ravenswood,— “ I think, that were you to retire with my servant Lockhard— he has travelled, and is quite accustomed to accidents and contingen­ cies o f every kind, and I hope betwixt you, you may find out some mode o f supply at this emergency.” “ His honour kens,” said Caleb, who, however hopeless o f himself o f accomplishing what was desirable, would, like the high-spirited elephant, rather have died in the effort, than brooked the aid o f a

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brother in commission; “ his honour kens weel I need nae counsellor, where the honour o f the house is concerned.” “ I should be unjust if I denied it, Caleb,” said his master; “ but your art lies chiefly in making apologies, upon which we can no more dine, than upon the bill o f fare o f our thunder-blasted dinner. Now, poss­ ibly, M r Lockhard’s talent may consist in finding some substitute for that, which certainly is not, and has in all probability never been.” “ Your honour is pleased to be facetious,” said Caleb, “ but I am sure, that at the warst, for a walk as far as Wolfshope, I could dine forty men,— no that the folk there deserve your honour’s custom. T hey hae been ill advised in the matter o f the duty-eggs and butter, I winna deny that.” “ So go consult together,” said the Master, “ go down to the village, and do the best we can. We must not let our guests remain without refreshment, to save the honour o f a ruined family. And here, Caleb— take my purse; I believe that will prove your best ally.” “ Purse? purse, indeed?” quoth Caleb, indignantly flinging out o f the room,— “what suld I do wi’ your honour’s purse, on your ain grund ? I trust we are no to pay for our ain ?” T h e servants left the hall; and the door was no sooner shut, than the Lord Keeper began to apologize for the rudeness o f his mirth; and Lucy to hope she had given no pain or offence to the kind-hearted faithful old man. “ Caleb and I must both learn, madam, to undergo with good humour, or at least with patience, the ridicule which every where attaches itself to poverty.” “ You do yourself injustice, M aster o f Ravenswood, on my word o f honour,” answered his elder guest. “ I believe I know more o f your affairs than you do yourself, and I hope to shew that I am interested in them; and that— in short, that your prospects are better than you apprehend. In the meantime, I can conceive nothing so respectable, as the spirit which rises above misfortune, and prefers honourable priva­ tions to debt or to dependence.” Whether from fear o f offending the delicacy, or awakening the pride o f the Master, the Lord K eeper made these allusions with an appearance o f fearful and hesitating reserve, and seemed to be afraid that he was intruding too far, in venturing to touch, however lightly, upon such a topic, even when the Master had led to it. In short, he appeared at once pushed on by his desire o f appearing friendly, and held back by the fear o f intrusion. It was no wonder that the M aster o f Ravenswood, little acquainted as he then was with life, should have given this consummate courtier credit for more sincerity than was probably to be found in a score o f his cast. He answered, however,

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with reserve, that he was indebted to all who might think well o f him; and, apologizing to his guests, he left the hall, in order to make such arrangements for their entertainment as circumstances admitted. Upon consulting with old Mysie, the accommodations for the night were easily completed, as indeed they admitted o f little choice. The M aster surrendered his apartment for the use o f M iss Ashton, and Mysie, (once a person o f consequence) dressed in a black sattin gown which had belonged o f yore to the M aster’s grandmother, and had figured in the court-balls o f Henrietta Maria, went to attend her as lady’s-maid. He next enquired after Bucklaw, and understanding he was at the Change-house with the huntsman and some companions, he desired Caleb to call there and acquaint him how he was circum­ stanced at Wolfscrag— to intimate to him it would be most convenient if he could find a bed in the hamlet, as the elder guest must necessarily be quartered in the secret chamber, the only spare bed-room which could be made fit to receive him. T he Master saw no hardship in passing the night by the hall fire, wrapt in his campaign-cloak; and to Scottish domestics o f the day, even o f the highest rank, nay, to young men o f family or fashion, on any pinch, clean straw, or a dry hay-loft, was always held good night-quarters. For the rest, Lockhard had his master’s orders to bring some ven­ ison from the inn, and Caleb was to trust to his wits for the honour of the family. T h e Master, indeed, a second time held out his purse; but, as it was in sight o f the strange servant, the Butler thought himself obliged to decline what his fingers itched to clutch. “ Couldna he hae slippit it gently into my hand ?” said Caleb— “ but his honour will never learn how to bear himsel in siccan cases.” Mysie, in the meantime, according to a uniform custom in remote places in Scotland, offered the strangers the produce o f their little dairy, “ till better meat was getting ready.” And according to another custom, not yet wholly in desuetude, as the storm was now drifting o ff to leeward, the Master carried the Keeper to the top o f his highest tower to admire a wide and waste extent o f view, and to “weary for his dinner.”

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“Now dame,” quoth he, “Je vous dis sans doute, Had I nought of a capon but the liver, And of your white bread nought but a shiver, And after that a roasted pigge’s head, (But I ne wold for me no beast were dead) Then had I with you homely suffisaunce.”

C haucer , Sum ner’sTale

I T w A s not without some secret misgiving that Caleb set out upon his exploratory expedition. In fact, it was attended with a treble difficulty. He dared not tell his master the offence which he had that morning given to Bucklaw, (just for the honour o f the family,)— he dared not acknowledge he had been too hasty in refusing the purse— and, thirdly, he was something apprehensive o f unpleasant consequences upon his meeting Hayston under the impression o f an affront, and probably by this time under the influence also o f no small quantity o f brandy. Caleb, to do him justice, was as bold as any lion where the honour o f the family o f Ravenswood was concerned, but his was that considerate valour which does not delight in unnecessary risks. This, however, was a secondary consideration; the main point was to veil the indi­ gence o f the house-keeping at the Castle, and to make good his vaunt o f the cheer which his resources could procure, without Lockhard’s assistance, and without supplies from his master. This was as prime a point o f honour with him, as with the generous elephant with whom we have already compared him, who, being over-tasked, broke his skull through the desperate exertions which he made to discharge his duty, when he perceived they were bringing up another to his assist­ ance. Th e village which they now approached had frequently afforded the distressed Butler resources upon similar emergencies; but his relations with it had been o f late much altered. It was a little hamlet which straggled along the side o f a creek formed by the discharge o f a small brook into the sea, and was hidden from the castle, to which it had been in former times an appendage, by the intervention o f the shoulder o f a hill forming a projecting head­ land. It was called Wolfshope, (i.e. W o lf’s Haven) and the few inhab­ itants gained a precarious subsistence by manning two or three fishing boats in the herring season, and smuggling gin and brandy during the winter months. They paid a kind o f hereditary respect to the lords o f Ravenswood; but, in the difficulties o f the family, most o f the inhabit­

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ants o f Wolfshope had contrived to get feu-rights to their little posses­ sions, their huts, kail-yards, and rights o f commonty, so that they were emancipated from the chains o f feudal dependence, and free from the various exactions with which, under every possible pretext, or without pretext at all, the Scottish landlords o f the period, themselves in great poverty, were wont to harass their still poorer tenants at will. They might be, on the whole, termed independent, a circumstance peculi­ arly galling to Caleb, who had been wont to exercise over them the same sweeping authority in levying contributions which was exercised in former times in England, when “ the royal purveyors, sallying forth from under the Gothic portcullis to purchase provisions with power and prerogative, instead o f money, brought home the plunder o f an hundred markets, and all that could be seized from a flying and hiding country, and deposited their spoil in an hundred caverns.” * Caleb loved the memory and resented the downfall o f that author­ ity, which mimicked, on a petty scale, the grand contributions exacted by the feudal sovereigns. And as he fondly flattered himself that awful rule and right supremacy which assigned to the Barons o f Ravenswood the first and most effective interest in all productions o f nature within five miles o f their castle, only slumbered and was not departed for ever, he used every now and then to give the recollection o f the inhabitants a little jog by some petty exaction. These were at first submitted to, with more or less readiness, by the inhabitants o f the hamlet; for they had been so long used to consider the wants o f the Baron and his family as having a title to be preferred to their own, that their actual independence did not convey to them an immediate sense o f freedom. They resembled a man that has been long fettered, who, even at liberty, feels, in imagination, the grasp o f the hand-cuffs still binding his wrists. But the exercise o f freedom is quickly followed with the natural consciousness o f its immunities, as the enlarged prisoner, by the free use o f his limbs, soon dispels the cramped feeling they had acquired when bound. T h e inhabitants o f Wolfshope began to grumble, to resist, and at length positively to refuse compliance with the exactions o f Caleb Balderstone. It was in vain he reminded them, that when the eleventh Lord Ravenswood, called the Skipper, from his delight in naval mat­ ters, had encouraged the trade o f their port by building the pier, (a bulwark o f stones rudely piled together), which protected the fishingboats from the weather, it had been matter o f understanding, that he was to have the first stone o f butter after the calving o f every cow within the barony, and the first egg, thence called the Monday’s egg, laid by every hen on every Monday in the year. * Burke’s Speech on Economical Reform.— Works, vol. iii. p. 280.

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The feuars heard and scratched their heads, coughed, sneezed, and being pressed for answer, rejoined with one voice, “ they could not say;” — the universal refuge o f a Scottish peasant, when pressed to admit a claim which his conscience owns, and his interest inclines him to deny. Caleb, however, furnished the notables o f Wolfshope with a note o f the requisition o f butter and eggs, which he claimed as arrears o f the aforesaid subsidy, or kindly aid, payable as above mentioned; and having intimated that he would not be averse to compound the same for goods or money, if it was inconvenient to them to pay in kind, left them, as he hoped, to debate the mode o f assessing themselves for that purpose. On the contrary, they met with a determined purpose o f resisting the exaction, and were only undecided as to the mode o f grounding their opposition, when the cooper, a very important person on a fishing station, and one o f the Conscript Fathers o f the village, observed, “ That their hens had cackled mony a day for the Lords o f Ravenswood, and it was time they suld cackle for those that gave them roosts and barley.” An unanimous grin intimated the assent o f the assembly. “ And,” continued the orator, “ if it’s your wull, I’ll just tak a step as far as Dunse for Davie Dingwall the writer, that’s come frae the North to settle amang us, and he’ll pit this job to rights, I’se warrant him.” A day was accordingly fixed for holding a grand palaver at W olfs hope on the subject o f Caleb’s requisitions, and he was invited to attend at the hamlet for that purpose. He went with open hands and empty stomach, trusting to fill the one on his master’s account, and the other on his own score, at the expence o f the feuars o f Wolfshope. But, death to his hopes! as he entered the eastern end o f the straggling village, the awful form o f Davie Dingwall, a sly, dry, hard-fisted, shrewd country attorney, who had already acted against the family o f Ravenswood, and was a prin­ cipal agent o f Sir William Ashton, trotted in at the western extremity, bestriding a leathern portmanteau stuffed with the feu-charters o f the hamlet, and hoping he had not kept M r Balderstone waiting, “ as he was instructed and fully empowered to pay or receive, compound or compensate, and, in fine, to agé as accords, respecting all mutual and unsettled claims whatsoever, belonging or competent to the Honour­ able Edgar Ravenswood, commonly called M aster o f Ravens­ wood”— — “ T he Right Honourable Edgar Lord Ravenswood,” said Caleb with great emphasis; for, though conscious he had little chance o f advant­ age in the conflict to ensue, he was resolved not to sacrifice one jot o f honour.

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“ Lord Ravenswood then,” said the man o f business; “we shall not quarrel with you about titles o f courtesy— commonly called Lord Ravenswood, or Master o f Ravenswood, heritable proprietor o f the lands and barony o f Wolfscrag, on the one part, and to John Whitefish and others, feuars in the town o f Wolfshope, within the barony afore­ said, on the other part.” Caleb was conscious from sad experience, that he would wage a very different strife with this mercenary champion, than with the individual feuars themselves, upon whose old recollections, predilec­ tions, and habits o f thinking, he might have wrought by an hundred indirect arguments, to which their deputy-representative was totally insensible. T he issue o f the debate proved the reality o f his apprehen­ sions. It was in vain he strained his eloquence and ingenuity, and collected into one mass all arguments arising from antique custom and hereditary respect, from the good deeds done by the Lord o f Ravenswood to the community o f Wolfshope in former days, and from what might be expected from them in future. The Writer stuck to the contents o f his feu-charters— he could not see it— ’twas not in the bond. And when Caleb, determined to try what a little spirit would do, deprecated the consequences o f Lord Ravenswood with­ drawing his protection from the burgh, and even hinted at his using active measures o f resentment, the man o f law sneered in his face. “ His clients,” he said, “had determined to do the best they could for their own toun, and he thought Lord Ravenswood, since he was a lord, might have enough to do to look after his own castle. As to any threats o f stouthrief, or oppression by strength o f hand, or via facti, as the law termed it, he would have M r Balderstone recollect, that new times were not as old times— that they lived on the south o f the Forth, and far from the Hielands— that his clients thought themselves able to protect themselves; but should they find themselves mistaken, they would apply to the government for the protection o f a corporal and four red-coats, who,” said M r Dingwall, “would be perfectly able to secure them against the Lord o f Ravenswood, and all that he or his following could do by the strong hand.” I f Caleb could have concentrated all the lightnings o f aristocracy in his eye, to have struck dead this contemner o f allegiance and privilege, he would have launched them at his head, without respect to the consequences. As it was, he was compelled to turn his course back­ ward to the castle; and there he remained for full half a day invisible and inaccessible even to Mysie, sequestered in his own peculiar dun­ geon, where he sat burnishing a single pewter-plate, and whistling Maggy Lauder six hours without intermission. The issue o f this unfortunate requisition had shut against Caleb all

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resources which could be derived from Wolfshope and its purlieus, the E l Dorado, or Peru, from which, in all former cases o f exigence, he had been able to extract some assistance. He had, indeed, in a manner vowed that the de’il should have him, if ever he put the print o f his foot within its causeway again. He had hitherto kept his word; and, strange to tell, this secession had, as he intended, in some degree the effect o f a punishment upon the refractory feuars. M r Balderstone had been a thing in their eyes connected with a superior order of beings, whose presence used to grace their little festivities, whose advice they found useful on many occasions, and whose communication gave a sort of credit to their village. T he place, they acknowledged, “ didna look as it used to do, and should do, since M r Caleb keepit the castle sae closely— but doubtless, touching the eggs and butter, it was a maist unreasonable demand, as M r Dingwall had justly made manifest.” Thus stood matters betwixt the parties, when the old Butler, though it was gall and wormwood to him, found himself obliged either to acknowledge before a strange man o f quality, and, what was much worse, before that stranger’s servant, the total inability o f Wolfscrag to produce a dinner, or he must trust to the compassion o f the feuars o f Wolfshope. It was a dreadful degradation, but necessity was equally imperious and lawless. With these feelings he entered the street o f the village. Willing to shake himself free o f his companion as soon as possible, he directed M r Lockhard to Luckie Sm a’trash’s change-house, where a din, proceeding from the revels o f Bucklaw, Craigengelt, and their party, sounded half-way down the street, while the red glare from the window overpowered the grey twilight which was now set­ tling down, and glimmered against a parcel o f old tubs, kegs, and barrels, piled up in the cooper’s yard, on the other side o f theway. “ I f you, M r Lockhard,” said the old Butler to his companion, “will be pleased to step to the change-house where that light comes from, and where, as I judge, they are now singing, ‘Cauld Kail in Aberdeen,’ ye may do your master’s errand about the venison, and I will do mine about Bucklaw’s bed, as I return frae getting the rest o f the vivers.— It’s no that the venison is actually needfu’,” he added, detaining his colleague by the button, “ to make up the dinner— but is a compliment to the hunters, ye ken— and, M r Lockhard— if they offer a drink o’ yill, or a cup o’ wine, or a glass o’ brandy, ye’ll be a wise man to tak it, in case the thunner should hae soured ours at the castle,— whilk is ower muckle to be dreaded.” He then permitted Lockhard to depart; and with feet heavy as lead, and yet far lighter than his heart, stepped on through the unequal street o f the straggling village, meditating on whom he ought to make

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his first attack. It was necessary he should find some one, with whom old acknowledged greatness should weigh more than recent inde­ pendence, and to whom his application might appear an act o f high dignity, relenting at once and soothing. But he could not recollect an inhabitant o f a mind so constructed. “O u r kail is like to be cauld eneugh too,” he reflected, as the chorus o f Cauld Kail in Aberdeen again reached his ears. T h e minister— he had got his presentation from the late lord, but they had quarrelled about tiends—The brewster wife— she had trusted long— and the bill was aye scored up— and unless the dignity o f the family should actually require it, it would be a sin to distress a widow woman. None was so able— but, on the other hand, none was likely to be so unwilling to stand his friend upon the present occasion, as John Girder, the man o f tubs and barrels already mentioned, who had headed the insurrection in the matter o f the egg and butter subsidy.— “ But a’ comes o’ taking folk on the right side, I trow,” quoth Caleb to himself; “ and I had ance the ill hap to say he was but a Johnie Newcome in our town-end— the carle bore the family an ill-will ever since. But he married a bonnie young quean, Jean Lightbody, auld Lightbody’s daughter, him that was on the steading o f Loupthedyke,— that was married himsel to Marion, that was about my lady in the family forty years syne— I hae had mony a day’s daffing wi’ Jean ’s mither, and they say she bides on wi’ them— the carle has Jacobuses and Georgiuses baith, an’ ane could get at them— and sure I am, it’s doing him an honour him or his never deserved at our hand, the ungracious sumph; and if he loses by us a’ thegither, he is e’en cheap o’t, he can spare it brawly.” Shaking o ff irresolution, therefore, and turning at once upon his heel, Caleb walked hastily back to the cooper’s house, lifted the latch without ceremony, and, in a moment, found himself behind the hallan, or partition, from which position he could, himself unseen, reconnoitre the interior o f the but, or kitchen apartment, o f the man­ sion. Reverse o f the sad menage at the Castle o f Wolfscrag, a bickering fire roared up the cooper’s chimney. His wife on the one side, in her pearlings and pudding-sleeves, put the last finishing touch to her holiday’s apparel, while she contemplated a very handsome and goodhumoured face in a broken mirror, raised upon the bink (the shelves on which the plates are disposed,) for her special accommodation. H er mother, old Luckie Loupthedyke, “ a canty carline” as was within twenty miles o f her, according to the unanimous report o f her cum­ mers, or gossips, sat by the fire in full glory o f a grogram gown, lammer beads, and a clean cockernony, whiffing a snug pipe o f tobacco, and superintending the affairs o f the kitchen. For— sight more interesting

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to the anxious heart and craving entrails o f the desponding Seneschal, than either buxom dame or canny cummer,— there bubbled on the aforesaid bickering fire, a huge pot, or rather cauldron, steaming with beef and brewis; while before it revolved two spits, turned by two o f the cooper’s apprentices who sat in the opposite comers o f the chim­ ney; the one loaded with a quarter o f mutton, while the other was graced with a fat goose and a brace o f wild ducks. The sight and scent o f such a land o f plenty almost wholly overcame the drooping spirits o f Caleb. He turned, for a moment’s space, to reconnoitre the ben, or parlour end o f the house, and there saw a sight scarce less affecting to his feelings;— a large round table, covered for ten or twelve persons, decored (according to his own favourite term,) with napery as white as snow; grand flagons o f pewter, intermixed with one or two silver cups, containing, as was probable, something worthy the brilliancy o f their outward appearance; clean trenchers, cutty spoons, knives and forks, sharp, burnished, and prompt for action, which lay all displayed as for an especial festival. “ T h e deil’s in the pedling tub-coopering carle,” thought Caleb, in all the envy o f astonishment; “ it’s a shame to see the like o’ them gus­t ing their gabs at sic a rate. But if some o’ that gude cheer does not find it’s way to Wolfscrag this night, my name is not Caleb Balderstone.” So resolving, he entered the apartment, and, in all courteous greet­ ing, saluted both the mother and daughter. Wolfscrag was the court o f the barony, Caleb prime minister at W olfscrag; and it has ever been remarked, that though the masculine subject who pays the taxes, sometimes growls at the courtiers by whom they are imposed, the said courtiers continue, nevertheless, welcome to the fair sex, to whom they furnish the newest small-talk and the earliest fashions. Both the dames were, therefore, at once about old Caleb’s neck, setting up their throats together by way o f welcome. “ Aye, sirs, M r Balderstone, and is this you ?— A sight o f you is gude for sair een— sit doun— sit doun— the gudeman will be blythe to see you— Ye nar saw him sae cadgy in your life; but we are to christen our bit wean the night, as ye will hae heard, and doubtless ye will stay and see the ordinance— we hae killed a wether, and ane o’ our lads has been out wi’ his gun at the moss— ye used to like wild-fowl.” “ Na— na— gudewife,” said Caleb, “ I just keekit in to wish ye joy, and I wad been glad to hae spoken wi’ the gudeman, but— — ” mov­ ing, as if to go away. “ T h e ne’er a fit ye’s gang,” said the elder dame, laughing and holding him fast, with a freedom which belonged to their old acquaintance; “wha kens what it may bring to the bairn, if ye owerlook it in that gate ?”

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“ But I’m in a preceese hurry, gudewife,” said the Butler, suffering himself to be dragged to a seat without much resistance; “ and as to eating”— for he observed the mistress o f the dwelling bustling about to place a trencher for him— “ as for eating— lack-a-day, we a’ are just killed up yonder wi’ eating frae morning to night— it’s shamefu’ epi­ curism; but that’s what we hae gotten frae the English pock-pud­ dings.” “ Hout— never mind the Southron pock-puddings,” said Luckie Lightbody; “ try our puddings, M r Balderstone— there is black pud­ ding and white-hass— try whilk ye like best.” “ Baith gude— baith excellent— canna be better; but the very smell is eneugh for me that hae dined sae lately (the faithful wretch had fasted since day-break.) But I wadna affront your housewifeskap, gudewife; and, wi’ your permission, I’se e’en pit them in my napkin, and eat them to my supper at e’en, for I am wearied o f M ysie’s pastry and nonsense— ye ken landward dainties aye pleased me best, Marion — and landward lasses too— (looking at the cooper’s wife)— N e’er a bit but she looks far better than when she married John, and then she was the bonniest lass in our parochine and the neest till it.— But gawsie cow, goodly calf.” T h e women smiled at the compliment each to herself, and they smiled again to each other as Caleb wrapt up the puddings in a towel which he had brought with him, as a dragoon carries his foraging bag to receive what may fall. “ And what news at the Castle ?” quo’ the gudewife. “ News ?— the bravest news ye ever heard— the Lord Keeper’s up yonder wi’ his fair daughter, just ready to fling her at my lord’s head, if he winna tak her out o’ his arms; and I’se warrant he’ll stitch our auld lands o f Ravenswood to her petticoat tail.” “ Eh ! sirs— aye !— and will he hae her ?— and is she weel-favoured ? — and what’s the colour o’ her hair?— and does she wear a habit or a railly?” were the questions which the females showered upon the Butler. “ Hout tout!— it wad tak a man a day to answer a’ your questions, and I hae hardly a minute. W hare’s the gude-man?” “ Awa’ to fetch the minister,” said M rs Girder, “precious M r Peter Bidethebent frae the Mosshead— the honest man has the rheumatics wi’ lying in the hills in the persecution.” “ Aye !— a whig and a mountain-man nae less,” said Caleb, with a peevishness he could not suppress; “ I hae seen the day, Luckie, when worthy M r Cuffcushion and the Service-book would hae served your turn (to the elder dame,) or ony honest woman in like circumstances.” “ And that’s true too,” said M rs Lightbody, “ but what can a body

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do?—Jean maun baith sing her psalm and busk her cockernony the gate the gudeman likes, and nae ither gate, for he’s maister and mair at hame, I can tell ye, M r Balderstone.” “ Aye, and does he guide the gear too?” said Caleb, to whose pro­ jects masculine rule boded little good. “ Ilka penny o’t— but he’ll dress her as dink as a daisy, as ye see— sae she has little reason to complain— where there’s ane better a ff there is ten waur.” “ Aweel, gudewife,” said Caleb, crest-fallen, but not beaten off, “ that wasna the way ye guided your gudeman; but ilka land has it’s ain lauch. I maun be ganging— I just wanted to round into the gudeman’s lug, that I heard them say up bye yonder, that Peter Puncheon that was cooper to the Queen’s stores at the Tim m er Burse at Leith, is dead— sae I thought that maybe a word frae my lord to the Lord Keeper might hae served Jo h n ; but since he’s frae hame”— — “ O but ye maun stay his hame-coming,” said the dame— “ I aye telled the gudeman ye meant weel be him; but he taks the tout at every bit lippening word.” “ Aweel, I’ll stay the last minute I can.” “ And so,” said the handsome young spouse o f M r Girder, “ye think this M iss Ashton is weel-favoured— troth, and sae she should, to set up for our young lord, wi’ a face, and a hand, and a seat on his horse, that might be a king’s son— d’ye ken he aye glowers up at my window, M r Balderstone, when he chaunces to ride thro’ the town, sae I hae a right to ken what like he is, as weel as ony body.” “ I ken that brawly,” said Caleb, “ for I have heard his lordship say the cooper’s wife had the blackest e’e in the barony; and I said, Weel may that be, my lord, for it was her mither’s afore her, as I ken to my cost— Eh, M arion? Ha, ha, ha !— Ah ! these were merry days !” “ Hout awa, daft carle,” said the old dame, “ to speak sic daffing to young folk.— But, Jean— fie, woman, dinna hear the bairn greet? I’se warrant it’s that weary weid has come ower it again.” Up got mother and grandmother, and scoured away, jostling each other as they ran, into some remote corner o f the tenement, where the young hero o f the evening was deposited. When Caleb saw the coast fairly clear, he took an invigorating pinch o f snuff, to sharpen and confirm his resolution. “ Cauld be my cast,” thought he, “ if either Bidethebent or Girder taste that broche o f wild-fowl this evening;” and then addressing the elder turnspit, a boy o f about eleven years old, and putting a penny into his hand, he said, “ Here is twal pennies,* my man; carry that ower to * Monetæ Scoticæ scilicet.

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M rs Sm a’trash, and bid her fill my mill wi’ snishing, and I’ll turn the broche for ye in the meantime— and she will gi’e ye a ginge-bread snap for your pains.” No sooner was the elder boy departed on this mission, than Caleb, looking the remaining turnspit gravely and steadily in the face, removed from the fire the spit bearing the wild-fowl o f which he had undertaken the charge, clapped his hat on his head, and fairly marched o ff with it. He stopped at the door o f the Change-house only to say, in a few brief words, that M r Hayston o f Bucklaw was not to expect a bed that evening in the castle. I f this message was too briefly delivered by Caleb, it became abso­ lute rudeness when conveyed through the medium o f a suburb land­ lady; and Bucklaw was, as a more calm and temperate man might have been, highly incensed. Captain Craigengelt proposed, with the unanimous applause o f all present, that they should course the old fox (meaning Caleb) ere he got to cover, and toss him in a blanket. But Lockhard intimated with authority to his master’s servants, and those o f Lord Bittlebrain, that the slightest impertinence to the Master o f Ravenswood’s domestic would give Sir William Ashton the highest offence. And having so said, in a tone sufficient to prevent any aggres­ sion on their part, he left the public-house, taking along with him two servants loaded with such provisions as he had been able to procure, and overtook Caleb just as he had cleared the village.

Chapter Thirteen

Should I take aught of you ?— ’tis true I begged now; And what is worse than that, I stole a kindness; And, what is worst of all, I lost my way in’t. Wit without Money

T h e f a c e o f the little boy, sole witness to Caleb’s infringement upon the laws at once o f property and hospitality, would have made a good picture. He sate motionless, as if he had witnessed some o f the spectral appearances which he had heard told o f in a winter’s evening; and as he forgot his own duty, and allowed his spit to stand still, he added to the misfortunes o f the evening, by suffering the mutton to burn as black as a coal. He was first recalled from his trance of astonishment by a hearty cuff, administered by Dame Lightbody, who (in whatever other respects she might conform to her name) was a woman strong o f person, and expert in the use o f her hands, as some say her deceased husband had known to his cost. “What gar’d ye let the roast burn, ye ill-clackit gude-for-nought?” “ I dinna ken,” said the boy.

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“ And where’s that ill-deedy gett, Giles ?” “ I dinna ken,” blubbered the astounded declarant. “ And where’s M r Balderstone ?— and abune a’, and in the name o f council and kirk-session, that I suld say sae, where is the broche wi’ the wild-fowl?” As M rs Girder here entered, and joined her mother’s exclamations, screaming into one ear while the old lady deafened the other, they succeeded in so utterly confounding the unhappy urchin, that he could not for some time tell his story at all, and it was only when the elder boy returned that the truth began to dawn on their minds. “Weel, sirs !” said M rs Lightbody, “wha wad hae thought o’ Caleb Balderstone playing an auld acquaintance sic a pliskie !” “ O, weary on him !” said the spouse o f M r G irder; “ and what am I to say to the gudeman ?— he’ll brain me, if there wasna anither woman in a’ Wolfshope.” “ Hout tout, silly quean,” said the mother; “ na, na— it’s come to muckle, but it’s no come to that neither; for an he brain you he maun brain me, and I have gar’d his betters stand aback— hands aff is fair play— we maunna head a bit flyting.” T h e tramp o f horses now announced the arrival o f the cooper, with the minister. They had no sooner dismounted than they made for the kitchen fire, for the evening was cool after the thunder-storm, and the roads wet and dirty. The young gudewife, strong in the charms o f her Sunday gown and biggonets, threw herself in the way o f receiving the first attack, while her mother, like the veteran division o f the Roman legion, remained in the rear, ready to support her in case o f necessity. Both hoped to protract the discovery o f what had happened— the mother by interposing her bustling person betwixt M r Girder and the fire, and the daughter by the extreme cordiality with which she received the minister and her husband, and the anxious fears she expressed lest they should have “ gotten cauld.” “ Cauld ?” quoth the husband surlily, for he was not o f that class o f lords and masters whose wives are viceroys over them— “w e’ll be cauld aneugh, I think, if ye dinna let us in to the fire.” And so saying, he burst his way through both lines o f defence; and, as he had a careful eye over his property o f every kind, he perceived at one glance the absence o f the spit with its savoury burthen. “ What the de’il, woman”— — “ Fye for sham e!” exclaimed both the women; “ and before M r Bidethebent!” “ I stand reproved,” said the cooper, “ but” — — “ The taking in our mouths the name o f the great enemy o f our souls,” said M r Bidethebent——

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“ I stand reproved,” said the cooper. “ Is an exposing ourselves to his temptations, and an inviting, or, in some sort, a compelling, o f him to lay aside his other trafficking with unhappy persons, and wait upon those in whose mouth his name is frequent.” “Weel, weel, M r Bidethebent, can a man do mair than stand reproved?” said the cooper; “ but just let me ask the women what for they hae dished the wild-fowl before we came.” “ They are no dished, John ,” said his w ife; “ but— but an acci­ dent”— — “ What accident?” said Girder, with flashing eyes— “ Nae ill come ower them, I trust? U h ?” His wife, who stood much in awe o f him, durst not reply, but her mother bustled up to her support.— “ I gied them to an acquaintance o f mine, John G irder; and what about it now?” Her excess o f assurance struck Girder mute for an instant.— “ And ye gied the wild-fowl, the best end o f our christening dinner, to a friend o f yours, ye auld rudas ! and what was his name, I pray ye ?” “ Worthy M r Caleb Balderstane, frae Wolfscrag,” answered M ari­ on, quite prepared for battle. G irder’s wrath foamed over all restraint. I f there was a circum­ stance which could have added to the resentment he felt, it was that this extravagant donation had been made in favour o f our friend Caleb, towards whom, for reasons to which the reader is no stranger, he nourished a decided resentment. He raised his riding wand against the elder matron, but she stood firm, collected in herself, and undauntedly brandished the iron ladle with which she had just been flam bing (anglice, basting) the roast o f mutton. Her weapon was cer­ tainly the better, and her arm not the weakest o f the two; so that John thought it safest to turn short o ff upon his wife, who had by this time hatched a sort o f hysterical whine, which greatly moved the minister, who was in fact as simple and kind-hearted a creature as ever breathed.— “ And you, ye thowless jadd, to sit still and see my sub­ stance disponed upon to an idle, drucken, reprobate, worm-eaten serving-man, just because he kittles the lugs 0’ a silly auld wife wi’ useless clavers, and every twa words a lie ?— I’ll gar you as gude” — — Here the minister interposed, both by voice and action, while Dame Lightbody threw herself in front o f her daughter, and flourished her ladle. “ Am I no to chastise my ain wife ?” said the cooper, very indignantly. “ Ye may chastise your ain wife if ye like,” answered Dame Lightbody; “but ye shall never lay finger on my daughter, and that ye may found upon.”

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“ For shame, M r Girder,” said the clergyman; “ this is what I little expected to have seen o f you, that ye suld give rein to your sinful passions against your nearest and your dearest; and this night too, when ye are called to the most solemn duty o f a Christian parent— and a’ for what? for a redundancy o f creature comforts, as worthless as they are unneedful.” “ W orthless!” exclaimed the cooper— “ a better guse ne’er walked on stubble; twa finer dentier wild-deucks ne’er wat a feather.” “ Be it so, neighbour,” rejoined the minister; “ but see what super­ fluities are yet revolving before your fire. I have seen the day when ten o f the bannocks that stand upon that board would have been an acceptable dainty to as many men, that were starving in hills and hags, and caves o f the earth, for the Gospel’s sake.” “ And that’s what vexes maist o f a’,” said the cooper, anxious to get some one to sympathise with his not altogether causeless anger; “ an the quean had gi’en it to ony suffering sant, or to ony body ava but that reaving, lying, oppressing tory villain, that rade in the wicked troop o f militia when it was commanded out against Argyle by the auld tyrant Allan Ravenswood, that is gane to his place, I wad the less hae minded it. But to gie the principal part o’ the feast to the like o’ him !”— — “ Aweel, John ,” said the minister, “ and dinna ye see a high judg­ ment in this ?— Th e seed o f the righteous are not seen begging their bread— think o f the son o f a powerful oppressor being brought to the pass o f supporting his household from your fullness.” “ And besides,” said the wife, “ it wasna for Lord Ravenswood nei­ ther, an he wad hear but a body speak— it was to help to entertain the Lord Keeper, as they ca’ him, that’s up yonder at W olfscrag.” “ Sir William Ashton at W olfscrag!” ejaculated the astonished man o f hoops and staves. “ And hand and glove wi’ Lord Ravenswood,” added Dame Lightbody. “ Doited ideot !— that auld clavering sneck-drawer wad gar ye trow the moon is made o f green cheese.— Lord Keeper and Ravenswood ! they are cat and dog, hare and hound.” “ I tell ye they are man and wife, and gree better than some others,” retorted the mother-in-law; “ forbye, Peter Puncheon, that’s cooper to the Queen’s stores, is dead, and the place is to fill, and” — — “ Od guide us, wull ye haud your skirling tongues,” said Girder— for we are to remark, that this explanation was given like a catch for two voices, the younger dame taking up, and repeating, in a higher tone, the words as fast as they were uttered by her mother. “ The gudewife says naething but what’s true, maister,” said G irder’s foreman, who had come in during the fray. “ I saw a’ the Lord

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K eeper’s servants drinking and driving ower at Luckie Sm a’trash’s, ower by yonder.” “ And is their maister up at W olfscrag?” said Girder. “ Ay, troth is he,” replied his man o f confidence. “ An friends wi’ Ravenswood?” “ It’s like sae,” answered the foreman, “ since he is putting up wi’ him.” “ And Peter Puncheon is dead?” “ Ay, ay— he has leaked out at last, the auld carle,” said the fore­ man; “ mony a dribble o’ brandy has gaen through him in his day.— But as for the broche and the wild-fowl, the saddle’s no a ff your mare yet, maister, and I could follow and bring it back, for M r Balderstone’s no far aff the town yet.” “ Do sae, Will— and come here— I’ll tell ye what to do when ye owertake him.” He relieved the females o f his presence, and gave Will his private instructions. “ A bonnie-like thing,” said the mother-in-law on his return, “ to send the innocent lad after an armed man, when ye ken M r Balderstane aye wears a rapier.” “ I trust,” said the minister, “ye hae reflected weel on what ye have done, least you should minister cause o f strife, o f which it is my duty to say, he who affordeth matter is no manner guiltless.” “ Never fash your beard, M r Bidethebent— ane canna get their breath out here between wives and ministers— I ken best how to turn my ain cake.—Jean, serve up the dinner, and nae mair about it.” N or did he again allude to the deficiency in the course o f the even­ ing. Meantime, the foreman, mounted on his master’s steed, and charged with his special orders, pricked swiftly forth in pursuit o f the marauder Caleb. That personage, it may be imagined, did not linger by the way. He intermitted even his dearly-beloved chatter, for the purpose o f making more haste— only assuring M r Lockhard that he had made the purveyor’s wife give the wild-fowl a few turns before the fire, in case that Mysie, who had been so much alarmed by the thun­ der, should not have her kitchen-grate in full splendour. Meanwhile, alleging the necessity o f being at Wolfscrag as soon as possible, he pushed on so fast that his companions could scarce keep up with him. He began already to think he was safe from pursuit, having gained the summit o f the swelling eminence which divides Wolfscrag from the village, when he heard the distant tread o f a horse, and a voice which shouted at intervals, “ M r Caleb— M r Balderstone— M r Caleb Bal­ derstone— hollo— bide a wee !”

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Caleb, it may be well believed, was in no hurry to acknowledge the summons. First, he would not hear it, and faced his companions down, that it was the echo o f the wind; then he said it was not worth stopping for; and, at length, halting reluctantly, as the figure o f the horseman appeared through the shades o f the evening, he bent up his whole soul to the task o f defending his prey, threw himself into an attitude o f dignity, advanced the spit, which in his grasp “ might seem both spear and shield,” and firmly resolved to die rather than surren­ der it. What was his astonishment, when the cooper’s foreman, riding up and addressing him with respect, told him, “ his master was sorry he was absent when he came to his dwelling, and grieved that he could not tarry the christening dinner, and that he had ta’en the freedom to send a sma’ rundlet o f sack, and ane anker o f brandy, as he understood there were guests at the castle, and that they were short o f prepara­ tion.” I have heard somewhere a story o f an elderly gentleman, who was pursued by a bear that had gotten loose from its muzzle; until, completely exhausted and in a fit o f desperation, he faced round upon Bruin and lifted his cane, at the sight o f which the instinct o f discipline prevailed, and the animal, instead o f tearing him to pieces, rose up upon his hind-legs, and instantly began to shuffle a sara­ band. Not less than the joyful surprise o f the senior, who had sup­ posed him self in the extremity o f peril from which he was thus unexpectedly relieved, was that o f our excellent friend Caleb, when he found the pursuer intended to add to his prize, instead o f bereav­ ing him o f it. He recovered his latitude, however, instantly, so soon as the foreman, stooping from his nag, where he sate perched betwixt the two barrels, whispered in his ear,— “ I f ony thing about Peter Puncheon’s place could be airted their way, John Girder wad mak it better to the M aster o f Ravenswood than a pair o f new gloves; and that he wad be blythe to speak wi’ M aster Balderstane on that head, and he wad find him as pliant as a hoop-willow in a’ that he could wish o f him.” Caleb heard all this without rendering any answer, except that o f all great men from Louis XIV. downward, namely, “we will see about it and then added aloud, for the edification o f M r Lockhard,— “ Your master has acted with becoming civility and attention in forwarding the liquors, and I will not fail to represent it properly to my Lord Ravenswood. And, my lad,” he said, “you may ride on the castle, and if none o f the servants are returned, whilk is to be dreaded, as they make day and night o f it when they are out o f sight, ye may put them into the porter’s lodge, whilk is on the right hand o f the great entry— the porter

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has got leave to go to see his friends, sae ye will meet no ane to steer ye.” The foreman, having received his orders, rode on; and having deposited the casks in the deserted and ruinous porter’s lodge, he returned unquestioned by any one. Having thus executed his master’s commission, and doffed his bonnet to Caleb and his company as he repassed them in his way to the village, he returned to have his share o f the christening festivity.

Chapter F ourteen As, to the Autumn breeze’s bugle-sound, Various and vague the dry leaves dance their round; Or, from the garner-door, on æther borne, The chaff flies devious from the winnow’d corn; So vague, so devious, at the breath of heaven, From their fix’d aim are mortal counsels driv’n. Anonym ous

W h e n C a l e b had mustered and marshalled his dishes o f divers kinds, a more royal provision had not been seen in Wolfscrag, since the funeral feast o f its deceased lord. Great was the glory o f the serving-man, as he decored the old oaken table with a clean cloth, and arranged upon it carbonaded venison and roasted wild-fowl, with a glance, every now and then, as if to upbraid the incredulity o f his master and his guests; and with many a story, more or less true, was Lockhard that evening regaled concerning the ancient grandeur o f Wolfscrag, and the sway o f its Barons over the country in their neigh­ bourhood. “ A vassal scarce held a calf or a lamb was his ain, till he had first asked if the Lord o f Ravenswood was pleased to accept it; and they were obliged to ask the lord’s consent before they married in these days, and mony a merry tale they tell about that right as weel as others. And although,” said Caleb, “ these times are not like the gude auld times, when authority had its due, yet, true it is, M r Lockhard, and you yoursell may partly have remarked, that we o f the House o f Ravenswood do our devoir in keeping up, by all just and lawful exer­ tion o f our baronial authority, that due and fitting connection betwixt superior and vassal, whilk is in some danger o f falling into desuetude, owing to the general license and misrule o f these present unhappy times.” “ U m ph!” said M r Lockhard; “ and if I may enquire, M r Balderstone, pray do you find your people at the village yonder amenable ? for I must needs say, that at Ravenswood Castle, now pertaining to my

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master, the Lord Keeper, ye have not left behind ye the most compli­ ant set o f tenantry.” “ Ah! but M r Lockhard,” replied Caleb, “ye must consider there has been a change o f hands, and the auld lord might expect twa turns frae them, when the new comer canna get ane. A dour and fractious set they were, thae tenants o f Ravenswood, and ill to live wi’ whan they dinna ken their master— and if your master put them mad ance, the whole country will not put them down.” “ Troth,” said M r Lockhard, “ an such be the case, I think the wisest thing for us a’ wad be to hammer up a match between your young lord and our winsome young leddy up bye there; and Sir William might just stitch your auld barony to her gown-sleeve, and he wad sune crinkle another out o’ somebody else, sic a lang head as he has.” Caleb shook his head.— “ I wish,” he said, “ I wish that may answer, M r Lockhard. There are auld prophecies about this house I wad like ill to see fulfilled wi’ my auld e’en, that hae seen evil aneugh already.” “ Pshaw! never mind freits,” said his brother butler; “ if the young folk liked ane anither, they wad make a winsome couple. But, to say truth, there is a leddy sits in our hall-nook, maun have her hand in that as weel as in every other job. But there’s no harm in drinking to their healths, and I will fill M rs Mysie a cup o f M r G irder’s canary.” While they thus enjoyed themselves in the kitchen, the company in the hall were not less pleasantly engaged. So soon as Ravenswood had determined upon giving the Lord K eeper such hospitality as he had to offer, he deemed it incumbent on him to assume the open and courte­ ous brow o f a well-pleased host. It has been often remarked, that when a man commences by acting a character, he frequently ends by adopt­ ing it in good earnest. In the course o f an hour or two, Ravenswood, to his own surprise, found him self in the situation o f one who frankly does his best to entertain welcome and honoured guests. How much o f this change in his disposition was to be ascribed to the beauty and simplicity o f M iss Ashton, to the readiness with which she accom­ modated herself to the inconveniencies o f her situation— how much to the smooth and plausible conversation o f the Lord Keeper, remarkably gifted with those words which win the ear, must be left to the reader’s ingenuity to conjecture. But Ravenswood was insensible to neither. T h e Lord Keeper was a veteran statesman, well acquainted with courts and cabinets, and intimate with all the various turns o f public affairs during the last eventful years o f the seventeenth century. He could talk, from his own knowledge, o f men and events, in a way which failed not to win attention, and had the peculiar art, while he never said a word which committed himself, at the same time to persuade

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the hearer that he was speaking without the least shadow o f scrupu­ lous caution or reserve. Ravenswood, in spite o f his prejudices and real grounds o f resentment, felt himself at once amused and instructed in listening to him, while the statesman, whose awkward feelings had at first so much impeded his first efforts to make himself known, had now regained all the ease and fluency o f a silver-tongued lawyer o f the very highest order. His daughter did not speak much, but she smiled, and she sang; and what she did say argued a submissive gentleness, and a desire to give pleasure, which, to a proud man like Ravenswood, was more fascinating than the most brilliant wit. Above all, he could not but observe, that, whether from gratitude or from some other motive, he himself, in his deserted and unprovided hall, was as much the object o f respectful attention to his guests, as he would have been when surrounded by all the appliances and means o f hospitality proper to his high birth. All deficiencies passed unobserved, or, if they did not escape notice, it was to praise the substitutes which Caleb had con­ trived to supply the want o f the usual accommodations. Where a smile was unavoidable, it was a very good-humoured one, and often coupled with some well-turned compliment, to shew how much the guests esteemed the merit o f their noble host, how little they thought o f the inconveniencies with which they were surrounded. I am not sure whether the pride o f being found to outbalance, in virtue o f his own personal merit, all the disadvantages o f fortune, did not make as favourable an impression upon the haughty heart o f the Master of Ravenswood, as the conversation o f the father and the beauty o f Lucy Ashton. T h e hour o f repose arrived. T h e Keeper and his daughter retired to their apartments, which were “ decored” more properly than could have been anticipated. In making the necessary arrangements, Mysie had indeed enjoyed the assistance o f a gossip who had arrived from the village upon an exploratory expedition, but had been arrested by Caleb, and impressed into the domestic drudgery o f the evening. So that, instead o f returning home to describe the dress and person o f the grand young lady, she found herself compelled to be active in the domestic economy o f Wolfscrag. According to the custom o f the time, the M aster o f Ravenswood attended the Lord Keeper to his apartment, followed by Caleb, who placed on the table, with all the ceremonial due to torches o f wax, two rudely formed tallow-candles, such as in these days were only used by the peasantry, hooped in paltry clasps o f wire, which served for candlesticks. He then disappeared, and presently entered with two earthen flagons, (the china, he said, had been little used since my

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lady’s time,) one filled with canary wine, the other with brandy. T he canary sack, unheeding all probabilities o f detection, he declared had been twenty years in the cellars o f Wolfscrag, “ though it was not for him to speak before their honours; the brandy,— it was weel ken’d liquor, as mild as mead, and as strong as Sampson— it had been in the house ever since the memorable revel, in which auld Mickletale had been slain at the head o f the stair by Jam ie of Jenklebrae, on account o f the honour o f the worshipful Lady Muirend, wha was in some sort an ally o f the family; natheless” — — “ But to cut that matter short, M r Caleb,” said the Keeper, “ perhaps you will favour me with a ewer o f water.” “ God forbid your lordship should drink water in this family, to the disgrace o f so honourable an house !” “ Nevertheless, if his lordship have a fancy,” said the Master, smil­ ing, “ I think you might indulge him; for, if I mistake not, there has been water drank here at no distant date, and with good relish too.” “ T o be sure, if his lordship has a fancy,” said Caleb; and re­ entering with a jug o f pure element— “ He will scarce find such water ony where as is drawn frae the well at Wolfscrag— nevertheless”— — “ Nevertheless, we must leave the Lord Keeper to his repose in this poor chamber o f ours,” said the M aster o f Ravenswood, interrupting his talkative domestic, who immediately turning to the door-way, with a profound reverence, prepared to usher his master from the secret chamber. But the Lord Keeper prevented his host’s departure.— “ I have but one word to say to the M aster o f Ravenswood, M r Caleb, and I fancy he will excuse your waiting.” With a second reverence, lower than the former, Caleb withdrew— and his master stood motionless, expecting, with considerable embar­ rassment, what was to close the events o f a day fraught with unexpec­ ted incidents. “ M aster o f Ravenswood,” said Sir William Ashton, with some embarrassment, “ I hope you understand the Christian law too well to suffer the sun to set upon your anger.” T h e M aster blushed, and replied, “ He had no occasion that even­ ing to exercise the duty enjoined him by his Christian faith.” “ I should have thought otherwise,” said his guest, “ considering the various subjects o f dispute and litigation which have unhappily occurred more frequently than was desirable or necessary betwixt the late honourable lord, your father, and myself.” “ I could wish, my lord,” said Ravenswood, agitated by suppressed emotion, “ that reference to these circumstances should be made any where rather than under my father’s roof.”

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“ I should have felt the delicacy o f this appeal at another time,” said Sir William Ashton, “but now I must proceed with what I meant to say. — I have suffered too much in my own mind from the false delicacy which prevented my soliciting with earnestness, what indeed I fre­ quently requested, a personal communing with your father— much distress o f mind to him and to me might have been prevented.” “ It is true,” said Ravenswood, after a moment’s reflection; “ I have heard my father say your lordship had proposed a personal interview. ” “ Proposed, my dear Master? I did indeed propose it, but I ought to have begged, entreated, beseeched it. I ought to have tom away the veil which interested persons had stretched betwixt us, and shewn myself as I was, willing to sacrifice a considerable part even o f my legal rights in order to conciliate feelings so natural as his must be allowed to have been. Let me say for myself, my young friend, for so I will call you, that had your father and I spent the same time together which my good fortune has allowed me to-day to pass in your company, it is possible the land might yet have enjoyed one o f the most respectable o f its ancient nobility, and I should have been spared the pain o f parting in enmity from a person whose general character I so much admired and honoured.” He put his handkerchief to his eyes. Ravenswood also was moved, but awaited in silence the progress o f this extraordinary communica­ tion. “ It is necessary,” continued the Lord Keeper, “ and proper that you should understand, that there have been many points betwixt us, in which, although I judged it proper that there should be an exact ascertainment o f my legal rights by the decree o f a court o f justice, yet it was never my intention to press them beyond the verge o f equity.” “ M y lord,” said the M aster o f Ravenswood, “ it is unnecessary to press this topic farther. What the law will give you, or has given you, you enjoy— or you shall enjoy; neither my father, nor I myself, would have received any thing on the footing o f favour.” “ Favour? no, you misunderstand me,” resumed the K eeper; “ or rather you are no lawyer. A right may be good in law, and ascertained to be so, which yet a man o f honour may not in every case care to avail him self of.” “ I am sorry for it, my lord,” said the Master. “ Nay, nay,” retorted his guest, “you speak like a young council; your spirit goes before your wit. There are many things still open for decision betwixt us. Can you blame me, an old man desirous o f peace, and in the castle o f a young nobleman who has saved my daughter’s life and my own, that I am desirous, anxiously desirous, that these should be settled on the most liberal principle ?”

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T he old man kept fast hold o f the M aster’s passive hand as he spoke, and made it impossible for him, be his predetermination what it would, to return any other than an acquiescing reply; and wishing his guest good night, he referred farther conference until the next morning. Ravenswood hurried into the hall where he was to spend the night, and for a time traversed its stony floor with a disordered and rapid pace. His mortal foe was under his roof, yet his sentiments towards him were neither those o f a feudal enemy nor o f a true Christian. He felt as if he could neither forgive him in the one character, or follow forth his vengeance in the other, but that he was making a base and dishonourable composition betwixt his resentment against the father and his affection for the daughter. He cursed himself, as he hurried to and fro in the pale moonlight, and more ruddy gleams o f the expiring wood-fire. He threw open and shut the latticed windows with viol­ ence, as if alike impatient o f the admission and exclusion o f the free air. At length, however, the torrent o f passion foamed o ff its madness, and he threw himself into the chair, which he proposed as his place of repose for the night. “ If, in reality,” — such were the calmer thoughts that followed the first tempest o f his passion— “ If, in reality, this man desired no more than the law allows him— if he is willing to adjust even his acknow­ ledged rights upon an equitable footing, what could be my father’s cause o f complaint? What is mine ?— Those from whom we won our ancient possessions fell under the sword o f my ancestors, and left lands and livings to the conquerors. We sink under the force o f the law, now too powerful for the Scottish chivalry. Let us parley with the victors o f the day, as if we had been besieged in our fortress and without hope o f relief. This man may be other than I have thought him; and his daughter— but I have resolved not to think upon her.” He wrapt his cloak around him, fell asleep, and dreamed o f Lucy Ashton till day-light gleamed through the lattices. E N D OF V O L U M E F I R S T

THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR Chapter O ne W e worldly men, when we see friends and kinsmen Past hope sunk in their fortunes, lend no hand T o lift them up, but rather set our feet U pon their heads to press them to the bottom, A s I must yield with you I practised it; But now I see you in a way to rise, I can and will assist you.— N ew Way to Pay O ld Debts

T h e L o r d K e e p e r carried with him to a couch, harder than he was accustomed to stretch himself upon, the same ambitious thoughts and political perplexities, which drive sleep from the softest down that ever spread a bed o f state. He had sailed long enough amid the contending tides and currents o f the time to be sensible o f their peril, and o f the necessity o f trimming his vessel to the prevailing wind, if he would have her escape suffering in the storm. The nature o f his talents, and a timorousness o f disposition connected with them, had made him assume the pliability o f the versatile old Earl o f Wiltshire, who explained the art by which he kept his ground during all the changes o f state, from the reign o f Henry VIII. to that o f Elizabeth, by the frank avowal, that he was born o f the willow, not o f the oak. It had accord­ ingly been Sir William Ashton’s policy on all occasions to watch the changes in the political horizon, and, ere yet the conflict was decided, to negociate some interest for himself with the party most likely to prove victorious. His time-serving disposition was well known, and excited the contempt o f the more daring leaders o f both factions in the state. But his talents were o f a useful and practical kind, and his legal knowledge held in high estimation; and they so far counter-balanced other deficiencies, that those in power were glad to use and to reward, though without trusting or respecting him. The Marquis o f A— — had used his utmost influence to effect a I2I

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change in the Scottish cabinet, and his schemes had been o f late so well laid and so ably supported, that there appeared a very great chance o f his proving ultimately successful. He did not, however, feel so strong or so confident as to neglect any means o f drawing recruits to his standard. T h e acquisition o f the Lord Keeper was deemed o f some importance, and a friend, perfectly acquainted with his circum­ stances and character, became responsible for his conversion. When this gentleman arrived at Ravenswood Castle upon a visit, the real purpose o f which was disguised under general courtesy, he found the prevailing fear, which at present beset the Lord Keeper, was that o f danger to his own person from the Master o f Ravenswood. T h e language which the blind sybil, old Alice, had used; the sudden appearance o f the M aster armed, and within his precincts, immedi­ ately after he had been warned against danger from him; his cold and haughty return to the acknowledgments with which he loaded him for his timely protection, had all made a strong impression on his ima­ gination. So soon as the M arquis’s political agent found how the wind sate, he began to insinuate fears and doubts o f another kind, scarce less calculated to affect the Lord Keeper. He enquired with seeming interest, whether the proceedings in Sir William’s complicated litiga­ tion with the Ravenswoods were out o f court, and settled without the possibility o f appeal? The Lord Keeper answered in the affirmative; but his interrogator was too well informed to be imposed upon. He pointed out to him, by unanswerable arguments, that some o f the most important points which had been decided in his favour against the House o f Ravenswood, were liable to be reviewed by the Estates o f the Scottish Parliament, upon an appeal from the party injured, or, as it was technically termed, “ a protestation for remeid in law.” T h e Lord Keeper, after he had for some time disputed the regular­ ity o f such a procedure, was compelled, at length, to comfort him self with the improbability o f the young M aster o f Ravenswood finding friends in parliament, capable o f stirring in so weighty an affair. “ D o not comfort yourself with that false hope,” said his wily friend; “ it is possible, that in the next sessions o f parliament, young Ravens­ wood may find more friends and favour even than your lordship.” “ That would be a sight worth seeing,” said the Keeper scornfully. “ And yet,” said his friend, “ such things have been seen ere now, and in our own time— there are many at the head o f affairs even now, that a few years agone were under hiding for their lives; and many a man dining on plate o f silver, that was fain to eat his crowdy without a bicker; and many a high head has been brought full low among us in as short a space. Scott o f Scotstarvet’s ‘Staggering State o f Scots States­

[Chap.

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men,’ o f which curious memoir you shewed me a manuscript, has been out-staggered in our time.” T h e Lord Keeper answered with a deep sigh, “ that these were no new sights in Scotland, and had been witnessed long before the time o f the satirical author he had quoted. It was many a long year,” he said, “ since Fordun had quoted, as an ancient proverb, ‘neque dives, neque fortis , sed nec sapiens S cotus, prædominante invidia, diu durabit in terra' ” “ And be assured, my esteemed friend,” was the answer, “ that even your long services to the state, and deep legal knowledge, will not save you, or render your estate stable, if the M arquis o f A— — comes in with a parliament according to his will. You know that Lord Ravens wood that is deceased was his near ally, his lady being fifth in descent from the Knight o f Tillibardine; and I am well assured that he will take young Ravenswood by the hand, and be his very good lord and kinsman. Why suld he not?— he is an active and stirring young fellow, able to help himself with tongue and hands; and it is such as he that find friends among their kindred, and not those unarmed and unable Mephebosheths, that are sure to be a burthen to every one that takes them up. And so, if these Ravenswood cases be called over the coals in parliament, you will find that the M arquis will have a crow to pluck with you.” “ That would be an evil requital,” said the Lord Keeper, “ for my long services to the state, and the ancient respect in which I have held his lordship’s honourable family and person.” “ Aye, but,” rejoined the agent o f the Marquis, “ it is in vain to look back on past service and auld respect, my lord— it will be present service and immediate proofs o f regard, which, in these sliddery times, will be expected by a man like the M arquis.” Th e Lord Keeper now saw the full drift o f his friend’s argument, but he was too cautious to return any positive answer. “ He knew not,” he said, “ the service which the Lord M arquis could expect from one o f his limited abilities, that had not always stood at his command, always saving and reserving his duty to his king and country.” Having thus said nothing, while he seemed to say every thing, for the exception was calculated to cover whatever he might afterwards think proper to bring under it, Sir William Ashton changed the con­ versation, nor did he again permit it to be introduced. His guest departed, without having brought the wily old statesman the length o f committing himself, or pledging himself to any future line o f conduct, but with the certainty that he had alarmed his fears in a most sensible point, and laid a foundation for future and further treaty. When he rendered an account o f his negociation to the Marquis,

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they both agreed that the Keeper ought not to be permitted to relapse into security, and that he should be plied with new subjects o f alarm, especially during the absence o f his lady. They were well aware that her proud, vindictive, and predominating spirit, would be likely to supply him with the courage in which he was deficient— that she was immovably wedded to the party now in power, with whom she main­ tained a close correspondence and alliance, and that she hated, without fearing, the Ravenswood family, whose more ancient dignity threw discredit on the newly acquired grandeur o f her husband, to such a degree that she would have periled the interest o f her own house, to have the prospect o f altogether crushing that o f her enemy. But Lady Ashton was now absent. T h e business which had long detained her in Edinburgh, had afterwards induced her to travel to London, not without the hope that she might contribute her share to disconcert the intrigues o f the Marquis at court, for she stood high in favour with the celebrated Sarah, Duchess o f Marlborough, to whom, in point o f character, she bore considerable resemblance. It was necessary to press her husband hard before her return; and, as a preparatory step, the M arquis wrote to the M aster o f Ravenswood the letter which we rehearsed in a former chapter. It was cautiously worded, so as to leave it in the power o f the writer hereafter to take as deep, or as slight an interest in the fortunes o f his kinsman, as the progress o f his own schemes might require. But however unwilling, as a statesman, the M arquis might be to commit himself, or assume the character o f a patron, while he had nothing to give away, it must be said to his honour, that he felt a strong inclination effectually to befriend the M aster o f Ravenswood, as well as to use his name as a means o f alarming the terrors o f the Lord Keeper. As the messenger who carried this letter was to pass near the house o f the Lord Keeper, he had it in direction, that in the village adjoining to the park gate o f the castle, his horse should lose a shoe, and that, while it was replaced by the smith o f the place, he should express the utmost regret for the necessary loss o f time, and in the vehemence o f his impatience, give it to be understood, that he was bearing a message from the M arquis o f A— — to the M aster o f Ravenswood, upon a matter o f life and death. This news, with exaggerations, was speedily carried from various quarters to the ears o f the Lord Keeper, and each reporter dwelt upon the extreme impatience o f the courier, and the surprising short time in which he had executed his journey. T he anxious statesman heard in silence; but in private Lockhard received orders to watch the courier on his return, to way-lay him in the village, to fill him drunk if possible, and to use all means, fair or foul, to learn the contents o f the letters o f

[Chap. 15]

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which he was the bearer. But as if this plot had been foreseen, the messenger returned by a different and distant road, and thus escaped the snare that was laid him. After he had been in vain expected for some time, M r Dingwall had orders to make especial enquiries among his clients o f Wolfshope, whether such a domestic belonging to the M arquis o f A— — had actually arrived at the neighbouring castle. This was easily ascer­ tained; for Caleb had been in the village one morning by five o’clock, to borrow “ twa chappins o f ale and a kipper” for the messenger’s refreshment, and the poor fellow had been ill for twenty-four hours at Luckie Sm a’trash’s, in consequence o f dining upon “ saut saumon and sour drink.” So that the existence o f a correspondence betwixt the Marquis and his distressed kinsman, which Sir William Ashton had sometimes treated as a bug-bear, was proved beyond the possibility o f further doubt. T h e alarm o f the Lord Keeper became very serious. Since the Claim o f Right, the power o f appealing from the decisions o f the civil court to the estates o f parliament, which had formerly been held incompetent, had in many instances been claimed, and in some allowed, and he had no small reason to apprehend the issue, if the Scottish parliament should be disposed to act upon the protestation o f the M aster o f Ravenswood “ for remeid in law.” It would resolve into an equitable claim, and be decided, perhaps, upon the broad prin­ ciples o f justice, which were not quite so favourable to the Lord Keeper as those o f strict law. Meanwhile, every report which reached him seemed to render the success o f the M arquis’s intrigues the more probable, and the Lord Keeper began to think it indispensible, that he should look round for some kind o f protection against the coming storm. T h e timidity o f his temper induced him to adopt measures o f compromise and conciliation. T h e affair o f the wild bull, properly managed, might, he thought, be made to facilitate a personal com­ munication and reconciliation betwixt the M aster and himself. He would then learn, if possible, what his own ideas were o f the extent o f his rights, and the means o f reinforcing them; and perhaps matters might be brought to a compromise, where one party was wealthy, and the other so very poor. A reconciliation with Ravenswood was like to give him an opportunity to play his own game with the M arquis o f A— — . “ And besides,” said he to himself, “ it will be an act o f generos­ ity to raise up the heir o f this distressed family; and if he is to be warmly and effectually friended by the new government, who knows but my virtue may prove its own reward ?” Thus thought Sir William Ashton, covering with no unusual selfdelusion his interested views with a hue o f virtue; and having attained

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this point, his fancy strayed still farther. He began to bethink himself, “ that if Ravenswood was to have a distinguished place o f power and trust— and if such a union would sopite the heavier part o f his unadjusted claims— there might be worse matches for his daughter Lucy— the M aster might be reponed against the attainder— Lord Ravenswood was an ancient title, and the alliance would, in some measure, legitimate his own possession o f the greater part o f the M aster’s spoils, and make the surrender o f the rest a subject o f less bitter regret.” With these mingled and multifarious plans occupying his head, the Lord Keeper availed him self o f my Lord Bittlebrain’s repeated invitation to his residence, and thus came within a very few miles o f Wolfscrag. Here he found the lord o f the mansion absent, but was courteously received by the lady, who expected her husband’s imme­ diate return. She expressed her particular delight at seeing M iss Ashton, and appointed the hounds to be taken out for the Lord K eeper’s special amusement. He readily embraced the proposal, as giving him an opportunity to reconnoitre Wolfscrag, and perhaps to make some acquaintance with the owner, if he should be tempted from his desolate mansion by the chase. Lockhard had his orders to endeavour on his part to make some acquaintance with the inmates o f the castle, and we have seen how he played his part. T h e accidental storm did more to further the Lord K eeper’s plan o f forming a personal acquaintance with young Ravenswood, than his most sanguine expectations could have anticipated. His fear o f the young nobleman’s personal resentment had greatly decreased, since he considered him as formidable from his legal claims, and the means he might have o f enforcing them. But although he thought, not unreasonably, that only desperate circumstances drove men on desperate measures, it was not without a secret terror, which shook his heart within him, that he first felt himself enclosed within the desolate tower o f W olfscrag; a place so well fitted, from solitude and strength, to be a scene o f violence and vengeance. T h e stem reception at first given to them by the M aster o f Ravenswood, and the difficulty he felt in explaining to that injured nobleman what guests were under the shelter o f his roof, did not sooth these alarms; so that when Sir William Ashton heard the door o f the court-yard shut behind him with violence, the words o f Alice rung in his ears, “ that he had driven on matters too hardly with so fierce a race as those o f Ravenswood, and that they would bide their time to be avenged.” T h e subsequent frankness o f the M aster’s hospitality, as their acquaintance increased, abated the apprehensions these recollections were calculated to excite; and it did not escape Sir William Ashton,

[Chap. 16]

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that it was to Lucy’s grace and beauty he owed the change in their host’s behaviour. All these thoughts thronged upon him when he took possession o f the secret chamber. T h e iron lamp, the unfurnished apartment, more resembling a prison than a place o f ordinary repose, the hoarse and ceaseless sound o f the waves rushing against the base o f the rock on which the castle was founded, saddened and perplexed his mind. T o his own successful machinations, the ruin o f this family had been in a great measure owing, but his disposition was crafty and not cruel; so that actually to witness the desolation and distress he had himself occasioned, was as painful to him as it would be to the humane mistress o f a family to superintend in person the execution o f the lambs and poultry which are killed by her own directions. At the same time, when he thought o f the alternative, o f restoring to Ravenswood a large proportion o f his spoils, or o f adopting, as an ally and member o f his own family, the heir o f this impoverished house, he felt as the spider may be supposed to do, when his whole web, the intricacies of which had been planned with so much artifice, is destroyed by the chance sweep o f a broom. And then, if he should commit himself too far in this matter, it gave rise to a perilous question, which many a good husband, when under temptation to act as a free agent, has asked himself without being able to return a satisfactory answer; “ What will my wife— what will Lady Ashton say?” On the whole, he came at length to the resolution in which minds o f a weaker cast so often take refuge. He resolved to watch events, to take advantage o f circum­ stances as they occurred, and regulate his conduct accordingly. In this spirit o f temporizing policy, he at length composed his mind to rest.

Chapter Two

“A slight note I have about me for you, for the delivery of which you must excuse me. It is an office that friendship calls upon me to do, and no way offensive to you, since I desire nothing but right upon both sides.” K in g and no K in g

W h e n Ravenswood and his guest met in the morning, the gloom o f the M aster’s spirit had in part returned. He, also, had passed a night rather o f reflection than o f slumber; and the feelings which he could not but entertain towards Lucy Ashton, had to support a severe con­ flict against those which he had so long nourished against her father. T o clasp in friendship the hand o f the enemy o f his house, to entertain him under his roof, to exchange with him the courtesies and the

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kindness o f domestic familiarity, was a degradation which his proud spirit could not be bent to without a struggle. But the ice being once broken, the Lord Keeper resolved it should not have time again to freeze. It had been part o f his plan to stun and confuse Ravenswood’s ideas, by a complicated and technical state­ ment o f the matters which had been in debate betwixt their families, justly thinking it would be difficult for a youth o f his age to follow the expositions o f a practical lawyer, concerning actions o f compt and reckoning, and o f multiplepoinding, and adjudication and wadsets, proper and improper, and poindings o f the ground and declarators o f expiry o f the legal. Thus, thought Sir William, I shall have all the grace o f appearing perfectly communicative, while my party will derive very little advantage from any thing I may tell him. He therefore took Ravenswood aside into the deep recess o f a window in the hall, and resuming the discourse o f the preceding evening, expressed a hope that his young friend would assume some patience, in order to hear him enter into a minute and explanatory detail o f those unfortunate circumstances, in which his late honourable father had stood at variance with the Lord Keeper. The M aster o f Ravenswood coloured highly, but was silent; and the Lord Keeper, though not greatly approving the sudden heightening o f his auditor’s complexion, com­ menced the history o f a bond for twenty thousand marks, advanced by his father to the father o f Allan Lord Ravenswood, and was proceed­ ing to detail the executorial proceedings by which this large sum had been rendered a debitum fundi, when he was interrupted by the Master. “ It is not in this place,” he said, “ that I can hear Sir William Ashton’s explanation o f the matters in question between us. It is not here, where my father died o f a broken heart, that I can with decency or temper investigate the cause o f his distress. I might remember that I was a son, and forget the duties o f a host. A time, however, there must come, when these things shall be discussed in a place and in a pres­ ence where both o f us will have equal freedom to speak and to hear.” “ Any time,” the Lord Keeper said, “ any place was alike to those who sought nothing but justice. Yet it would seem he was, in fairness, entitled to some premonition respecting the grounds on which the Master proposed to impugn the whole train o f legal proceedings, which had been so well and ripely advised in the only courts com­ petent.” “ Sir William Ashton,” answered the Master with warmth, “ the lands o f Ravenswood which you now occupy were granted to my remote ancestor for services done with his sword against the English invaders. How they have glided from us by a train o f proceedings that

[Chap.

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seem to be neither sale, nor mortgage, nor adjudication for debt, but a non-descript and entangled mixture o f all these rights— how annualrent has been accumulated upon principal, and no nook or coign of legal advantage left unoccupied, until our interest in our hereditary property seems to have melted away like an icicle in thaw— all this you understand better than me. I am willing, however, to suppose, from the frankness o f your conduct towards me, that I may in a great measure have mistaken your character, and that things may have appeared right and fitting to you, a skilful and practised lawyer, which to my ignorant understanding seem very little short o f injustice and gross oppression.” “ And you, my dear M aster,” answered Sir William, “you, permit me to say, have been equally misrepresented to me. I was taught to believe you a fierce, imperious, hot-headed youth, ready, at the slight­ est provocation, to throw your sword into the scales o f justice, and to appeal to those rude and forcible measures from which civil polity has long protected the people o f Scotland. Then, since we were mutually mistaken in each other, why should not the young nobleman be willing to listen to the old lawyer, while, at least, he explains the points o f difference betwixt them?” “ No, my lord,” answered Ravenswood; “ it is in the Estates o f the nation, in the supreme Court o f Parliament, that we must parley together. The belted lords and knights o f Scotland, her ancient peers and baronage, must decide, if it is well that a house, not the least noble o f their number, shall be stripped o f their possessions, the reward o f the patriotism o f generations, as the pawn o f a wretched mechanic becomes forfeit to the usurer the instant the hour o f redemption has passed away. I f they yield to the grasping severity o f the creditor, and to the gnawing usury that eats into our lands as moths into raiment, it will be o f more evil consequence to them and their posterity than to Edgar Ravenswood— I shall still have my sword and my cloak, and can follow the profession o f arms wherever a trumpet shall sound.” As he pronounced these words, in a firm yet melancholy tone, he raised his eyes, and suddenly encountered those o f Lucy Ashton, who had stolen unawares on their interview, and observed her looks fastened on them with an expression o f enthusiastic interest and admiration, which had rapt her for the moment beyond the fear o f discovery. T h e noble form and fine features o f Ravenswood, fired with the pride o f birth and sense o f internal dignity— the mellow and expressive tones o f his voice, the desolate state o f his fortunes, and the indifference with which he seemed to endure and to dare the worst that might befall, rendered him a dangerous object of contemplation for a maiden already too much disposed to dwell

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upon recollections connected with him. When their eyes encountered each other, both blushed deeply, conscious o f some strong internal emotion, and shunned again to meet each other’s look. Sir William Ashton had, o f course, closely watched the expression o f their countenances. “ I need fear,” thought he to himself, “ neither Parliament nor protestation; I have an effectual mode o f reconciling myself with this hot-tempered young fellow, in case he shall become formidable. The present object is, at all events, to avoid committing ourselves. T h e hook is fixed; we will not strain the line too soon, and we will reserve the privilege of slipping it loose, if we do not find the fish worth landing.” In this selfish and cruel calculation upon the supposed attachment o f Ravenswood to Lucy, he was so far from considering the pain he might give to the former, by thus dallying with his affections, that he did not even think upon the risk o f involving his own daughter in the perils o f an unfortunate passion; as if her predilection, which could not escape his attention, were like the flame o f a taper, which might be lighted or extinguished at pleasure. But Providence had prepared a dreadful requital for this keen observer o f human passions, who had spent his life in securing advantages to himself by artfully working upon the passions o f others. Caleb Balderstone now came to announce that breakfast was pre­ pared; for in these days o f substantial feeding, the reliques o f the supper amply furnished forth the morning meal. Neither did he forget to present to the Lord Keeper, with great reverence, a morningdraught in a large pewter cup, garnished with leaves o f parsley and scurvy-grass. He craved pardon, o f course, for having omitted to serve it in the great silver standing cup as behoved, being that it was at present in a silversmith’s in Edinburgh, for the purpose o f being overlaid with gilt. “ In Edinburgh sure enough,” said Ravenswood; “ but in what place, or for what purpose, Caleb, I am afraid neither you nor I know.” “ Aweel !” said Caleb peevishly, “ there’s a man standing at the gate already this morning— that’s ae thing that I ken— Does your honour ken whether ye will speak wi’ him or no ?” “ Does he wish to speak with me, Caleb ?” “ Less will no serve him,” said Caleb; “ but ye had best take a visie o f him through the wicket before opening the gate— its no every ane we suld let into this castle.” “What ! do you suppose him to be a messenger come to arrest me for debt?” said Ravenswood. “ A messenger— your honour for debt— and in your Castle o f W olfscrag!— your honour is jeasting wi’ auld Caleb this morning.”

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However, he whispered in his ear as he followed him out, “ I would be loth to do ony decent man a prejudice in your honour’s gude opinion; but I wad take twa looks o f that chield before I let him within these walls.” It was no officer o f the law, however, but no less a person than Captain Craigengelt, with his nose as red as a comfortable cup o f brandy could make it, his laced cocked-hat set a little aside upon the top o f his black riding periwig, a sword by his side, and pistols at his holsters, and his person arrayed in a riding suit, laid over with tar­ nished lace,— the very moral o f one who would say, Stand, to a true man. When the Master had recognized him, he ordered the gates to be opened. “ I suppose,” he said, “ Captain Craigengelt, there are no such weighty matters betwixt you and me, but what may be discussed in this place. I have company in the castle at present, and the terms upon which we last parted must excuse my asking you to make part o f them.” Craigengelt, although the very perfection o f impudence, was some­ what abashed by this unfavourable reception. “ He had no intention,” he said, “ to force himself upon the Master o f Ravenswood’s hospital­ ity— he was in the honourable service o f bearing a message to him from a friend, otherwise the Master o f Ravenswood should not have had reason to complain o f this intrusion.” “ L et it be short, sir,” said the Master, “ for that will be the best apology. Who is the gentleman who is so fortunate as to have your services as a messenger?” “ M y friend M r Hayston o f Bucklaw, sir” answered Craigengelt, with conscious importance, and that confidence which the acknow­ ledged courage o f his principal inspired, “who conceives himself to have been treated by you with something much short o f the respect which he had reason to demand, and therefore is resolved to exact satisfaction. I bring with m e,” said he, taking a piece o f paper out o f his pocket, “ the precise length o f his sword; and he requests you will meet him, accompanied with a friend, and equally armed, at any place within a mile o f the castle, when I shall give attendance as umpire or second on his behoof.” “ Satisfaction— and equal arm s!” repeated Ravenswood, who, the reader will recollect, had no reason whatever to suppose he had given the slightest offence to his late inmate— “ upon my word, Captain Craigengelt, either you have invented the most improbable falsehood that ever came into the mind o f such a person, or your morningdraught has been somewhat o f the strongest. What could persuade Bucklaw to send me such a message ?”

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“ For that, sir,” replied Craigengelt, “ I am desired to refer you to what, in duty to my friend, I am to term your inhospitality in excluding him from your house, without reasons assigned.” “ It is impossible,” replied the M aster; “ he cannot be such a fool as to interpret actual necessity as an insult. Nor do I believe, that, know­ ing my opinion o f you, captain, he would have employed the services o f so slight and inconsiderable a person as yourself upon such an errand, as I certainly could expect no man o f honour to act with you in the office o f umpire.” “ I slight and inconsiderable!” said Craigengelt, raising his voice, and laying his hand on his cutlass; “ if it were not that the quarrel o f my friend craves the precedence, and is in dependence before my own, I would give you to understand”— — “ I can understand nothing upon your explanation, Captain Craig­ engelt— be satisfied o f that, and oblige me with your departure.” “ D — — n !” muttered the bully; “ and is this the answer which I am to carry back to an honourable message ?” “ T ell the Laird o f Bucklaw,” answered Ravenswood, “ if you are really sent by him, that when he sends me his cause o f grievance by a person fitting to carry such an errand betwixt him and me, I will either explain it or maintain it.” “ Then, Master, you will at least cause to be returned to Hayston, by my hands, his property which is remaining in your possession.” “ Whatever property Bucklaw may have left behind him, sir,” replied the Master, “ shall be returned to him by my servant, as you do not shew me any credentials from him which entitle you to receive it.” “ Well, M aster,” said Captain Craigengelt, with malice which even his fear o f the consequences could not suppress; “you have this morn­ ing done me egregious wrong and dishonour, but far more to yourself. A castle indeed?” he continued, looking around him; “ why this is worse than a coupe-gorge house, where they receive travellers to plun­ der them o f their property.” “ You insolent rascal,” said the Master, raising his cane, and making a grasp at the captain’s bridle, “ if you do not depart without uttering another syllable, I will batoon you to death.” At the motion o f the M aster towards him, the bully turned so sharply round, that with some difficulty he escaped throwing down his horse, whose hoofs struck fire from the rocky pavement in every direction. Recovering him, however, with the bridle, he pushed for the gate, and rode sharply back again in the direction o f the village. As Ravenswood turned round to leave the court-yard after this dialogue, he found that the Lord Keeper had descended from the hall,

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and witnessed, though at the distance prescribed by politeness, his interview with Craigengelt. “ I have seen,” said the Lord Keeper, “ that gentleman’s face, and at no great distance o f time— his name is Craig— Craig— something, is it not?” “ Craigengelt is the fellow’s name,” said the Master, “ at least that by which he passes at present.” “ Craig-in-guilt,” said Caleb, punning upon the word craig, which in Scotch signifies throat; “ if he is Craig-in-guilt just now, he is as likely to be Craig-in-peril as ony chield I ever saw— the loon has woodie written on his very visnomy, and I wad wage twa and a plack that hemp plaits his cravat yet.” “ You understand physiognomy, good M r Caleb,” said the Keeper, smiling; “ I assure you the gentleman has been near such a consum­ mation before now; for I most distinctly recollect, that, upon occasion o f a journey which I made about a fortnight ago to Edinburgh, I saw M r Graigengelt, or whatever his name is, undergo a severe examina­ tion before the Privy Council.” “ Upon what account?” said the Master o f Ravenswood, with some interest. T h e question led immediately to a tale which the Lord Keeper had been very anxious to introduce, when he could find a graceful and fitting opportunity. He took hold o f the M aster’s arm, and led him back towards the hall. “ The answer to your question,” he said, “ though it is a ridiculous business, is only fit for your own ear.” As they entered the hall, he again took the Master apart into one of the recesses o f the window, where it will be easily believed M iss Ashton did not venture again to intrude upon their conference.

Chapter Three

—— Here is a father now, Will truck his daughter for a foreign venture, Make her the stop-gap to some cankered feud, Or fling her o’er, like Jonah, to the fishes, To appease the sea at highest. Anonym ous

T h e L o r d K e e p e r opened his communication with an appearance o f unconcern, marking, however, very carefully, the effect o f his com­ munication upon young Ravenswood. “ You are aware,” he said, “ my young friend, that suspicion is the natural vice o f our unsettled times, and exposes the best and wisest of us to the impositions o f artful rascals. I f I had been disposed to listen

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to such the other day, or if I had been the wily politician which you have been taught to believe me, you, M aster o f Ravenswood, instead o f being at freedom, and with full liberty to solicit and act against me as you please, in defence o f what you suppose to be your right, would have been in the Castle o f Edinburgh, or some other state prison; if you had escaped that destiny, it must have been by flight to a foreign country, and at the risk o f a sentence o f fugitation.” “ M y Lord K eeper,” said the Master, “ I think you would not jest on such a subject—yet it seems impossible you can be in earnest.” “ Innocence,” said the Lord Keeper, “ is also confident, and some­ times, though very excusably, presumptuously so.” “ I do not understand,” said Ravenswood, “ how a consciousness o f innocence can be, in any case, accounted presumptuous.” “ Imprudent, at least, it may be called,” said Sir William Ashton, “ since it is apt to lead us into the mistake o f supposing that sufficiently evident to others, o f which, in fact, we are only conscious ourselves. I have known a rogue, for this very reason, make a better defence than an innocent man could have done in the same circumstances o f suspi­ cion. Having no consciousness o f innocence to support him, such a fellow applies himself to all the advantages which the law will afford him, and sometimes (if his counsel be men o f talent,) succeeds in compelling his judges to receive him as innocent. I remember the celebrated case o f Sir Coolie Condiddle o f Condiddle, who was tried for theft under trust, o f which all the world knew him guilty, and yet was not only acquitted, but lived to sit in judgment on honester folks.” “ Allow me to beg you will return to the point,” said the M aster; “you seemed to say that I had suffered under some suspicion.” “ Suspicion, M aster?— ay, truly— And I can shew you the proofs o f it; if I happen only to have them with me.— Here, Lockhard” — His attendant came— “ Fetch me the little private mail with the padlocks, that I recommended to your particular charge— d’ye hear?” “ Yes, my lord.” Lockhard vanished; and the Keeper continued as if half speaking with himself. “ I think the papers are with me— I think so— for as I was to be in this country, it was natural for me to bring them with me— I have them, however, at Ravenswood Castle— that I am sure o f—so perhaps you might condescend” — — Here Lockhard entered, and put the leathern scrutoire, or mail­ box, into his hands. T h e Keeper produced one or two papers, respect­ ing the information laid before the Privy Council, concerning the riot, as it was termed, at the funeral o f Allan Lord Ravenswood, and the active share he had himself taken in quashing the proceedings against the Master. These documents had been selected with care, so as to

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irritate the natural curiosity o f Ravenswood upon such a subject, without gratifying it, yet to shew that Sir William Ashton had acted upon that trying occasion the part o f an advocate and peace-maker betwixt him and the jealous authority o f the day. Having furnished his host with such subjects for examination, the Lord Keeper turned to the breakfast-table, and entered into light conversation, addressed partly to old Caleb, whose resentment against the usurper o f the Castle o f Ravenswood began to be softened by his familiarity, and partly to his daughter. After perusing the papers, the M aster o f Ravenswood remained for a minute or two with his hand pressed against his brow, in deep and profound meditation. He then again ran his eye hastily over the papers, as if desirous o f discovering in them some deep purpose, or some mark o f fabrication, which had escaped him at first perusal. Apparently the second reading confirmed the opinion which had pressed upon him at the first, for he started from the stone-bench on which he was sitting, and, going to the Lord Keeper, took his hand, and, strongly pressing it, asked him pardon repeatedly for the injustice he had done him, when it appeared he was experiencing, at his hands, the benefit o f protection to his person, and vindication to his char­ acter. T h e statesman received these acknowledgments at first with wellfeigned surprise, and then with an affectation o f frank cordiality. T h e tears began already to start in Lucy’s blue eyes at viewing this unexpected and moving scene. T o see the Master, late so haughty and reserved, and whom she had always supposed the injured person, supplicating her father for forgiveness, was a change at once surpris­ ing, flattering, and affecting. “ Dry your eyes, Lucy,” said her father; “why should you weep, because your father, although a lawyer, is discovered to be a fair and honourable man?— What have you to thank, my dear M aster,” he continued, addressing Ravenswood, “ that you would not have done in my case ? ‘Suum cuique tribuito,’ was the Roman justice, and I learned it when I studied Justinian. Besides, have you not overpaid me a thou­ sand times in saving the life o f this dear child?” “ Y es,” answered the Master, in all the remorse o f self-accusation; “ but the little service I did was an act o f mere brutal instinct; your defence o f my cause, when you knew how ill I thought o f you, and how much I was disposed to be your enemy, was an act o f generous, manly, and considerate wisdom.” “ Pshaw !” said the Lord Keeper, “ each o f us acted in our own way; you as a gallant soldier, I as an upright judge and privy-councillor. We could not, perhaps, have changed parts— at least I should have made a

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very sorry Tauridor, and you, my good Master, though your cause is so excellent, might have pleaded it perhaps worse yourself, than I who acted for you before the council.” “ M y generous friend !” said Ravenswood; and with that brief word, which the Keeper had often lavished on him, but which he himself now pronounced for the first time, he gave to his feudal enemy the full confidence o f an haughty but honourable heart. He had been remarked among his contemporaries for sense and acuteness, as well as for his reserved, pertinacious, and irascible character. His prepos­ sessions accordingly, however obstinate, were o f a nature to give way before love and gratitude; and the real charms o f the daughter, joined to the supposed services o f the father, cancelled in his memory the vows o f vengeance which he had taken so deeply on the eve o f his father’s funeral. But they had been heard and registered in the book o f fate. Caleb was present at this extraordinary scene, and he could con­ ceive no other reason for a proceeding so extraordinary than an alli­ ance betwixt the houses, and Ravenswood Castle assigned for the young lady’s dowry. As for Lucy, when Ravenswood uttered the most passionate excuses for his ungrateful negligence, she could but smile through her tears, and, as she abandoned her hand to him, assure him, in broken accents, o f the delight with which she beheld the complete reconciliation between her father and her deliverer. Even the states­ man was moved and affected by the fiery, unreserved, and generous self-abandonment with which the M aster o f Ravenswood renounced his feudal enmity, and threw him self without hesitation upon his forgiveness. His eyes glistened as he looked upon a couple who were obviously becoming attached, and who seemed made for each other. He thought how high the proud and chivalrous character o f Ravenswood might arise under many circumstances, in which he felt himself “ over-crowed,” to use a phrase o f Spencer, and kept under, by his brief pedigree, and timidity o f disposition. Then his daughter— his favourite child— his constant play-mate— seemed formed to live happy in union with such a commanding spirit as Ravenswood; and even the fine, delicate, fragile form o f Lucy Ashton seemed to require the support o f the M aster’s muscular strength and masculine charac­ ter. And it was not merely during a few moments that Sir William Ashton looked upon their marriage as a probable and even desirable event, for a full hour intervened ere his imagination was crossed by recollection o f the M aster’s poverty, and the certain displeasure o f Lady Ashton. It is certain, that the very unusual flow o f kindly feeling into which the Lord Keeper had been thus surprised, was one o f the circumstances which gave much tacit encouragement to the attach-

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ment between the M aster and his daughter, and led both the lovers distinctly to believe that it was a connection which would be most agreeable to him. He him self was supposed to have admitted this effect, when, long after the catastrophe o f their love, he used to warn his hearers against permitting their feelings to obtain an ascendancy over their judgment, and affirm that the greatest misfortune o f his life was owing to a very temporary predominance o f sensibility over selfinterest. It must be owned, if such was the case, he was long and severely punished for an offence o f very brief duration. After some pause, the Lord Keeper resumed the conversation.— “ In your surprise at finding me an honester man than you expected, you have lost your curiosity about this Craigengelt, my good M aster; and yet your name was brought in in the course o f that matter too.” “ T he scoundrel !” said Ravenswood; “ my connection with him was o f the most temporary nature possible; and yet I was very foolish to hold any communication with him at all.— What did he say o f me ?” “ Enough,” said the Keeper with a smile, “ to excite the very loyal terrors o f some o f our sages, who are for proceeding against men on mere grounds o f suspicion or mercenary information— Some non­ sense about your proposing to enter into the service o f France, or o f the Pretender, I don’t recollect which, but which the Marquis o f A— — , one o f your best friends, and another person, one o f your worst and most interested enemies, could not, some how, be brought to listen to.” “ I am obliged to my honourable friend— and yet”— shaking the Lord K eeper’s hand— “ and yet I am still more obliged to my honour­ able enemy.” “Inimicus amicissimus,” said the Lord Keeper, returning the pres­ sure; “ but this gentleman— this M r Hayston o f Bucklaw. I am afraid the poor young man— I heard the fellow mention his name— is under very bad guidance.” “ He is old enough to govern himself,” answered the Master. “ Old enough, perhaps, but scarce wise enough, if he has chosen this fellow for his fidus Achates. Why, he lodged an information against him— that is, such a consequence must have ensued from his exam­ ination, had we not looked rather at the character o f the witness than the tenor o f his evidence.” “ M r Hayston o f Bucklaw,” said the Master, “ is, I believe, a most honourable man, and capable o f nothing that is mean or disgraceful.” “ Capable o f much that is unreasonable though, that you must needs allow, Master. Death will soon put him in possession o f a fair estate, if he hath it not already. Old Lady Girnington— an excellent person, excepting that her inveterate ill-nature rendered her intolerable to the

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whole world— is probably dead by this time. Six heirs portioners have successively died to make her rich. I know the estates well; they march with my own— a noble property.” “ I am glad o f it,” said Ravenswood, “ and should be more so, were I confident that Bucklaw would change his company and habits with his fortunes. This appearance o f Craigengelt, acting in the capacity o f his friend, is a most vile augury for his future respectability.” “ He is a bird o f evil omen, to be sure,” said the Keeper, “ and croaks o f jail and gallow-tree.— But I see M r Caleb grows impatient for our return to breakfast.”

Chapter four

Sir, stay at home and take an old man’s council; Seek not to bask you by a stranger’s hearth; Our own blue smoke is warmer than their fire. Domestic food is wholesome, though ’tis homely, And foreign dainties poisonous, though tasteful. The French Courtezan

T h e M a s t e r o f Ravenswood took an opportunity to leave his guests to prepare for their departure, while he himself made the brief arrangements necessary previous to his absence from Wolfscrag for a day or two. It was necessary to communicate with Caleb on this occasion, and he found that faithful servitor in his sooty and ruinous den, greatly delighted with the departure o f their visitors, and com­ puting how long, with good management, the provisions which had been unexpended might furnish forth the M aster’s table. “ H e’s nae belly-god, that’s ae blessing; and Bucklaw’s gane, that could have eaten a horse behind the saddle. Cresses or water-purpie, and a bit cake, can serve the M aster for breakfast as weel as Caleb— than for dinner— there’s no muckle left on the spule-bane— it will brander though— it will brander very weel.” His triumphant calculations were interrupted by the Master, who communicated to him, not without some hesitation, his purpose to ride with the Lord Keeper as far as Ravenswood Castle, and to remain there for a day or two.” “ T h e mercy o f Heaven forbid!” said the old serving-man, turning as pale as the table-cloth which he was folding up. “ And why, Caleb?” said his master, “why should the mercy o f Heaven forbid my returning the Lord K eeper’s visit?” “ Oh, sir !” replied Caleb— “ O M r Edgar ! I am your servant, and it ill becomes me to speak— but I am an auld servant— have served baith your father and goodsire, and mind to hae seen Lord Randal, your

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great-grandsire— but that was when I was a bairn.” “ And what o f all this, Balderstone?” answered the M aster; “what can it possibly have to do with my paying some ordinary civility to a neighbour?” “ O M r E d gar!”— answered the Butler, “your ain conscience tells you it isna for your father’s son to be neighbouring wi’ the like o’ him — it is no for the credit o f the family. An he were anes come to terms, and to gi’e ye back your ain, e’en though you suld honour his house wi’ your alliance, I suldna say nae— for the young leddy is a winsome sweet creature— But keep your ain state wi’ them— I ken the race o’ them weel— they will think the mair o’ ye.” “Why, now, you go farther than I do, Caleb,” said the Master, drowning a certain degree o f consciousness in a forced laugh; “you are for marrying me into a family that you will not allow me to visit— how’s this ?— and you look as pale as death besides.” “ O, sir,” repeated Caleb again, “you would but laugh if I tauld it; but Thomas the Rhymer, whose tongue couldna lie, spoke the word of your house that will e’en prove ower true if you go to Ravenswood this day— O that it should e’er have been fulfilled in my time !” “ And what is it, Caleb ?” said Ravenswood, wishing to sooth the fears o f his old servant. Caleb replied, “ he had never repeated the lines to living mortal— they were told to him by an auld priest that had been confessor to Lord Allan’s father when the family were catholic. But mony a time,” he said, “ I hae soughed thae dark words ower to mysell, and, well-a-day ! little did I think o f their coming round this day.” “ Truce with your nonsense, and let me hear the doggrel which has put it into your head,” said the Master impatiently. With a quivering voice, and a cheek pale with apprehension, Caleb faultered out the following lines :—

“When the last Laird of Ravenswood to Ravenswood shall ride, And wooe a dead maiden to be his bride, He shall stable his steed on the Kelpie’s flow, And his name shall be lost for evermoe !” “ I know the K elpie’s flow well enough; I suppose, at least, you mean the quick-sand betwixt this tower and Wolfshope; but why any man in his senses should stable a steed there”— — “ O, never speer ony thing about that, sir— God forbid we should ken what the prophecy means— but just bide you at hame, and let the strangers ride to Ravenswood by themselves. We have done aneugh for them; and to do mair, would be mair against the credit o f the family than in its favour.” “Well, Caleb,” said the Master, “ I give you the best possible credit

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for your good advice on this occasion; but as I do not go to Ravenswood to seek a bride, dead or alive, I hope I shall chuse a better stable for my horse than the K elpie’s quick-sand, especially as I have always had a particular dread o f it since the patrole o f dragoons were lost there ten years since. M y father and I saw them from the tower struggling amid the advancing tide and lost long before any help could reach them.” “ And they deserved it weel, the Southron loons,” said Caleb; “what had they ado capering on our sands, and hindering a wheen honest folk frae bringing in a drap brandy? I hae seen them that busy, that I wad hae fired the auld culverin, and the demisaker that’s on the south bartizan at them, only I was feared they might burst in the ganging off.” Caleb’s brain was now fully engaged with abuse o f the English soldiery and excisemen, so that his master found no great difficulty in escaping from him and rejoining his guests. All was now ready for their departure; and one o f the Lord K eeper’s grooms having saddled the M aster’s steed, they mounted in the court-yard. Caleb had, with much toil, opened the double doors o f the outward gate, and stationed himself, endeavouring, by the reverential, and, at the same time, consequential air which he assumed, to supply, by his own gaunt, wasted, and thin person, the absence o f a whole baronial establishment o f porters, warders, and liveried menials. T h e Keeper returned his deep reverence with a cordial farewell, stooping at the same time from his horse, and sliding into the Butler’s hand the remuneration, which in these days was always given by a departing guest to the domestics o f the family where he had been entertained. Lucy smiled on the old man with her usual sweetness, bade him adieu, and deposited her guerdon with a grace o f action, and a gentleness o f accent, which would not have failed to have won the faithful retainer’s heart, but for Thomas the Rhymer, and the suc­ cessful law-suit against his master. As it was, he might have adopted the language o f the Duke, in As You Like It—

Thou wouldst have better pleased me with this deed, If thou hadst told me of another father.——

Ravenswood was at the lady’s bridle-rein, encouraging her timidity, and guiding her horse carefully down the rocky path which led to the moor, when one o f the servants announced from the rear that Caleb was calling loudly after them, desiring to speak with his master. Ravenswood felt it would look singular to neglect this summons, although inwardly cursing Caleb for his impertinent officiousness; therefore he was compelled to relinquish to M r Lockhard the agree­ able duty in which he was engaged, and to ride back to the gate o f the

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court-yard. Here he was beginning, somewhat peevishly, to ask Caleb the cause o f his clamour, when the good old man exclaimed, “Whisht, sir ! whisht, and let me speak just ae word that I couldna say afore frem folk— there”— (putting into his lord’s hand the money he had just received)— “ there’s three gowd pieces— and ye’ll want siller up-bye yonder— but stay, whisht now !”— for the Master was beginning to exclaim against this transference— “ never say a word, but just see to get them changed in the first town ye ride through, for they are bran new frae the mint, and kenspeckle a wee bit.” “You forget, Caleb,” said his master, striving to force back the money upon his servant, and extricate the bridle from his hold— “ You forget that I have some gold pieces left o f my own. Keep these to yourself, my old friend; and, once more, good day to you. I assure you I have plenty. You know you have managed that our living should cost us little or nothing.” “Aweel,” said Caleb, “ these will serve for you another time; but see ye hae aneugh, for, doubtless, for the credit o f the family, there maun be something gi’en to the servants, and ye maun hae something to mak a show with when they say, Master, will you bet a broad piece ? Then ye maun tak out your purse, and say, I carena if I do; and tak care no to agree on the articles o f the wager, and just put up your purse again, and”— — “ This is intolerable, Caleb— I really must be gone.” “ And you will go, then?” said Caleb, loosening his hold upon the M aster’s cloak, and changing his didactic into a pathetic and mournful tone— “ And you will go, for a’ I have told you about the prophecy, and the dead bride, and the Kelpie’s quick-sand— Aweel ! a wilful man maun hae his way— he that will to Cupar maun to Cupar— but pity o f your life, sir, if ye be fowling or shooting in the Park— beware o f drinking at the Mermaiden’s well— — H e’s gane ! he’s down the path, arrow-flight after her!— T h e head is as clean ta’en aff the Ravenswood family this day, as I wad chap the head aff a sybo !” T h e old Butler looked long after his master, often clearing away the dew as it rose to his eyes, that he might, as long as possible, distinguish his stately form from those o f the other horsemen. “ Close to her bridle-rein— ay, close to her bridle-rein !— Wisely saith the holy man, ‘By this also ye may know that woman hath dominion over all men;’— and without this lass would not our ruin have been altogether ful­ filled.” With an heart fraught with such sad auguries did Caleb return to his necessary duties at Wolfscrag, so soon as he could no longer distin­ guish the object o f his anxiety among the groupe o f riders, which diminished in the distance.

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In the mean time the party pursued their route joyfully. Having once taken his resolution, the M aster o f Ravenswood was not o f a character to hesitate or pause upon it. He abandoned himself to the pleasure he felt in M iss Ashton’s company, and displayed an assiduous gallantry, which approached as nearly to gaiety as the temper o f his mind and state o f his family permitted. T he Lord Keeper was much struck by his depth o f observation, and the unusual improve­ ment which he had derived from his studies. O f these accom­ plishments Sir William Ashton’s profession and habits o f society rendered him an excellent judge; and he well knew how to appreciate what he did not quite so well comprehend, being a quality to which he him self was a total stranger, the brief and decided dauntlessness o f the M aster o f Ravenswood’s disposition, who seemed equally a stranger to doubt and to fear. In his heart the Lord Keeper rejoiced at having conciliated an adversary so formidable, while, with a mixture o f pleasure and anxiety, he anticipated the great things his young companion might achieve, were the breath o f court-favour to fill his sails. “What could she desire,” he thought, his mind always conjuring up opposition in the person o f Lady Ashton to his now prevailing wish— “What could the woman desire in a match, more than the sopiting o f a very dangerous claim, and the alliance o f a son-in-law, noble, brave, well-gifted, and highly-connected— sure to float whenever the tide sets his way— strong, exactly where we are weak, in pedigree and in the temper o f a swordsman?— Sure no reasonable woman would hesitate— but, alas!”— Here his argument was stopped by the con­ sciousness that Lady Ashton was not always reasonable, in his sense o f the word. “ T o prefer some clownish M erse laird to the gallant young nobleman, and to the secure possession o f Ravenswood upon terms o f easy compromise— it would be the act o f a madwoman !” Thus pondered the veteran politician, until they reached Bittlebrain House, where it had been previously settled they were to dine and repose themselves, and prosecute their journey in the afternoon. Th ey were received with an excess o f hospitality; and the most marked attention was offered to the M aster o f Ravenswood, in par­ ticular, by their noble entertainers. T h e truth was, that Lord Bittlebrain had obtained his peerage by a good deal o f plausibility, an art o f building up a character for wisdom upon a very trite style o f commonplace eloquence, a steady observation o f the changes o f the times, and the power o f rendering certain political services to those who could best reward them. His lady and he not feeling quite easy under their new honours, to which use had not adapted their feelings, were very desirous to procure the fraternal countenance o f those who were born

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denizens o f the regions into which they had been exalted from a lower sphere. T h e extreme attention which they paid to the Master o f Ravenswood, had its usual effect in exalting his importance in the eyes o f the Lord Keeper, who, although he had a reasonable degree o f contempt for Lord Bittlebrain’s general parts, entertained a high opinion o f the acuteness o f his judgment in matters o f self-interest. “ I wish Lady Ashton had seen this,” was his internal reflection; “ no man knows so well as Bittlebrain on which side his bread is buttered; and he fawns on the M aster like a beggar’s messan on a cook. And my lady, too, bringing forward her beetle-browed misses to skirl and play upon the virginals, as if she said, pick and chuse. They are no more comparable to Lucy than a crow is to a cygnet, and so they may carry their black brows to a farther market.” T h e entertainment being ended, our travellers, who had still to measure the longest part o f their journey, resumed their horses; and after the Lord Keeper, the Master, and the domestics, had drunk dochan dorroch, or the stirrup-cup, in the liquors adapted to their various ranks, the cavalcade resumed its progress. It was dark by the time they entered the avenue at Ravenswood Castle, a long straight line leading directly to the front o f the house, flanked with huge elm-trees, which sighed to the night-wind, as if they compassionated the heir o f their ancient proprietors, who now returned to their shades in the society, and almost in the retinue, o f their new master. Some feelings o f the same kind oppressed the mind o f the M aster himself. He gradually became silent, and dropped a little behind the lady, at whose bridle-rein he had hitherto waited with such devotion. He well recollected the period, when, at the same hour in the evening, he had accompanied his father, as that nobleman left, never again to return to it, the mansion from which he derived his name and title. T h e extensive front o f the old castle, on which he remembered having often looked back, was then “ as black as mourn­ ing weed.” T h e same front now glanced with many lights, some throwing far forward into the night a fixed and stationary blaze, and others hurrying from one window to another, intimating the bustle and busy preparation preceding their arrival, which had been intim­ ated by an avant-courier. Th e contrast pressed so strongly upon the M aster’s heart, as to awaken some o f the sterner feelings with which he had been accustomed to regard the new lord o f his paternal domain, and to impress his countenance with an air o f severe gravity, when, alighted from his horse, he stood in the hall no longer his own, surrounded by the numerous menials o f its present owner. T h e Lord Keeper, when about to welcome him with the cordiality which their late intercourse seemed to render proper, became aware

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o f the change, refrained from his purpose, and only intimated the ceremony o f reception by a deep reverence to his guest, seeming thus delicately to share the feelings which predominated on his brow. Tw o upper domestics, bearing each a huge pair o f silver candle­ sticks, now marshalled the company into a large saloon or with-draw­ ing room, where new alterations impressed upon Ravenswood the superior wealth o f the present inhabitants o f the castle. T h e moulder­ ing tapestry, which, in his father’s time, had half covered the walls o f this stately apartment, and half streamed from them in tatters, had given place to a complete finishing o f wainscot, the cornice o f which, as well as the frames o f the various copartments, were ornamented with festoons o f flowers and with birds, which, though carved in oak, seemed, such was the art o f the chisel, actually to swell their throats, and flutter their wings. Several old family portraits o f armed heroes o f the house o f Ravenswood, together with a suit or two o f old armour, and some military weapons, had given place to those o f K ing William and Queen Mary, o f Sir Thomas Hope and Lord Stair, two distin­ guished Scottish lawyers. T h e pictures o f the Lord K eeper’s father and mother were also to be seen; the latter, sour, shrewish, and solemn, in her black hood and close pinners, with a book o f devotion in her hand; the former, exhibiting beneath a black silk Geneva cowl, or scull-cap, which sate as close to the head as if it had been shaven, a pinched, peevish, puritanical set o f features, terminating in a hungry, reddish, peaked beard, forming on the whole a countenance, in the expression o f which the hypocritic seemed to contend with the miser or the knave. And it is to make room for such as these, thought Ravenswood, that my ancestors have been torn from the walls which they erected. He looked at them again, and, as he looked, the recol­ lection o f Lucy Ashton (for she had not entered the apartment with them) seemed less lovely in his imagination. There were also two or three Dutch drolleries, as the pictures o f Ostade and Teniers were then termed, with one good painting o f the Italian school. There was, besides, a noble full-length o f the Lord Keeper in his robes o f office, placed beside his lady in silk and ermine, a haughty beauty, bearing in her looks all the pride o f the House o f Douglas, from which she was descended. The painter, notwithstanding his skill, overcome by the reality, or, perhaps, from a suppressed sense o f humour, had not been able to give the husband on the canvass that air o f awful rule and right supremacy, which indicates the full possession o f domestic authority. It was obvious, at the first glance, that, despite mace and gold frogs, the Lord Keeper was somewhat hen-pecked. Th e floor o f this fine saloon was laid with rich carpets, huge fires blazed in the double chimnies, and ten silver sconces reflecting, with their bright plates,

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the lights which they supported, made the whole scene as brilliant as day. “Would you chuse any refreshment, M aster?” said Sir William Ashton, not unwilling to break the awkward silence. He received no answer, the M aster being so busily engaged in marking the various changes which had taken place in the apartment, that he scarcely heard the Lord Keeper address him. A repetition of the offer o f refreshment, with the addition, that the family meal would be presently ready, compelled his attention, and reminded him, that he acted a weak, perhaps even a ridiculous part, in suffering himself to be overcome by the circumstances in which he found himself. He compelled himself, therefore, to enter into conversation with Sir Wil­ liam Ashton, with as much appearance o f indifference as he could well command. “ You will not be surprised, Sir William, that I am interested in the changes you have made for the better in this apartment. In my father’s time, after our misfortunes compelled him to live in retirement, it was little used, except by me as a play-room, when the weather would not permit me to go abroad. In that recess was my little work-shop, where I treasured the few carpenter’s tools which old Caleb procured for me, and taught me how to use— there, in yonder corner, under that handsome silver sconce, I kept my fishing-rods, and hunting poles, bows, and arrows.” “ I have a young birkie,” said the Lord Keeper, willing to change the tone o f the conversation, “ o f much the same turn— He is never happy, save when he is in the field— I wonder he is not here.— Here, Lockhard— send William Shaw for M r Henry— I suppose he is, as usual, tied to Lucy’s apron-string— that foolish girl, Master, draws the whole family after her at her pleasure.” Even this allusion to his daughter, though artfully thrown out, did not recal Ravenswood from his own topic. “ We were obliged to leave,” he said, “ some armour and portraits in this apartment— may I ask where they have been removed to ?” “Why,” answered the Keeper, with some hesitation, “ the room was fitted in our absence— and cedant arma togœ, is the maxim o f lawyers you know— I am afraid it has been here somewhat too literally com­ plied with. I hope— I believe they are safe— I am sure I gave orders— may I hope that when they are recovered and put in proper order, you will do me the honour to accept them at my hand, as an atonement for their accidental derangement?” T h e Master o f Ravenswood bowed stifly, and, with folded arms, again resumed his survey o f the room. Henry, a spoilt boy o f fifteen, burst into the room, and ran up to his

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father. “ Think o f Lucy, papa; she has come home so cross and so fractious, that she will not go down to the stable to see my new poney, that Bob Wilson brought from the M ull o f Galloway.” “ I think you were very unreasonable to ask her,” said the Keeper. “ Then you are as cross a patch as she is,” answered the boy; “ and when mamma comes home she’ll claw up both your mittens.” “ Hush your impertinence, you little forward imp,” said his father; “where’s your tutor?” “ Gone to a wedding at Dunbar— I hope he’ll get a haggis to his dinner;” and he began to sing the old Scottish song, “ T h e re w as a haggis in D un b ar, F al de ral, &c. M ony better and few waur, F a l de ral,” &c.

“ I am much obliged to M r Cordery for his attention,” said the Lord K eeper; “ and pray who has had charge o f you while I was away, M r Henry?” “ Norman and Bob Wilson— forbye my own self.” “ A groom and a game-keeper, and your own silly self— proper guardians for a young advocate !— Why, you will never know any stat­ utes but those against shooting red-deer, killing salmon, and”— — “ And speaking o f red-game,” said the young scape-grace, inter­ rupting his father without scruple or hesitation, “ Norman has shot a buck, and I shewed the branches to Lucy, and she says they have but eight tynes, and she says that you killed a deer with Lord Bittlebrain’s hounds, when you were west away, and do ye know she says it had ten tynes— is it true?” “ It may have had twenty, Henry, for what I know; but if you go to that gentleman he can tell you all about it— G o speak to him, Henry— it is the M aster o f Ravenswood.” While they conversed thus, the father and son were standing by the fire; and the Master having walked towards the upper end o f the apartment, stood with his back towards them, apparently engaged in examining one o f the paintings. T h e boy ran up to him, and pulled him by the skirt o f the cloak with the freedom o f a spoilt child, say­ ing, “ I say, sir— if you please to tell me”— — but when the M aster turned round, and Henry saw his face, he became suddenly and totally disconcerted— walked two or three steps backward, and still gazed on the M aster with an air o f fear and wonder, which had totally banished from his features their usual expression o f pert vivacity. “ Come to me, young gentleman,” said the Master, “ and I will tell you all I know about the hunt.”

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“ G o to the gentleman, Henry,” said his father, “you are not used to be so shy.” But neither invitation nor exhortation had any effect on the boy. On the contrary, he turned round as soon as he had completed his survey o f the Master, and walking as cautiously as if he had been treading upon eggs, he glided back to his father, and pressed as close to him as possible. Ravenswood, to avoid hearing the dispute betwixt the father and the over-indulged boy, thought it most polite to turn his face once more towards the pictures, and pay no attention to what they said. “ Why do you not speak to the Master, you little fool ?” said the Lord Keeper. “ I am afraid,” said Henry, in a very low tone. “ Afraid, you goose !” said his father, giving him a slight shake by the collar. “What makes you afraid?” “What makes him so like the picture o f Sir Malise Ravenswood, then?” said the boy, whimpering. “ What picture, you natural?” said his father. “ I used to think you only a scape-grace, but I believe you turn out a born ideot.” “ I tell you it is the picture o f old Malise o f Ravenswood, and he is as like it as if he had loupen out o f the canvas; and it is up in the old Baron’s hall that the maids launder the clothes in, and it has armour and not a coat like the gentleman, and he has whiskers and not a beard like the picture, and it has another kind o f thing about the throat and no band-strings as he has, and”— — “ And why should not the gentleman be like his ancestor, you silly boy?” said the Lord Keeper. “ A y; but if he is come to chase us all out o f the castle,” said the boy, “ and has twenty men at his back in disguise— and is come to say, with a hollow voice, I bide my time,— and is to kill you on the hearth as Malise did the other man, and whose blood is still to be seen !” “ Hush! nonsense!” said the Lord Keeper, not himself much pleased to hear these disagreeable coincidences forced on his notice. “ Master, here comes Lockhard to say dinner is served.” And, at the same instant, Lucy entered at another door, having changed her dress since her return. T h e exquisite feminine beauty o f the countenance, now shaded only by a profusion o f sunny tresses; the sylph-like form disencumbered o f her heavy riding-skirt, and mantled in azure silk; the grace o f her manner and o f her smile, cleared, with a celerity which surprised the M aster himself, all the gloomy and unfavourable thoughts which had for some time over­ clouded his fancy. In those features, so simply sweet, he could trace no alliance with the pinched visage o f the peak-bearded black-capped puritan, or his starched withered spouse, with the craft expressed in

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the Lord K eeper’s countenance, or the haughtiness which predomin­ ated in that o f his lady; and, while he gazed on Lucy Ashton, she seemed to be an angel descended on earth, unallied to the coarser mortals among whom she deigned to dwell for a season. Such is the power o f beauty over a youthful and enthusiastic fancy.

Chapter Five — — — I do too ill in this, A nd m ust not think but that a p aren t’s plaint W ill move the heavens to p our forth m isery U p o n the head o f disobediency. Y et reason tells u s, p aren ts are o ’erseen , W hen with too strict a rein they do hold in T h e ir ch ild’s affection, and controul that love, W hich the high pow ers divine inspire them with. The Hog hath lost his Pearl

T h e fe a s t o f Ravenswood Castle was as remarkable for its profu­ sion, as that o f Wolfscrag had been for its ill-veiled penury. T h e Lord K eeper might feel internal pride at the contrast, but he had too much tact to suffer it to appear. On the contrary, he appeared to remember with pleasure what he called M r Balderstone’s bachelor meal, and to be rather disgusted than pleased with the display around his own groaning board. “We do these things,” he said, “ because others do them— but I was bred a plain man at my father’s frugal table, and I should like well would my wife and family permit me to return to my sowens and my poor-man-of-mutton.” This was a little over-stretched. T h e M aster only answered, “ That different ranks— I mean,” said he, correcting himself, “ different degrees o f wealth, required a different style o f house-keeping.” This dry remark put a stop to farther conversation on the subject, nor is it necessary to record that which was substituted in its place. T h e evening was spent with freedom, and even cordiality; and Henry had so far overcome his first apprehensions, that he had settled a party for coursing a stag with the representative and living resemblance o f grim Sir Malisius o f Ravenswood, called the Revenger. T h e next morning was the appointed time— it rose upon active sportsmen and successful sport. T h e banquet came in course; and a pressing invita­ tion to tarry yet another day was given and accepted. This Ravens­ wood had resolved should be the last o f his stay; but he recollected he had not yet visited the ancient and devoted servant o f his house, old Alice, and it was but kind to dedicate one morning to the gratification o f so ancient an adherent.

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T o visit Alice, therefore, a day was devoted, and Lucy was the M aster’s guide upon the way. Henry, it is true, accompanied them, and took from their walk the air o f a tête-à-tête, while, in reality, it was little else, considering the variety o f circumstances which occurred to prevent the boy from giving the least attention to what passed between his companions. Now a rook settled on a branch within shot— anon a hare crossed their path, and Henry and his greyhound went astray in pursuit o f it— then he had to hold a long conversation with the for­ ester, which detained him a while behind his companions— and again he went to examine the earth o f a badger, which carried him on a good way before them. T h e conversation betwixt the Master and his sister, meanwhile, took an interesting, and almost a confidential turn. She could not help mentioning her sense o f the pain he must feel in visiting scenes so well known to him, bearing now an aspect so different; and so gently was her sympathy expressed, that Ravenswood felt it for a moment as a full requital o f all his misfortunes. Some such sentiment escaped him, which Lucy heard with more o f confusion than displeasure; and she may be forgiven the imprudence o f listening to such language, consid­ ering that the situation in which she was placed by her father seemed to authorise Ravenswood to use it. Yet she made an effort to turn the conversation, and she succeeded; for the Master also had advanced further than he intended, and his conscience had instantly checked him when he found himself on the verge o f speaking o f love to the daughter o f Sir William Ashton. They now approached the hut o f old Alice, which had o f late been rendered more comfortable, and presented an appearance less pictur­ esque, perhaps, but far neater than before. The old woman was on her accustomed seat beneath the weeping birch, basking, with the listless enjoyment o f age and infirmity, in the beams o f the autumn sun. At the arrival o f her visitors she turned her head towards them. “ I hear your step, M iss Ashton,” she said, “ but the gentleman who attends you is not my lord, your father.” “ And why should you think so, A lice?” said Lu cy; “ or how is it possible for you to judge so accurately by the sound o f a step, on the firm earth, and in the open air?” “ M y hearing, my child, has been sharpened by my blindness, and I can now judge o f the slightest sounds, which formerly reached my ears as unheeded as they now approach yours. Necessity is a stern, but an excellent school-mistress, and she that has lost her sight must collect her information from other sources.” “Well, you hear a man’s step, I grant it,” said Lucy; “ but why, Alice, may it not be my father’s ?”

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“ T h e pace o f age, my love, is timid and cautious— the foot takes leave o f the earth slowly, and is planted down upon it with hesitation; it is the hasty and determined step o f youth that I now hear, and— could I give credit to so strange a thought— I should say it was the step o f a Ravenswood.” “ This is indeed,” said Ravenswood, “ an acuteness o f organ which I could not have credited had I not witnessed it.— I am indeed the M aster o f Ravenswood, Alice— the son o f your old master.” “ You ?” said the old woman with almost a scream o f surprise— “you the M aster o f Ravenswood— here— in this place, and thus accompan­ ied?— I cannot believe it— let me pass my old hand over your face, that my touch may bear witness to my ears.” T h e M aster sate down beside her on the earthen bank, and permit­ ted her to touch his features with her trembling hand. “ It is he indeed!” she said, “ it is the features as well as the voice o f Ravenswood— the high lines o f pride, as well as the bold and haughty tone— but what do you here, M aster o f Ravenswood?— what do you in your enemy’s domain, and in company with his child?” As old Alice spoke, her face kindled, as probably that o f an ancient feudal vassal might have done, in whose presence his youthful liegelord had shewed some symptom o f degenerating from the spirit o f his ancestors. “ Th e M aster o f Ravenswood,” said Lucy, who liked not the tone o f this expostulation, and was desirous to abridge it, “ is upon a visit to my father.” “ Indeed?” said the old blind woman, in an accent o f surprise. “ I knew,” continued Lucy, “ I should do him a pleasure by conduct­ ing him to your cottage.” “Where, to say the truth, Alice,” said Ravenswood, “ I expected a more cordial reception.” “ It is most wonderful,” said the old woman, muttering to herself; “ but the ways o f Heaven are not like our ways, and its judgments are brought about by means far beyond our fathoming.— Hearken, young man,” she said; “your fathers were implacable, but they were honour­ able foes; they sought not to ruin their enemies under the mask o f hospitality. What have you to do with Lucy Ashton?— why should your steps move in the same foot-path with her’s ?— why should your voice sound in the same chord and time with those o f Sir William Ashton’s daughter?— Young man, he who aims at revenge by dishon­ ourable means”— — “ Be silent, wom an!” said Ravenswood sternly; “ is it the devil that prompts your voice ?— know that this young lady has not on earth a

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friend, who would venture farther to save her from injury or from insult.” “ And is it even so?” said the old woman, in an altered but melan­ choly tone— “ then God help you both !” “Amen ! Alice,” said Lucy, who had not comprehended the import o f what the blind woman had hinted, “ and send you your senses, Alice, and your good-humour: if you hold this mysterious language instead o f welcoming your friends, they will think o f you as other people do.” “ And how do other people think?” said Ravenswood, for he also began to think the old woman spoke with incoherence. “ They think,” said Henry Ashton, who came up at that moment, and whispered into Ravenswood’s ear, “ that she is a witch that should have been burned with them that suffered at Haddington.” “ What is that you say?” said Alice, turning towards the boy, her sightless visage inflamed with passion, “ that I am witch, and ought to have suffered with the helpless old wretches who were murdered at Haddington?” “ Hear to that now,” again whispered Henry, “ and me whispering lower than a wren cheeps.” “ I f the usurer, and the oppressor, and the grinder o f the poor man’s face, and the remover o f ancient land-marks, and the subverter o f ancient houses, were at the same stake with me, I could say, light the fire, in G od’s name !” “ This is dreadful,” said L u cy; “ I have never seen the poor deserted woman in this state o f mind; but age and poverty can ill bear reproach. — Come, Henry, we will leave Alice for the present— she wishes to speak with the M aster alone— we will walk homeward, and rest us,” she added, looking at Ravenswood, “by the Mermaiden’s W ell.” “ And Alice,” said the boy, “ if you know o f any hare that comes through among the deer, and makes them drop their calves out o f season, you may tell her, with my compliments to command, that if Norman has not got a silver bullet ready for her, I’ll lend him one o f my doublet-buttons on purpose.” Alice made no answer till she was aware that they were out o f hearing. She then said to Ravenswood, “ And you, too, are angry with me for my love ?— it is just that strangers should be offended, but you, too, are angry.” “ I am not angry, Alice,” said the Master, “ only surprised that you, whose good sense I have heard so often praised, should give way to offensive and unfounded suspicions.” “ Offensive?” said Alice— “ Ay, truth is ever offensive— but, surely, not unfounded.”

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“ I tell you, dame, most groundless,” replied Ravenswood. “ Then the world has changed its wont, and Ravenswoods their hereditary temper, and the eyes o f old Alice’s understanding are yet more blind than those o f her countenance. When did a Ravenswood seek the house o f his enemy, but with the purpose o f revenge ?— And hither you are come, Edgar Ravenswood, either in fatal anger, or in still more fatal love.” “ In neither,” said Ravenswood, “ I give you mine honour— I mean, I assure you.” Alice could not see his blushing cheek, but she noticed his hesita­ tion, and that he retracted the pledge which he seemed at first dis­ posed to attach to his denial. “ It is so, then,” she said, “ and therefore she is to tarry by the Mermaiden’s Well ! Often has it been called a place fatal to the race o f Ravenswood— often has it proved so— but never was it likely to verify old sayings so much as on this day.” “ You drive me to madness, Alice,” said Ravenswood; “you are more silly and more superstitious than old Balderstone. Are you such a wretched Christian as to suppose I should maintain war with the Ashton family, as was the sanguinary custom in elder times ? or do you suppose me so foolish, that I cannot walk by a young lady’s side without plunging headlong in love with her?” “ M y thoughts,” replied Alice, “ are my own; and if my mortal sight is closed to objects present with me, it may be I can look with the more steadiness into future events. Are you prepared to sit lowest at the board which was once your father’s, owned unwillingly as a connec­ tion and ally o f his proud successor?— are you ready to live on his bounty— to follow him in the bye-paths o f intrigue and chicane, which none can better point out to you— to gnaw the bones o f his prey when he has devoured the substance ?— can you say as Sir William Ashton says— think as he thinks— vote as he votes, and call your father’s murtherer your worshipful father-in-law and revered patron ? — Ravenswood, I am the oldest servant o f your house, and I would rather see you shrouded and coffined.” T h e tumult in Ravenswood’s mind was uncommonly great; she struck upon and awakened a chord which he had for some time successfully silenced. He strode backwards and forwards through the little garden with a hasty pace; and at length checking himself, and stopping right opposite to Alice, he exclaimed, “Woman ! on the verge o f the grave, dare you urge the son o f your master to blood and to revenge ?” “ God forbid!” said Alice solemnly; “ and therefore I would have you depart these fatal bounds, where your love, as well as your hatred,

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threatens sure mischief, or at least disgrace, both to yourself and others. I would shield, were it in the power o f this withered hand, the Ashtons from you and you from them, and both from your own pas­ sions. You can have nothing— ought to have nothing, in common with them— Begone from among them; and if God has destined ven­ geance on the oppressor’s house, do not you be the instrument.” “ I will think on what you have said, Alice,” said Ravenswood more composedly. “ I believe you mean truly and faithfully by me, but you urge the freedom o f an ancient domestic somewhat too far. But farewell; and if Heaven afford me better means, I will not fail to contribute to your comfort.” He attempted to put a piece o f gold into her hand, which she refused to receive; and, in the slight struggle attending his wish to force it upon her, it dropped to the earth. “ Let it remain an instant on the ground,” said Alice, as the Master stooped to raise it; “ and believe me, that piece o f gold is an emblem of her whom you love; she is as precious, I grant, but you must stoop even to abasement before you can win her. For me, I have as little to do with gold as with earthly passions; and the best news which the world has in store for me is, that Edgar Ravenswood is an hundred miles distant from the seat o f his ancestors, with the determination never again to review it.” “ Alice,” said the Master, who began to think this earnestness had some more secret cause than arose from any thing that the blind woman could have gathered from this casual visit, “ I have heard you praised by my mother for your sense, acuteness, and fidelity. You are no fool to start at shadows, or to dread old superstitious saws, like Caleb Balderstone; tell me distinctly where my danger lies, if you are aware o f any which is tending towards me. I f I know myself, I am free from all such views respecting M iss Ashton as you impute to me. I have necessary business to settle with Sir William— that arranged, I shall depart; and with as little wish, as you may easily believe, to return to a place full o f melancholy subjects o f reflection, as you have to see me here.” Alice bent her sightless eyes upon the ground, and was for a moment plunged in deep meditation. “ I will speak the truth,” she said at length, raising up her head— “ I will tell you the source o f my apprehensions, whether my candour be for good or evil— Lucy Ash­ ton loves you, Lord o f Ravenswood !” “ It is impossible,” said the Master. “ A thousand circumstances have proved it to me. Her thoughts have turned on no one else since you saved her from death, and that my experienced judgment has won from her own conversation.

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Having told you this— if you are indeed a gentleman and your father’s son— you will make it a motive for flying from her presence— if her passion receives no countenance from your presence it will die like a lamp, for want o f that the flame should feed upon; but, if you remain here, her destruction, or yours, or that o f both, will be the inevitable consequences o f her misplaced attachment. I tell you this secret unwillingly, but it could not have been hid long from your own obser­ vation; and it is better you learn it from mine. Depart, M aster o f Ravenswood— you have my secret. I f you remain an hour under Sir William Ashton’s roof without the resolution to marry his daughter, you are a villain— if with the purpose o f allying yourself with him, you are an infatuated and predestined fool.” So saying, the old blind woman arose, assumed her staff, and, tottering to her hut, entered it and closed the door, leaving Ravens­ wood to his own reflections.

Chapter Six Lovelier in her own retired abode — — than N aiad by the side O f G recian brook — or L ad y o f the M ere L o n e sitting by the sh ores o f old rom ance.

W ordsworth

T h e meditations o f Ravenswood were o f a very mixed complexion. He saw himself at once in the very dilemma which he had for some time felt apprehensive he might be placed in. T h e pleasure he felt in Lucy’s company had indeed approached to fascination, yet it had never altogether surmounted his internal reluctance to wed with the daughter o f his father’s foe; and even in forgiving Sir William Ashton the injuries which his house had received, and giving him credit for the kind intentions he professed to entertain, he could not bring him self to contemplate as possible an alliance betwixt their houses. But he felt that Alice spoke truth, and that his honour now required he should take an instant leave o f Ravenswood Castle, or become a suitor o f Lucy Ashton. T h e possibility o f being rejected, too, should he make advances to her wealthy and powerful father— to sue for the hand o f an Ashton and be refused— this were a consummation too disgrace­ ful. “ I wish her well,” he said to himself, “ and for her sake I forgive the injuries her father has done to my house; but I will never— no, never see her more !” With one bitter pang he adopted the resolution, just as he came to where two paths parted; the one to the Mermaiden’s Fountain, where he knew Lucy waited him, the other leading to the castle by another

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and more circuitous road. He paused an instant when about to take the latter path, thinking what apology he should make for conduct which must needs seem extraordinary, and had just muttered to himself, “ Sudden news from Edinburgh— any pretext will serve— only let me dally no longer here,” when young Henry came flying up to him, half out o f breath— “ Master, M aster— you must give Lucy your arm back to the castle, for I cannot give her mine; for Norman is waiting for me, and I am to go with him to make his ring-walk, and I would not stay away for a gold Jacobus, and Lucy is afraid to walk home alone, though all the wild nowt have been shot, and so you must come away directly.” Betwixt two scales equally loaded, a feather’s weight will turn the scale. “ It is impossible for me to leave the young lady in the wood alone,” said Ravenswood; “ to see her once more can be o f little consequence, after the frequent meetings we have had— I ought too, in courtesy, to apprize her o f my intention to quit the castle.” And having thus satisfied himself that he was taking not only a wise, but an absolutely necessary step, he took the path to the fatal fountain. Henry no sooner saw him on the way to join his sister, than he was o ff like lightning in another direction, to enjoy the society o f the forester in their congenial pursuits. Ravenswood, not allowing himself to give a second thought to the propriety o f his own conduct, walked with a quick step towards the stream, where he found Lucy seated alone by the ruin. She sate upon one o f the disjointed stones o f the ancient fountain, and seemed to watch the progress o f its current, as it bubbled forth to day-light, in gay and sparkling profusion, from under the shadow o f the ribbed and darksome vault with which veneration, or perhaps remorse, had canopied its source. T o a superstitious eye, Lucy Ash­ ton, folded in her plaiden mantle, with her long hair, escaping partly from the snood and falling upon her silver neck, might have suggested the idea o f the murdered Nymph o f the Fountain. But Ravenswood only saw a female exquisitely beautiful, and rendered yet more so in his eyes— how could it be otherwise— by having placed her affections on him. As he gazed on her, he felt his fixed resolution melting like wax in the sun, and hastened, therefore, from his concealment in the neighbouring thicket. She saluted him, but did not arise from the stone on which she was seated. “ M y mad-cap brother,” she said, “ has left me, but I expect him back in a few minutes— for fortunately, as every thing, at least any thing, pleases him for a minute, nothing has charms for him much longer.” Ravenswood did not feel the power o f informing Lucy that her

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brother meditated a distant excursion, and would not return in haste. He sate himself down on the grass, at some little distance from M iss Ashton, and both were silent for a short space. “ I like this spot,” said Lucy at length, as if she had found the silence embarrassing; “ the bubbling murmur o f the clear fountain, the wav­ ing o f the trees, the profusion o f grass and wild-flowers, that rise among the ruins, make it like a scene in romance. I think, too, I have heard it is a spot connected with the legendary lore which I love so well.” “ It has been thought,” answered Ravenswood, “ a fatal spot to our family, and I have some reason to term it so, for it was here I first saw M iss Ashton— and it is here I must take my leave o f her for ever.” The blood, which the first part o f this speech called into Lucy’s cheeks, was speedily expelled by its conclusion. “ T o take leave o f us, M aster!” she exclaimed; “what can have happened to hurry you away?— I know Alice hates— I mean dislikes my father— and I hardly understood her humour to-day, it was so mysterious. But I am certain my father is sincerely grateful for the high service you rendered us. Let me hope that having won your friendship hardly, we shall not lose it lightly.” “ Lose it, M iss Ashton?— no— wherever my fortune calls me— whatever she inflicts upon me— it is your friend— your sincere friend, who acts or suffers. But there is a fate on me, and I must go, or I shall add the ruin o f others to my own.” “ Yet do not go from us, M aster,” said Lu cy; and she laid her hand, in all simplicity and kindness, upon the skirt o f his cloak, as if to detain him— “ You shall not part from us— M y father is powerful! he has friends that are more so than himself—do not go till you see what his gratitude will do for you. Believe me, he is already labouring in your behalf with the Council.” “ It may be so,” said the Master, proudly; “yet it is not to your father, M iss Ashton, but to my own exertions, that I ought to owe success in the career on which I am about to enter. M y preparations are already made— a sword and a cloak, a bold heart and a determined hand.” Lucy covered her face with her hands, and the tears, in spite o f her, forced their way between her fingers. “ Forgive me,” said Ravens­ wood, taking her right hand, which, after slight resistance, she yielded to him, still continuing to shade her face with the left— “ I am too rude — too rough— too intractable to deal with any being so soft and gentle as you are. Forget that so stem a vision has crossed your path o f life— and let me pursue mine, sure that I can meet with no worse misfortune after the moment it divides me from your side.”

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Lucy wept on, but her tears were less bitter. Each attempt which the M aster made to explain his purpose o f departure, only proved a new evidence o f his desire to stay; until, at length, instead o f bidding her farewell, he gave his faith to her for ever, and received her troth in return. Th e whole passed so suddenly, and arose so much out o f the immediate impulse o f the moment, that ere the M aster o f Ravenswood could reflect upon the consequences o f the step which he had taken, their lips, as well as their hands, had pledged the sincerity o f their affection. “ And now,” he said, after a moment’s consideration, “ it is fit I should speak to Sir William Ashton— he must know o f our engage­ ment. Ravenswood must not seem to dwell under his roof, to solicit clandestinely the affections o f his daughter.” “ You would not speak to my father on the subject,” said Lucy, doubtingly; and then added more warmly, “ O do not— do not!— let your lot in life be determined, your station and purpose ascertained, before you address my father. I am sure he loves you— I think he will consent— but then my mother— — ” She paused, ashamed to express the doubt she felt how far her father dared to form any positive resolution on this most important subject, without the consent o f his lady. “ Your mother, my Lu cy?” replied Ravenswood; “ she is o f the house o f Douglas, a house that has intermarried with mine, even when its glory and power were at the highest— What could your mother object to my alliance ?” “ I did not say object,” said Lu cy; “but she is jealous o f her rights, and may claim a mother’s title to be consulted in the first instance.” “ Be it so,” replied Ravenswood; “ London is distant, but a letter will reach it and receive an answer within a fortnight— I will not press on the Lord Keeper for an instant reply to my proposal.” “ But,” hesitated Lucy, “were it not better to wait— to wait a few weeks— were my mother to see you— to know you— I am sure she would approve; but you are unacquainted personally, and the ancient feud between the families”— — Ravenswood fixed upon her his keen dark eyes, as if he was desir­ ous o f penetrating into her very soul. “ Lucy,” he said, “ I have sacrificed to you projects o f vengeance long nursed, and sworn to with ceremonies little better than heathen — I sacrificed them to your image, ere I knew the worth which it represented. In the evening that succeeded my poor father’s funeral, I cut a lock from my hair, and, as it consumed in the fire, I swore that my rage and revenge should pursue his enemies, until they shrivelled before me like that scorched-up symbol o f annihilation.”

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“ It was a deadly sin,” said Lucy, turning pale, “ to make a vow so fatal.” “ I acknowledge it,” said Ravenswood, “ and it had been a worse crime to keep it. It was for your sake that I abjured these purposes of vengeance, though I scarce knew that such was the argument by which I was conquered, until I saw you once more, and became conscious o f the influence you possessed over me.” “ And why do you now,” said Lucy, “ recall sentiments so terrible— sentiments so inconsistent with those you profess for me— with those your importunity has prevailed on me to acknowledge ?” “ Because I would impress on you the price at which I have bought your love— the right I have to expect your constancy. I say not that I have bartered for it the honour o f my house— its last remaining pos­ session— but though I say it not, and think it not, I cannot conceal from m yself that the world may do both.” “ I f such are your sentiments,” said Lucy, “you have played a cruel game with me— but it is not too late to give it over— take back the faith and troth which you could not plight to me without suffering abatement o f honour— let what is passed be as if it had not been— forget me and I will endeavour to forget myself.” “ You do me injustice,” said the M aster o f Ravenswood; “ by all I hold true and honourable, you do me the extremity o f injustice— if I mentioned the price at which I have bought your love, it is only to shew how much I prize it, to bind our engagement by a still firmer tie, and to shew, by what I have done to attain this station in your regard, how much I must suffer should you ever break your faith.” “ And why, Ravenswood,” answered Lucy, “ should you think that possible ?— why should you urge me with even the mention o f infidel­ ity?— Is it because I ask you to delay applying to my father for a little space o f time ? Bind me by what vows you please; if vows are unneces­ sary to secure constancy, they may yet prevent suspicion.” Ravenswood pleaded, apologized, and even kneeled, to appease her displeasure; and Lucy, as placable as she was single-hearted, readily forgave the offence which his doubts had implied. Th e dispute thus agitated, however, ended by the lovers going through an emblematic ceremony o f their troth-plight o f which the vulgar still preserve some traces. They broke betwixt them the thin broad-piece o f gold which Alice had refused to receive from Ravenswood. “ And never shall this leave my bosom,” said Lucy, as she hung the piece o f gold around her neck, and concealed it with her handker­ chief, “ until you, Edgar Ravenswood, ask me to resign it to you— and, while I wear it, never shall that heart acknowledge another love than you.”

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With like protestations, Ravenswood placed his portion o f the coin opposite to his heart. And now, at length, it struck them, that time had hurried fast on during their interview, and their absence at the castle would be subject o f remark, if not o f alarm. As they arose to leave the fountain which had been witness o f their mutual engagement, an arrow whistled through the air, and struck a raven perched on the sere branch o f an old oak, near to where they had been seated. T h e bird fluttered a few yards, and dropped at the feet o f Lucy, whose dress was stained with some spots o f its blood. M iss Ashton was much alarmed, and Ravenswood, surprised and angry, looked everywhere for the marksman, who had given them a proof o f his skill as littl e expected as desired. He was not long o f discovering himself, being no other than Henry Ashton, who came running up with a cross-bow in his hand. “ I knew I should startle you,” he said; “ and do you know you looked so busy that I thought it would have fallen souse on your heads before you were aware o f it—What was the M aster saying to you, Lu cy?” “ I was telling your sister what an idle lad you were, keeping us waiting here for you so long,” said Ravenswood, to save Lucy’s confu­ sion. “ Waiting for me ? Why, I told you to see Lucy home, and that I was to go to make the ring-walk with old Norman in the Hayberry thicket, and you may be sure that would take a good hour, and we have all the deer’s marks and fewmishes got, while you were sitting here with Lucy like a lazy loon.” “ Well, well, M r Henry,” said Ravenswood; “ but let us see how you will answer to me for killing the raven. Do you know the ravens are all under the protection o f the Lords o f Ravenswood, and, to kill one in their presence, is such bad luck that it deserves the stab ?” “ And that’s what Norman said,” replied the boy; “ he came as far with me as within a flight-shot o f you, and he said he never saw a raven sit still so near living folks, and he wished it might be for good luck; for the raven is one o f the wildest birds that flies, unless it be a tame one— and so I crept on and on, till I was within three score yards o f him, and then whiz went the bolt, and there he lies, faith ! Was it not well shot? — and, I dare say, I have not shot in a cross-bow— not ten times, maybe.” “ Admirably shot indeed,” said Ravenswood; “ and you will be a fine marksman if you practise hard.” “ That’s what Norman says,” answered the boy; “ but I am sure it is not my fault if I do not practise enough; for, o f free will, I would do little else, only my father and tutor are angry sometimes, and only M iss Lucy there gives herself airs about my being busy, for all she can sit

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idle by a well-side the whole day when she has a handsome young gentleman to prate wi’. I have known her do so twenty times, if you will believe m e.” The boy looked at his sister as he spoke, and, in the midst o f his mischievous chatter, had the sense to see that he was really inflicting pain upon her, though without being able to comprehend the cause or the amount. “ Come now, Lucy,” he said, “ don’t greet; and if I have said any thing beside the mark, I’ll deny it again— and what does the M aster o f Ravenswood care if you had a hundred joes— so ne’er put fingers in your eye about it.” T h e Master was, for the moment, scarce satisfied with what he heard; yet his good sense naturally regarded it as the chatter o f a spoiled boy, who strove to mortify his sister in the point which seemed most accessible for the time. But, although o f a temper equally slow in receiving impressions, and obstinate in retaining them, the prattle o f Henry served to nourish in his mind some vague suspicion, that his present engagement might only end in his being exposed like a van­ quished enemy in a Roman triumph, a captive attendant on the car o f a victor, who meditated only the satiating his pride at the expense o f the vanquished. There was, we repeat it, no real ground whatever for such an apprehension, nor could he be said seriously to entertain such for a moment. Indeed it was impossible to look at the clear blue eye o f Lucy Ashton, and entertain the slightest permanent doubt concerning the sincerity o f her disposition. Still, however, conscious pride and con­ scious poverty combined to render a mind suspicious, which, in more fortunate circumstances, would have been a stranger to that as well as to other meanness. They reached the castle, where Sir William Ashton, who had been alarmed by the length o f their stay, met them in the hall. “ Had Lucy,” he said, “ been in any other company than that o f one who had shewn he had so complete power o f protecting her, he confessed he should have been very uneasy, and would have dis­ patched persons in quest o f them. But, in the company o f the Master o f Ravenswood, he knew his daughter had nothing to dread.” Lucy commenced some apology for their long delay, but, conscience-struck, became confused as she proceeded; and when Ravenswood, coming to her assistance, endeavoured to render the explanation complete and satisfactory, he only involved him self in the same disorder, like one who, endeavouring to extricate his companion from a slough, entangles himself in the same tenacious swamp. It cannot be supposed that the confusion o f the two youthful lovers escaped the observation o f the wily lawyer, accustomed, by habit and

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profession, to trace human nature through all her windings. But it was not his present policy to take any notice o f what he observed. He desired to hold the Master o f Ravenswood bound, but that he himself should be free; and it did not occur to him that his plan might be defeated by Lucy’s returning the passion which he wished she might inspire. I f she should adopt some romantic feelings towards Ravens­ wood, in which circumstances, or the positive and absolute opposition o f Lady Ashton, might render it unadvisable to indulge her, the Lord Keeper conceived they might be easily superseded and annulled by a journey to Edinburgh, or even to London, a new set o f Brussels lace, and the soft whispers o f half a dozen o f lovers, anxious to replace him whom it was convenient she should renounce. This was his provision for the worst view o f the case. But, according to its more probable issue, any passing favour she might entertain for the Master o f Ravenswood, might require encouragement rather than repression. This seemed the more likely, as he had that very morning, since their departure from the castle, received a letter, the contents o f which he hastened to communicate to Ravenswood. A foot-post had arrived with a packet to the Lord Keeper from that friend whom we have already mentioned, who was labouring hard under-hand to consolid­ ate a band o f patriots, at the head o f whom stood Sir William’s greatest terror, the active and ambitious M arquis o f A— — . T h e success of this convenient friend had been such, that he had obtained from Sir William, not indeed a directly favourable answer, but certainly a most patient hearing. This he had reported to his principal, who had replied with the ancient French adage, “ Château qui parle, etfemme qui écoute, l ’un et l’autre va se rendre.” A statesman who hears you propose a change o f measures without reply, was, according to the M arquis’s opinion, in the situation o f the fortress which parleys, and the lady who listens, and he resolved to press the siege o f the Lord Keeper. The packet, therefore, contained a letter from his friend and ally, and another from himself to the Lord Keeper, frankly offering an unceremonious visit. They were crossing the country to go to the southward— the roads were indifferent— the accommodation o f the inns as execrable as possible— the Lord Keeper had been long acquainted intimately with one o f his correspondents, and though more slightly known to the Marquis, had yet enough o f his Lordship’s acquaintance to render the visit sufficiently natural, and to shut the mouths o f those who might be disposed to impute it to a political intrigue. He instantly accepted the offered visit, determined, how­ ever, that he would not pledge himself an inch farther for the furtherance o f their views than reason (by which he meant his own self-interest) should plainly point out to him as proper.

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Tw o circumstances particularly delighted him; the presence o f Ravenswood, and the absence o f his own lady. By having the former under his roof, he conceived he might be able to quash all such hazardous and hostile proceedings as he might otherwise have been engaged in, under the patronage o f the M arquis; and Lucy, he fore­ saw, would make, for his immediate purpose o f delay and procrastina­ tion, a much better mistress o f his family than her mother, who would, he was sure, in some shape or other, contrive to disconcert his political schemes by her proud and implacable temper. His anxious solicitations that the Master would stay to receive his kinsman, were o f course readily complied with, since the éclaircisse­ ment which had taken place at the Mermaiden’s Fountain had removed all wish for sudden departure. Lucy and Lockhard had, therefore, orders to provide all things necessary in their different departments, for receiving the expected guests, with a pomp and display o f luxury very uncommon in Scotland at that remote period.

Chapter Seven M arall. S ir, the m an o f honour’s com e, Newly alighted— — Overreach. In without reply, A nd do as I com m and.— Is the loud m usic I gave order for R eady to receive him ?— N ew Way to Pay O ld Debts

S i r W i l l i a m A s h t o n , although a man o f sense, legal information, and great practical knowledge o f the world, had yet some points o f character which corresponded better with the timidity o f his disposi­ tion and the supple arts by which he had risen in the world, than to the degree o f eminence which he had attained; as they tended to shew an original mediocrity o f understanding, however highly it had been cultivated, and a native meanness o f disposition, however carefully veiled. He loved the ostentatious display o f his wealth, less as a man to whom habit has made it necessary, than as one to whom it is still delightful from its novelty. T h e most trivial details did not escape him; and Lucy soon learned to watch with apprehension the flush o f scorn which crossed Ravenswood’s cheek, when he heard her father gravely arguing with Lockhard, nay, even with the old housekeeper, upon circumstances which, in families o f rank, are left uncared for, because it is supposed impossible they can be neglected. “ I could pardon Sir William,” said Ravenswood one evening after he had left the room, “ some general anxiety upon this occasion, for the

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M arquis’s visit is an honour, and should be received as such. But I am worn out by these miserable minutiæ o f the butchery, and the larder, and the very hen-coop— they drive me beyond my patience; I would rather endure the poverty o f Wolfscrag, than be pestered with the wealth o f Ravenswood Castle.” “ And yet,” said Lucy, “ it was by attention to these minutiæ that my father acquired the property”— — “ Which my ancestors sold for lack o f it,” answered Ravenswood. “ Be it so; a porter still bears but a burthen, though the burthen be o f gold.” Lucy sighed; she perceived too plainly that her lover held in scorn the manners and habits o f a father, to whom she had long looked up as her best and most partial friend, whose fondness had often consoled her for her mother’s contemptuous harshness. T h e lovers soon discovered that they differed upon other and no less important topics. Religion, the mother o f peace, was, in these days o f discord, so much misconstrued and mistaken, that her rites and forms were the subject o f the most opposite opinions and the most hostile animosities. T h e Lord Keeper, being a whig, was, o f course, a presbyterian, and had found it convenient, at different periods, to express greater zeal for the kirk, than perhaps he really felt. His family, equally o f course, were trained under the same institution. Ravenswood, as we know, was a high-church man, or episcopalian, and frequently objected to Lucy the fanaticism o f some o f her com­ munion, while she intimated, rather than expressed, horror at the latitudinarian principles which she had been taught to think con­ nected with the prelatical form o f church-government. Thus, although their mutual affection seemed to increase rather than to be diminished, as their characters opened more fully on each other, the feelings o f each were mingled with some less agreeable ingredients. Lucy felt a secret awe, amid all her affection for Ravens­ wood. His soul was o f an higher, prouder character, than those with whom she had hitherto mixed in intercourse; his ideas were more fierce and free; and he contemned many o f the opinions which had been inculcated upon her, as chiefly demanding her veneration. On the other hand, Ravenswood saw in Lucy a soft and flexible character, which, in his eyes at least, seemed too susceptible o f being moulded to any form by those with whom she lived. He felt that his own temper required a partner o f a more independent spirit, who could set sail with him on his course o f life, as resolved as himself to dare indiffer­ ently the storm and the favouring breeze. But Lucy was so beautiful, so devotedly attached to him, o f a temper so exquisitely soft and kind, that, while he could have wished it were possible to inspire her with a

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greater degree o f firmness and resolution, and while he sometimes became impatient o f the extreme fear which she expressed o f their attachment being prematurely discovered, he felt that the softness o f a mind, amounting almost to feebleness, rendered her even dearer to him, as a being who had voluntarily clung to him for protection, and made him the arbiter o f her fate for weal or woe. His feelings towards her at such moments, were those which have been since so beautifully expressed by our immortal Joanna Baillie: — — — T h o u sw eetest thing, T h a t e ’er did fix its lightly-fibred sprays T o the rude rock, ah! w ould’st thou cling to m e ? R ough and storm -w orn I am — yet love m e as T h o u truly dost, I will love thee again W ith true and honest heart, though all unm eet T o be the m ate o f such sw eet gentlen ess.

Thus the very points in which they differed, seemed, in some meas­ ure, to ensure the continuance o f their mutual affection. If, indeed, they had so fully appreciated each other’s character before the burst o f passion in which they hastily pledged their faith to each other, Lucy might have feared Ravenswood too much ever to have loved him, and he might have construed her softness and docile temper as imbecility, rendering her unworthy o f his regard. But they stood pledged to each other; and Lucy only feared that her lover’s pride might one day teach him to regret his attachment, Ravenswood that a mind so ductile as Lucy’s might, in absence or difficulties, be induced, by the entreaties or influence o f those around her, to renounce the engagement she had formed. “ Do not fear it,” said Lucy, when, upon one occasion, a hint o f such suspicion escaped her lover; “ the mirrors which receive the reflection o f all successive objects are framed o f hard materials like glass or steel — the softer substances, when they receive an impression, retain it undefaced.” “ This is poetry, Lucy,” said Ravenswood; “ and in poetry there is always fallacy, and sometimes fiction.” “ Believe me then, once more, in honest prose,” said Lucy, “ that, though I will never wed man without the consent o f my parents, yet neither force nor persuasion shall dispose o f my hand till you renounce the right I have given you to it.” T h e lovers had ample time for such explanations. Henry was now more seldom their companion, being either a most unwilling attend­ ant upon the lessons o f his tutor, or a forward volunteer under the instructions o f the foresters or grooms. As for the Keeper, his morn­ ings were spent in his study, maintaining correspondences o f all kinds, and balancing in his anxious mind the various intelligence which he

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collected from every quarter concerning the expected change in Scot­ tish politics, and the probable strength of the parties who were about to struggle for power. At other times he busied himself about arran­ ging, and countermanding, and then again arranging, the prepara­ tions which he judged necessary for the reception o f the M arquis o f A— — , whose arrival had been twice delayed by some necessary cause o f detention. In the midst o f all these various avocations, political and domestic, he seemed not to observe how much his daughter and his guest were thrown into each other’s society, and was censured by many o f his neighbours, according to the fashion o f neighbours in all countries, for suffering such an intimate connection to take place betwixt two young persons. T h e only natural explanation was, that he designed them for each other; while, in truth, his only motive was to temporize and procrastinate, until he should discover the real extent o f the interest which the Marquis took in Ravenswood’s affairs, and the power which he was likely to possess o f advancing them. Until these points should be made both clear and manifest, the Lord Keeper resolved that he would do nothing to commit himself, either in one shape or other, and, like many cunning persons, he over-reached himself deplorably. Amongst those who had been disposed to censure, with the greatest severity, the conduct o f Sir William Ashton, in permitting the pro­ longed residence o f Ravenswood under his roof, and his constant attendance on M iss Ashton, was the new Laird o f Girnington, and his faithful squire and bottle-holder, personages formerly well known to us by the names o f Hayston o f Bucklaw, and his companion Captain Craigengelt. The former had already succeeded to the extensive property o f his long-lived grand-aunt, and to considerable wealth besides, which he had employed in redeeming his paternal acres, (by the title appertaining to which he still chose to be designated,) not­ withstanding Captain Craigengelt had proposed to him a most advantageous mode o f vesting the money in Law ’s scheme, which was just then set abroach, and offered his services to travel express to Paris for the purpose. But Bucklaw had so far derived wisdom from advers­ ity, that he would listen to no proposal which Craigengelt could invent, having a tendency to risk his newly-acquired independence. He that had once eat pease-bannocks, drunk sour wine, and slept in the secret chamber at Wolfscrag, would, he said, prize good cheer and a soft bed as long as he lived, and take special care never to need such hospitality again. Craigengelt, therefore, found himself disappointed in the first hopes he had entertained o f “ making a good hand o f the Laird

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o f Bucklaw.” Still, however, he reaped many advantages from his friend’s good fortune. Bucklaw, who had never been at all scrupulous in chusing his companions, was accustomed to, and entertained by a fellow, whom he could either laugh with or laugh at as he had a mind, who would take, according to Scottish phrase, “ the bit and the buffet,” understood all sports, whether without or within doors, and, when the Laird had a mind for a bottle o f wine, (no infrequent circumstance,) was always ready to save him from the scandal o f getting drunk by himself. Upon these terms Craigengelt was the frequent, almost the constant, inmate o f the house o f Girnington. In no time, and under no possibility o f circumstances, could good have been derived from such an intimacy, however its bad con­ sequences might be qualified by the thorough knowledge which Bucklaw possessed o f his dependant’s character, and the high con­ tempt in which he held it. But as circumstances stood, this evil com­ munication was particularly liable to corrupt what good principles nature had implanted in the patron. Craigengelt had never forgiven the scorn with which Ravenswood had tom the mask o f courage and honesty from his countenance; and to exasperate Bucklaw’s resentment against him, was the safest mode o f revenge which occurred to his cowardly, yet cunning and malignant disposition. He brought up, on all occasions, the story o f the challenge which Ravenswood had declined to accept, and endeavoured, by every pos­ sible insinuation, to make his patron believe that his honour was con­ cerned in bringing that matter to an issue by a personal discussion with Ravenswood. But respecting this subject, Bucklaw imposed on him, at length, a peremptory command o f silence. “ I think,” he said, “ the Master has treated me unlike a gentleman, and I see no right he had to send me back a cavalier answer when I demanded the satisfaction o f one— But he gave me my life once— and, in looking this matter over at present, I put myself but on equal terms with him— should he cross me again, I shall consider the old accompt as balanced, and his Mastership will do well to look to him­ self.” “ That he should,” re-echoed Craigengelt; “ for when you are in practice, Bucklaw, I would bet a magnum you are through him before the third pass.” “ Then you know nothing o f the matter,” said Bucklaw, “ and you never saw him fence.” “ I know nothing o f the matter? a good jest, I promise you— and though I never saw Ravenswood fence, have I not been at Monsieur Sagoon’s school, who was the first maitre d'armes at Paris; and have I

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not been at Seignor Poco’s at Florence, and Meinherr Durchstossen at Vienna, and have I not seen all their play?” “ I don’t know whether you have or not,” said Bucklaw; “ but what about it, though you had ?” “ Only that I will be d— d if ever I saw French, Italian, or HighDutchman ever make foot, hand, and eye, keep time half so well as you, Bucklaw.” “ I believe you lie, Craigie,” said Bucklaw; “ however, I can hold my own, both with single rapier, back-sword, sword and dagger, broad­ sword, or case o f faulchions— and that’s as much as any gentleman need know o f the matter.” “ And the double o f what ninety-nine out o f a hundred knows,” said Craigengelt; “ they learn to change a few thrusts with the small sword, and then, forsooth, they understand the noble art o f defence ! Now, when I was at Rouen in the 1695, there was the Chevalier de Chapon and I went to the Opera, where we found three bits o f Eng­ lish birkies”— — “ Is it a long story you are going to tell?” said Bucklaw, yawning. “Just as you like,” answered the parasite, “ for we made short work o f it.” “ Then I like it short,” said Bucklaw; “ is it serious or merry?” “ Devilish serious, I assure you, and so they found it; for the cheva­ lier and I”— — “ Then I don’t like it at all,” said Bucklaw; “ so fill a brimmer o f my auld auntie’s claret, rest her heart! And, as the Hielandman says, Skioch doch na skiaill”* “ That was what tough old Sir Evan Dhu used to say to me when I was out with the metall’d lads in 1689. ‘Craigengelt,’ he used to say, ‘you are as pretty a fellow as ever held steel in his grip, but you have one fault.’ ” “ I f he had known you as long as I have done,” said Bucklaw, “ he would have found out some— twenty more; but hang long stories, give us your toast, man.” Craigengelt rose, went a tiptoe to the door, peeped out, shut it carefully, came back again— clapped his tarnished gold-laced hat on one side o f his head, took his glass in one hand, and touching the hilt o f his hanger with the other, named, “ Th e K ing over the water.” “ I tell you what it is, Captain Craigengelt,” said Bucklaw; “ I shall keep my mind to myself on these subjects, having too much respect for the memory o f my venerable aunt Girnington to put her lands and tenements in the way o f committing treason against established * “ Cut a tale with a drink;” equivalent to the English adage of “boon companions, don’t preach over your liquor.”

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authority. Bring you King Jam es to Edinburgh, Captain, with thirty thousand men at his back, and I’ll tell you what I think about his title; but as for running my neck into a noose, and my good broad lands into the statutory penalties, ‘in that case, made and provided,’ rely upon it you will find me no such fool. So when you mean to vapour with your hanger and your dram-cup in support o f treasonable toasts, you must find your liquor and company elsewhere.” “Well, then,” said Craigengelt, “ name the toast yourself, and be it what it like, I’ll pledge you if it were a mile to the bottom.” “ And I’ll give you a toast that deserves it, my boy,” said Bucklaw; “ what say you to M iss Lucy Ashton?” “ Up with it,” said the Captain, as he tossed o ff his brimmer, “ the bonniest lass in Lothian— What a pity the old sneck-drawing whigamore, her father, is about to throw her away upon that rag o f pride and beggary, the Master o f Ravenswood.” “ That’s not quite so clear,” said Bucklaw, in a tone, which, though it seemed indifferent, excited his companion’s eager curiosity; and not that only, but also his hope o f working himself into some sort o f confidence, which might make him necessary to his patron, being by no means satisfied to rest on mere sufferance, if he could form, by art or industry, a more permanent title to his favour. “ I thought,” said he, after a moment’s pause, “ that was a settled matter— they are continually together, and nothing else is spoken o f betwixt Lammerlaw and Traprain.” “ They may say what they please,” replied his patron, “ but I know better, and I’ll give you M iss Lucy Ashton’s health again, my boy.” “ And I would drink it on my knee,” said Craigengelt, “ if I thought the girl had the spirit to jilt that d— d son o f a Spaniard.” “ I am to request you will not use the word jilt and M iss Ashton’s name together,” said Bucklaw, gravely. “ Discard, my lad o f acres— by Jove, I meant to say discard,” replied Craigengelt, “ and I hope she’ll discard him like a small card at piquet, and take in the king o f hearts, my boy— But yet— — ” “ But what?” said his patron. “ But yet I know for certain they are hours together alone, and in the woods and the fields.” “ That’s her foolish father’s dotage— that will be soon put out o f the lass’s head, if it ever gets into it,” answered Bucklaw. “ And now fill your glass again, Captain, I am going to make you happy— I am going to let you into a secret— a plot— a noosing plot— only the noose is but typical.” “ A marrying matter?” said Craigengelt, and his jaw fell as he asked the question; for he suspected that matrimony would render his situ­

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ation at Girnington much more precarious than during the jolly days o f his patron’s bachelorhood. “ Ay, a marriage, man,” said Bucklaw; “ but wherefore droops thy mighty spirit, and why grow the rubies on thy cheek so pale ? The board will have a corner, and the corner will have a trencher, and the trencher will have a glass beside it; and the board-end shall be filled, and the trencher and the glass shall be replenished for thee, if all the petticoats in Lothian had sworn the contrary— what, man ! I am not the boy to put myself into leading strings.” “ So says many an honest fellow,” said Craigengelt, “ and some o f my special friends : but, curse me if I know the reason, the women could never bear me, and always contrived to trundle me out o f favour before the honey-moon was over.” “ I f you could have kept your ground till that was over, you might have made good your position,” said Bucklaw. “ But I never could,” answered the dejected parasite; “ there was my Lord Castle-Cuddy— we were hand and glove— I rode his horses— borrowed money, both for him and from him— trained his hawks, and taught him how to lay his bets; and when he took a fancy o f marrying, I married him to Katie Glegg, whom I thought myself as sure o f as man could be o f woman. Egad, she had me out o f the house, as if I had run on wheels, within the first fortnight.” “Well !” replied Bucklaw, “ I think I have nothing o f Castle-Cuddy about me, or Lucy o f Katie Glegg— but you see the thing will go on whether you like it or no— the only question is, will you be useful?” “ U seful?— and to thee, my lad o f lands, my darling boy, whom I would tramp bare-footed through the world for?— name time, place, mode, and circumstance, and see if I will not be useful in all uses that can be devised.” “Why, then, you must ride two hundred miles for me,” said the patron. “ A thousand, and call them a flea’s leap,” answered the dependent; “ I’ll cause saddle my horse directly.” “ Better stay till you know where you are to go, and what you are to do,” quoth Bucklaw. “ You know I have a kinswoman in Northum­ berland, Lady Blenkinsop by name, whose old acquaintance I had the misfortune to lose in the period o f my poverty, but the light o f whose countenance shone forth upon me when the sun o f my prosperity began to arise.” “ D — n all such double-faced bitches,” exclaimed Craigengelt, heroically; “ this I will say for John Craigengelt, that he is his friend’s friend through good report and bad report, poverty and riches; and you know something o f that yourself, Bucklaw.”

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“ I have not forgot your merits,” said his patron; “ I do remember, that, in my extremities, you had a mind to crimp me for the service o f the French king, or o f the Pretender; and, moreover, that you after­ wards lent me a score o f pieces, when, as I firmly believe, you had heard the news that old Lady Girnington had a touch o f the dead palsy — but don’t be down-cast, Jo h n ; I believe, after all, you like me very well in your way, and it is my misfortune to have no better counsellor at present.— T o return to this Lady Blenkinsop, you must know she is a close confederate o f Duchess Sarah.” “What, o f Sall Jen n in gs!” exclaimed Craigengelt; “ then she must be a good one.” “ Hold your tongue, and keep your Tory rants to yourself, if it be possible,” said Bucklaw; “ I tell you, that through the Duchess o f Marlborough has this Northumbrian cousin o f mine become a crony o f Lady Ashton, the K eeper’s wife, or, I may say, the Lord K eeper’s Lady Keeper, and she has favoured Lady Blenkinsop with a visit on her return from London, and is just now at her old mansion-house on the banks o f the Wansbeck. Now, sir, as it has been the use and wont o f these ladies to consider their husbands as o f no importance in the management o f their own families, it has been their present pleasure, without consulting Sir William Ashton, to put on the tapis a matrimo­ nial alliance, to be concluded between Lucy Ashton and my own right honourable self, Lady Ashton acting as self-constituted plenipotenti­ ary on the part o f her daughter and husband, and Mother Blenkinsop, equally unaccredited, doing me the honour to be my representative. You may suppose I was a little astonished when I found that a treaty, in which I was so considerably interested, had advanced a good way before I was even consulted.” “ Capot me if I think that was according to the rules o f the game,” said his confidant; “ and pray, what answer did you return?” “ Why, my first thought was to send the treaty to the devil, and the negociators along with it, for a couple o f meddling old women; my next was to laugh very heartily; and my third and last was a settled opinion that the thing was reasonable, and would suit me well enough.” “ Why, I thought you had never seen the wench but once— and then she had her riding-mask on. I am sure you told me so.” “ Ay— but I liked her very well then. And Ravenswood’s dirty usage o f me— shutting me out o f doors to dine with the lacqueys, because he had the Lord Keeper, forsooth, and his daughter, to be guests in his beggarly castle o f starvation— D — n me, Craigengelt, if I ever forgive him till I play him as good a trick.” “ No more you should, if you are a lad o f mettle,” said Craigengelt,

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the matter now taking a turn in which he could sympathize; “ and if you carry this wench from him, it will break his heart.” “ That it will not,” said Bucklaw; “ his heart is all steeled over with reason and philosophy— things that you, Craigie, know nothing about more than myself, God help me— But it will break his pride though, and that’s what I am driving at.” “ Distance me,” said Craigengelt, “ but I know the reason now o f his unmannerly behaviour at his old tumble-down tower yonder— ashamed o f your company?— no, no! Gad, he was afraid you would cut in and carry o ff the girl.” “ E h! Craigengelt?” said Bucklaw— “ do you really think so?— but no, no !— he is a devilish deal prettier man than I am.” “Who— he ?” exclaimed the parasite— “ he is as black as the crook; and for his size— he’s a tall fellow, to be sure— but give me a tight, stout, middle-sized”— — “ Plague on thee !” said Bucklaw, interrupting him, “ and on me for listening to you !— you would say as much if I were hunch-backed. But as to Ravenswood— he has kept no terms with me— I’ll keep none with him. I f I can win this girl from him”— — “Win her?— ’sblood, you shall win her, point, quint, and quatorze, my king o f trumps— you shall pique, repique, and capot him.” “ Prithee, stop thy gambling cant for one instant,” said Bucklaw. “ Things have come thus far, that I have entertained the proposal o f my kinswoman, agreed to the terms o f jointure, amount o f fortune, and so forth, and that the affair is to go forward when Lady Ashton comes down, for she takes her daughter and her son in her own hand. Now, they want me to send up a confidential person with some writ­ ings.” “ By this good wine, I’ll ride to the end o f the world— the very gates o f Jericho— and the judgment-seat o f Prester John, for thee,” ejacu­ lated the Captain. “Why, I believe you would do something for me, and a great deal for yourself. Now, any one could carry the writings; but you will have a little more to do; you must contrive to drop out before my Lady Ashton, just as if it were a matter o f little consequence, the residence o f Ravenswood at her husband’s house, and his close intercourse with M iss Ashton; and you may tell her, that all the country talks o f a visit from the Marquis o f A— — as it is supposed, to make up the match betwixt Ravenswood and her daughter. I should like to hear what she says to all this; for, rat me, if I have any idea o f starting for the plate at all if Ravenswood is to win the race, and he has odds against me already.” “ Never a bit— the wench has too much sense— and in that belief I

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drink her health a third time; and, were time and place fitting, I would drink it on bended knees, and he that would not pledge me, I would make his guts garter his stockings.” “ Hark ye, Craigengelt; as you are going into the society o f women o f rank,” said Bucklaw, “I’ll thank you to forget your strange black­ guard oaths and damme’s— I will write to them, though, that you are a blunt untaught fellow.” “ Ay, ay,” replied Craigengelt; “ a plain, blunt, honest, down-right soldier.” “ Not too honest, or too much o f the soldier neither; but, such as thou art, it is my luck to need thee, for I must have spurs put to Lady Ashton’s motions.” “ I’ll dash them up to the rowel-heads,” said Craigengelt; “ she shall come here at the gallop, like a cow chased by a whole nest o f hornets, and her tail twisted over her rump like a cork-screw.” “ And heark ye, Craigie,” said Bucklaw; “your boots and doublet are good enough to drink in, as the man says in the play, but they are somewhat too greasy for tea-table service— prithee, get thyself a little better rigged-out, and here is to pay all charges.” “ Nay, Bucklaw— on my soul, man— you use me ill— however,” added Craigengelt, pocketting the money, “ if you will have me so far indebted to you, I must be conforming.” “ Well, horse and away!” said the patron, “ so soon as you have got your riding livery in trim— you may ride the black crop-ear— and hark ye, I’ll make you a present o f him to boot.” “ I drink to the good luck o f my mission,” answered the ambassador, “ in a half-pint bumper.” “ I thank ye, Craigie, and I pledge you— I see nothing against it but the father or the girl taking a tantrum, and I am told the mother can wind them both round her little finger. Take care not to affront her with any o f your jacobite jargon.” “ O ay, true— she is a whig, and a friend o f old Sall o f Marlborough — thank my stars, I can hoist any colours at a pinch. I have fought as hard under John Churchill as ever I did under Dundee or the Duke of Berwick.” “ I verily believe you, Craigie,” said the lord o f the mansion; “ but, Craigie, do you, pray, step down to the cellar and fetch us up a bottle o f the Burgundy 1 678— it is in the fourth bin from the right-hand turn— And I say, Craigie— you may fetch up a half-dozen whilst you are about it— Egad, w e’ll make a night on’t.”

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Chapter Eight A nd soon they spied the m erry-m en green, A nd eke the coach and four. Duke upon Duke

C r a i g e n g e l t set forth on his mission, so soon as his equipage was complete, prosecuted his journey with all diligence, and accomplished his commission with all the dexterity for which Bucklaw had given him credit. As he arrived with credentials from M r Hayston o f Bucklaw, he was extremely welcome to both ladies; and those who are prejudiced in favour o f a new acquaintance can, for a time at least, discover excellencies in his very faults, and perfections in his deficiencies. Although both ladies were accustomed to good society, yet, being predetermined to find out an agreeable and well-behaved gentleman in M r Hayston’s friend, they succeeded wonderfully in imposing on themselves. It is true that Craigengelt was now handsomely dressed, and that was a point o f no small consequence. But independent o f outward shew, his blackguard impudence o f address was construed into honourable bluntness, becoming his supposed military profes­ sion; his hectoring passed for courage, and his sauciness for wit. Lest, however, any one should think this a violation o f probability, we must add, in fairness to the two ladies, that their discernment was greatly blinded, and their favour propitiated, by the opportune arrival o f Captain Craigengelt, in the moment when they were longing for a third hand to make a party at tredille, in which, as in all games, whether o f chance or skill, that worthy person was a great proficient. When he found himself established in favour, his next point was how best to use it for the furtherance o f his patron’s views. He found Lady Ashton prepossessed strongly in favour o f the motion, which Lady Blenkinsop, partly from regard to her kinsman, partly from the spirit o f match-making, had not hesitated to propose to her; so that his task was an easy one. Bucklaw, reformed from his prodigality, was just the sort o f husband whom she desired to have for her Shepherdess of Lammermoor; and while the marriage gave her fortune, and a gentle­ man for her husband, Lady Ashton was o f opinion that her destinies would be fully and most favourably accomplished. It so chanced, also, that Bucklaw, among his new acquisitions, had gained the manage­ ment o f a little separate interest in a neighbouring county, where the Douglas family originally held large possessions. It was one o f the bosom-hopes o f Lady Ashton, that her eldest son, Sholto, should represent this county in the British Parliament, and she saw this

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alliance with Bucklaw as a circumstance which might be highly favourable to her wishes. Craigengelt, who in his way by no means wanted sagacity, no sooner discovered in what quarter the wind o f Lady Ashton’s wishes sate, than he trimmed his course accordingly. “ There was little to prevent Bucklaw himself from setting up for the county— he must carry the heat— must walk the course. Tw o cousins-german— six more distant kinsmen, his factor and his chamberlain, were all hollow votes— and the Girnington interest had always carried, betwixt love and fear, about as many more— But Bucklaw cared no more about riding the first horse, and that sort o f thing, than he, Craigengelt, did about a game at birkie— it was a pity his interest was not in good guidance.” All this Lady Ashton drank in with willing and attentive ears, resolving internally to be herself the person who should take the management o f the political influence o f her destined son-in-law, for the benefit o f her eldest bom, Sholto, and all other parties concerned. When he found her ladyship thus favourably disposed, the Captain proceeded, to use his employer’s phrase, to set spurs to her resolution, by hinting at the situation o f matters at Ravenswood Castle, the long residence which the heir o f that family had made with the Lord Keeper, and the reports which (though he would be d— d ere he gave credit to any o f them) had been idly circulated in the neighbourhood. It was not the Captain’s cue to appear himself to be uneasy on the subject o f these rumours; but he easily saw from Lady Ashton’s flushed cheek, hesitating voice, and flashing eye, that she had caught the alarm which he intended to communicate. She had not heard from her husband so often or so regularly as she thought him bound in duty to have written, and o f this very interesting intelligence, concerning his visit to the Tower o f Wolfscrag, and the guest, whom, with such cordiality, he had received at Ravenswood Castle, he had suffered his lady to remain altogether ignorant, until she now learned it by the chance information o f a stranger. Such concealment approached, in her apprehension, to a misprision, at least, o f treason, if not to actual rebellion against matrimonial authority; and in her inward soul did she swear to take vengeance on the Lord Keeper, as on a subject detected in meditating revolt. Her indignation burned the more fier­ cely, as she found herself obliged to suppress it in presence o f Lady Blenkinsop, the kinswoman, and o f Craigengelt, the confiden­ tial friend o f Bucklaw, o f whose alliance she now became trebly desir­ ous, since it occurred to her alarmed imagination, that her husband might, in his policy or timidity, prefer that o f Ravenswood. T h e Captain was engineer enough to discover that the train was fired; and therefore heard, in the course o f the same day, without the

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least surprise, that Lady Ashton had resolved to abridge her visit to Lady Blenkinsop, and set forth with the peep o f morning on her return to Scotland, using all the dispatch which the state o f the roads, and the mode o f travelling, would possibly permit. Unhappy Lord K eep er!— little was he aware what a storm was travelling towards him in all the speed with which an old-fashioned coach and six could possibly achieve its journey. He, like Don Gayferos, “ forgot his lady fair and true,” and was only anxious about the expected visit o f the Marquis o f A— — . Soothfast tidings had assured him that this nobleman was at length, and without fail, to honour his castle at one after noon, being a late dinner-hour; and much was the bustle in consequence o f the annunciation. T h e Lord Keeper tra­ versed the chambers, held consultation with the butler in the cellars, and even ventured, at the risk o f a démêlée with a cook, o f a spirit lofty enough to scorn the admonitions o f Lady Ashton herself, to peep into the kitchen. Satisfied, at length, that every thing was in as active a train o f preparation as was possible, he summoned Ravenswood and his daughter to a walk upon the terrace, for the purpose o f watching, from that commanding position, the earliest symptoms o f his Lordship’s approach. For this purpose, with slow and idle step, he paraded the terrace, which, flanked with a heavy stone battlement, stretched in front o f the castle upon a level with the first storey; while visitors found access to the court by a projecting gate-way, the bartizan or flatleaded roof o f which was accessible from the terrace by an easy flight o f low and broad steps. T h e whole bore a middle resemblance to a castle and a nobleman’s seat; and though calculated, in some respects, for defence, evinced that it had been constructed under a sense o f the power and security o f the ancient Lords o f Ravenswood. This pleasant walk commanded a beautiful and extensive view. But what was most to our present purpose, there were seen from the terrace two roads, one leading from the east, and one from the west­ ward, which, crossing a ridge opposed to the eminence on which the castle stood, at different angles, gradually approached each other, until they joined not far from the gate o f the avenue. It was to the westward approach that the Lord Keeper, from a sort o f fidgetty anxiety, his daughter, from complaisance to him, and Ravenswood, though feeling some symptoms o f internal impatience, out o f com­ plaisance to his daughter, directed their eyes to see the precursors o f the M arquis’s approach. These were not long o f presenting themselves. Tw o running foot­ men, dressed in white, with black jockey-caps, and long staffs in their hand, headed the train; and such was their agility, that they found no difficulty in keeping the necessary advance, which the etiquette o f

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their station required, before the carriage and horsemen. Onwards they came at a long swinging trot, arguing unwearied speed in their long-breathed calling. Such running footmen are often alluded to in old plays, (I would particularly instance “ Middleton’s M ad World my Masters,” ) and perhaps may be still remembered by some old persons in Scotland, as part o f the retinue o f the ancient nobility when travel­ ling in full ceremony.* Behind these glancing meteors, who footed it as if the Avenger o f Blood had been behind them, came a cloud o f dust, raised by riders who preceded, attended, or followed, the statecarriage o f the Marquis. T h e privilege o f nobility, in these days, had something in it im­ pressive on the imagination. The dresses and liveries and number o f their attendants, their style o f travelling, the imposing, and almost warlike air o f the armed men who surrounded them, placed them far above the laird, who travelled with his brace o f footmen; and as to rivalry from the mercantile part o f the community, they would as soon have thought o f emulating the state equipage o f the Sovereign. At present it is different; and I myself, Peter Pattieson, in a late journey to Edinburgh, had the honour, in the mail-coach phrase, to “ change a leg” with a peer o f the realm. It was not so in the days o f which I write; and the M arquis’s approach, so long expected in vain, now took place in the full pomp o f ancient aristocracy. Sir William Ashton was so much interested in what he beheld, and in considering the ceremonial o f reception in case any circumstance had been omitted, that he scarce heard his son Henry exclaim, “ there is another coach and six coming down the east road, papa— will they both belong to the M arquis o f A— — ?” * Hereupon I, Jedidiah Cleishbotham, crave leave to remark, primo, which signifies, in the first place, that, having in vain enquired at the Circulating Library in Gandercleugh, albeit it aboundeth in similar vanities, for this samyn Middleton and his Mad World, it was at length shewn unto me amongst other ancient fooleries carefully compiled by one Dodsley, who, doubtless, hath his reward for neglect of precious time; and having misused so much of mine as was necessary for the purpose, I therein found that a play-man is brought in as a footman, whom a knight is made to greet facetiously with the epithet of “linen stocking, and three-score miles a day.” Secundo, (which is secondly in the vernacular,) under Mr Pattieson’s favour, some men not altogether so old as he would represent them, do remember this species of menial, or fore-runner. In evidence of which, I, Jedidiah Cleishbotham, though mine eyes yet do me good service, remember me to have seen one of this tribe clothed in white, and bearing a staff, who ran daily before the state-coach of the umquhile John, Earl of Hopeton, father of this Earl, Charles, that now is; unto whom it may be justly said, that Renown playeth the part of a running footman, or precursor; and, as the poet singeth—

Mars standing by asserts his quarrel, And Fame flies after with a laurel.

J.C.

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At length, when the youngster had fairly compelled his attention by pulling his sleeve, H e turned his eyes, and, as he turn’d, survey’d A n awful vision.—

Surely enough, another coach and six, with four servants or out­ riders in attendance, was descending the hill from the eastward, at such a pace as made it doubtful which o f the carriages thus approach­ ing from distant quarters should first reach the gate at the extremity o f the avenue. T h e one coach was green, the other blue; and not the green and blue chariots in the Circus o f Rome or Constantinople excited more turmoil among the citizens than this double apparition occasioned in the mind o f the Lord Keeper. We all remember the terrible exclamation o f the dying profligate, when a friend, to destroy what he supposed the hypochondriac idea o f a spectre appearing in a certain shape at a given hour, placed before him a person dressed up in the manner he described. “Mon D ieu!” said the expiring sinner, who, it seems, saw both the real and polygraphic apparition— “I ly en est deux!” T h e surprise o f the Lord Keeper was scarce less unpleasing at the duplication o f the expected arrival; his mind misgave him strangely. There was no neighbour who would have approached so unceremoni­ ously, at a time when ceremony was held in such respect. It must be Lady Ashton, said his conscience, and followed up the hint with an anxious anticipation o f the purpose of her sudden and unannounced return. He felt that he was caught “ in the manner.” That the company in which she had so unluckily surprised him was likely to be highly distasteful to her, there was no question; and the only hope which remained for him was her high sense o f dignified propriety, which, he trusted, might prevent a public explosion. But so active were his doubts and fears, as altogether to derange his purposed ceremonial for the reception o f the Marquis. These feelings o f apprehension were not confined to Sir William Ashton. “ It is my mother— it is my mother,” said Lucy, turning as pale as ashes, and clasping her hands together as she looked at Ravenswood. “ And if it be Lady Ashton,” said her lover to her in a low tone, “what can be the occasion o f such alarm ?— Surely the return o f a lady to the family from which she has been so long absent, should excite other sensations than those o f fear and dismay.” “ You do not know my mother,” said M iss Ashton, in a tone almost breathless with terror; “what will she say when she sees you in this place !” “ M y stay is too long,” said Ravenswood somewhat haughtily, “ if her

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displeasure at my presence is like to be so formidable. M y dear Lucy,” he resumed, in a tone o f soothing encouragement, “you are too child­ ishly afraid o f Lady Ashton; she is a woman o f family— a lady o f fashion— a person who must know the world, and what is due to her husband and her husband’s guests.” Lucy shook her head; and, as if her mother, still at the distance o f half a mile, could have seen and scrutinized her deportment, she withdrew herself from beside Ravenswood, and, taking her brother Henry’s arm, led him to a different part o f the terrace. T he Keeper also shuffled down towards the portal o f the great gate, without invit­ ing Ravenswood to accompany him, and thus he remained standing alone on the terrace, deserted and shunned, as it were, by the inhabit­ ants o f the mansion. This suited not the mood o f one who was proud in proportion to his poverty, and who thought that, in sacrificing his deep-rooted resent­ ments so far as to become Sir William Ashton’s guest, he conferred a favour, and received none. “ I can forgive Lucy,” he said to himself; “ she is young, timid, and conscious o f an important engagement assumed without her mother’s sanction; yet she should remember with whom it has been assumed, and leave me no reason to suspect that she is ashamed o f her choice. For the Keeper, sense, spirit, and expression seem to have left his face and manner since he had the first glimpse o f Lady Ashton’s carriage. I must watch how this is to end; and, if they give me reason to think myself an unwelcome guest, my visit is soon abridged.” With these suspicions floating on his mind he left the terrace, and, walking towards the stables of the castle, gave directions that his horse should be kept in readiness, in case he should have occasion to ride abroad. In the meanwhile the drivers o f the two carriages, the approach o f which had occasioned so much dismay at the castle, had become aware o f each other’s presence as they approached upon different lines to the head o f the avenue, as a common centre. Lady Ashton’s driver and postillions instantly received orders to get foremost, if possible, her ladyship being desirous o f dispatching her first interview with her husband before the arrival o f these guests, whoever they might happen to be. On the other hand, the coachman o f the Marquis, conscious o f his own dignity and that o f his master, and observing the rival charioteer was mending his pace, resolved, like a true brother o f the whip, whether ancient or modern, to vindicate his right o f preced­ ence. So that, to increase the confusion o f the Lord K eeper’s under­ standing, he saw the short time which remained for consideration abridged by the haste o f the contending coachmen, who, fixing their

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eyes sternly on each other, and applying the lash smartly to their horses, began to thunder down the descent with emulous rapidity, while the horsemen who attended them were forced to put on to a hand gallop. Sir William’s only chance now remaining was the possibility o f an overturn, and that his lady or visitor might break their necks. I am not aware that he formed any distinct wish on the subject, but I have no reason to think that his grief in either case would have been altogether inconsolable. This chance, however, also disappeared; for Lady Ash­ ton, though insensible to fear, began to see the ridicule o f running a race with a visitor o f distinction, the goal being the portal o f her own castle, and commanded her coachman, as they approached the avenue, to slacken his pace, and allow precedence to the stranger’s equipage, a command which he gladly obeyed, as coming in time to save his honour, the horses o f the M arquis’s carriage being better, or, at least, fresher than his own. He restrained his speed, therefore, and suffered the green coach to enter the avenue, with all its retinue, which pass it occupied with the speed o f a whirlwind. T h e M arquis’s laced charioteer no sooner found the pas d'avance was granted to him, than he resumed a more deliberate pace, at which he advanced under the embowering shade o f the lofty elms, surrounded by all the attend­ ants; while the carriage o f Lady Ashton followed still more slowly at some distance. In the front o f the castle, and beneath the portal which admitted guests into the inner court, stood Sir William Ashton, much perplexed in mind, his younger son and daughter beside him, and in their rear a train o f attendants o f various ranks, in and out o f livery. T h e nobility and gentry o f Scotland, at this period, were remarkable even to extra­ vagance for the number o f their servants, whose services were easily purchased in a country where men were numerous in proportion to the means o f employing them. The manners o f a man, trained like Sir William Ashton, are too much at his command to remain long disconcerted with the most adverse concurrence o f circumstances. H e received the Marquis, as he alighted from his equipage, with the usual compliments o f wel­ come; and, as he ushered him into the great hall, expressed his hope that his journey had been pleasant. T h e Marquis was a tall, well-made man, with a thoughtful and intelligent countenance, and an eye, in which the fire o f ambition had for some years replaced the vivacity o f youth; a bold, proud expression o f countenance, yet chastened by habitual caution, and the desire which, as the head o f a party, he necessarily entertained o f acquiring popularity. He answered with courtesy the courteous enquiries o f the Lord Keeper, and was

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formally presented to M iss Ashton, in the course o f which ceremony Sir William gave the first symptom o f what was chiefly occupying his mind, by introducing her as “ his wife, Lady Ashton.” Lucy blushed; the Marquis looked surprised at the extremely juvenile appearance o f his hostess, and the Lord Keeper with diffi­ culty rallied himself so far as to explain. “ I should have said my daughter, my lord; but the truth is, that I saw Lady Ashton’s carriage enter the avenue shortly after your lordship’s, and” — — “ Make no apology, my lord,” replied his noble guest; “ let me entreat you will wait on your lady, and leave me to cultivate M iss Ashton’s acquaintance. I am shocked my people should have taken precedence o f our hostess at her own gate; but your lordship is aware, that I supposed Lady Ashton was still in the south. Let me entreat you will waive ceremony, and hasten to welcome her.” This was precisely what the Lord Keeper longed to do; and he instantly profited by his lordship’s obliging permission. T o see Lady Ashton, and encounter the first burst o f her displeasure in private, might prepare her, in some degree, to receive her unwelcome guests with due decorum. As her carriage, therefore, stopped, the arm o f the attentive husband was ready to assist Lady Ashton in dismounting. Looking as if she saw him not, she put his arm aside, and requested that o f Captain Craigengelt, who stood by the coach with his laced hat under his arm, having acted as cavaliere servente, or squire in attend­ ance, during the journey. Taking hold o f this respectable person’s arm as if to support her, Lady Ashton traversed the court, uttering a word or two by way o f direction to the servants, but not one to Sir William, who in vain endeavoured to attract her attention, as he rather followed than accompanied her into the hall, in which they found the M arquis in close conversation with the Master o f Ravenswood: Lucy had taken the first opportunity o f escaping. There was embarrassment on every countenance except that o f the Marquis o f A— — , for even Craigen­ gelt’s impudence was hardly able to veil his fear o f Ravenswood, and the rest felt the awkwardness o f the position in which they were thus unexpectedly placed. After waiting a moment to be presented by Sir William Ashton, the M arquis resolved to introduce himself. “ T he Lord K eeper,” he said, bowing to Lady Ashton, “ has just introduced to me his daughter as his wife— he might very easily present Lady Ashton as his daughter, so little does she differ from what I remember her some years since— Will she permit an old acquaintance the privilege o f a guest?” He saluted the lady with too good a grace to apprehend a repulse, and then proceeded— “ This, Lady Ashton, is a peace-making visit, and therefore I presume to introduce my cousin, the young M aster o f

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Ravenswood, to your favourable notice.” Lady Ashton could not chuse but courtsy; but there was in her obeisance an air o f haughtiness approaching to contemptuous repulse. Ravenswood could not chuse but bow; but his manner returned the scorn with which he had been greeted. “ Allow me,” she said, “ to present to your lordship my friend.” Craigengelt, with the forward impudence which men o f his cast mis­ take for ease, made a sliding bow to the Marquis, which he graced by a flourish o f his gold-laced hat. T h e lady turned to her husband— “ You and I, Sir William,” she said, and these were the first words she had addressed to him, “ have acquired new acquaintances since we parted — let me introduce the acquisition I have made to mine— Captain Craigengelt.” Another bow, and another flourish o f the gold-laced hat, which was returned by the Lord Keeper without intimation o f former recogni­ tion, and with that sort of anxious readiness, which intimated his wish, that peace and amnesty should take place betwixt the contending parties, including the auxiliaries on both sides. “ Let me introduce you to the M aster o f Ravenswood,” said he to Captain Craigengelt, fol­ lowing up the same amicable system. But the Master drew up his tall form to the full extent o f his height, and without so much as looking towards the person thus introduced to him, he said, in a marked tone, “ Captain Craigengelt and I are already perfectly acquainted with each other.” “ Perfectly— perfectly,” replied the Captain, in a mumbling tone, like that o f a double echo, and with a flourish o f his hat, the circumfer­ ence o f which was greatly abridged, compared with those which had so cordially graced his introduction to the Marquis and the Lord Keeper. Lockhard, followed by three menials, now entered with wine and refreshments, which it was the fashion to offer as a whet before din­ ner; and when they were placed before the guests, Lady Ashton made an apology for withdrawing her husband from them for some minutes upon business o f special import. The Marquis, o f course, requested her ladyship would lay herself under no restraint; and Craigengelt, bolting with speed a second glass o f racy canary, hastened to leave the room, feeling no great pleasure in the prospect o f being left alone with the Marquis o f A— — and the M aster o f Ravenswood; the presence o f the former holding him in awe, and that o f the latter in bodily terror. Some arrangements about his horse and baggage formed the pretext for his sudden retreat, in which he persevered, although Lady Ashton gave Lockhard orders to be careful most particularly to accommodate Captain Craigengelt with all the attendance which he could possibly

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require. T h e Marquis and the M aster o f Ravenswood were thus left to communicate to each other their remarks upon the reception which they had met with, while Lady Ashton led the way, and her lord followed somewhat like a condemned criminal, to her ladyship’s undressing-room. So soon as they had both entered, her ladyship gave way to that fierce audacity o f temper, which she had with difficulty suppressed, out o f respect to appearances. She shut the door behind the alarmed Lord Keeper, took the key out o f the spring-lock, and with a counten­ ance which years had not bereft o f its haughty charms, and eyes which spoke at once resolution and resentment, she addressed her aston­ ished husband in these words :— “ M y lord, I am not greatly surprised at the connections you have been pleased to form during my absence — they are entirely in conformity to your birth and breeding; and if I did expect any thing else, I heartily own my error, and that I merit, by having done so, the disappointment you had prepared for me.” “ M y dear Lady Ashton— my dear Eleanor,” said the Lord Keeper, “ listen to reason for a moment, and I will convince you I have acted with all the regard due to the dignity, as well as the interest o f my family.” “ T o the interest o f your family I conceive you perfectly capable o f attending,” returned the indignant lady, “ and even to the dignity o f your family also— But as mine happens to be inextricably involved with it, you will excuse me if I chuse to give my own attention so far as that is concerned.” “ What would you have, Lady Ashton?” said the husband— “ What is it that displeases you ? Why is it, that on your return after so long an absence, I am arraigned in this manner?” “ Ask your own conscience, Sir William, what has prompted you to become a renegade to your political party and opinions, and, for what I know, to be on the point o f marrying your only daughter to a beggarly jacobite bankrupt, the inveterate enemy o f your family to the boot.” “Why, what, in the name o f common sense and common civility, would you have me do, madam ?” answered her husband— “ Is it poss­ ible for me, with ordinary decency, to turn a young gentleman out o f my house, who saved my daughter’s life and my own, but the other morning as it were ?” “ Saved your life! I have heard o f that story,” said the lady— “ the Lord Keeper was scared by a dun cow, and he takes the young fellow who killed her for Guy o f Warwick— any butcher from Haddington may soon have an equal claim on your hospitality.” “ Lady Ashton,” stammered the Keeper, “ this is intolerable— and when I am desirous, too, to make you easy by any sacrifice— if you

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would but tell me what you would be at.” “ G o down to your guests,” said the imperious dame, “ and make your apology to Ravenswood, that the arrival o f Captain Craigengelt and some other friends, renders it impossible for you to offer him lodgings at the castle— I expect young M r Hayston o f Bucklaw.” “ Good Heavens, madam !” ejaculated her husband— “ Ravenswood to give place to Craigengelt, a common gambler and an informer !— it was all I could do to forbear desiring the fellow to get out o f my house, and I was much surprised to see him in your ladyship’s train.” “ Since you saw him there, you might be well assured,” answered this meek helpmate, “ that he was proper society. As to this Ravens­ wood, he only meets with the treatment which, to my certain know­ ledge, he gave to a much valued friend o f mine, who had the misfortune to be his guest some time since. But take your resolution; for, if Ravenswood does not quit the house, I will.” Sir William Ashton paced up and down the apartment in the most distressing agitation; fear, and shame, and anger contending against the habitual deference he was in the use o f rendering to his lady. At length it ended, as is usual with timid minds placed in such circum­ stances, in his adopting a mezzo-termine, a middle measure. “ I tell you frankly, madam, I neither can nor will be guilty o f the incivility you propose to the Master o f Ravenswood— he has not deserved it at my hand. I f you will be so unreasonable as to insult a man o f quality under your own roof, I cannot prevent you, but I will not at least be the agent in such a preposterous proceeding.” “ You will not?” asked the lady. “ No, by Heavens, madam,” her husband replied; “ ask me anything congruent with common decency, as to drop his acquaintance by degrees, or the like— but to bid him leave my house, is what I will not, and cannot consent to.” “ Then the task o f supporting the honour o f the family will fall on me, as it has often done before,” said the lady. She sat down, and hastily wrote a few lines. T h e Lord Keeper made another effort to prevent her taking a step so decisive, just as she opened the door to call her female attendant from the anti-room. “ Think what you are doing, Lady Ashton— you are making a mortal enemy o f a young man, who is like to have the means o f harming “ Did you ever know a Douglas who feared an enemy?” answered the lady contemptuously. “ Ay, but he is as proud and vindictive as an hundred Douglasses, and an hundred devils to boot. Think o f it for a night only.” “ Not for another moment,” answered the lady;— “ here, M rs

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Patullo, give this billet to young Ravenswood.” “ T o the Master, madam?” said M rs Patullo. “ Ay, to the Master, if you call him so.” “ I wash my hands o f it entirely,” said the K eeper; “ and I shall go down into the garden, and see that Jardine gathers the winter fruit for the dessert.” “ D o so,” said the lady, looking after him with looks o f infinite contempt; “ and thank God that you leave one behind you as fit to protect the honour o f the family, as you are to look after pippins and pears.” The Lord Keeper remained long enough in the garden to give her ladyship’s mine time to explode, and to let, as he thought, at least the first violence o f Ravenswood’s displeasure blow over. When he entered the hall, he found the Marquis o f A — — giving orders to some o f his attendants. He seemed in high displeasure, and inter­ rupted an apology which Sir William had commenced, for having left his lordship alone. “ I presume, Sir William, you are no stranger to this singular billet with which my kinsman o f Ravenswood (an emphasis on the word my) has been favoured by your lady— and, o f course, that you are prepared to receive my adieus— M y kinsman is already gone, having thought it unnecessary to offer any on his part, since all former civilities have been cancelled by this singular insult.” “ I protest, my lord,” said Sir William, holding the billet in his hand, “ I am not privy to the contents o f this letter. I know Lady Ashton is a warm-tempered and prejudiced woman, and I am sincerely sorry for any offence that has been given or taken; but I hope your lordship will consider that a lady” — — “ Should bear herself towards persons o f a certain rank with the breeding o f one,” said the Marquis, completing the half-uttered sen­ tence. “ True, my lord,” said the unfortunate Keeper; “ but Lady Ashton is still a woman”— — “ And as such, methinks,” said the Marquis, again interrupting him, “ should be taught the duties which correspond to her station. But here she comes, and I will learn from her own mouth the reason o f this extraordinary and unexpected affront offered to my near relation, while both he and I were her ladyship’s guests.” Lady Ashton accordingly entered the apartment at this moment. H er dispute with Sir William, and a subsequent interview with her daughter, had not prevented her from attending to the duties o f her toilette. She appeared in full dress; and, from the character o f her countenance and manner, well became the splendour with which

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ladies o f quality then appeared on such occasions. Th e Marquis o f A— — bowed haughtily, and she returned the salute with equal pride and distance o f demeanour. He then took from the passive hand o f Sir William Ashton the billet he had given him the moment before he approached the lady, and was about to speak, when she interrupted him. “ I perceive, my lord, you are about to enter upon an unpleasant subject. I am sorry any such should have occurred at this time, to interrupt, in the slightest degree, the respectful reception due to your lordship— but so it is.— M r Edgar Ravenswood, for whom I have addressed the billet in your lordship’s hand, has abused the hospitality o f this family, and Sir William Ashton’s softness o f temper, in order to seduce a young person into engagements without her parents’ consent, and o f which they never can approve.” Both gentlemen answered at once,— “ M y kinsman is incapable” — — said the Lord Marquis. “ I am confident that my daughter Lucy is still more incapable” — — said the Lord Keeper. Lady Ashton at once interrupted, and replied to them both,— “ M y Lord Marquis, your kinsman, if M r Ravenswood has the honour to be so, has made this attempt privately to secure the affections o f this young and inexperienced girl.— Sir William Ashton, your daughter has been simple enough to give more encouragement than she ought to have done to so very improper a suitor.” “ And I think, madam,” said the Lord Keeper, losing his accus­ tomed temper and patience, “ that if you had nothing better to tell us, you had better have kept this family secret to yourself also.” “ You will pardon me, Sir William,” said the lady, calmly; “ the noble Marquis has a right to know the cause o f the treatment I have found it necessary to use to a gentleman whom he calls his blood-relation.” “ It is a cause,” muttered the Lord Keeper, “which has emerged since the effect has taken place; for, if it exists at all, I am sure she knew nothing o f it when her letter to Ravenswood was written.” “ It is the first time that I have heard o f this,” said the Marquis; “ but since your ladyship has tabled a subject so delicate, permit me to say, that my kinsman’s birth and connections entitled him to a patient hearing, and, at least, a civil refusal, even in case o f his being so ambitious as to raise his eyes to the daughter o f Sir William Ashton. ” “ You will recollect, my lord, o f what blood M iss Lucy Ashton is come by the mother’s side,” said the lady. “ I do remember your descent— from a younger branch o f the house o f Angus,” said the M arquis— “ and your ladyship— forgive me, lady — ought not to forget that the Ravenswoods have thrice intermarried with the main branch. Come, madam— I know how matters stand—

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old and long-fostered prejudices are difficult to get over— I make every allowance for them— I ought not, and I would not have suffered my kinsman to depart alone, expelled, in a manner, from this house— but I had hopes o f being a mediator. I am still unwilling to leave you in anger— and shall not set forward till after noon, as I rejoin the Master o f Ravenswood upon the road a few miles from hence. Let us talk over this matter more coolly.” “ It is what I anxiously desire, my lord,” said Sir William Ashton, eagerly. “ Lady Ashton, we will not permit my Lord o f A— — to leave us in displeasure. We must compel him to tarry dinner at the castle.” “ T h e castle,” said the lady, “ and all that it contains, are at the command o f the Marquis, so long as he chuses to honour it with his residence— but touching the farther discussion o f this disagreeable topic”— — “ Pardon me, good madam,” said the M arquis; “ but I cannot allow you to express any hasty resolution on a subject so important. I see that more company is arriving; and since I have the good fortune to renew my former acquaintance with Lady Ashton, I hope she will give me leave to avoid perilling what I prize so highly upon any disagreeable subject o f discussion— at least, till we have talked over more agreeable topics.” T h e lady smiled, curtsied, and gave her hand to the Marquis, by whom, with all the formal gallantry o f the time, which did not permit the guest to tuck the lady o f the house under the arm, as a rustic does his sweetheart at a wake, she was ushered to the eating-room. Here they were joined by Bucklaw, Craigengelt, and other neigh­ bours, whom the Lord Keeper had previously invited to meet the Marquis o f A— — . An apology, founded upon a slight indisposition, was alleged as an excuse for the absence o f M iss Ashton, whose seat appeared unoccupied. T he entertainment was splendid to profusion, and was protracted till a late hour.

Chapter Nine Su ch was our fallen father’s state, Y et better than mine own; H e shared his exile with his mate, Pm banished forth alone. W al l e r

I Wi l l n o t attempt to describe the mixture o f indignation and regret with which Ravenswood left the seat which had belonged to his ancestors. T h e terms in which Lady Ashton’s billet was couched rendered it impossible for him, without being deficient in that spirit of

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which he perhaps had too much, to remain an instant longer within its walls. The Marquis, who had his share in the affront, was, neverthe­ less, still willing to make some efforts at conciliation. He therefore suffered his kinsman to depart alone, making him promise, however, that he would wait for him at the small inn called the T o d ’s-hole, situated, as our readers may be pleased to recollect, half way betwixt Ravenswood Castle and Wolfscrag, and about five Scottish miles distant from each. Here the M arquis proposed to join the Master of Ravenswood, either that night or the next morning. His own feelings would have induced him to have left the castle directly, but he was loth to forfeit, without at least one effort, the advantages which he had proposed from his visit to the Lord K eeper; and in consideration of the circumstances in which he stood with Lucy the Master o f Ravenswood was, even in the very heat o f his resentment, unwilling to foreclose any chance o f reconciliation which might arise out o f the partiality which Sir William Ashton had shewn towards him, as well as the intercessory arguments o f his noble kinsman. He himself departed without a moment’s delay, farther than was necessary to make this arrangement. At first he spurred his horse at a quick pace through an avenue of the park, as if, by rapidity o f motion, he could stupify the confusion o f feelings with which he was assailed. But as the road grew wilder and more sequestered, and when the trees had hidden the turrets o f the castle, he gradually slackened his pace, as if to indulge those painful reflections which he had in vain endeavoured to repress. T h e path in which he found him self led him to the Mermaiden’s Fountain, and to the cottage o f Alice; and the fatal influence which superstitious belief attached to the former spot, as well as the admonitions which had been in vain offered to him by the inhabitant o f the latter, forced themselves upon his memory. “O ld saws speak truth,” he said to himself; “ and the Mermaiden’s Well has indeed witnessed the last act o f rashness o f the heir o f Ravenswood.— Alice spoke well,” he continued, “ and I am in the situation which she foretold— or rather I am more deeply dis­ honoured— not the dependent and ally o f the destroyer o f my father’s house, as the old sybil presaged, but the degraded wretch, who has aspired to hold that subordinate character, and has been rejected with disdain.” We are bound to tell the tale as we have received it; and, consider­ ing the distance o f the time, and propensity o f those through whose mouths it has passed to the marvellous, this would not be a Scottish story, unless it manifested a tinge o f Scottish superstition. As Ravens­ wood approached the solitary fountain, he is said to have met with the following singular adventure :— His horse, which was moving slowly

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forward, suddenly interrupted its steady and composed pace, snorted, reared, and, though urged by the spur, refused to proceed, as if some object o f terror had suddenly presented itself. On looking to the fountain, Ravenswood discerned a female figure, dressed in a white, or rather greyish mantle, placed in the very spot on which Lucy Ash­ ton had reclined while listening to his fatal tale o f love. His immediate impression was, that she had conjectured by which path he would traverse the park on his departure, and placed herself at this wellknown and sequestered place o f rendezvous, to indulge her own sor­ row and his in a parting interview. In this belief he jumped from his horse, and, making its bridle fast to a tree, walked hastily towards the fountain, pronouncing eagerly, yet under his breath, the words, “ M iss Ashton !— L u c y !” T h e figure turned as he addressed it, and displayed to his won­ dering eyes the features, not of Lucy Ashton, but o f old blind Alice. The singularity o f her dress, which rather resembled a shroud than the garment o f a living woman— the appearance o f her person, larger, as it struck him, than it usually seemed to be— above all, the strange circumstance o f a blind and decrepit person being found at a dis­ tance from her habitation, (considerable if her infirmities be taken into account,) combined to impress him with a feeling o f wonder approaching to fear. As he approached her, she rose up from her seat, held her shrivelled hand up as if to prevent his coming more near, and her withered lips moved fast, although no sound issued from them; and as, after a moment’s pause, he again advanced towards her, Alice, or her apparition, moved or glided backwards towards the thicket, still keeping her face turned towards him. T he trees soon hid her from his sight; and, yielding to the strong and terrific impression that the form which he had seen was not o f this world, the M aster o f Ravenswood remained rooted to the ground whereon he had stood when he caught his last view o f her. At length, summoning up his courage, he advanced to the spot on which the figure had seemed to be seated; but neither was there pressure o f the grass, nor any other circumstance, to induce him to believe that what he had seen was real and substantial. Full o f those strange thoughts and confused apprehensions which awake in the bosom o f one who conceives he has witnessed some preternatural appearance, the Master o f Ravenswood walked back towards his horse, frequently however looking behind him, not with­ out apprehension, as if expecting that the vision would re-appear. But the apparition, whether it was real, or whether it was the creation o f a heated and agitated imagination, returned not again; and he found his horse sweating and terrified, as if experiencing that agony o f fear, with

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which the presence o f a supernatural being is supposed to agitate the brute creation. T h e Master mounted, and rode slowly forward, sooth­ ing his horse from time to time, while the animal seemed internally to shrink and shudder, as if expecting some new object o f fear at the opening o f every glade. T he rider, after a moment’s consideration, resolved to investigate the matter further. “ Can my eyes have deceived me,” he said, “ and deceived me for such a space o f time ?— Or are this woman’s infirmities but feigned, in order to excite compassion?— And even then, her motion resembled not that o f a living and existing person. M ust I adopt the popular creed, and think that the unhappy being has formed a league with the powers o f darkness ?— I am deter­ mined to be resolved— I will not brook imposition even from my own eyes.” In this uncertainty he rode up to the little wicket o f Alice’s garden. H er seat beneath the birch-tree was vacant, though the day was pleas­ ant, and the sun was high. He approached the hut, and heard from within the sobs and wailing o f a female. No answer was returned when he knocked, so that, after a moment’s pause, he lifted the latch and entered. It was indeed a house o f solitude and sorrow. Stretched upon her miserable pallet lay the corpse o f the last retainer o f the house o f Ravenswood who still abode on their paternal domains. Life had but shortly departed; and the little girl by whom she had been attended in her last moments was wringing her hands and sobbing, betwixt child­ ish fear and sorrow, over the body o f her mistress. The Master o f Ravenswood had some difficulty to compose the terrors o f the poor child, whom his unexpected appearance had at first rather appalled than comforted; and when he succeeded, the first expression which the girl used intimated that “ he had come too late.” Upon enquiring the meaning o f this expression, he learned that the deceased, upon the first attack o f the mortal agony, had sent a peasant to the castle to beseech an interview o f the Master of Ravenswood, and had expressed the utmost impatience for his return. But the messengers o f the poor are tardy and negligent: the fellow had not reached the castle, as was afterwards learned, until Ravens­ wood had left it, and had then found too much amusement among the retinue o f the strangers to return in any haste to the cottage of Alice. Meantime her anxiety o f mind seemed to increase with the agony o f her body; and, to use the phrase o f Babie, her only attendant, “ she prayed powerfully that she might see her master’s son once more, and renew her warning.” She died just as the clock in the distant village church tolled one; and Ravenswood remembered, with internal shuddering, that he had heard the chime sound through the wood just before he had seen what he was now much disposed to

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consider as the spectre o f the deceased. It was necessary, as well from his respect to the departed as in common humanity to her terrified attendant, that he should take some measures to relieve the girl from her distressing situation. The deceased, he understood, had expressed a desire to be buried in a solitary church-yard near the little inn o f the T o d ’s-hole, called the Hermitage, or more commonly Armitage, in which lay interred some o f the Ravenswood family, and many o f their followers. Ravenswood conceived it his duty to gratify this predilection, so commonly found to exist among the Scottish peasantry, and dispatched Babie to the neighbouring village to procure the assistance o f some females, assur­ ing her that, in the meanwhile, he would him self remain with the dead body, which, as in Thessaly o f old, it is accounted highly unfit to leave without a watch. Thus, in the course o f a quarter o f an hour, or little more, he found him self sitting, a solitary guard over the inanimate corse o f her, whose dismissed spirit, unless his eyes had strangely deceived him, had so shortly before manifested itself before him. Notwithstanding his nat­ ural courage, the Master was considerably affected by a concurrence o f circumstances so extraordinary. “ She died expressing her eager desire to see me. Can it be, then,”— was his natural course o f reflec­ tion— “ can strong and earnest wishes, formed during the last agony o f nature, survive its catastrophe, surmount the awful bounds o f the spiritual world, and place before us its inhabitants in the hues and colouring o f life ?— And why was that manifested to the eye which could not unfold its tale to the ear?— and wherefore should a breach be made in the laws o f nature, yet its purpose remain unknown?— Vain questions, which only Death, when it shall make me like the pale and withered form before me, can ever resolve.” He laid a cloth, as he spoke, over the lifeless face, upon whose features he felt unwilling any longer to dwell. He then took his place in an old carved oaken chair, ornamented with his own armorial bear­ ings, which Alice had contrived to appropriate to her own use in the pillage which took place amongst creditors, officers, domestics, and messengers o f the law, when his father left Ravenswood Castle for the last time. Thus seated, he banished, as much as he could, the supersti­ tious feelings which the late incident naturally inspired. His own were sad enough, without the exaggerations o f supernatural terror, since he found himself transferred from the situation o f a successful lover o f Lucy Ashton, and an honoured and respected friend o f her father, into the melancholy and solitary guardian o f the abandoned and for­ saken corpse o f a common pauper. He was relieved, however, o f his sad office sooner than he could

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reasonably have expected, from the distance betwixt the hut o f the deceased and the village, and the age and infirmities o f three old women, who came from thence, in military phrase, to relieve guard upon the body o f the defunct. On any other occasion the speed o f these reverend sybils would have been much more moderate, for the first was eighty years o f age and upwards, the second was paralytic, and the third lame o f a leg from some accident. But the burial duties rendered to the deceased, are, to the Scottish peasant o f either sex, a labour o f love. I know not whether it is from the temper o f the people, grave and enthusiastic as it certainly is, or from the recollection o f the ancient catholic opinions, when the funeral rites were always con­ sidered as a period o f festival to the living; but feasting, good cheer, and even inebriety, were, and are, the frequent accompaniments o f a Scottish old-fashioned burial. What the funeral feast, or dirgie, as it is called, was to the men, the gloomy preparations o f the dead body for the coffin were to the women. T o streight the contorted limbs upon a board used for that melancholy purpose, to array the corpse in clean linen, and over that in its woollen shroud, were operations committed always to the old matrons of the village, and in which they found a singular and gloomy delight. T h e old women paid the M aster their salutations with a ghastly smile, which reminded him o f the meeting betwixt Macbeth and the witches on the blasted heath o f Forres. He gave them some money, and recommended to them the charge o f the dead body o f their contemporary, an office which they willingly undertook; intimating to him at the same time that he must leave the hut, in order that they might begin their mournful duties. Ravenswood readily agreed to depart, only tarrying to recommend to them due attention to the body, and to receive information where he was to find the sexton, or beadle, who had in charge the deserted church-yard o f the Armitage, in order to prepare matters for the reception o f old Alice in the place o f repose which she had selected for herself. “ Y e ’ll no be pinched to find out Johnie Mortsheugh,” said the eldest sybil, and still her withered cheek bore a grisly smile— “ he dwells near the T o d ’s-hole, an house o f entertainment where there has been mony a blithe birling— for death and drink-draining are near neighbours to ane anither.” “ Ay! and that’s e’en true, cummer,” said the lame hag, propping herself with a crutch which supplied the shortness o f her left leg, “ for I mind when the father o f this M aster o f Ravenswood that is now standing before us, sticked young Blackhall with his whinger, for a wrang word said ower their wine, or brandy, or what not— He gaed in as light as a lark, and he came out with his feet foremost. I was at the

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winding o f the corpse; and when the bluid was washed off, he was a bonnie bouk o f man’s body.” It may be easily believed that this ill-timed anecdote hastened the M aster’s purpose o f quitting a company so evil-omened and so odi­ ous. Yet, while walking to the tree to which his horse was tied, and busying himself with adjusting the girths o f the saddle, he could not avoid hearing, through the hedge o f the little garden, a conversation respecting himself, betwixt the lame woman and the octogenarian sybil. The pair had hobbled into the garden to gather rosemary, southern-wood, rue, and other plants proper to be strewed on the body, and burned by way o f fumigation in the chimney o f the cottage. T h e paralytic wretch, almost exhausted by the journey, was left guard upon the corpse, least witches or fiends might play their sport with it. Th e following low croaking dialogue was necessarily overheard by the M aster o f Ravenswood :— “ That’s a fresh and a full-grown hem­ lock, Ailsie Gourlay— mony a cummer lang syne wad hae sought nae better horse to flee over hill and how, through mist and moonlight, and light doun in the King o f France’s cellar.” “ Ay, cummer ! but the very de’il has turned as hard-hearted now as the Lord Keeper, and the grit folk that hae breasts like whin-stane. They prick us and they pine us, and they pit us on the pinny-winkles for witches; and, if I say my prayers backwards ten times ower, Satan will never gi’e me amends 0’ them.” “ Did ye ever see the foul thief?” asked her neighbour. “ N a !” replied the other spokeswoman; “but I trow I hae dreamed o f him mony a time, and I think the day will come they will burn me for’t. But ne’er mind, cummer ! we hae this dollar o f the M aster’s, and w e’ll send doun for bread and for aill, and tobacco, and a drap brandy to burn, and a wee pickle saft sugar— and be there de’il or nae de’il, lass, w e’se hae a merry night o’t.” Here her leathern chops uttered a sort o f cackling ghastly laugh, resembling, to a certain degree, the cry o f the screech-owl. “ He is a frank man, and a free-handed man, the M aster,” said Annie Winnie, “ and a comely personage— broad in the shouthers, an’ narrow around the lungies— he wad mak a bonnie corpse— I wad like to hae the streaking and winding o’ him.” “ It is written on his brow, Annie Winnie,” returned the octogen­ arian, her companion, “ that hand o f woman, or o f man either, will never straught him— dead-deal will never be laid to his back— make you your market o f that, for I hae it frae a sure hand.” “Will it be his lot to die on the battle-ground than, Ailsie Gourlay? — will he die by the sword or the ball, as his furbeirs hae dune before him mony ane o’ them?”

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“ Ask nae mair questions about it— he’ll no be graced sae far,” replied the sage. “ I ken ye are wiser than ither folk, Ailsie Gourlay— But wha tell’d ye this?” “ Fashna your thumb about that, Annie Winnie,” answered the sybil — “ I hae it frae a hand sure aneugh.” “ But ye said ye never saw the foul thief,” reiterated her inquisitive companion. “ I hae it frae as sure a hand,” said Ailsie, “ and from them that spaed his fortune before the sark gaed ower his head.” “ Hark ! I hear his horse-feet riding off,” said the other; “ they dinna sound as if good luck was wi’ them.” “ M ak haste, sirs,” cried the paralytic hag from the cottage, “ and let us do what is needfu’, and say what is fitting; for, if the dead corpse binna straughted, it will girn and thraw, and that will fear the best o f us.” Ravenswood was now out o f hearing. He despised most o f the ordinary prejudices about witchcraft, omens, and vaticination, to which his age and country still gave such implicit credit, that to express a doubt o f them, was accounted a crime equal to the unbelief o f Jew s or Saracens. He knew also that the prevailing belief concern­ ing witches, operating upon the hypochondriac habits o f those whom age, infirmity, and poverty rendered liable to suspicion, and enforced by the fear o f death, and the pangs o f the most cruel tortures, often extorted those confessions which encumber and disgrace the criminal records o f Scotland during the seventeenth century. But the vision o f that morning, whether real or imaginary, had impressed his mind with a superstitious feeling which he in vain endeavoured to shake off. The nature o f the business which awaited him at the little inn, called T o d ’s-hole, where he soon after arrived, was not o f a kind to restore his spirits. It was necessary he should see Mortsheugh, the sexton o f the old burial-ground at Armitage, to arrange matters for the funeral o f Alice; and as the man dwelt near the place o f her late residence, the Master, after a slight refreshment, walked towards the place where the body o f Alice was to be deposited. It was situated in the nook formed by the eddying sweep o f a stream, which issued from the adjoining hills. A rude cavern in an adjacent rock, which, in the interior, was cut into the shape o f a cross, formed the hermitage, where some Saxon saint had in ancient times done penance, and given name to the place. T h e rich Abbey o f Coldinghame had, in latter days, established a chapel in the neighbourhood, o f which no vestige was now visible, though the church-yard which surrounded it, was still, as upon the

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present occasion, used for the interment o f particular persons. One or two shattered yew-trees still grew within the precincts o f that which had once been holy ground. Warriors and barons had been buried there o f old, but their names were forgotten, and their monuments demolished. T h e only sepulchral memorials which remained, were the upright head-stones which mark the grave o f persons o f an inferior rank. T h e abode o f the sexton was a solitary cottage adjacent to the ruined wall o f the cemetery, but so low, and having its thatch, which nearly reached the ground, covered with such a crop o f grass, fog, and house leeks, that it resembled an overgrown grave. On enquiry, however, Ravenswood found that the man o f the last mattock was absent at a bridal, being fiddler as well as grave-digger to the vicinity. He therefore retired to the little inn, leaving a message that early next morning he would again call for the person, whose double occupation connected him at once with the house o f mourning and the house o f feasting. An outrider o f the Marquis arrived at T o d ’s-hole shortly after, with a message intimating that his master would join Ravenswood at that place on the following morning; and the Master, who would other­ wise have proceeded to his old retreat at Wolfscrag, remained there accordingly, to give the meeting to his noble kinsman.

Chapter Ten Hamlet. H as this fellow no feeling o f his business— he sings at grave making. Horatio. Custom hath made it in him a property o f easiness. Hamlet. ’ T is e’en so, the hand o f little employment hath the daintier sense. S hakespeare T h e sleep o f Ravenswood was broken by ghastly and agitating visions, and his waking intervals disturbed by melancholy reflections on the past, and painful anticipations o f the future. He was perhaps the only traveller who ever slept in that miserable kennel without complaining o f his lodgings, or feeling inconvenience from their defi­ ciencies. It is when “ the mind is free the body’s delicate.” Morning, however, found him an early riser, in hopes that the fresh air o f the dawn might afford the refreshment which night had refused him. He took his way towards the solitary burial-ground, which lay about half a mile from the inn. T h e thin blue smoke, which already began to curl upward, and to distinguish the cottage o f the living from the habitation o f the dead,

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apprized him that its inmate had returned and was stirring. Accord ingly, on entering the little church-yard, he saw the old man labouring in a half-made grave. M y destiny, thought Ravenswood, seems to lead me to scenes o f fate and o f death; but these are childish thoughts, and they shall not master me. I will not again suffer my imagination to beguile my senses.— T h e old man rested on his spade as the Master approached him, as if to receive his commands, and as he did not immediately speak, the sexton opened the discourse in his own way. “ Ye will be a wedding customer, sir, I’se warrant.” “ What makes you think so, friend?” replied the Master. “ I live by twa trades, sir,” replied the blythe old man; “ fiddle, sir, and shovel; filling the world, and emptying o f it— bridals and burials; and I suld ken baith cast o f customers by head-mark in thirty years practice.” “ You are mistaken, however, this morning,” replied Ravenswood. “ Am I ?” said the old man, looking keenly at him, “ troth and it may be; since, for as brent as your brow is, there is something sitting upon it this day, that is as near akin to death as to wedlock— weel— weel— the pick and shool are as ready to your order as bow and fiddle.” “ I wish you,” said Ravenswood, “ to look after the decent interment o f an old woman, Alice Gray, who lived at the Craig-foot in Ravens wood Park.” “ Alice Gray ! blind Alice !” said the sexton; “ and is she gane at last? that is another jow o f the bell to bid me be ready. I mind when Habbie Gray brought her down to this land; a likely lass she was then, and looked ower her southland nose at us a’. I trow her pride got a downcome— and is she e’en gane?” “ She died yesterday,” said Ravenswood; “ and desired to be buried here, beside her husband; you will know where he lies, no doubt.” “ K en where he lies?” answered the sexton, with national indirec­ tion o f response, “ I ken where a’ body lies, that lies here— but grave ? — Lord help us— it’s no an ordinar grave will haud her in, if a’s true that folks said o f Alice in her auld days— And if I gae to six feet deep, and a warlock’s grave shouldna be an inch mair ebb, or her ain witch cummers would soon whirl her out o f her shroud for a’ their auld acquaintance— And be’t six feet, or be’t three, wha’s to pay the making o’t, I pray ye ?” “ I shall pay that, my friend, and all other reasonable charges.” “ Reasonable charges?” said the sexton; “ ou, there is ground-mail, and bell-siller, (though the bell is broken nae doubt) and the kist, and my day’s wark, and my bit fee, and sum brandy and aill to the drigie— I am no thinking that you can inter her, to ca’ decently, under saxteen pund Scots.”

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“ There is the money, my friend,” said Ravenswood, “ and some­ thing over. Be sure you know the grave.” “ Y e ’ll be ane o’ her English relations, I’se warrand,” said the hoary man o f skulls; “ I hae heard she married far below her station. It was very right to let her bite on the bridle when she was living, and its very right to gie her a decent burial now she’s dead, for that’s a matter o’ credit to yoursell rather than to her. Folk may let their kindred shift for themsells when they are alive, and can bear the burthen o f their ain misdoings; but its an unnatural thing to let them be buried like dogs, when a’ the discredit gangs to the kindred : what kens the dead corse about it?” “ You would not have people neglect their relations on a bridal occasion neither,” said Ravenswood, who was amused with the pro­ fessional limitation o f the grave-digger’s philanthropy. T h e old man cast up his sharp grey eye with a shrewd smile, as if he understood the jest, but instantly continued with his former gravity,— “ Bridals— wha wad neglect bridals that had ony regard for plenishing the earth ? T o be sure, they suld be celebrated with all manner o f gude cheer, and meeting o f friends, and musical instruments, harp, sackbut, and psaltery; or gude fiddle and pipes, when these auld-warld instruments o f melody are hard to be compassed.” “ Th e presence o f the fiddle, I dare say,” replied Ravenswood, “would atone for the absence o f all the others.” Th e sexton again looked sharply up at him, as he answered, “ Nae doubt, nae doubt— if it were weel played; — but yonder,” he said, as if to change the discourse, “ is Halbert G ray’s lang hame, that ye were speering after, just the third bourock beyond the muckle throughstane that stands on sax legs yonder, abune some ane o f the Ravenswoods; for there is mony o f their kin and followers lie here, de’il lift them ! though it isna just their main burial-place.” “ They are no favourites then o f yours these Ravenswoods,” said the Master, not much pleased with the passing benediction which was thus bestowed on his family and name. “ I ken na wha should favour them,” said the grave-digger; “ when they had lands and power, they were ill guides o f them baith, and now their head’s down, there’s few care how lang they may be o f lifting it again.” “ Indeed !” said Ravenswood, “ I never heard that this unhappy fam­ ily deserved ill-will at the hands o f their country. I grant their poverty — if that renders them contemptible.” “ It will gang a far way till’t,” said the sexton o f Hermitage, “ye may tak my word for that— at least, I ken naething else that suld mak mysell contemptible, and folk are far frae respecting me as they wad do if I

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lived in a twa-lofted sclated house. But as for the Ravenswoods, I hae seen three generations o f them, and de’il ane to mend other.” “ I thought they had enjoyed a fair character in the country,” said their descendant. “ Character! Ou ye see, sir,” said the sexton, “ as for the auld gude sire body o f a lord, I lived on his land when I was a swanking young chield, and could hae blawn the trumpet wi’ ony body, for I had wind eneugh then— and as for this trumpeter Marine that I have heard play afore the Lords o f the Circuit, I wad hae made nae mair o’ him than o f a bairn and a bawbee whistle— I defy him to hae play’d ‘Boot and saddle,’ or ‘Horse and away,’ or ‘Gallants, come trot,’ with me— he has na the tones.” “ But what is all this to old Lord Ravenswood, my friend?” said the Master, who, with an anxiety not unnatural in his circumstances, was desirous o f prosecuting the musician’s first topic— “ What had his memory to do with the degeneracy o f the trumpet music ?” “Just this, sir,” answered the sexton, “ that I lost my wind in his service. Ye see I was trumpeter at the castle, and had allowance for blawing at break o f day, and at dinner-time, and other whiles when there was company about, and it pleased my lord; and when he raised his troop o f militia to caper awa’ to Bothwell Brigg against thae wrangheaded wastland whigs, I behuved, reason or nane, to munt on a horse and caper awa wi’ them.” “ And very reasonable,” said Ravenswood; “you were his servant and vassal.” “ Servitor, say ye ?” replied the sexton, “ and so I was— but it was to blaw folk to their warm dinner, or at the warst to a decent kirk-yard, and no to skreigh them awa’ to a bluidy brae side, where there was de’il a bedral but the hooded craw. But bide ye— ye shall hear what came o’t, and how far I am bund to be bedesman to the Ravenswoods. — T ill’t, ye see, we gae’t on a braw simmer morning, twenty-fourth of June, saxteen hundred and se’enty-nine, o f a’ days o f the month and year— Drums beat, guns rattled, horses kicked and trampled— Hackstoun o f Rathillet keepit the brigg wi’ musket and carabine and pike, sword and scythe for what I ken, and we horse were ordered doun to cross at the ford,— I hate fords at a’ times, let abe when there’s thousands o f armed men on the other side. There was auld Ravens­ wood brandishing his Andrea Ferrara at the head, and crying to hus to come on and buckle to, as if we were ganging to a fair,— there was Caleb Balderstane, that is living yet, flourishing in the rear, and swearing G og and Magog, he would put steel through the guts o f ony man that turned bridle— there was young Allan Ravenswood, that was then Master, wi’ a bended pistol in his hand,— it was a mercy it gaed

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na aff,—-crying to me, that had scarce as much wind left as served the necessary purpose o f my ain lungs, ‘ Sound, ye poltroon! Sound, you damned cowardly villain, or I will blow your brains out!’ and, to be sure, I blew sic points o f war, that the scraugh o f a clockin-hen was music to them.” “ Well, sir, cut all this short,” said Ravenswood. “ Short!— I had been like to be cut short mysell, in the flour o f my youth, as scripture says; and that’s the very thing that I compleen o’.— Weel ! in to the water we behoved a’ to splash, heels ower head, sit or fa’— ae horse driving on anither, as is the way o’ brute beasts, and riders that hae as little sense,— the very bushes on the ither side were ableeze, wi’ the flashes o f the whigs’ guns; and my horse had just taen the grund, when a blackavised westland carle— I wad mind the face o’ him a hundred years syne,— an ee like a wild falcon’s, and a beard as broad as my shool, clapped the end 0’ his lang black gun within a quarters length o f my lug!— by the grace o f Mercy, the horse swarvit round, and I fell aff at the tae side as the ball whistled bye at the tither, and the fell auld lord took the whig such a swauk wi’ his broadsword that he made twa pieces o’ his head, and down fell the lurdane wi’ a’ his bowk abune m e.” “ You were rather obliged to the old lord, I think,” said Ravens­ wood. “ Was I? my sartie! first for bringing me into jeopardy, would I nould I— and then for whomling a chield on the tap o f me, that dung the very wind out o f my body— I hae been short-breathed ever since, and canna gang twenty yards without peghing like a miller’s aiver.” “ You lost then your place as trumpeter,” said Ravenswood. “ Lose it— to be sure I lose it,” replied the sexton, “ for I couldna plaid whew upon a dry humlock;— but I might hae dune weel eneugh, for I keepit the wage and the free house, and little to do but play on the fiddle to them, but for this Allan Lord Ravenswood, that’s far waur than ever his father was.” “ What,” said the Master, “ did my father— I mean did his father’s son— this last Lord Ravenswood, deprive you o f what the bounty o f his father allowed you?” “ Ay, troth did he,” answered the old man; “ for he loot his affairs gang to the dogs, and let in this Sir William Ashton on huz, that will gi’e naething for naething, and just ruined me and a’ the puir crea­ tures that had bite and soup at the castle, and a hole to put our heads in, when things were in the auld way.” “ I f Lord Ravenswood protected his people, my friend, while he had the means o f doing so, I think they might spare his memory,” replied Ravenswood.

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“ Ye are welcome to your ain opinion, sir,” said the sexton; “ but ye winna persuade me that he did his duty, either to himsel or to huz poor dependent creatures, in guiding us the gate he has done— he might hae gi’en us life-rent tacks o f our bits o’ houses and yards— and me, that’s an auld man, living in yon miserable cabin, that’s fitter for the dead than the quick, and killed wi’ rhematise, and John Smith in my dainty bit mailing, and his window glazen, and a’ because Ravenswood guided his gear like a fule.” “ It is but too true,” said Ravenswood, conscience-struck; “ the penalties o f extravagance extend far beyond the prodigal’s own suffer­ ings.” “ However,” said the sexton, “ this young man Edgar is like to avenge my wrangs on the haill o f his kindred.” “ Indeed,” said Ravenswood; “why should you suppose so?” “ They say he is about to marry the daughter o f Leddy Ashton; and let her leddyship get his head anes under her oxter, and see you if she winna gi’e his neck a thraw. Sarra a bit if I were him— Let her alane for hauding a’ thing in het water that draws near her— sae the warst wish I shall wish the lad is, that he may take his ain creditable gate o’t, and ally himsel wi’ his father’s enemies, that have wrang his broad lands and my bonnie kail-yard from the lawful owners thereof.” Cervantes acutely remarks, that flattery is pleasing even from the mouth o f a madman; and censure, as well as praise, often affects us, while we despise the opinions and motives on which it is founded and expressed. Ravenswood, abruptly reiterating his command that Alice’s funeral should be attended to, flung away from the sexton, under the painful impression that the great, as well as the small vulgar, would think o f his engagement with Lucy like this ignorant and selfish peasant. “ And I have stooped to subject myself to these calumnies, and am rejected notwithstanding. Lucy, your faith must be as true and perfect as the diamond, to compensate for the dishonour which men’s opin­ ions, and the conduct o f your mother, attach to the heir o f Ravens­ wood.” As he raised his eyes, he beheld the Marquis o f A— — , who, having arrived at the T o d ’s-hole, had walked forth to seek for his kinsman. After mutual greetings, the M arquis made some apology for not coming forwards on the preceding evening. “ It was his wish,” he said, “ to have done so, but he had come to the knowledge o f some matters which induced him to delay his purpose. I find,” said he, “ there has been a love affair here, kinsman; and though I might blame you for not having communicated with me, as being in some degree the chief o f your family” — —

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“With your lordship’s permission,” said Ravenswood, “ I am deeply grateful for the interest you are pleased to take in me— but I am the chief and head o f my family.” “ I know it— I know it,” said the M arquis; “ in a strict heraldic and genealogical sense, you certainly are so— What I mean is, that being in some measure under my guardianship”— — “ I must take the liberty to say, my lord,” answered Ravenswood— and the tone in which he interrupted the Marquis boded no long duration to the friendship o f the noble relatives, when he him self was fortunately interrupted by the little sexton, who came puffing after them, to ask if their honours would chuse music at the change-house to make up for short cheer. “We want no music,” said the Master, abruptly. “ Your honour disna ken what ye’re refusing, than,” said the fiddler, with the importunate freedom o f his profession. “ I can play, ‘Will’t thou do’t again,’ and ‘the Auld M an’s M ear’s D ead,’ sax times better than ever Pattie Birnie. I’ll get my fiddle in the turning o f a coffinscrew.” “ Take yourself away, sir,” said the Marquis. “ And if your honour be a north-country gentleman,” said the per­ severing minstrel, “whilk I wad judge from your tongue, I can play, ‘Liggeram Cosh,’ and ‘Mullin D hu,’ and ‘the Cummers o f Athole.’ ” “ Take yourself away, friend; you interrupt our conversation.” “ Or if, under your honour’s favour, ye should happen to be a thought honest, I can play, (this in a low and confidential tone,) ‘Killiecrankie,’ and ‘the King shall hae his ain,’ and ‘the Auld Stuarts back again,’— and the wife at the change-house is a decent discreet body, neither kens nor cares what toasts are drucken, and what tunes are played in her house— she’s deaf to a’ thing but the clink o’ the siller.” T h e Marquis, who was sometimes suspected o f jacobitism, could not help laughing as he threw the fellow a dollar, and bid him go play to the servants if he had a mind, and leave them at peace. “ Aweel, gentlemen,” said he, “ I am wishing your honours gude day — I’ll be a’ the better o f the dollar, and ye’ll be the waur o f wanting the music, I’se tell ye— But I’se gang hame, and finish the grave in the tuning 0’ a fiddle-string, and then get my bread-winner, and awa’ to your folk, and see if they hae better lugs than their masters.”

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Chapter Eleven T ru e love, an’ thou be true, T h o u has ane kittle part to play; F o r fortune, fashion, fancy, and thou, M aun strive for many a day. I’ve kenn’d by mony a friend’s tale, F ar better by this heart o f mine, W hat time and change o f fancy avail A true love-knot to untwine. H endersoun

“ I w i s h e d to tell you, my good kinsman,” said the Marquis, “ now that we are quit o f this impertinent fiddler, that I had tried to discuss this love affair o f yours with Sir William Ashton’s daughter. I never saw the young lady, but for a few minutes to-day; so, being a stranger to her personal merits, I pay a compliment to you, and offer her no offence, in saying you might do better.” “ M y lord, I am much indebted for the interest you have taken in my affairs,” said Ravenswood. “ I did not intend to have troubled you in any matter concerning M iss Ashton. As my engagement with that young lady has reached your lordship, I can only say, that you must necessarily suppose that I was aware o f the objections to my marrying into her father’s family, and o f course must have been completely satisfied with the reasons by which these objections are over-bal­ anced, since I have proceeded so far in the matter.” “ Nay, Master, if you had heard me out,” said his noble relation, “you might have spared that observation; for, without questioning that you had reasons which seemed to you to counterbalance every other obstacle, I set myself, by every means that it became me to use towards the Ashtons, to persuade them to meet your views.” “ I am obliged to your lordship for your unsolicited intercession,” said Ravenswood, “ especially as I am sure your lordship would never carry it beyond the bounds which it became me to use.” “ O f that,” said the Marquis, “you may be confident; I myself felt the delicacy o f the matter too much to place a gentleman nearly con­ nected with my house in a degrading or dubious situation with these Ashtons. But I pointed out all the advantages o f their marrying their daughter into a house so honourable, and so nearly related with the first in Scotland; I explained the exact degree o f relationship in which the Ravenswoods stand to ourselves; and I even hinted how political matters were like to fudge, and what cards would be trumps next par­ liament. I said I regarded you as a son— or a nephew, or so— rather

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than as a more distant relation; and that I made your affair entirely my own.” “ And what was the issue o f your lordship’s explanation?” said Ravenswood, in some doubt whether he should resent or express gratitude for his interference. “Why, the Lord Keeper would have listened to reason,” said the M arquis; “ he is rather unwilling to leave his place, which, in the present view o f a change, must vaik; and, to say truth, he seemed to have a liking for you, and to be sensible o f the general advantages to be attained by such a match. But his lady, who is tongue o f the trump, M aster,”— — “What o f Lady Ashton, my lord ?” said Ravenswood; “ let me know the issue o f this extraordinary conference— I can bear it.” “ I am glad o f that, kinsman,” said the Marquis, “ for I am ashamed to tell you half what she said— it is enough— her mind is made up— and the mistress o f a first-rate boarding-school could not have rejected with more haughty indifference the suit o f a half-pay Irish officer, beseeching permission to wait upon the heiress o f a West Indian planter, than Lady Ashton spurned every proposal o f medi­ ation which it could at all become me to offer in behalf o f you, my good kinsman. I cannot guess what she means. A more honourable connec­ tion she could not form, that’s certain. As for money and land, that uses to be her husband’s business rather than her’s; and I really think she hates you for having the birth that her husband wants, and perhaps for wanting the lands that her goodman has. But I should only vex you to say more about it— here we are at the change-house, and if the things have been dressed which I took the precaution o f sending forward, we shall have an indifferent good nooning o f it.” T h e Master o f Ravenswood paused ere they entered the cottage, which reeked through all its crevices, and they were not few, from the exertions o f the M arquis’s travelling-cooks to supply good cheer, and spread, as it were, a table in the wilderness. “ M y Lord M arquis,” said Ravenswood, “ I already mentioned that accident has put your lordship in possession o f a secret, which, with my consent, should have remained one even to you, my kinsman, for some time. Since the secret was to part from my own custody, and that o f the only person besides who was interested in it, I am not sorry it should have reached your lordship’s ears, as being fully aware that you are my noble kinsman and friend.” “You may believe it is safely lodged with me, Master o f Ravens­ wood,” said the M arquis; “ but I should have liked well to hear you say, that you renounced the idea o f an alliance, which you can hardly pursue without a certain degree o f degradation.”

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“O f that, my lord, I shall judge,” answered Ravenswood— “ and I hope with delicacy as sensitive as any o f my friends. But I have no engagement with Sir William and Lady Ashton. It is with M iss Ashton alone that I have entered upon the subject, and my conduct in the matter shall be entirely ruled by her’s. I f she continues to prefer me in my poverty to the wealthier suitors whom her friends recom­ mend, I may well sacrifice to her sincere affection, I may well surren­ der to her, the less tangible and less palpable advantage o f birth, and the deep-rooted prejudices o f family hatred. I f M iss Lucy Ashton should change her mind on a subject o f such delicacy, I trust my friends will be silent on my disappointment, and I shall know how to make my enemies so.” “ Spoke like a gallant young nobleman,” said the Marquis; “ for my part I have that regard for you, that I should be sorry the thing went on. This Sir William Ashton was a pretty enough petty-fogging kind o f a lawyer twenty years since, and betwixt brattling at the bar, and leading in committees o f Parliament, has got well on— the Darien matter lent him a lift, for he had good intelligence and sound views, and sold out in time— but the best work is had out o f him. No Scotch government will take him at his own, or rather his wife’s extravagant valuation; and betwixt his indecision and her insolence, from all I can guess, he will outsit his market, and be had cheap when no one will bid for him. I say nothing o f M iss Ashton; but I assure you, a connection with her father will be neither useful nor ornamental, beyond what part o f your father’s spoils he may be prevailed upon to disgorge by way o f tocher-good— and take my word for it, you will get more if you have spirit to bell the cat with him in the Scots Parliament.— And I will be the man, cousin,” continued his lordship, “will uncase the fox for you, and make him rue the day that ever he refused a composition too honourable for him, and proposed by me on the behalf o f a kinsman.” There was something in all this that, as it were, overshot the mark. Ravenswood could not disguise from himself that his noble kinsman had more reasons for taking offence at the reception o f his suit, than regarded his interest and honour, yet he could neither complain nor be surprised that it should be so. He contented himself therefore with repeating, that his attachment was to M iss Ashton personally; that he desired neither wealth nor aggrandizement from her father’s means and influence, and that nothing should prevent his keeping his engagement, excepting her own express desire that it should be relin­ quished— and he requested as a favour that the matter might be no more mentioned betwixt them at present, assuring the Marquis of A — — that he should be his confident in its progress or its interrup tion.

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The Marquis soon had more agreeable, as well as more interesting subjects on which to converse. A foot-post, who had followed him from Edinburgh to Ravenswood Castle, and had traced his steps to the T o d ’s-hole, brought him a packet laded with good news. The political calculations o f the Marquis had proved just, both in London and at Edinburgh, and he saw almost within his grasp, the pre-emin ence for which he had panted.— T he refreshments which his servants had prepared were now put on the table, and an epicure would per­ haps have enjoyed them with additional zest, from the contrast which such fare afforded to the miserable cabin in which it was served up. T h e turn o f conversation corresponded with and added to the social feelings o f the company. T he Marquis expanded with pleasure on the power which probable incidents were like to assign to him, and on the use which he hoped to make o f it in serving his kinsman Ravenswood. Ravenswood could but repeat the gratitude which he really felt, even when he considered the topic as too long dwelt upon. T h e wine was excellent, notwithstanding its having been brought in a runlet from Edinburgh; and the habits o f the Marquis, when engaged with such good cheer, were somewhat sedentary. And so it fell out that they delayed their journey two hours later than was their original purpose. “ But what o f that, my good young friend ?” said the Marquis; “your castle o f Wolfscrag is but at five or six miles distance, and will afford the same hospitality to your kinsman o f A— — , that it gave to this same Sir William Ashton.” “ Sir William took the castle by storm, my lord,” said Ravenswood, “ and, like many a victor, had little reason to congratulate him self on his conquest.” “ Well, w ell!” said Lord A— — , whose dignity was something relaxed by the wine he had drunk,— “ I see I must bribe you to harbour me— come, pledge me in our last bumper to the last young lady that slept at Wolfscrag, and liked her quarters— my bones are not so ten­ der as hers, and I am resolved to occupy her apartment to-night, that I may judge how hard the couch is that love can soften.” “ Your lordship may chuse what penance you please,” said Ravens wood; “ but I assure you, I should expect my old servant to hang himself, or throw himself from the battlements, should your lordship visit him so unexpectedly— I do assure you, we are totally and literally unprovided.” But his declaration only brought from his noble patron an assur­ ance o f his own total indifference as to every species o f accommoda­ tion, and his determination to see the tower o f Wolfscrag. His ancestor, he said, had been feasted there, when he went forward with

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the then Lord Ravenswood to the fatal battle of Flodden, in which they both fell. Thus hard pressed, the Master offered to ride forward to get matters put in such preparation, as time and circumstances admitted; but the M arquis protested, his kinsman must afford him his company, and would only consent that an avant-courier should carry to the destined Seneschal, Caleb Balderstone, the unexpected news o f this invasion. T h e Master o f Ravenswood soon after accompanied the Marquis in his carriage, as the latter had proposed; and when they became better acquainted in the progress o f the journey, his noble relation explained the very liberal views which he entertained for his kinsman’s preferment, in case o f the success o f his own political schemes. They related to a secret, and highly important commission beyond sea, which could only be entrusted to a person o f rank, talent, and perfect confidence, and which, as it required great trust and reliance on the envoy employed, could not but prove both honourable and advantage­ ous to him. We need not enter into the nature and purpose o f this commission, farther than to acquaint our readers that it was highly acceptable to the Master o f Ravenswood, who hailed with pleasure the prospect o f emerging from his present state o f indigence and inaction, into independence and honourable exertion. While he listened thus eagerly to the details with which the Marquis now thought it necessary to entrust him, the messenger who had been dispatched to the Tower o f Wolfscrag, returned with Caleb Balderstone’s humble duty, and an assurance, that “ a’ should been in seemly order, sic as the hurry o f time permitted, to receive their lordships as it behoved.” Ravenswood was too well accustomed with his Seneschal’s mode of acting and speaking, to hope much from this confident assurance. He knew that Caleb acted upon the principle o f the Spanish generals, in the campaign o f — — , who, much to the perplexity o f the Prince of Orange, their commander in chief, used to report their troops as full in number, and possessed o f all necessary points o f equipment, not considering it consistent with their dignity, or the honour o f Spain, to confess any deficiency either in men or munition, until the want of both was unavoidably discovered in the day o f battle. Accordingly, Ravenswood thought it necessary to give the Marquis some hint, that the fair assurance which they had just received from Caleb, did not by any means ensure them against a very indifferent reception. “ You do yourself injustice, M aster,” said the Marquis, “ or you wish to surprise me agreeably. From this window I see a great light in the direction where, if I remember aright, Wolfscrag lies; and, to judge from the splendour which the old tower sheds around it, the

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preparations for our reception must be o f no ordinary description. I remember your father putting the same deception on me, when we went to the tower for a few days hawking, about twenty years since, and yet we spent our time as jollily at Wolfscrag as at my own hunting seat at B — — .” “ Your lordship, I fear, will find the faculty o f the present proprietor to entertain his friends greatly abridged,” said Ravenswood; “ the will, I need hardly say, remains the same. But I am as much at a loss as your lordship to account for so strong and brilliant a light as is now glaring above Wolfscrag— T h e windows o f the tower are few and narrow, and those o f the lower story are hidden from us by the walls o f the court.— I cannot conceive that any illumination o f an ordinary nature could afford such a blaze o f light.” Th e mystery was soon explained; for the cavalcade almost instantly halted, and the voice o f Caleb Balderstone was heard at the coach window, exclaiming, in accents broken by grief and fear, “ Och, gen­ tlemen— Och, my gude lords— Och, haud to the right!— W olfscrag’s burning, bower and ha’— a’ the rich plenishing outside and inside— a’ the fair graith, pictures, tapestries, needle-wark, hangings, and other decorements,— a’ in a bleeze, as if they were nae mair than sae mony peats, or as muckle pease strae. Haud to the right, gentle­ men, I implore ye— there is some sma’ provision making at Lucky Sm a’trash’s— but O, wae for this night, and wae for me that lives to see it!” — — Ravenswood was at first stunned by this new and unexpected calamity; but after a moment’s recollection, he sprang from the car­ riage, and hastily bidding his noble kinsman good night, was about to ascend the hill towards his castle, the broad and full conflagration o f which now flung forth a high column o f red light, that flickered far to seaward upon the dashing waves o f the ocean. “ Take a horse, M aster,” exclaimed the Marquis, greatly affected by this additional misfortune, so unexpectedly heaped upon his young protégé; “ and give me my ambling palfrey, and haste forward, you knaves, and see what can be done to save or to extinguish— ride, you knaves, for your lives.” T h e attendants bustled together, and began to strike their horses with the spur, and call upon Caleb to shew them the road. But the voice o f that careful Seneschal was heard above the tumult, “ O stop— sirs, stop— turn bridle, for the luve o f mercy— add not loss o f lives to loss o f warld’s gear.— Thirty barrels o f powther landed out o f a D un­ kirk dogger in the auld Lord’s time— a’ in the vau’ts o f the auld tower, — the fire canna be far aff it, I trow— Lord’s sake, to the right, lads— to the right— lets pit the hill atween us and peril,— a wap wi’ a corner-

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stane o’ Wolfscrag wad defy the doctor.” It will readily be supposed that this annunciation hurried the M ar­ quis and his attendants into the route which Caleb prescribed, drag­ ging Ravenswood along with them, although there was much in the matter which he could not possibly comprehend. “ Gun-powder !” he exclaimed, laying hold o f Caleb, who in vain endeavoured to escape from him, “ what gun-powder ?— how any quantity o f powder could be in Wolfscrag without my knowledge, I cannot possibly comprehend.” “ But I can,” interrupted the Marquis, whispering him, “ I can com­ prehend it thoroughly— for G od’s sake, ask him no more questions at present.” “ There it is now,” said Caleb, extricating himself from his master, and adjusting his dress, “your honour will believe his lordship’s hon­ ourable testimony— His lordship minds weel, how, in the year that him they ca’d King Willie died”— — “ Hush! hush, my good friend!” said the M arquis; “ I shall satisfy your master upon that subject.” “ And the people at Wolfshope— ” said Ravenswood, “ did none of them come to your assistance before the flame got so high?” “ Aye did they, mony ane o f them, the rapscallions,” said Caleb; “ but truly I was in nae hurry to let them into the tower, where there was so much plate and valuables.” “ Confound you for an impudent liar,” said Ravenswood; “ there was not a single ounce”— — “ Forbye,” said the Butler, most irreverently raising his voice to a pitch which drowned his master, “ the fire made fast on us, owing to the store o f tapestry and carved timmer in the banqueting ha’, and the loons ran like scauded rats so sune as they heard o f the gunpouther.” “ I do entreat,” said the M arquis to Ravenswood, “you will ask him no more questions.” “ Only one, my lord— what has become o f poor Mysie ?” “ M ysie?” said Caleb— “ I hadna time to look about ony Mysie— she’s in the tower, I’se warrant, biding her awful doom.” “ By heaven !” said Ravenswood, “ I do not understand all this— the life o f a faithful old creature is at stake— my lord, I will be withheld no longer— I will at least ride up, and see whether the danger is so imminent as this old fool pretends.” “Weel, then, as I live by bread,” said Caleb, “ Mysie is weel and safe. I saw her out o f the castle before I left it mysell— was I ganging to forget an auld fellow-servant?” “What made you tell me the contrary this moment?” said his master. “ Did I say otherwise ?” answered Caleb; “ then I maun hae been

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dreaming surely, or this awsome night has turned my judgment— but safe she is, and ne’er a living soul in the castle— a’ the better for them, they wad get an unco heezy.” T h e M aster o f Ravenswood, upon this assurance being solemnly reiterated, and notwithstanding his extreme wish to witness the last explosion, which was to ruin to the ground the mansion o f his fathers, suffered himself to be dragged onward towards the village o f Wolfshope, where not only the change-house, but that o f our own wellknown friend the cooper, were all prepared for reception o f himself and his noble guest, with a liberality o f provision which requires some explanation. We omitted to mention in its place, that Lockhard having fished out the truth concerning the mode in which Caleb had obtained the sup­ plies for his banquet, the Lord Keeper, amused with the incident, and desirous at the time to gratify Ravenswood, had recommended the cooper o f Wolfshope to the official situation under government, the prospect o f which had reconciled him to the loss o f his wild­ fowl. M r G irder’s preferment had occasioned a pleasing surprise to old Caleb; for when, some days after his master’s departure, he found himself absolutely compelled, by some necessary business, to visit the fishing hamlet, and was gliding like a ghost past the door o f the cooper, for fear o f being summoned to give some account o f the pro­ gress o f solicitation in his favour, or, more probably, that the inmates might upbraid him with the false hope he had held out upon the sub­ ject, he heard himself, not without some apprehension, summoned at once in treble, tenor, and bass,— a trio performed by the voices o f M rs Girder, old Dame Loupthedike, and the goodman o f the dwelling — “ M r Caleb— M r Caleb— M r Caleb Balderstone ! I hope ye arena ganging dry-lipped by our door, and we sae mickle indebted to you ?” This might be said ironically as well as in earnest. Caleb augured the worst, turned a deaf ear to the trio aforesaid, and was moving doggedly on, his ancient castor pulled over his brows, and his eyes bent on the ground, as if to count the flinty pebbles with which the rude foot-path was causewayed. But on a sudden he found himself surrounded on his progress, like a stately merchantman in the Gut o f Gibraltar, ( I hope the ladies will excuse the tarpaulin phrase, ) by three Algerine gallies. “ God guide us, M r Balderstone !” said M rs Girder. “ Wha wad hae thought it o f an auld and kenn’d friend!” said the mother. “ No sae mickle as stay to receive our thanks,” said the cooper himself, “ and frae the like o’ me that seldom offer them. I am sure I hope there is nae ill seed sawn between us, M r Balderstane— Ony

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man that has said to ye, I am no gratefu’ for the situation o f Queen’s cooper, let me hae a whample at him wi’ mine eatche*— that’s a’ .” “ M y good friends— my dear friends,” said Caleb, still doubting how the certainty o f the matter might stand, “what needs a’ this ceremony?— Ane tries to serve their friends, and sometimes they may happen to prosper, and sometimes to misgi’e— naething I care to be fashed wi’ less than thanks— I never could bide them.” “ Faith, M r Balderstone, ye suld hae been fashed wi’ few 0’ mine,” said the downright man o f staves and hoops, “ if I had had only your gude-will to thank ye for— I suld e’en hae set the guse, and the wilddeukes, and the runlet o f sack, to balance that account. Gude-will, man, its a geizen’d tub, that hauds in nae liquor— but gude deed’s like the cask, tight, round, and sound, that will haud liquor for the king.” “ Have ye no heard o f our letter,” said the mother-in-law, “ making John the Queen’s cooper for certain?— and scarce a chield that had ever hammered girth upon tub but was applying for it?” “ Have I heard ! ! !” said Caleb, (who now found how the wind set,) with an accent o f strong contempt at the doubt expressed— “ Have I heard, quo’ s h e !!!”— and as he spoke, he changed his shambling, skulking, dodging pace, into a manly and authoritative step, re­ adjusted his cocked hat, and suffered his brow to emerge from it in all the pride o f aristocracy, like the sun from beneath a cloud. “ T o be sure, he canna but hae heard,” said the good woman. “ Ay, to be sure it’s impossible but I should,” said Caleb; “ and sae I’ll be the first to kiss ye, joe, and wish you, cooper, much joy o f your p r e f e r m e n t , n a e t h in g d o u b t in g th a t y e k e n w h a a r e y o u r f r ie n d s , a n d

have helped ye, and can help ye. I thought it right to look a wee strange upon it at first,” added Caleb, “ just to see i f ye were made o f the right mettle— but ye ring true, lad, ye ring true.” So saying, with a most lordly air he kissed the women, and aban­ doned his hand, with an air o f serene patronage, to the hearty shake of M r Girder’s horn-hard palm. Upon this complete, and to Caleb most satisfactory information, he did not, it may readily be believed, hesit­ ate to accept an invitation to a solemn feast, to which were invited, not only all the notables o f the village, but even his ancient antagonist, M r Dingwall himself. At this festivity he was, o f course, the most welcome and most honoured guest; and so well did he ply the company with stories o f what he could do with his master, his master with the Lord Keeper, the Lord Keeper with the Council, and the Council with the Queen, that before the company dismissed, (which was, indeed, rather at an early hour than a late one,) every man o f note in the village was ascending to the top-gallant o f some ideal preferment by the *Anglice, adze.

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ladder o f ropes which Caleb had presented to their imagination. Nay, the cunning Butler regained in that moment, not only all the influence he possessed formerly over the villagers, when the baronial family which he served were at their proudest, but acquired even an acces­ sion o f importance. Th e writer— the very attorney himself—such is the thirst o f preferment— felt the force o f the attraction, and taking an opportunity to draw Caleb into a corner, spoke, with affectionate regret, o f the declining health o f the sheriff-clerk o f the county. “ An excellent man— a most valuable man, M r Caleb— but fat sall I say!— we are puir feckless bodies— here the day, and awa’ by cockscreech the morn— and if he failzies, there maun be sumbody in his place— and gif that ye could airt it my way, I suldna be thankless, man — a gluve stuffed wi’ gowd nobles— an’ hark ye, man, something canny till yoursell— and the Wolfshope carles to settle kindly wi’ the M aster o f Ravensweed— that is, Lord Ravensweed— God bless his lordship.” A smile, and a hearty squeeze by the hand, was the suitable answer to this overture, and Caleb made his escape from the jovial party, in order to avoid committing himself by any special promises. “ T h e Lord be gude to me,” said Caleb, when he found him self in the open air, and at liberty to give vent to the self-exultation with which he was, as it were, distended; “ did ever ony man see sic a set o f green-gaislings !— T h e very pick-maws and solan-geese out by yon­ der at the Bass hae ten times their sense— God, an’ I had been the Lord High Commissioner to the Estates o’ Parliament, they couldna hae beflumm’d me mair— and, to speak Heaven’s truth, I could hardly hae beflumm’d them better neither. But the writer— ha ! ha ! ha !— mercy on me, that I suld live in my auld days to gi’e the gang-bye to the very writer ! Sheriff clerk ! ! !— But I hae an auld account to settle wi’ the carle; and to make amends for bye-ganes, the office shall just cost him as much time-serving and tide-serving, as if he were to get it in gude earnest— o f whilk there is sma’ appearance, unless the M aster learns mair the ways o f this warld, whilk it is muckle to be doubted that he never will.”

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Chapter Twelve W hy flam es yon far sum m it— why shoot to the blast T h o se em bers, like stars from the firm am ent c ast?— ’T is the fire-show er o f ruin, all dreadfully driven F ro m thine eyrie, that b eacon s the darkness o f H eaven.

C ampbell

T h e circumstances announced in the conclusion o f the last chapter, will account for the ready and cheerful reception o f the Marquis o f A— — and the M aster o f Ravenswood in the village o f Wolfshope. In fact, Caleb had no sooner announced the conflagration o f the tower, than the whole hamlet were upon foot to hasten to extinguish the flames. And although that zealous adherent diverted their zeal by intimating the formidable contents o f the subterranean apartments, yet the check only turned their assiduity into another direction. Never had there been such slaughtering o f capons, and fat geese, and barn­ door fowls,— never such boiling o f reested hams,— never such making o f car-cakes and sweet scones, Selkirk bannocks, cookies, and petti­ coat-tails, delicacies little known to the present generation. Never had there been such tapping o f barrels, and such uncorking o f grey­ beards, in the village o f Wolfshope. All the inferior houses were thrown open for the reception o f the M arquis’s dependants, who came, it was thought, as precursors o f the shower o f preferment, which hereafter was to leave the rest o f Scotland dry, in order to distil its rich dews on the village o f Wolfshope under Lammermoor. The minister put in his claim to have the guests o f distinction lodged at the Manse, having his eye, it was thought, upon a neighbouring prefer­ ment, where the incumbent was sickly; but M r Balderstone destined that honour to the cooper, his wife, and wife’s mother, who danced for joy at the preference thus assigned them. Many a beck and many a bow welcomed these noble guests to as good entertainment as persons o f such a rank could set before such visitors; and the old dame, who had formerly lived in Ravenswood Castle, and knew, as she said, the ways o f the nobility, was no ways wanting in arranging matters, as well as circumstances permitted, according to the etiquette o f the times. Th e cooper’s house was so roomy, that each guest had his separate retiring room, to which they were ushered with all due ceremony, while the plentiful supper was in the act o f being placed upon the table. Ravenswood no sooner found himself alone, than, impelled by a thousand feelings, he left the apartment, the house, and the village, and hastily retraced his steps to the brow o f the hill, which rose betwixt

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the village, and screened it from the tower, in order to view the final fall o f the house o f his fathers. Some idle boys from the hamlet were taking the same direction out o f curiosity, having first witnessed the arrival o f the coach-and-six and its attendants. As they ran one by one past the Master, calling to each other to “ come and see the auld tower blaw up in the lift like the peelings o f an ingan,” he could not but feel himself moved with indignation. “ And those are the sons of my father’s vassals,” he said— “ o f men bound, both by law and gratit­ ude, to follow our steps through battle, and fire, and flood; and now the destruction o f their liege-lord’s house is but a holiday’s sight to them !” These exasperating reflections were partly expressed in the acri­ mony with which he exclaimed, on feeling him self pulled by the cloak, — “ What do ye want, ye dog?” “ I am a dog, and an auld dog too,” answered Caleb, for it was he who had taken the freedom,— “ and I am like to get a dog’s wages— but it does not signification a pinch o f sneeshing, for I am ower auld a dog to learn new tricks, or to follow a new master.” As he spoke, Ravenswood attained the ridge o f the hill from which Wolfscrag was visible; the flames had entirely sunk down, and to his great surprise, there was only a dusky reddening upon the clouds immediately over the castle, which seemed the reflection o f the embers o f the sunken fire. “ Th e place cannot have blown up,” said the M aster; “ we must have heard the report— if a quarter o f the gunpowder was there you tell me of, it would have been heard twenty miles off.” “ It’s very like it wad,” said Balderstone, composedly. “ Then the fire cannot have reached the vaults— — ” “ It’s like no,” answered Caleb, with the same impenetrable grav­ ity. “ Hark ye, Caleb,” said his master, “ this grows a little too much for my patience. I must go and examine how matters stand at Wolfscrag myself.” “ Your honour is ganging to gang nae sic gate,” said Caleb, firmly. “ And why not?” said Ravenswood, sharply; “who or what shall prevent me ?” “ Even I mysel,” said Caleb, with the same determination. “ You, Balderstone?” replied the Master, “you are forgetting your­ self, I think.” “ But I think no,” said Balderstone; “ for I can just tell you a’ about the castle on this know-head as weel as if you were at it. Only dinna pit yoursel into a kippage, and expose yoursel before the weans, or before the Marquis, when ye gang down bye.”

[Chap. 26]

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“ Speak out, you old fool,” replied his master, “ and let me know the best and the worst at once.” “ Ou, the best and warst is just that the tower is standing hail and fear, as safe and as empty as when ye left it.” “ Indeed !— and the fire ?” said Ravenswood. “ Not a gleed o f fire, then, except the bit kindling peat, and maybe a spunk in M ysie’s cutty-pipe,” replied Caleb. “ But the flame?” demanded Ravenswood; “ the broad blaze which might have been seen ten miles off—what occasioned that?” “ Hout awa ! it’s an auld saying and a true,— L ittle’s the light Will be seen far in a m irk night.

A wheen fern and horse litter that I fired in the court-yard, after sending back the loun o f a footman; and, to speak Heaven’s truth, the next time that ye send or bring ony body here before we are blessed wi’ better provision, let them be gentles allenarly, without ony fremd servants, like that chield Lockhard, to be gledging and gleeing about, and looking upon the wrang side o f ane’s housekeeping, to the dis­ credit o f the family, and forcing ane to damn their souls wi’ telling ae lee after another faster than I can count them— I wad rather set fire to the tower in gude earnest, and burn it ower my ain head into the bargain, or I see the family dishonoured in the sort.” “ Upon my word, I am infinitely obliged by the proposal, Caleb,” said his master, scarce able to restrain his laughter, though rather angry at the same time. “ But the gunpowder ?— is there such a thing in the tower?— the Marquis seemed to know o f i t .” “ The pouther— ha! ha! ha!— the M arquis— ha! ha! h a !” replied Caleb; “ if your honour were to brain me, I behooved to laugh— the M arquis— the pouther— was it there ? ay, it was there. Did he ken o’t ? — my certie ! the Marquis kenn’d o’t, and it was the best o f the game; for, when I couldna pacify your honour wi’ a’ that I could say, I aye threw out a word mair about the gunpouther, and garr’d the Marquis tak the job in his ain hand.” “ But you have not answered my question,” said the Master impatiently; “ how came the powder there, and where is it now?” “ Ou, it came there, an ye maun needs ken,” said Caleb, looking mysteriously, and whispering, “when there was like to be a wee bit rising here; and the Marquis, and a’ the great lords o f the north, were a’ in it, and mony a gudely gun and broadsword were ferried ower frae Dunkirk forbye the pouther— awfu’ wark we had getting them into the tower under cloud o’ night, for ye maun think it wasna every body could be trusted wi’ sae kittle jobs— But if ye will gae hame to your supper, I will tell you a’ about it as ye gang down.”

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“ And these wretched boys,” said Ravenswood, “ is it your pleasure they are to sit there all night, to wait for the blowing up o f a tower that is not even on fire ?” “ Surely not, if it is your honour’s pleasure that they suld gang hame; although,” added Caleb, “ it wadna do them a grain’s damage— they wad screigh less the next day, and sleep the sounder at e’en— But just as your honour likes.” Stepping accordingly towards the urchins who manned the knolls near which they stood, Caleb informed them, in an authoritative tone, that their Honours Lord Ravenswood and the M arquis o f A— — had given orders that the tower was not to blow up till next day at noon. Th e boys dispersed upon this comfortable assurance. One or two, however, followed Caleb for more information, particularly the urchin whom he had cheated while officiating as turnspit, who screamed, “ M r Balderstone ! M r Balderstone ! than the castle’s gane out like an auld wife’s spunk !” “ T o be sure it is, callant,” said the Butler; “ do ye think the castle o f as great a lord as Lord Ravenswood wad continue in a bleeze, and him standing looking on wi’ his ain very een?— It’s aye right,” continued Caleb, shaking off his ragged page, and closing in to his master, “ to train up weans, as the wise man says, in the way they should go, and aboon a’ to teach them respect to their superiors.” “ But all this while, Caleb, you have never told me what became o f the arms and powder,” said Ravenswood. “ Why, as for the arms,” said Caleb, “ it was just like the bairns’ rhyme— S o m e gaed east, and som e gaed w est, A nd som e gaed to the craw ’s n est;

and I’ll no say but some o’ them may make themselves heard in the field yet unless times be a’ the quieter. And for the pouther, I e’en changed it, as occasion served, with the skippers o’ Dutch luggers and French vessels, for gin and brandy, and it served the house mony a year— a gude swap too, between what cheereth the soul o f man and that which dingeth it clean out o f the body; forbye, I keepit a wheen pounds o f it for yoursell when ye wanted to take the pleasure o’ shooting— whiles, in these latter days, I wad hardly hae kenn’d else whar to get pouther for your pleasure. And now that your anger is ower, sir, wasna that weel managed o’ me, and arena ye far better sorted doun yonder than ye could hae been in your ain auld ruins up bye yonder, as the case stands wi’ us now?— the mair’s the pity.” “ I believe you may be right, Caleb; but, before burning down my castle, either in jest or in earnest,” said Ravenswood, “ I think I had a right to be in the secret.”

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“ Fie for shame, your honour!” replied Caleb; “ it fits an auld carle like me weel eneugh to tell lees for the credit o f the family, but it wadna beseem the like o’ your honour’s sell; besides, young folk are no judicious— they cannot make the maist o f a bit figment. Now this fire— for a fire it sall be, if I suld burn the auld stable to make it mair feasible— this fire, besides that it will be an excuse for asking ony thing we want through the country, or doun at the haven— this fire will settle mony things on an honourable footing for the family’s credit, that cost me telling twenty daily lees to a wheen idle chaps and queans, and, what’s waur, without gaining credence.” “ That was hard indeed, Caleb; but I do not see how this fire should help your veracity or your credit.” “ There it is now,” said Caleb; “ wasna I saying that young folk had a green judgement ?— How suld it help me, quotha ?— it will be a credit­ able apology for the honour o f the family for this score o f years to come, if it is weel guided. W here’s the family pictures ? says ae med­ dling body— the great fire at Wolfscrag, answers I. W here’s the family plate ? says another— the great fire, says I; wha was to think o f plate when life and limb were in danger?— W here’s the wardrobe and the linens?— where’s the tapestries and the decorements?— beds o f state, twilts, pands and testors, napery and broidered work ?— T he fire — the fire— the fire. Guide the fire weel, and it will serve ye for a’ that ye suld have and have not— and, in some sort, a gude excuse is better than the things themselves; for they maun crack and wear out, and be consumed by time, whereas a gude offcome, prudently and creditably handled, may serve a nobleman and his family, Lord kens how lang !” Ravenswood was too well acquainted with his Butler’s pertinacity and self-opinion, to dispute the point with him any further. Leaving Caleb, therefore, to the enjoyment o f his own successful ingenuity, he returned to the hamlet, where he found the Marquis and the good women o f the mansion under some anxiety— the former on account o f his absence, the others for the discredit their cookery might sustain by the delay o f the supper. All were now at ease, and heard with pleasure that the fire at the castle had burned out o f itself without reaching the vaults, which was the only information that Ravenswood thought it proper to give in public concerning the event o f his Butler’s stratagem. They sat down to an excellent supper. No invitation could prevail on M r and M rs Girder, even in their own house, to sit down at table with guests o f such high quality. They remained standing in the apart­ ment, and acted the part o f respectful and careful attendants on the company. Such were the manners o f the time. The elder dame, con­ fident through her age and connection with the Ravenswood family, was less scrupulously ceremonious. She played a mixed part betwixt

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that o f the hostess o f an inn, and the mistress o f a private house, who receives guests above her own degree. She recommended, and even pressed what she thought best, and was herself easily entreated to take a moderate share o f the good cheer, in order to encourage her guests by her own example. Often she interrupted herself, to express her regret that “ my Lord did not eat— that the M aster was pyking a bare bane— that, to be sure, there was naething there fit to set before their honours— that Lord Allan, rest his saul, used to like a pouthered guse, and said it was Latin for a tass o’ brandy— that the brandy came frae France direct; for, for a’ the English laws and gaugers, the Wolfshope brigs hadna forgotten the gate to Dunkirk.” Here the cooper admonished his mother-in-law with his elbow, which procured him the following special notice in the progress o f her speech. “ Ye needna be dunshin that gate, John ,” continued the old lady; “ naebody says that ye ken whar the brandy comes from; and it wadna be fitting ye should, and you the queen’s cooper; and what signifies’t,” continued she, addressing Lord Ravenswood, “ to king, queen, or keiser, whar an auld wife like me buys her pickle sneeshin, or her drap brandy-wine, to haud her heart up?” Having thus extricated herself from her supposed false step, Dame Loupthedyke proceeded, during the rest o f the evening, to supply, with great animation, and very little assistance from her guests, the funds necessary for the support o f the conversation, until, declining any further circulation o f their glass, her guests requested her permis­ sion to retire to their apartments. T h e M arquis occupied the chamber o f dais, which, in every house above the rank o f a mere cottage, was kept sacred for such high occasions as the present. Th e modern finishing with plaister was then unknown, and tapestry was confined to the houses o f the nobility and superior gentry. Th e cooper, therefore, who was a man o f some van­ ity, as well as some wealth, had imitated the fashion observed by the inferior landholders and clergy, who usually garnished their state apartments with hangings o f a sort o f stamped leather, manufactured in the Netherlands, garnished with trees and animals executed in copper foil, and with many a pithy sentence o f morality, which, although couched in Low Dutch, were perhaps as much attended to in practice as if written in broad Scotch. The whole had somewhat o f a gloomy aspect; but the fire, composed o f old pitch-barrel staves, blazed merrily up the chimney; the bed was decorated with linen o f most fresh and dazzling whiteness, which had never before been used, and might, perhaps, have never been used at all, but for this high occasion. On the toilette beside, stood an old-fashioned mirror, in a

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fillagree frame, part o f the dispersed finery o f the neighbouring castle. It was flanked by a long-necked bottle o f Florence wine, by which stood a glass nearly as tall, resembling in shape that which Teniers usually places in the hands o f his own portrait, when he paints himself as mingling in the revels o f a country village. T o counterbalance those foreign centinels, there mounted guard on the other side o f the mirror two stout warders o f Scottish lineage; a jug, namely, o f double ale, which held a Scotch pint, and a quegh or bicker o f ivory and ebony, hooped with silver, the work o f John Girder’s own hands, and the pride o f his heart. Besides these preparations against thirst, there was a goodly diet-loaf, or sweet cake; so that, with such auxiliaries, the apartment seemed victualled against a siege o f two or three days. It only remains to say, that the M arquis’s valet was in attendance, displaying his master’s brocaded night-gown, and richly embroidered velvet cap, lined and faced with Brussels lace, upon a huge leathern easy chair, wheeled round so as to have the full advantage o f the comfortable fire which we have already mentioned. We therefore commit that eminent person to his night’s repose, trusting he profited by the ample preparations made for his accommodation,— prepar­ ations which we have mentioned in detail, as illustrative o f ancient Scottish manners. It is not necessary we should be equally minute in describing the sleeping apartment o f the M aster o f Ravenswood, which was that usually occupied by the goodman and goodwife themselves. It was comfortably hung with a sort o f warm-coloured worsted, manufac­ tured in Scotland, approaching in texture to what is now called shaloon. A staring picture o f John Girder himself ornamented this dormitory, painted by a starving Frenchman, who had, God knows how or why, strolled over from Flushing or Dunkirk to Wolfshope in a smuggling dogger. T he features were, indeed, those o f the stubborn, opinionative, yet sensible artizan, but Monsieur had contrived to throw a French grace into the look and manner, so utterly inconsistent with the dogged gravity o f the original, that it was impossible to look at it without laughing. John and his family, however, piqued themselves not a little upon this picture, and were proportionably censured by the neighbourhood, who pronounced that the cooper, in sitting for the same, and yet more in presuming to hang it up in his bed-chamber, had exceeded his privilege as the richest man o f the village; at once stept beyond the bounds o f his own rank, and encroached upon those o f the superior orders; and, in fine, had been guilty o f a very over­ weening act o f vanity and presumption. Respect for the memory o f my deceased friend, M r Richard Tinto, has obliged me to treat this matter at some length; but I spare the reader his prolix, though

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curious observations, as well upon the character o f the French school, as upon the state o f painting in Scotland, at the beginning o f the eighteenth century. T h e other preparations o f the M aster’s sleeping apartment, were similar to those in the chamber o f dais. At the usual early hour o f that period, the M arquis o f A— — and his kinsman prepared to resume their journey. This could not be done without an ample breakfast, in which cold meat and hot meat, and oatmeal flummery, wine and spirits, and milk varied by every possible mode o f preparation, evinced the same desire to do honour to their guests, which had been shewn by the hospitable owners o f the man­ sion upon the evening before. All the bustle o f preparation for depar­ ture now resounded through Wolfshope. There was paying o f bills and shaking o f hands, and saddling of horses, and harnessing o f carriages, and distributing o f drink-money. T he Marquis left a broad piece for the gratification o f John G irder’s household, which he, the said John, was for some time disposed to convert to his own use; Dingwall the writer assuring him he was justified in so doing, seeing he was the disburser o f those expences which were the occasion o f the gratification. But, notwithstanding this legal authority, John could not find in his heart to dim the splendour o f his late hospitality, by pocketting any thing in the nature o f a gratuity. He only assured his menials he would consider them as a damned ungrateful pack, if they bought a gill o f brandy elsewhere than out o f his own stores; and as the drinkmoney was likely to go to its legitimate use, he comforted him self that, in this manner, the M arquis’s donative would, without any impeach­ ment o f credit and character, come ultimately into his own exclusive possession. While arrangements were making for departure, Ravenswood made blythe the heart o f his ancient butler, by informing him, cau­ tiously however, for he knew Caleb’s warmth o f imagination, o f the probable change which was about to take place in his fortunes. He deposited with Balderstone, at the same time, the greater part o f his slender funds, with an assurance which he was obliged to reiterate more than once, that he himself had sufficient supplies in certain prospect. He, therefore, enjoined Caleb, as he valued his favour, to desist from all further manœuvres against the inhabitants o f W olfs­ hope, their cellars, poultry, yards, and substance whatsoever. In this prohibition, the old domestic acquiesced more readily than his master expected. “ It was doubtless,” he said, “ a shame, a discredit, and a sin, to harry the puir creatures, when the family were in circumstances to live honourably on their ain means; and there might be wisdom,” he said,

[Chap. 27]

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“ in giving them a whiles breathing time, at any rate, that they might be the more readily brought forwards upon his honour’s future occa­ sions.” This matter being settled, and having taken an affectionate farewell o f his old domestic, the Master rejoined his noble relative, who was now ready to enter his carriage. T h e two landladies, old and young, in all kindly greeting, stood simpering at the door o f their house, as the coach and six, followed by its train o f clattering horsemen, thundered out o f the village. John Girder also stood upon his threshold, now looking at his honoured right hand, which had been so lately shaken by a marquis and a lord, and now giving a glance into the interior o f his mansion, which manifested all the disarray of the late revel, as if balancing the distinction which he had attained with the expences o f the entertainment. At length he opened his oracular jaws. “ Let every man and woman here set about their ain business, as if there was nae sic thing as marquis or master, duke or drake, laird or lord, in this world. Let the house be redd up, the broken meat set bye, and if there is ony thing totally uneatable, let it be gien to the puir folk; and gudemother and wife, I hae just ae thing to entreat ye, that ye will never speak to me a single word, good or bad, anent a’ this nonsense wark, but keep a’ your cracks about it to yoursells and your kimmers, for my head is weel nigh dung donnait wi’ it already.” As Jo h n ’s authority was tolerably absolute, all departed to their usual occupations, leaving him to build castles in the air, if he had a mind, upon the court-favour which he had acquired by the expendit­ ure o f his worldly substance.

Chapter Thirteen Why, now I have D am e Fortun e by the forelock, A nd i f she scapes my grasp, the fault is mine; H e that hath buffetted with ste m adversity, B e st knows to shape his course to favouring breezes. O ld P la y

O u r t r a v e l l e r s reached Edinburgh without any farther adven­ ture, and the Master o f Ravenswood, as had been previously settled, took up his abode with his noble friend. In the mean time, the political crisis which had been expected, took place, and the Tory party obtained, in the Scottish councils o f Queen Anne, a short-lived ascendency, o f which it is not our business to trace either the cause or consequences. Suffice it to say, that it affected the different political parties according to the nature o f their principles. In

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England, many of the High Church party, with Harley, afterwards Earl o f Oxford, at their head, affected to separate their principles from those o f the Jacobites, and, on that account, obtained the denomina­ tion o f Whimsicals. T he Scottish High Church party, on the contrary, or, as they termed themselves, the Cavaliers, were more consistent, if not so prudent, in their politics, and viewed all the changes now made, as preparatory to calling to the throne, upon the queen’s demise, her brother, the Chevalier St George. Those who had suffered in his service, now entertained the most unreasonable hopes, not only of indemnification, but o f vengeance upon their political adversaries, while families attached to the Whig interest, saw nothing before them but a renewal o f the hardships they had undergone during the reigns o f Charles the Second and his brother, and a retaliation of the confis­ cations which had been inflicted upon the Jacobites during that o f King William. But the most alarmed at the change o f system, was that prudential set o f persons, some o f whom are found in all governments, but who abound in a provincial administration like that o f Scotland during the period, and who are what Cromwell called waiters upon providence, or, in other words, uniform adherents to the party who are uppermost. Many o f these hastened to read their recantation to the M arquis o f A— — ; and, as it was easily seen, that he took a deep interest in the affairs o f his kinsman, the Master o f Ravenswood, they were the first to suggest measures for retrieving at least a part o f his property, and for restoring him in blood against his father’s attainder. Old Lord Turntippet professed to be one o f the most anxious for the success o f these measures; for “ it grieved him to the very saul,” he said, “ to see so brave a young gentleman, o f sic auld and undoubted nobility, and, what was mair than a’ that, a bluid-relation o f the Marquis o f A— — , the man whom,” he swore, “ he honoured most upon the face o f the yearth, brought to so severe a pass. For his ain puir peculiar,” as he said, “ and to contribute something to the rehabitation o f sae auld ane house,” the said Turntippet sent in three family pictures lacking the frames, and six high-backed chairs, with worked Turkey cushions, having the crest o f Ravenswood broidered thereon, without charging a penny either o f the principal or interest they had cost him, when he bought them, sixteen years before, at a roup o f the furniture o f Lord Ravenswood’s lodgings in the Canongate. M uch more to Lord Turntippet’s dismay than to his surprise, although he affected to feel more o f the latter than the former, the M arquis received his gift very drily, and observed, that his lordship’s restitution, if he expected it to be received by the M aster o f Ravens-

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wood and his friends, must comprehend a pretty large farm, which having been mortgaged to Turntippet for a very inadequate sum, he had contrived, during the confusion o f the family affairs, and by means well understood by the lawyers o f that period, to acquire to himself in absolute property. T h e old time-serving lord winced excessively under this requisi­ tion, protesting to God, that he saw no occasion the lad could have for the instant possession o f the land, seeing he would doubtless now recover the bulk o f his estate from Sir William Ashton, to which he was ready to contribute by every means in his power, as was just and reasonable; and finally declaring, that he was willing to settle the land on the young gentleman, after his own natural demise. But all these excuses availed nothing, and he was compelled to disgorge the property, on receiving back the sum for which it had been mortgaged. Having no other means o f making peace with the higher powers, he returned home sorrowful and malcontent, complaining to his confidants, “ that every mutation or change in the state had hitherto been productive o f some sma’ advantage to him in his ain quiet affairs; but that the present had (pize upon it ! ) cost him one o f the best penfeathers o’ his wing.” Similar measures were threatened against others who had profited by the wreck o f the fortune o f Ravenswood; and Sir William Ashton, in particular, was menaced with a parliamentary reversal o f the judi­ cial sentences under which he held the Castle and Barony o f Ravens­ wood. With him, however, the Master, as well for Lucy’s sake as on account o f the hospitality he had received from him, felt himself under the necessity o f proceeding with great candour. He wrote to the late Lord Keeper, for he no longer held that office, stating frankly the engagement which existed between him and M iss Ashton, requesting his permission for their union, and assuring him o f his willingness to put the settlement o f all matters between them upon such a footing, as Sir William himself should think favourable. T h e same messenger was charged with a letter to Lady Ashton, deprecating any cause o f displeasure which the Master might un­ intentionally have given her, enlarging upon his attachment to Miss Ashton, and the length to which it had proceeded, and conjuring the lady, as a Douglas in nature as well as in name, generously to forget ancient prejudices and misunderstandings; and to believe that the family had acquired a friend, and she herself a respectful and attached humble servant, in him who subscribed him self Edgar, Master o f Ravenswood. A third letter Ravenswood addressed to Lucy, and the messenger was instructed to find some secret and secure means o f delivering it

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into her own hands. It contained the strongest protestations o f continued affection, and dwelt upon the approaching change o f the writer’s fortunes as chiefly valuable, by tending to remove the impedi­ ments to their union. He related the steps he had taken to overcome the prejudices o f her parents, and especially o f her mother, and expressed his hope they might prove effectual. I f not, he still trusted that his absence from Scotland upon an important and honourable mission might give time for prejudices to die away; while he hoped and trusted M iss Ashton’s constancy, on which he had the most implicit reliance, would baffle any effort that might be used to divert her attachment. M uch more there was, which, however interesting to the lovers themselves, would afford the reader neither interest nor information. T o each o f these three letters the M aster o f Ravenswood received an answer, but by different means o f conveyance, and cer­ tainly couched in very different styles. Lady Ashton answered his letter by his own messenger, who was not allowed to remain at Ravenswood a moment longer than she was engaged in penning these lines. “ For the hand o f M r Ravenswood o f Wolfscrag, these : “ S ir u n k n o w n , “ I have received a letter, signed Edgar, Master o f Ravenswood, concerning the writer whereof I am uncertain, seeing that the honours o f such a family were forfeited for high treason in the person o f Allan, late Lord Ravenswood. Sir, if you shall happen to be the person so subscribing yourself, you will please to know, that I claim the full interest o f a parent in M iss Lucy Ashton, which I have disposed o f irrevocably in behalf o f a worthy person. And, sir, were this otherwise, I would not listen to a proposal from you, or any o f your house, seeing their hand has been uniformly held up against the freedom o f the subject, and the immunities o f G od’s kirk. Sir, it is not a flightering blink o f prosperity which can change my constant opinion in this regard, seeing it has been my lot before now, like holy David, to see the wicked great in power, and flourishing like a green bay tree; nevertheless I passed, and they were not, and the place thereof knew them no more. Wishing you to lay these things to your heart for your own sake, so far as they may concern you, I pray you to take no farther notice o f her, who desires to remain your unknown servant, “M a r g a r e t D o u g l a s , “ otherwise A s h t o n .” About two days after he had received this very unsatisfactory epistle, the Master o f Ravenswood, while walking up the High-street

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o f Edinburgh, was jostled by a person, in whom, as the man pulled off his hat to make an apology, he recognized Lockhard, the confidential domestic o f Sir William Ashton. The man bowed, slipt a letter into his hand, and disappeared. The packet contained four closewritten folios, from which, however, as is sometimes incident to the compositions o f great lawyers, little could be extracted, excepting that the writer felt him self in a very puzzling predicament. Sir William spoke at length o f his high value and regard for his dear young friend, the Master o f Ravenswood, and o f his very extreme high value and regard for the Marquis o f A— — , his very dear old friend; — he trusted that any measures that they might adopt, in which he was concerned, would be carried on with due regard to the sanctity o f decreets, and judgments obtained in foro contentioso; protesting, before men and angels, that if the law o f Scotland, as declared in her established courts, were to undergo a reversal in any popular assem­ bly, the evils which would thence arise to the public, would inflict a greater wound upon his heart, than any loss he might himself sustain by such irregular proceedings. He flourished much on generosity and forgiveness o f mutual injuries, and hinted at the mutability o f human affairs, always favourite topics with the weaker party in politics. He pathetically lamented, and gently censured, the haste which had been used in depriving him o f his situation o f Lord Keeper, which his experience had enabled him to fill with some advantage to the public, without so much as giving him an opportunity o f explaining how far his own views o f general politics might essentially differ from those now in power. He was convinced the M arquis o f A— — had as sincere intentions towards the public, as himself or any man; and if, upon a conference, they could have agreed upon the measures by which it was to be pursued, his experience and his interest should have gone to support the present administration. Upon the engagement betwixt Ravenswood and his daughter, he spoke in a dry and confused man­ ner. He regretted so premature a step as the engagement o f the young people should have been taken, and conjured the Master to remember he had never given any encouragement thereunto; and observed, that, as a transaction inter minores, and without concurrence o f his daugh­ ter’s natural curators, the engagement was inept, and void in law. This precipitate measure, he added, had produced a very bad effect upon Lady Ashton’s mind, which it was impossible at present to remove. Her son, Colonel Douglas Ashton, had embraced her prejudices in their fullest extent, and it was impossible for Sir William to adopt a course disagreeable to them, without a fatal and irreconcileable breach in his family; which was not at present to be thought of. Tim e, the great physician, he hoped would mend all.

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In a postscript, Sir William said something more explicitly, that rather than the law o f Scotland should sustain a severe wound through his sides, by a parliamentary reversal o f the judgment o f her supreme courts, in the case o f the Barony o f Ravenswood, he himself would extra-judicially consent to considerable sacrifices. From Lucy Ashton, by some unknown conveyance, the M aster received the following lines :— “ I received your’s, but it was at the utmost risk; do not attempt to write again till better times. I am sore beset, but I will be true to my word, while the exercise o f my reason is vouchsafed to me. That you are happy and prosperous is some con­ solation, and my situation requires it all.” T he note was signed L . A. This letter filled Ravenswood with the most lively alarm. He made many attempts, notwithstanding her prohibition, to convey letters to M iss Ashton, and even to obtain an interview; but his attempts were frustrated, and he had only the mortification to learn that anxious and effectual precautions had been taken to prevent the possibility o f their correspondence. Th e M aster was more distressed by these circum­ stances, as it became impossible to delay his departure from Scotland, upon the important mission which had been confided to him. Before his departure, he put Sir William Ashton’s letter into the hands o f the M arquis o f A— — , who observed with a smile, that Sir William’s day o f grace was past, and that he had now to learn which side o f the hedge the sun had got to. It was with the greatest difficulty that Ravenswood extorted from the Marquis a promise, that he would compromise the proceedings in parliament, providing Sir William should be disposed to acquiesce in a union between him and Lucy Ashton. “ I would hardly,” said the Marquis, “ consent to your throwing away your birth-right in this manner, were I not perfectly confident that Lady Ashton, or Lady Douglas, or whatever she calls herself, will, as Scotchmen say, keep her threep; and that her husband dares not contradict her.” “ But yet,” said the Master, “ I trust your Grace will consider my engagement as sacred.” “ Believe my word o f honour,” said the Marquis, “ I would be a friend even to your follies; and having thus told you my opinion, I will endeavour, as occasion offers, to serve you according to your own.” T h e Master o f Ravenswood could but thank his generous kinsman and patron, and leave him full power to act in all his affairs. He departed from Scotland upon his mission, which, it was supposed, might detain him upon the continent for some months. E N D OF V O L U M E S E C O N D

THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR C h a p te r O n e W as ever woman in this humour wooed ?— W as ever woman in this humour won ?— I’ll have her.—— Richard the Third

T w e l v e months had past away since the Master o f Ravenswood’s departure for the continent, and, although his return to Scotland had been expected in a much shorter space, yet the affairs o f his mission, or, according to a prevailing report, others o f a nature personal to himself, still detained him abroad. In the mean time, the altered state o f affairs in Sir William Ashton’s family may be gathered from the following conversation which took place betwixt Bucklaw and his confidential bottle-companion and dependent, the noted Captain Craigengelt. They were seated on either side o f the huge sepulchral-looking freestone chimney in the low hall at Girnington. A wood fire blazed merrily in the grate; a round oaken table, placed between them, sup­ ported a stoup o f excellent claret, two rummer glasses, and other good cheer; and yet, with all these appliances and means to boot, the countenance o f the patron was dubious, doubtful, and unsatisfied, while the invention o f his dependent was taxed to the utmost, to parry what he most dreaded, a fit, as he called it, o f the sullens on the part o f his protector. After a long pause, only interrupted by the devil’s tatoo, which Bucklaw kept beating against the hearth with the toe o f his boot, Craigengelt at last ventured to break silence. “ M ay I be double dis­ tanced,” said he, “ if ever I saw a man in my life have less the air o f a bridegroom ! Cut me out o f feather, if you have not more the look o f a man condemned to be hanged.” “ M y kind thanks for the compliment,” replied Bucklaw; “ but I

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suppose you think upon the predicament in which you yourself are most likely to be placed; — and pray, Captain Craigengelt, if it please your worship, why should I look merry, when I’m sad, and devilish sad too ?” “ And that’s what vexes me,” said Craigengelt. “ Here is this match, the best in the whole country, and which you were so anxious about, is on the point o f being concluded, and you are as sulky as a bear that’s lost its whelps.” “ I do not know,” answered the laird, doggedly, “whether I should conclude it or not, if it was not that I am too far forwards to leap back.” “ Leap back!” exclaimed Craigengelt, with a well-assumed air o f astonishment, “ that would be playing the back-game with a witness ! Leap back! Why, is not the girl’s fortune” — — “ T h e young lady’s, if you please,” said Hayston, interrupting him. “ Well, well, no disrespect meant— Will M iss Ashton’s tocher not weigh against any in Lothian?” “ Granted,” answered Bucklaw; “but I care not a penny for her tocher, I have enough o f my own.” “ And the mother, that loves you like her own child ?” “ Better than some o f her children, I believe,” said Bucklaw, “ or there would be little love wared on the matter.” “ And Colonel Sholto Douglas Ashton, who desires the match above all earthly things?” “ Because,” said Bucklaw, “ he expects to carry the county o f — — through my interest.” “ And the father, who is as keen to see the match concluded, as ever I have been to win a main ?” “ Aye,” said Bucklaw, in the same disparaging manner, “ it lies with Sir William’s policy to secure the next best match, since he cannot barter his child to save the great Ravenswood estate, which Parliament are about to wrench out o f his clutches.” “ What say you to the young lady herself?” said Craigengelt; “ the finest young woman in all Scotland, one that you used to be so fond o f when she was cross, and now she consents to have you, and gives up her engagement with Ravenswood, you are for jibbing— I must say, the devil’s in ye, when ye neither know what you would have, nor what you would want.” “ I’ll tell you my meaning in a word,” answered Bucklaw, getting up and walking through the room; “ I want to know what the devil is the cause o f M iss Ashton’s changing her mind so suddenly.” “ And what need you care,” said Craigengelt, “ since the change is in your favour?” “ I’ll tell you what it is,” returned his patron, “ I never knew much o f

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that sort o f fine ladies, and I believe they may be as capricious as the devil; but there is something in M iss Ashton’s change, a devilish deal too sudden, and too serious for a mere flisk o f her own. I’ll be bound Lady Ashton understands every machine for breaking in the human mind, and there are as many as there are cannon-bits, martingals, and cavessons for young colts.” “ And if that were not the case,” said Craigengelt, “ how the devil should we ever get them into training at all ?” “ And that’s true too,” said Bucklaw, suspending his march through the dining-room, and leaning upon the back o f a chair.— “ And besides, here’s Ravenswood in the way still; do you think he’ll give up Lucy’s engagement?” “ T o be sure he will,” answered Craigengelt; “what good can it do him to refuse, since he wishes to marry another woman, and she another man?” “ And you believe seriously,” said Bucklaw, “ that he is going to marry the foreign lady we heard of?” “ You heard yourself,” answered Craigengelt, “what Captain Westenho said about it, and the great preparation made for their blythsome bridal.” “ Captain Westenho,” replied Bucklaw, “ has rather too much of your own cast about him, Craigie, to make what Sir William would call a ‘famous witness.’ He drinks deep, plays deep, swears deep, and I suspect can lie and cheat a little into the bargain. Useful qualities, Craigie, if kept in their proper sphere, but which have a little too much o f the freebooter to make a figure in a court o f evidence.” “ Well then,” said Craigengelt, “will you believe Colonel Douglas Ashton, who heard the Marquis o f A— — say in a public circle, but not aware that he was within ear-shot, that his kinsman had made a better arrangement for himself than to give his father’s land for the pale-cheeked daughter o f a broken down fanatic, and that Bucklaw was welcome to the wearing o f Ravenswood’s shaughled shoes.” “ Did he say so, by heavens !” cried Bucklaw, breaking out into one o f those incontroulable fits o f passion to which he was constitutionally subject,— “ if I had heard him, I would have tore the tongue out of his throat before all his peats and minions, and Highland bullies into the bargain. Why did not Ashton run him through the body?” “ Capote me if I know,” said the Captain. “ He deserved it sure enough, but he is an old man, and a minister o f state, and there would be more risk than credit in meddling with him. You had more need to think o f making up to M iss Lucy Ashton the disgrace that’s like to fall upon her, than o f interfering with a man too old to fight, and on too high a stool for your hand to reach him.”

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“ It shall reach him though one day,” said Bucklaw, “ and his kins­ man Ravenswood to boot. In the mean time, ‘I’ll take care M iss Ashton receives no discredit for the slight they have put upon her. It’s an awkward job, however, and I wish it was ended; I scarce know how to talk to her,— but fill a bumper, Craigie, and w e’ll drink her health. It grows late, and a night-cowl o f good claret is worth all the considering caps in Europe.”

Chapter Two It was the copy o f our conference. In b ed she slept not, for my urging it; At board she fed not, for my urging it; Alone, it w as the su bject o f my them e; In com pany, I often glanced at it. Comedy o f Errors

T h e n e x t morning saw Bucklaw, and his faithful Achates, Craigengelt, at Ravenswood Castle. They were most courteously received by the knight and his lady, as well as by their son and heir, Colonel Ashton. After a good deal o f stammering and blushing,— for Bucklaw, notwithstanding his audacity in other matters, had all the sheepish bashfulness common to those who have lived little in respectable society,— he contrived at length to explain his wish to be admitted to a conference with M iss Ashton upon the subject o f their approaching union. Sir William and his son looked at Lady Ashton, who replied with the greatest composure, “ that Lucy would wait upon M r Hayston directly. I hope,” she added with a smile, “ that as Lucy is very young, and has been lately trepanned into an engagement, o f which she is now heartily ashamed, our dear Bucklaw will excuse her wish, that I should be present at their interview?” “ In truth, my dear lady,” said Bucklaw, “ it is the very thing that I would have desired on my own account; for I have been so little accustomed to what is called gallantry, that I shall certainly fall into some cursed mistake, unless I have the advantage o f your ladyship as an interpreter.” It was thus that Bucklaw, in the perturbation o f his embarrassment upon this critical occasion, forgot the just apprehensions he had entertained o f Lady Ashton’s overbearing ascendancy over her daughter’s mind, and lost an opportunity o f ascertaining, by his own investigation, the real state o f Lucy’s feelings. The other gentlemen left the room, and in a short time, Lady Ashton, followed by her daughter, entered the apartment. She appeared, as he had seen her on former occasions, rather composed

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than agitated; but a nicer judge than he could scarce have determined, whether her calmness was that o f despair, or o f indifference. Bucklaw was too much agitated by his own feelings minutely to scrutinise those o f the lady. He stammered out an unconnected address, confounding together the two or three topics to which it related, and stopt short before he brought it to any regular conclusion. M iss Ashton listened, or looked as if she listened, but returned not a single word in answer, continuing to fix her eyes on a small piece o f embroidery, on which, as if by instinct or habit, her fingers were busily employed. Lady Ashton sat at some distance, almost screened from notice by the deep embras­ ure o f the window in which she had placed her chair. From this she whispered in a tone o f voice, which, though soft and sweet, had something in it o f admonition, if not command,— “ Lucy, my dear, remember— have you heard what Bucklaw has been saying?” T h e idea o f her mother’s presence seemed to have slipped from the unhappy girl’s recollection. She started, dropped her needle, and repeated hastily, and almost in the same breath, the contradictory answers, “ Yes, madam— no, my lady— I beg pardon— I did not hear.” “ You need not blush, my love, and still less need you look so pale and frightened,” said Lady Ashton, coming forward; “we know that maidens’ ears must be slow in receiving a gentleman’s language; but you must remember M r Hayston speaks on a subject on which you have long since agreed to give him a favourable hearing. You know how much your father and I have our hearts set upon an event so desirable.” In Lady Ashton’s voice, a tone o f impressive, and even stern inuendo was sedulously and skilfully concealed, under an appearance o f the most affectionate maternal tenderness. T he manner was for Bucklaw, who was easily enough imposed upon; the matter o f the exhortation was for the terrified Lucy, who well knew how to interpret her mother’s hints, however skilfully their real purport might be veiled from general observation. M iss Ashton sat upright in her chair, cast round her a glance, in which fear was mingled with a still wilder expression, but remained perfectly silent. Bucklaw, who had in the mean time paced the room to and fro, until he had recovered his composure, now stopped within two or three yards o f her chair, and broke out as follows :— “ I believe I have been a d— d fool, M iss Ashton; I have tried to speak to you as people tell me young ladies like to be talked to, and I don’t think you comprehend what I have been saying; and no wonder, for d— n me if I understand it myself! But, however, once for all, and in broad Scotch, your father and mother like what is proposed, and if you can take a plain young fellow for your husband, who will never cross you in any

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thing you have a mind to, I will place you at the head o f the best establishment in the three Lothians; you shall have Lady Girnington’s lodging in the Canongate o f Edinburgh, go where you please, do what you please, and see what you please, and that’s fair. Only I must have a com er at the board end for a worthless old play-fellow o f mine, whose company I would rather want than have, if it were not that the d— d fellow has persuaded me that I can’t do without him; and so I hope you won’t except against Craigie, although it might be easy to find much better company.” “ Now, out upon you, Bucklaw,” said Lady Ashton, again interpos­ ing,— “ how can you think Lucy can have any objection to that blunt, honest, good-natured creature, Captain Craigengelt?” “ Why, madam,” replied Bucklaw, “ as to Craigie’s sincerity, hon­ esty, and good-nature, they are, I believe, pretty much upon a par— but that’s neither here nor there— the fellow knows my ways, and has got useful to me, and I cannot well do without him, as I said before. But all this is nothing to the purpose; for, since I have mustered up courage to make a plain proposal, I would fain hear M iss Ashton, from her own lips, give me a plain answer.” “ M y dear Bucklaw,” said Lady Ashton, “ let me spare Lucy’s bash­ fulness. I tell you, in her presence, that she has already consented to be guided by her father and me in this matter.— Lucy, my love,” she added, with that singular combination o f suavity o f tone and pointed energy which we have already noticed— “ Lucy, my dearest love! speak for yourself, is it not as I say?” H er victim answered in a tremulous and hollow voice— “ I have promised to obey you,— but upon one condition.” “ She means,” said Lady Ashton, turning to Bucklaw, “ she expects an answer to the demand which she has made upon the man at Vienna, or Ratisbon, or Paris,— or where is he— the restitution o f the engage­ ment in which he had the art to involve her. You will not, I am sure, my dear friend, think it is wrong that she should feel much delicacy upon this head; indeed, it concerns us all.” “ Perfectly right— quite fair,” said Bucklaw, half humming, half speaking the end o f the old song— “ It is b est to be o ff wi’ the old love B efore you be on wi’ the new.

But I thought,” said he, pausing, “you might have had an answer six times told from Ravenswood. D — n me if I have not a mind to go and fetch one myself, if M iss Ashton will honour me with the commis­ sion.” “ By no means,” said Lady Ashton, “ we have had the utmost diffi­ culty o f preventing Douglas, (for whom it would be more proper,)

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from taking so rash a step; and do you think we could permit you, my good friend, almost equally dear to us, to go to a desperate man upon an errand so desperate ? In fact, all the friends o f the family are o f opinion, and my dear Lucy herself ought so to think, that, as this unworthy person has returned no answer to her letter, silence must on this, as in other cases, be held to give consent, and a contract must be supposed to be given up, when the party waives insisting upon it. Sir William, who should know best, is clear upon this subject; and there­ fore, my dear Lucy”— — “ M adam,” said Lucy, with unwonted energy, “ urge me no farther — if this unhappy engagement be restored, I have already said you shall dispose o f me as you will— till then I should commit a heavy sin in the sight o f God and man, in doing what you require.” “ But, my love, if this man remains obstinately silent”— — “ He will not be silent,” answered Lu cy; “ it is six weeks since I sent him a double of my former letter by a sure hand.” “ You have not— you could not— you durst not,” said Lady Ashton, with violence inconsistent with the tone she had intended to assume; but, instantly correcting herself, “ M y dearest Lucy,” said she, in her sweetest tone o f expostulation, “ how could you think o f such a thing ?” “ No matter,” said Bucklaw; “ I respect M iss Ashton for her senti­ ments, and I only wish I had been her messenger myself.” “ And pray how long, M iss Ashton,” said her mother ironically, “ are we to wait the return o f your Pacolet— your fairy messenger— since our humble couriers o f flesh and blood could not be trusted in this matter?” “ I have numbered weeks, days, hours, and minutes,” said M iss Ashton; “within another week I shall have an answer, unless he is dead. Till that time, sir,” she said, addressing Bucklaw, “ let me be thus far beholden to you, that you will beg my mother to forbear me upon this subject.” “ I will make it my particular entreaty to Lady Ashton,” said Bucklaw; “ by my honour, madam, I respect your feelings, and although the prosecution o f this affair be rendered dearer to me than ever, yet, as I am a gentleman, I would renounce it, were it so urged as to give you a moment’s pain.” “ M r Hayston, I think, cannot apprehend that,” said Lady Ashton, looking pale with anger, “when the daughter’s happiness lies in the bosom o f the mother. Let me ask you, M iss Ashton, in what terms your last letter was couched ?” “ Exacdy in the same, madam,” answered Lucy, “which you dic­ tated on a former occasion.” “When eight days have elapsed then,” said her mother, resuming

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her tone o f tenderness, “we shall hope, my dearest love, that you will end this suspense.” “ M iss Ashton must not be hurried, madam,” said Bucklaw, whose bluntness o f feeling did not by any means arise from want o f good­ nature— “ messengers may be stopped or delayed. I have known a day’s journey broke by the casting o f a fore-shoe— Stay, let me see my calendar— the 20th day from this is St Ju d e’s, and the day before I must be at Caverton Edge to see the match between the Laird o f Kittlegirth’s black mare, and Johnston the meal-monger’s four-year old colt; but I can ride all night, or Craigie can bring me word how the match goes; and I hope, in the mean time, as I shall not myself distress M iss Ashton with any further importunity, that your ladyship yourself, and Sir William, and Colonel Douglas, will have the goodness to allow her uninterrupted time for making up her mind.” “ Sir,” said M iss Ashton, “ you are generous.” “ As for that, madam,” answered Bucklaw, “ I only pretend to be a plain good-humoured young fellow, as I said before, who will willingly make you happy if you will permit him, and shew him how to do so.” Having said this, he saluted her with more emotion than was con­ sistent with his usual train o f feeling, and took his leave; Lady Ashton, as she accompanied him out o f the apartment, assuring him, that her daughter did full justice to the sincerity o f his attachment, and requesting him to see Sir William before his departure, “ since,” as she said, with a glance reverting towards Lucy, “ against St Ju d e’s day, we must all be ready to sign and seal.” “ T o sign and seal !” echoed Lucy in a muttering tone, as the door o f the apartment closed— “ T o sign and seal— to do and die !” and clasp­ ing her extenuated hands together, she sunk back on the easy chair she occupied, in a state resembling stupor. From this she was shortly after awakened by the boisterous entry o f her brother Henry, who clamorously reminded her o f a promise to give him two yards o f carnation ribbon to make knots to his new garters. With the most patient composure Lucy arose, and, opening a little ivory-cabinet, sought out the ribbon the lad wanted, measured it accurately, cut it off into proper lengths, and knotted it into the fash­ ion his boyish whim required. “ Dinna shut the cabinet yet,” said Henry, “ for I must have some of your silver-wire to fasten the bells to my hawk’s jesses, and yet the new falcon’s not worth them neither; for do you know, after all the plague we had to get her from an eyery, all the way at Posso, in Mannor Water, she’s going to prove, after all, nothing better than a rifler— she just wets her singles in the blood o f the partridge, and then breaks away, and lets her fly; and what good can the poor bird do after that,

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you know, except pine and die in the first heather-cow or whin-bush she can crawl into?” “ Right, Henry— right, very right,” said Lucy, mournfully, holding the boy fast by the hand, after she had given him the wire that he wanted; “but there are more riflers in the world than your falcon, and more wounded birds that seek but to die in quiet, that can find neither brake nor whin-bush to hide their heads in.” “ Ah ! that’s some speech out o f your romances,” said the boy; “ and Sholto says they have turned your head; but I hear Norman whistling to the hawk— I must go fasten on the jesses.” And he scampered away with the thoughtless gaiety o f boyhood, leaving his sister to the bitterness o f her own reflections. “ It is decreed,” she said, “ that every living creature, even those who owe me most kindness, are to shun me, and leave me to those by whom I am beset. It is just it should be thus— alone and uncounselled, I involved myself in these perils— alone and uncounselled, I must extricate myself or die.”

Chapter Three — — what doth ensue B u t m oody and dull melancholy, K in sm an to grim and com fortless despair, A nd at her heels a huge infectious troop O f pale distem peratures and foes to life. Comedy o f Errors

A s s o m e vindication o f the ease with which Bucklaw, (who other­ wise, as he termed himself, was really a very good-humoured fellow,) resigned his judgment to the management o f Lady Ashton, while paying his addresses to her daughter, the reader must call to mind the strict domestic discipline, which, at this period, was exercised over the females o f a Scottish family. T h e manners o f the country in this, as in many other respects, coincided with those o f France before the revolution. Young women o f the higher ranks seldom mingled in society until after marriage, and, both in law and fact, were held to be under the strict tutelage of their parents, who were too apt to enforce the views for their settle­ ment in life, without paying any regard to the inclination o f the parties chiefly interested. On such occasions, the suitor expected little more from his bride than a silent acquiescence in the will o f her parents; and as few opportunities o f acquaintance, far less o f intimacy, occurred, he made his choice by the outside, as the lovers in the Merchant o f Venice select the casket, contented to trust to chance the

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issue o f the lottery, in which he had hazarded a venture. It was not therefore surprising, such being the general manners o f the age, that M r Hayston o f Bucklaw, whom dissipated habits had detached from good society, should not attend particularly to those feelings in his elected bride, to which many men o f more sentiment, experience, and reflection, would, in all probability, have been equally indifferent. He knew what all accounted the principal point, that her parents and friends, namely, were decidedly in his favour, and that there existed most powerful reasons for their predilection. In truth, the conduct o f the Marquis o f A— — , since Ravenswood’s departure, had been such as almost to bar the possibility o f his kinsman’s union with Lucy Ashton. T he Marquis was Ravenswood's sincere, but misjudging friend; or rather, like many friends and patrons, he consulted what he considered to be his relation’s true interest, although he knew that in doing so he run counter to his inclinations. T h e Marquis drove on, therefore, with the plenitude o f ministerial authority, an appeal in the Scottish Parliament against those judg­ ments o f the courts o f law, by which Sir William became possessed o f Ravenswood’s hereditary property. As this measure was enforced with all the authority o f power, it was exclaimed against by the members on the opposite side, as an interference with the civil judicature o f the country, equally new, arbitrary, and tyrannical. And if it thus affected even strangers connected with them only by political party, it may be guessed what the Ashton family themselves said and thought under so cross a dispensation. Sir William, still more worldly-minded than he was timid, was reduced to despair by the loss by which he was threat­ ened. His son’s haughtier spirit was exalted into rage, at the idea o f being deprived o f his expected patrimony. But to Lady Ashton’s yet more vindictive temper, the conduct o f Ravenswood, or rather o f his patron, appeared to be an offence challenging the deepest and most immortal revenge. Even the quiet and confiding temper o f Lucy her­ self, swayed by the opinions expressed by all around her, could not but consider the conduct o f Ravenswood as precipitate, and even unkind. “ It was my father,” she repeated with a sigh, “who welcomed him to this place, and encouraged, or at least allowed, the intimacy between us. Should he not have remembered this, and requited it with at least some moderate degree o f procrastination in the assertion o f his own alleged rights ? I would have forfeited for him double the value o f these lands, which he pursues with an ardour that shows he has forgotten how much I am implicated in the matter.” Lucy, however, could only murmur these things to herself, unwill­ ing to increase the prejudices against her lover entertained by all

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around her, who exclaimed against the steps pursued on his account, as illegal, vexatious, and tyrannical, resembling the worst measures in the worst times o f the worst Stuarts. As a natural consequence, every means was resorted to, and every argument urged, to induce her to break o ff her engagement with Ravenswood, as being scandalous, shameful, and sinful, formed with the mortal enemy o f her family, and calculated to add bitterness to the distress o f her parents. Lucy’s spirit, however, was high; and although unaided and alone, she could have borne much— she could have endured the repinings o f her father— his murmurs against what he called the tyrannical usage o f the ruling party— his ceaseless charges o f ingratitude against Ravenswood— his endless lectures on the various means by which contracts may be voided and annulled— his quotations from the civil, the municipal, and the canon law— and his prelections upon the patria potestas. She might have borne also in patience, or repelled with scorn, the bitter taunts and occasional violence o f her brother Colonel Ashton, and the impertinent and intrusive interference o f other friends and relations. But it was beyond her power effectually to withstand or elude the constant and unceasing persecution o f Lady Ashton, who, laying every other wish aside, had bent the whole efforts o f her power ful mind to break her daughter’s contract with Ravenswood, and to place a perpetual bar between the lovers, by effecting Lucy’s union with Bucklaw. Far more deeply skilled than her husband in the recesses o f the human heart, she was aware, that in this way she might strike a blow o f deep and decisive vengeance upon one, whom she esteemed as her mortal enemy; nor did she hesitate at raising her arm, although she knew that the wound must be dealt through the bosom o f her daughter. With this stem and fixed purpose, she sounded every depth and shallow o f her daughter’s soul, assumed alternately every disguise o f manner which could serve her purpose, and prepared at leisure every species o f dire machinery, by which the human mind can be wrenched from its settled purpose. Some o f these were o f an obvious description, and require only to be cursorily mentioned; others were characteristic o f the time, the country, and the persons engaged in this singular drama. It was o f the last consequence, that all intercourse betwixt the lovers should be stopped, and, by dint o f gold and authority, Lady Ashton contrived to possess herself o f such a complete command o f all who were placed around her daughter, that, in fact, no leaguered fortress was ever more completely blockaded; while, at the same time, to all outward appearance, M iss Ashton lay under no restriction. T h e verge o f her parents’ domains became, in respect to her, like the viewless

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and enchanted line drawn around a fairy castle, where nothing unper­ mitted can either enter from without, or escape from within. Thus every letter, in which Ravenswood conveyed to Lucy Ashton the indispensable reasons which detained him abroad, and more than one note which poor Lucy had addressed to him through what she thought a secure channel, fell into the hands o f her mother. It could not be, but what the tenor o f these intercepted letters, especially those o f Ravens­ wood, should contain something to irritate the passions, and fortify the obstinacy, o f her into whose hands they fell; but Lady Ashton’s passions were too deep-rooted to require this fresh food. She burnt the papers as regularly as she perused them; and as they consumed into vapour and tinder, regarded them with a smile upon her com­ pressed lips, and an exultation in her steady eye, which showed her confidence that the hopes o f the writers should soon be rendered equally unsubstantial. It usually happens that fortune aids the machinations o f those who are prompt to avail themselves o f every chance that offers. A report was wafted from the continent, founded, like others o f the same sort, upon many plausible circumstances, but without any real basis, stating the M aster o f Ravenswood to be on the eve o f marriage with a foreign lady o f fortune and distinction. This was greedily caught up by both the political parties, who were at once struggling for power and for popular favour, and who seized, as usual, upon the most private cir­ cumstances in the lives o f each other’s partizans to convert them into subjects o f political discussion. T h e Marquis o f A— — gave his opinion aloud and publicly, not indeed in the coarse terms ascribed to him by Captain Craigengelt, but in a manner sufficiently offensive to the Ashtons. “ He thought the report,” he said, “ highly probable, and heartily wished it might be true. Such a match was fitter and far more creditable for a spirited young fellow, than a marriage with the daughter o f an old whig lawyer, whose chicanery had so nearly ruined his father.” T h e other party, o f course, laying out o f view the opposition which the M aster o f Ravenswood received from M iss Ashton’s family, cried shame upon his fickleness and perfidy, as if he had seduced the young lady into an engagement, and wilfully and causelessly abandoned her for another. Sufficient care was taken that this report should find its way to Ravenswood Castle through every various channel, Lady Ashton being well aware, that the very reiteration o f the same rumour from so many quarters could not but give it a semblance o f truth. By some it was told as a piece o f ordinary news, by some communicated as serious intelligence; now it was whispered to Lucy Ashton’s ear in the

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tone o f malignant pleasantry, and now transmitted to her as a matter of grave and serious warning. Even the boy Henry was made the instrument o f adding to his sister’s torments. One morning he rushed into the room with a willow branch in his hand, which he told her had arrived that instant from Germany for her special wearing. Lucy, as we have seen, was remark­ ably fond o f her younger brother, and at that moment his wanton and thoughtless unkindness seemed more keenly injurious than even the studied insults o f her elder brother. H er grief, however, had no shade o f resentment; she folded her arms about the boy’s neck, and saying faintly, “ Poor Henry ! you speak but what they tell you,” she burst into a flood o f unrestrained tears. T h e boy was moved, notwithstanding the thoughtlessness o f his age and character. “ The devil take me,” said he, “ Lucy, if I fetch you any more o f these tormenting messages again; for I like you better,” said he, kissing away the tears, “ than the whole pack o f them; and you shall have my grey poney to ride on, and you shall canter him if you like, aye, and ride beyond the village too if you have a mind.” “Who told you,” said Lucy, “ that I am not permitted to ride where I please ?” “ That’s a secret,” said the boy; “ but you will find you can never ride beyond the village but your horse will cast a shoe, or fall lame, or the castle bell will ring, or something will happen to bring you back. But if I tell you more o f these things, Douglas will not get me the pair o f colours they have promised me, and so good morrow to you.” This dialogue plunged Lucy in still deeper dejection, as it tended to shew her plainly, what she had for some time suspected, that she was little better than a prisoner at large in her father’s house. We have described her in the outset o f our story as o f a romantic disposition, delighting in tales o f love and wonder, and readily identifying herself with the situation o f those legendary heroines, with whose adventures, for want o f better reading, her memory had become stocked. T h e fairy wand, with which in her solitude she had delighted to raise visions o f enchantment, became now the rod o f a magician, the bond slave o f evil genii, serving only to invoke spectres at which the exorcist trembled. She felt herself the object o f suspicion, o f scorn, o f dislike at least, if not o f hatred, to her own family; and it seemed to her that she was abandoned by the very person on whose account she was exposed to the enmity o f all around her. Indeed the evidence o f Ravenswood’s infidelity began to assume every day a more determined character. A soldier o f fortune o f the name o f Westenho, an old familiar o f Craigengelt’s, chanced to arrive from abroad about this time. The worthy Captain, though without any precise communication with

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Lady Ashton, always acted most regularly and sedulously in support o f her plans, and easily prevailed upon his friend, by dint o f exaggeration o f real circumstances, and coining o f others, to give explicit testimony to the truth o f Ravenswood’s approaching marriage. Thus beset on all hands, and in a manner reduced to despair, Lucy’s temper gave way under the pressure o f constant affliction and persecution. She became gloomy and abstracted, and, contrary to her natural and ordinary habit o f mind, sometimes turned with spirit and even fierceness on those by whom she was long and closely annoyed. H er health also began to be shaken, and her hectic cheek and wander­ ing eye gave symptoms o f what is called a fever upon the spirits. In most mothers this would have moved compassion, but Lady Ashton, compact and firm o f purpose, saw these waverings o f health and intellect with no greater sympathy than that with which the hostile engineer regards the towers o f a beleaguered city as they reel under the discharge o f his artillery, or rather she considered these starts and inequalities o f temper as symptoms o f Lucy’s expiring resolution; as the angler, by the throws and convulsive exertions o f the fish which he has hooked, becomes aware that he soon will be able to land him. T o accelerate the catastrophe in the present case, Lady Ashton had recourse to an expedient very consistent with the temper and credulity o f those times, but which the reader will probably pronounce truly diabolical.

Chapter four In which a witch did dwell, in loathly w eeds, A nd wilful want, all careless o f her n eeds; S o ch usin g solitary to abide, F a r from all neighbours, that her devilish deed s A nd hellish arts from people she m ight hide, A nd hurt far off, unknown, whom ever she envied. F a iry Queen

T h e h e a l t h o f Lucy Ashton soon required the assistance o f a person more skilled in the office o f a sick nurse than the female domestics o f the family. Ailsie Gourlay, sometimes called the Wise Woman o f Bowden, was the person whom, for her own strong reasons, Lady Ashton selected as an attendant upon her daughter. This woman had acquired a considerable reputation among the ignorant by the pretended cures which she performed, especially in on-comes, as the Scotch call them, or mysterious diseases which baffle the regular physician. H er pharmacopeia consisted partly o f herbs selected in planetary hours, partly o f words, signs, and charms, which

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sometimes, perhaps, produced a favourable influence upon the ima­ gination o f her patients. Such was the avowed profession o f Lucky Gourlay, which, as may well be supposed, was looked upon with a suspicious eye, not only by her neighbours, but even by the clergy of the district. In private, however, she traded more deeply in the occult sciences; for, notwithstanding the dreadful punishments inflicted upon the supposed crime o f witchcraft, there wanted not those who, steeled by want and bitterness o f spirit, were willing to adopt the hateful and dangerous character, for the sake o f the influence which its terrors enabled them to exercise in the vicinity, and the wretched emolument which they could extract by the practice o f their supposed art. Ailsie Gourlay was not indeed fool enough to acknowledge a com­ pact with the Evil One, which would have been a swift and ready road to the stake and tar-barrel. Her fairy, she said, like Caliban’s, was a harmless fairy. Nevertheless, she “ spaed fortunes,” read dreams, composed philtres, discovered stolen goods, and made and dissolved matches as successfully as if, according to the belief o f the whole neighbourhood, she had been aided in these arts by Beelzebub him­ self. T h e worst o f the pretenders to these sciences was, that they were generally persons who, feeling themselves odious to humanity, were careless o f what they did to deserve the public hatred. Real crimes were often committed under pretence o f magical imposture; and it somewhat relieves the disgust with which we read, in the criminal records, the conviction o f these wretches, to be aware that many o f them merit, as poisoners, suborners, and diabolical agents in secret domestic crimes, the severe fate to which they were condemned for the imaginary guilt o f witchcraft. Such was Ailsie Gourlay, whom, in order to attain the absolute subjugation o f Lucy Ashton’s mind, her mother thought it fitting to place near her person. A woman o f less consequence than Lady Ashton had not dared to take such a step; but her high rank and strength o f character set her above the censure o f the world, and she was allowed to have selected for her daughter’s attendant the best and most experienced sick nurse “ and mediciner” in the neighbourhood, where an inferior person would have fallen under the reproach of calling in the assistance o f a partner and ally o f the great enemy of mankind. T h e beldame caught her cue readily and by inuendo, without giving Lady Ashton the pain o f distinct explanation. She was in many respects qualified for the part she played, which indeed could not be efficiently assumed without some knowledge o f the human heart and passions. Dame Gourlay perceived that Lucy shuddered at her

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external appearance, which we have already described upon her ap­ pearance in the death-chamber o f blind Alice; and while internally she hated the poor girl for the involuntary horror with which she perceived she was regarded, she commenced her operations by endeavouring to efface or overcome those prejudices which in her heart she resented as mortal offences. This was easily done, for the hag’s external ugliness was soon balanced by a show o f kindness and interest, to which Lucy had o f late been little accustomed; her attent­ ive services and real skill gained her the ear, if not the confidence, o f her patient; and under pretence o f diverting the solitude o f a sick room, she soon led her attention captive by the legends in which she was well skilled, and to which Lucy’s habits o f reading and reflection induced her to “ lend an attentive ear.” Dame Gourlay’s tales were at first o f a mild and interesting character— O f fays that nightly dance upon the wold, A nd lovers doom ed to w ander and to w eep, A nd castles high, where w icked w izzards keep T h e ir captive thralls.

Gradually, however, they assumed a darker and more mysterious character, and became such as, told by the midnight lamp, and enforced by the tremulous tone, the quivering and livid lip, the uplifted skinny fore-finger, and the shaking head o f the ugly blueeyed hag, might have appalled a less credulous imagination, in an age more hard o f belief. The old Sycorax saw her advantage, and gradu­ ally narrowed her magic circle around the devoted victim on whose spirit she practised. H er legends began to relate to the fortunes o f the Ravenswood family, whose ancient grandeur and portentous author­ ity, credulity had graced with so many superstitious attributes. T he story o f the fatal fountain was narrated at full length, and with formid­ able additions, by the ancient sybil. The prophecy, quoted by Caleb, concerning the dead bride, who was to be won by the last o f the Ravenswoods, had its own mysterious commentary; and the singular circumstance o f the apparition, seen by the M aster o f Ravenswood in the forest, having partly transpired through his hasty enquiries in the death chamber o f old Alice, formed a theme for many exaggerations. Lucy might have despised these tales, if they had been related concerning another family, or if her own situation had been less despondent. But circumstanced as she was, the idea that an evil fate hung over her attachment, became predominant over her other feel­ ings, and the gloom o f superstition darkened a mind, already suffici­ ently weakened by sorrow, distress, uncertainty, and an oppressive sense o f desertion and desolation. Stories were told by her attendant so closely resembling her own in their circumstances, that she was

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gradually led to converse upon such tragic and mystical subjects with the beldame, whom she still regarded with involuntary shuddering. Dame Gourlay knew how to avail herself o f this imperfect confidence. She directed Lucy’s thoughts to the means of enquiring into futurity, — the surest mode, perhaps, o f shaking the understanding and des­ troying the spirits. Omens were expounded, dreams were interpreted, and other tricks o f jugglery perhaps resorted to, by which the pre­ tended adepts o f the period deceived and fascinated their deluded followers. I find it mentioned in the articles o f dittay against Ailsie Gourlay, (— — for it is some comfort to think that the old hag was tried, condemned, and burned on the top o f North-Berwick-Law, by sentence o f a commission from the Privy Council) — — I find, I say, it was charged against her, among other offences, that she had, by the aid and delusions o f Satan, shewn to a young person o f quality, in a mirror glass, a gentleman then abroad, to whom the said young person was betrothed, and who appeared in the vision to be in the act o f bestowing his hand upon another lady. But this and some other parts o f the record appear to have been studiously left imperfect in names and dates, probably out o f regard to the honour o f the families con­ cerned. I f Dame Gourlay was able actually to play off such a piece o f jugglery, it is clear she must have had better assistance to practise the deception, than her own skill or funds could supply. Meanwhile this mysterious visionary traffic had its usual effect, in unsettling M iss Ashton’s mind. Her temper became unequal, her health decayed daily, her manners grew moping, melancholy, and uncertain. Her father, guessing partly at the cause o f these appearances, and exerting a degree o f authority unusual with him, made a point o f banishing Dame G o u rla y from the castle; but the arrow was shot, and was rankling barb-deep in the side o f the wounded deer. It was shortly after the departure o f this woman, that Lucy Ashton, urged by her parents, announced to them, with a vivacity by which they were startled, “ that she was conscious heaven and earth and hell had set themselves against her union with Ravenswood; still her con­ tract,” she said, “was a binding contract, and she neither would nor could resign it without the consent o f Ravenswood. Let me be assured,” she concluded, “ that he will free me from my engagement, and dispose o f me as you please, I care not how.— When the diamonds are gone, what signifies the casket?” Th e tone o f obstinacy with which this was said, her eyes flashing with unnatural light, and her hands firmly clenched, precluded the possibility o f dispute; and the utmost length which Lady Ashton’s art could attain, only got her the privilege o f dictating the letter, by which her daughter required to know o f Ravenswood whether he intended

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to abide by, or to surrender, what she termed, “ their unfortunate engagement.” O f this advantage Lady Ashton so far and so ingeni­ ously availed herself, that, according to the wording o f the letter, the reader would have supposed Lucy was calling upon her lover to renounce a contract which was contrary to the interests and inclina­ tions o f both. Not trusting even to this point o f deception, Lady Ashton finally determined to suppress the letter altogether, in hopes that Lucy’s impatience would induce her to condemn Ravenswood unheard and in absence. In this she was disappointed. T h e time, indeed, had long elapsed, when an answer should have been received from the continent. T h e faint ray o f hope which still glimmered in Lucy’s mind, was well nigh extinguished. But the idea never forsook her, that her letter might not have been duly forwarded. One o f her mother’s new machinations unexpectedly furnished her with the means o f ascertaining what she most desired to know. Th e female agent o f hell having been dismissed from the castle, Lady Ashton, who wrought by all variety o f means, resolved to employ, for working the same end on Lucy’s mind, an agent o f a very different character. This was no other than the Reverend M r Bidethebent, a presbyterian clergyman, o f the very strictest order and most rigid principles, whose aid she called in upon the principle o f the tyrant in the tragedy :— Γ 11have a priest shall preach her from her faith, A nd make it sin not to renounce that vow, W hich I’d have broken— —

But Lady Ashton was mistaken in the agent she had selected. His prejudices, indeed, were easily enlisted on her side, and it was no difficult matter to make him regard with horror the prospect o f a union betwixt the daughter o f a God-fearing, professing, and presby­ terian family o f distinction, with the heir o f a blood-thirsty prelatist and persecutor, the hands o f whose fathers had been dyed to the wrists in the blood o f G od’s saints. This resembled, in the divine’s opinion, the union o f a Moabitish stranger with a daughter o f Zion. But with all the more severe prejudices and principles o f his sect, Bidethebent possessed a sound judgment, and had learnt sympathy even in that very school o f persecution, where the heart is so fre­ quently hardened. In a private interview with M iss Ashton, he was deeply moved by her distress, and could not but admit the justice o f her request to be permitted a direct communication with Ravens­ wood, upon the subject o f their solemn contract. When she urged to him the great uncertainty under which she laboured, whether her letter had been ever forwarded, the old man paced the room with long steps, shook his grey head, rested repeatedly for a space on his ivory­

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headed staff, and after much hesitation, confessed that he thought her doubts so reasonable, that he would himself aid in the removal of them. “ I cannot but opine, M iss Lucy,” he said, “ that your worshipful lady mother hath in this matter an eagerness, whilk, although it ariseth doubtless from love to your best interests here and hereafter— for the man is o f persecuting blood, and himself a persecutor, a cavalier or malignant, and a scoffer, who hath no inheritance in Jesse— neverthe­ less we are commanded to do justice unto all, and to fulfil our bond and covenant, as well to the stranger, as to him who is in brotherhood with us. Wherefore myself, even I myself, will be aiding unto the delivery o f your letter to the man Edgar Ravenswood, trusting that the issue thereof may be your deliverance from the nets in which he hath sinfully engaged you. And that I may do in this neither more nor less than hath been warranted by your honourable parents, I pray you to transcribe, without increment or subtraction, the letter formerly expeded under the dictation o f your right honourable mother; and I shall put it into such sure course o f being delivered, that if, honoured young madam, you shall receive no answer, it will be necessary that you conclude that the man meaneth in silence to abandon that naughty contract, which, peradventure, he may be unwilling directly to restore.” Lucy eagerly embraced the expedient o f the worthy divine. A new letter was written in the precise terms o f the former, and consigned by M r Bidethebent to the charge o f Saunders Moonshine, a zealous elder o f the church when on shore, and when on board his brig, as bold a smuggler as ever ran out a sliding bowsprit to the winds that blow betwixt Campvere and the east coast o f Scotland. At the recom­ mendation o f his pastor, Saunders readily undertook that the letter should be securely conveyed to the Master o f Ravenswood at the court where he now resided. This retrospect became necessary to explain the conference betwixt M iss Ashton, her mother, and Bucklaw, which we have detailed in a preceding chapter. Lucy was now like the sailor, who, while drifting through a tempes­ tuous ocean, clings for safety to a single plank, his powers o f grasping it becoming every moment more feeble, and the deep darkness o f the night only chequered by the flashes o f lightning, hissing as they show the white tops o f the billows, in which he is soon to be engulphed. Week crept away after week, and day after day. St Ju d e’s day arrived, the last and protracted term to which Lucy had limited her­ self, and there was neither letter nor news o f Ravenswood.

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Chapter F i v e H o w fair these names, how much unlike they look T o all the blurr’d subscriptions in my book ! T h e bridegroom’s letters stand in row above, Tapering, yet straight, like pine-trees in his grove; W hile free and fine the bride’s appear below, A s light and slender as her jessamines grow. C rabbe

S t J u d e ’ s day came, the term assigned by Lucy herself as the fur­ thest date o f expectation, and, as we have already said, there were neither letters from, nor news of, Ravenswood. But there were news o f Bucklaw, and o f his trusty associate Craigengelt, who arrived early in the morning for the completion o f the proposed espousals, and for signing the necessary deeds. These had been carefully prepared under the revisal o f Sir William Ashton himself, it having been resolved, on account o f the state o f M iss Ashton’s health, as it was said, that none save the parties immediately interested should be present when the parchments were subscribed. It was further determined, that the marriage should be solemnized upon the fourth day after signing the articles, a measure adopted by Lady Ashton, in order that Lucy might have as little time as possible to recede, or relapse into intractability. There was no appearance, however, o f her doing either. She heard the proposed arrangement with the calm indifference o f despair, or rather with an apathy arising from the oppressed and stupified state o f her feelings. T o an eye so unobserving as that o f Bucklaw, her demeanour had little more o f reluctance than might suit the character o f a bashful young lady, however, he could not disguise from himself, who was complying with the choice o f her friends, rather than exercising any personal predilection in his favour. When the morning compliments o f the bridegroom had been paid, M iss Ashton was left for some time to herself; her mother remarking, that the deeds must be signed before the hour o f noon, in order that the marriage might be happy. Lucy suffered herself to be drest for the occasion, as the taste o f her attendants suggested, and was o f course splendidly arrayed. H er dress was composed o f white satin and Brussels lace, and her hair arranged with a profusion o f jewels, whose lustre made a strange contrast to the deadly paleness o f her complexion, and to the trouble which dwelt in her unsettled eye. H er toilette was hardly finished, ere Henry appeared to conduct the

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passive bride to the state apartment, where all was prepared for sign­ ing the contract. “ Do you know, sister,” he said, “ I am glad you are to have Bucklaw after all, instead o f Ravenswood, who looked like a Spanish grandee come to cut our throats, and trample our bodies under foot. And I am glad the broad seas are between us this day, for I shall never forget how frightened I was when I took him for the picture o f old Sir M alise walked out o f the canvass. T ell me true, are you not glad to be fairly shot o f him?” “ Ask me no questions, Henry,” said his unfortunate sister; “ there is little more can happen to make me either glad or sorry in this world.” “ And that’s what all young brides say,” said Henry; “ and so do not be cast down, Lucy, for you’ll tell another tale a twelvemonth hence — and I am to be bride’s-man, and ride before you to the kirk, and all our kith, kin, and ally, and all Bucklaw’s, are to be mounted and in order— and I am to have a scarlet laced coat, and a feathered hat, and a sword-belt, double bordered with gold, and point d'espagne, and a dagger instead o f a sword; and I should like a sword much better, but Douglas won’t hear o f it. All my things, and a hundred besides, are to come out from Edinburgh to-night with old Gilbert, and the sumpter mules— and I will bring them, and show them to you the instant they come.” The boy’s chatter was here interrupted by the arrival o f Lady Ash­ ton, somewhat alarmed at her daughter’s stay. With one o f her sweet­ est smiles, she took Lucy’s arm under her own, and led her to the apartment where her presence was expected. There were only present, Sir William Ashton, and Colonel Doug­ las Ashton, the last in full regimentals— Bucklaw in bridegroom trim — Craigengelt freshly equipt from top to toe by the bounty o f his patron, and bedizened with as much lace as might have become the stage dress o f the Copper Captain, together with the Rev. M r Bidethebent; the presence o f a minister being, in strict presbyterian families, an indispensable requisite upon all occasions o f unusual solemnity. Wines and refreshments were placed on a table, on which the writings were displayed, ready for signature. But before proceeding either to business or refreshment, M r Bidethebent, at a signal from Sir William Ashton, invited the company to join him in a short extemporary prayer, in which he implored a bless­ ing upon the contract now to be solemnized between the honourable parties then present. With the simplicity o f his times and profession, which permitted strong personal allusions, he petitioned, that the wounded mind o f one o f these noble parties might be healed, in reward o f her compliance with the advice o f her right honourable

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parents; and that, as she had proved herself a child after G od’s com­ mandment, by honouring her father and mother, she and her’s might enjoy the promised blessing— length o f days in the land here, and a happy portion hereafter in a better country. He prayed further, that the bridegroom might be weaned from those follies which seduce youth from the path o f knowledge; that he might cease to take delight in vain and unprofitable company, scoffers, rioters, and those who sit late at the wine, (here Bucklaw winked to Craigengelt), and cease from the society that causeth to err. A suitable supplication in behalf o f Sir William and Lady Ashton, and their family, concluded this religious address, which thus embraced every individual present, excepting Craigengelt, whom the worthy divine probably considered as past all hopes o f grace. T h e business o f the day now went forward; Sir William Ashton signed the contract with legal solemnity and precision; his son, with military non-chalance; and Bucklaw, having subscribed as rapidly as Craigengelt could turn the leaves, concluded by wiping his pen on that worthy’s new laced cravat. It was now M iss Ashton’s turn to sign the writings, and she was guided by her watchful mother to the table for that purpose. At her first attempt, she began to write with a dry pen, and when the circum­ stance was pointed out, seemed unable, after several attempts, to dip it in the massive silver ink-standish, which stood full before her. Lady Ashton’s vigilance hastened to supply the deficiency. I have myself seen the fatal deed, and in the distinct characters in which the name o f Lucy Ashton is traced on each page, there is only a very slight tremu­ lous irregularity, indicating her state o f mind at the time o f the sub­ scription. But the last signature is incomplete, defaced, and blotted; for while her hand was employed in tracing it, the hasty tramp o f a horse was heard at the gate, succeeded by a step in the outer gallery, and a voice, which, in a commanding tone, bore down the opposition o f the menials— the pen dropped from Lucy’s fingers, as she exclaimed with a faint shriek— “ He is come— he is come !”

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Chapter S i x T h is by his tongue should be a M ontague ! Fetch me my rapier, boy; N ow , by the faith and honour o f my kin, T o strike him dead I hold it not a sin. Romeo and Ju lie t

H a r d l y had M iss Ashton dropped the pen, when the door of the apartment flew open, and the M aster o f Ravenswood entered the apartment. Lockhard and another domestic, who had in vain attempted to oppose his passage through the gallery or anti-chamber, were seen standing on the threshold transfixed with surprise, which was instantly communicated to the whole party in the state-room. That o f Colonel Douglas Ashton was mingled with resentment; that o f Bucklaw, with haughty and affected indifference; the rest, even Lady Ash­ ton herself, shewed signs o f fear, and Lucy seemed petrified to stone by this unexpected apparition. Apparition it might well be termed, for Ravenswood had more the appearance o f one returned from the dead, than o f a living visitor. He planted himself full in the middle o f the apartment, opposite to the table at which Lucy was seated, on whom, as if she had been alone in the chamber, he bent his eyes with a mingled expression o f deep grief and deliberate indignation. His dark-coloured riding cloak, dis­ placed from one shoulder, hung around one side o f his person in the ample folds o f the Spanish mantle. T h e rest o f his rich dress was travel-soil’d, and deranged by hard riding. He had a sword by his side, and pistols in his belt. His slouched hat, which he had not removed at entrance, gave an additional gloom to his dark features, which, wasted by sorrow, and marked by the ghastly look communic­ ated by long illness, added to a countenance naturally somewhat stern and wild, a fierce and even savage expression. T he matted and dishev­ elled locks o f hair which escaped from under his hat, together with his fixed and unmoved posture, made his head more resemble that o f a marble bust than o f a living man. He said not a single word, and there was a deep silence in the company for more than two minutes. It was broken by Lady Ashton, who in that space partly recovered her natural audacity. She demanded to know the cause o f this unauthorised intrusion. “ That is a question, madam,” said her son, “which I have the best right to ask— and I must request o f the Master o f Ravenswood to follow me, where he can answer it at leisure.”

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Bucklaw interposed, saying, “ No man on earth should usurp his previous right in demanding an explanation from the M aster.— Craigengelt,” he added, in an under tone, “ d— n ye, why do you stand staring as if you saw a ghost? fetch me my sword from the gallery.” “ I will relinquish to no man,” said Colonel Ashton, “ my right of calling to account the man who has offered this unparalleled affront to my family.” “ Be patient, gentlemen,” said Ravenswood, turning sternly towards them, and waving his hand as if to impose silence on their altercation. “ I f you are as weary o f your lives as I am, I will find time and place to pledge mine against one or both— at present I have no leisure for the disputes o f triflers.” “ T riflers!” echoed Colonel Ashton, half unsheathing his sword, while Bucklaw laid his hand on the hilt o f that which Craigengelt had just reached him. Sir William Ashton, alarmed for his son’s safety, rushed between the young men and Ravenswood, exclaiming, “ M y son, I command you— Bucklaw, I entreat you— keep the peace, in the name o f the queen and o f the law.” “ In the name o f the law o f G od,” said Bidethebent, advancing also with uplifted hands between Bucklaw, the Colonel, and the object o f their resentment— “ In the name o f Him who brought peace on earth, and good will to mankind, I implore— I beseech— I command you to forbear violence towards each other. God hateth the blood-thirsty man— he who striketh with the sword, shall perish with the sword.” “ Do you take me for a dog, sir,” said Colonel Ashton, turning fiercely upon him, “ or something more brutally stupid, to endure this insult in my father’s house ?— Let me go, Bucklaw ! He shall account to me, or, by heaven, I will stab him where he stands.” “ You shall not touch him here,” said Bucklaw; “ he once gave me my life, and were he the devil come to fly away with the whole house and generation, he shall have nothing but fair play.” T h e passions o f the two young men thus counteracting each other, gave Ravenswood leisure to exclaim, in a stern and steady voice, “ Silence!— let him who really seeks danger, take the fitting time when it is to be found; my mission here will be shortly accomplished. — Is that, madam, your hand ?” he added in a softer tone, extending towards M iss Ashton her last letter. A faultering “ Y es,” seemed rather to escape from her lips, than to be uttered as a voluntary answer. “ And is this also your hand?” extending towards her the mutual engagement. Lucy remained silent. Terror, and a yet stronger and more con­

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fused feeling, so utterly disturbed her understanding, that she prob­ ably scarcely comprehended the question that was put to her. “ I f you design,” said Sir William Ashton, “ to found any legal claim on that paper, sir, do not expect to receive any answer to an extra­ judicial question.” “ Sir William Ashton,” said Ravenswood, “ I pray you, and all who hear me, that you will not mistake my purpose. I f this young lady, o f her own free-will, desires the restoration o f this contract, as her letter would seem to imply— there is not a withered leaf which this autumn wind strews on the heath, that is more valueless in my eyes. But I must and will hear the truth from her own mouth— without this satisfaction I will not leave this spot. M urder me by numbers you possibly may; but I am an armed man,— I am a desperate man,— and I will not die without ample vengeance. This is my resolution, take it as you may. I w i l l hear her determination from her own mouth— from her own mouth, alone, and without witnesses, will I hear it. Now chuse,” he said, drawing his sword with the right hand, and, with the left, by the same motion taking a pistol from his belt and cocking it, but turning the point o f one weapon and the muzzle o f the other to the ground,— “ Chuse if you will have this hall floated with blood, or if you will grant me the decisive interview with my affianced bride, which the laws o f God and the country alike entitle me to demand.” All recoiled at the sound o f his voice, and the determined action by which it was accompanied; for the ecstasy o f real desperation seldom fails to overpower the less energetic passions by which it may be opposed. T h e clergyman was the first to speak. “ In the name o f G od,” said he, “ receive an overture o f peace from the meanest o f his ser­ vants. What this honourable person demands, albeit it is urged with over violence, hath yet in it something o f reason. Let him hear from M iss Lucy’s own lips that she hath dutifully acceded to the will o f her parents, and repenteth her o f her covenant with him; and when he is assured o f this, he will depart in peace unto his own dwelling, and cumber us no more. Alas! the workings o f the ancient Adam are strong even in the regenerate— surely we should have long suffering with those who, being yet in the gall o f bitterness and bond o f iniquity, are swept forwards by the uncontroulable current o f worldly passion. L et then the M aster o f Ravenswood have the interview on which he insisteth; it can but be as a passing pang to this honourable maiden, since her faith is now irrevocably pledged to the choice o f her parents. L et it, I say, be thus— it belongeth to my functions to entreat your honours’ compliance with this healing overture.” “ Never,” answered Lady Ashton, whose rage had now overcome her first surprise and terror— “ never shall this man speak in private

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with my daughter, the affianced bride o f another. Pass from this room who will, I remain here. I fear neither his violence nor his weapons, though some,” she said, glancing a look towards Colonel Ashton, “who bear my name, appear more moved by them.” “ For G od’s sake, madam,” answered the worthy divine, “ add not fuel to firebrands. Th e M aster o f Ravenswood cannot, I am sure, object to your presence, the young lady’s state o f health being con­ sidered, and your maternal duty. I myself will also tarry; peradventure my grey hairs may turn away wrath.” “ You are welcome to do so, sir,” said Ravenswood; “ and Lady Ashton is also welcome to remain, if she shall think proper; but let all others depart.” “ Ravenswood,” said Colonel Ashton, crossing him as he went out, “you shall account for this ere long.” “When you please,” replied Ravenswood. “ But I,” said Bucklaw, with a half smile, “ have a prior demand on your leisure, a claim o f some standing.” “ Arrange it as you will,” said Ravenswood; “ leave me but this day in peace, and I will have no dearer employment on earth, to-morrow, than to give you all the satisfaction you can desire.” T h e other gentlemen left the apartment; but Sir William Ashton lingered. “ M aster o f Ravenswood,” he said, in a conciliating tone, “ I think I have not deserved that you should make this scandal and outrage in my family. I f you will sheathe your sword, and retire with me into my study, I will prove to you, by the most satisfactory arguments, the inutility o f your present irregular procedure”— — “ To-morrow, sir— to-morrow— to-morrow, I will hear you at length,” reiterated Ravenswood, interrupting him; “ this day hath its own sacred and indispensable business.” He pointed to the door, and Sir William left the apartment. Ravenswood sheathed his sword, uncocked and returned his pistol to his belt, walked deliberately to the door o f the apartment, which he bolted— returned, raised his hat from his forehead, and, gazing upon Lucy with eyes in which an expression o f sorrow overcame their late fierceness, spread his dishevelled locks back from his face, and said, “ D o you know me, M iss Ashton?— I am still Edgar Ravenswood.” She was silent; and he went on, with increasing vehemence— “ I am still that Edgar Ravenswood, who, for your affection, renounced the dear ties by which injured honour bound him to seek vengeance. I am that Ravenswood, who, for your sake, forgave, nay, clasped hands in friendship with the oppressor and pillager o f his house— the traducer and murderer o f his father.”

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“ M y daughter,” answered Lady Ashton, interrupting him, “ has no occasion to dispute the identity o f your person; the venom o f your present language is sufficient to remind her, that she speaks with the mortal enemy o f her father.” “ I pray you to be patient, madam,” answered Ravenswood; “ my answer must come from her own lips.— Once more, M iss Lucy Ash­ ton, I am that Ravenswood to whom you granted the solemn engage­ ment, which you now desire to retract and cancel.” Lucy’s bloodless lips could only faulter out the words, “ It was my mother.” “ She speaks truly,” said Lady Ashton; “ it was I, who, authorised alike by the laws o f God and man, advised her, and concurred with her, to set aside an unhappy and precipitate engagement, and to annul it by the authority o f Scripture itself.” “ Scripture!” said Ravenswood, scornfully. “ Let him hear the text,” said Lady Ashton, appealing to the divine, “ on which you yourself, with cautious reluctance, declared the nullity o f the pretended engagement insisted upon by this violent man.” T h e clergyman took his clasped Bible from his pocket, and read the following words : “I f a woman vow a vow unto the Lord, and bind herself by a bond, being in herfather's house in her youth, and herfather hear her vow and her bond, wherewith she hath bound her soul, and herfather shall hold his peace at her, then all her vow shall stand” “ And was it not even so with us?” interrupted Ravenswood. “ Controul thy impatience, young man,” answered the divine, “ and hear what follows in the sacred text :— ‘But i f herfather disallow her in the day that he heareth, not any o f her vows, nor o f her bonds, wherewith she hath bound her soul, shall stand. A nd the Lord shallforgive her, because her father disallowed her.’ ” “ And was not,” said Lady Ashton, fiercely and triumphantly break­ ing in,— “was not our’s the case stated in holy writ?— Will this person deny, that the instant her parents heard o f the vow, or bond, by which our daughter had bound her soul, we disallowed the same in the most express terms, and informed him by writing o f our deter­ mination?” “ And is this all?” said Ravenswood, looking at Lucy— “ Are you willing to barter sworn faith, the exercise o f free-will, and the feelings o f mutual affection, to this wretched hypocritical sophistry?” “ Hear him !” said Lady Ashton, looking to the clergyman— “ hear the blasphem er!” “ M ay God forgive him,” said Bidethebent, “ and enlighten his ignorance !” “ Hear what I have sacrificed for you,” said Ravenswood, still

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addressing Lucy, “ ere you sanction what has been done in your name. T h e honour o f an ancient family, the urgent advice o f my best friends, have been in vain used to sway my resolution; neither the arguments o f reason, nor the portents o f superstition, have shaken my fidelity. Th e very dead have arisen to warn me, and their warning has been despised. Are you prepared to pierce my heart for its fidelity, with the very weapon which my rash confidence entrusted to your grasp ?” “ M aster o f Ravenswood,” said Lady Ashton, “you have asked what questions you thought fit. You see the total incapacity o f my daughter to answer you. But I will reply for her, and in a manner which you cannot dispute. You desire to know whether Lucy Ashton, o f her own free-will, desires to annul the engagement into which she has been trepanned. You have her letter under her own hand, demanding the surrender o f it; and, in yet more full evidence o f her purpose, here is the contract which she has this morning subscribed, in presence o f this reverend gentleman, with M r Hayston o f Bucklaw.” Ravenswood gazed upon the deed, as if petrified. “ And it was without fraud or compulsion,” said he, looking towards the clergy­ man, “ that M iss Ashton subscribed this parchment?” “ I vouch it upon my sacred character.” “ This is, indeed, madam, an undeniable piece o f evidence,” said Ravenswood sternly; “ and it will be equally unnecessary and dishon­ ourable to waste another word in useless remonstrance or reproach. There, madam,” he said, laying down before Lucy the signed paper and the broken piece o f gold— “ there are the evidences o f your first engagement; may you be more faithful to that which you have just formed. I will trouble you to return the corresponding tokens o f my illplaced confidence— I ought rather to say o f my egregious folly.” Lucy returned the scornful glance o f her lover with a gaze, from which perception seemed to have been banished; yet she seemed partly to have understood his meaning, for she raised her hands as if to undo a blue ribbon which she wore around her neck. She was unable to accomplish her purpose, but Lady Ashton cut the ribbon asunder, and detached the broken piece o f gold which M iss Ashton had till then worn concealed in her bosom. Th e written counterpart o f the lovers’ engagement she for some time had had in her own possession. With a haughty curtsey, she delivered both to Ravenswood, who was much softened when he took the piece o f gold. “ And she could wear it thus,” he said— speaking to himself— “ could wear it in her very bosom— could wear it next to her heart— even when— but complaint avails not,” he said, dashing from his eye the tear which had gathered in it, and resuming the stern composure o f his manner. He strode to the chimney, and threw into the fire the

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paper and piece o f gold, stamping upon the coals with the heel o f his boot, as if to insure their destruction. “ I will be no longer,” he then said, “ an intruder here— Your evil wishes, and your worse offices, Lady Ashton, I will only return, by hoping these will be your last machinations against your daughter’s honour and happiness.— And to you, madam,” he said, addressing Lucy, “ I have nothing farther to say, except to pray to God that you may not become a world’s wonder for this act o f wilful and deliberate perjury.”— Having uttered these words, he turned on his heel, and left the apartment. Sir William Ashton, by entreaty and authority, had detained his son and Bucklaw in a distant part o f the castle, in order to prevent their again meeting with Ravenswood; but as the Master descended the great staircase, Lockhard delivered him a billet, signed Sholto Doug­ las Ashton, requesting to know where the Master o f Ravenswood would be heard o f four or five days from hence, as the writer had business o f weight to settle with him, so soon as an important family event had taken place. “ Say to Colonel Ashton,” said Ravenswood, composedly, “ I shall be found at Wolfscrag when his leisure serves him.” As he descended the outward stair which led from the terrace, he was a second time interrupted by Craigengelt, who, on the part o f his principal, the Laird o f Bucklaw, expressed a hope, that Ravenswood would not leave Scotland within ten days at least, as he had both former and recent civilities for which to express his gratitude. “ T e ll your master,” said Ravenswood fiercely, “ to chuse his own time. He will find me at Wolfscrag, if his purpose is not forestalled.” “M y master?” replied Craigengelt, encouraged by seeing Colonel Ashton and Bucklaw at the bottom o f the terrace, “ give me leave to say, I know o f no such person upon earth, nor will I permit such language to be used to me.” “ Seek your master, then, in hell!” exclaimed Ravenswood, giving way to the passion he had hitherto restrained, and throwing Craigen­ gelt from him with such violence, that he rolled down the steps, and lay senseless at the foot o f them— “ I am a fool,” he instantly added, “ to vent my passion upon a caitiff so worthless.” He then mounted his horse, which at his arrival he had secured to a ballustrade in front o f the castle, rode very slowly past Bucklaw and Colonel Ashton, raising his hat as he past each, and looking in their faces steadily while he offered this mute salutation, which was returned by both with the same stern gravity. Ravenswood walked on with equal deliberation until he reached the head o f the avenue, as if to shew that he rather courted than avoided interruption. When he had passed the upper gate, he turned his horse, and looked at the castle

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with a fixed eye; then set spurs to his good steed, and departed with the speed o f a demon dismissed by the exorcist.

Chapter Seven “W ho comes from the bridal cham ber?” It is Azrael, the angel o f death. Thalaba

A f t e r the dreadful scene that had taken place at the castle, Lucy was transported to her own chamber, where she remained for some time in a state o f absolute stupor. Yet afterwards, in the course o f the ensuing day, she seemed to have recovered, not merely her spirits and resolution, but a sort o f flighty levity, that was foreign to her character and situation, and which was at times checquered by fits o f deep silence and melancholy, and o f capricious pettishness. Lady Ashton became much alarmed, and consulted the family physi­ cians. But as her pulse indicated no change, they could only say that the disease was on the spirits, and recommended gentle exercise and amusement. M iss Ashton never alluded to what had passed in the state-room. It seemed doubtful even if she was conscious o f it, for she was often observed to raise her hands to her neck, as if in search o f the ribbon that had been taken from it, and mutter, in surprise and discontent, when she could not find it, “ It was the link that bound me to life.” Notwithstanding all these remarkable symptoms, Lady Ashton was too deeply pledged, to delay her daughter’s marriage even in her present state o f health. It cost her much trouble to keep up the fair side o f appearances towards Bucklaw. She was well aware, that if he once saw any reluctance on her daughter’s part, he would break o ff the treaty, to her great personal shame and dishonour. She therefore resolved, that, if Lucy continued passive, the marriage should take place upon the day that had been previously fixed, trusting that a change o f place, o f situation, and o f character, would operate a more speedy and effectual cure upon the unsettled spirits o f her daughter, than could be attained by the slow measures which the medical men recommended. Sir William Ashton’s views o f family aggrandisement, and his desire to strengthen him self against the measures o f the M ar­ quis o f A— — , readily induced him to acquiesce in what he could not have perhaps resisted if willing to do so. As for the young men, Bucklaw and Colonel Ashton, they protested, that after what had happened, it would be most dishonourable to postpone for a single hour the time appointed for the marriage, as it would be generally

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ascribed to their being intimidated by the intrusive visit and threats o f Ravenswood. Bucklaw would indeed have been incapable o f such precipitation, had he been aware o f the state o f M iss Ashton’s health, or rather o f her mind. But custom, upon these occasions, permitted only brief and sparing intercourse between the bridegroom and the bride; a circum­ stance so well improved by Lady Ashton, that Bucklaw neither saw nor suspected. On the eve o f the bridal day, Lucy appeared to have one o f her fits o f levity, and surveyed with a degree o f girlish interest the various pre­ parations o f dress, &c. &c., which the different members o f the family had prepared for the occasion. T h e morning dawned bright and cheerily. The bridal guests assembled in gallant troops from distant quarters. Not only the rela­ tions o f Sir William Ashton, and the still more dignified connec­ tions o f his lady, together with the numerous kinsmen and allies of the bridegroom, were present upon this joyful ceremony, gallantly mounted, arrayed, and caparisoned, but almost every presbyterian family o f distinction, within fifty miles, made a point o f attending upon an occasion which was considered as giving a sort o f triumph over the M arquis o f A— — , in the person o f his kinsman. Splendid refresh­ ments awaited the guests on their arrival, and after it was finished, the cry was to horse. T h e bride was led forth betwixt her brother Henry and her mother. Her gaiety o f the preceding day had given rise to a deep shade o f melancholy, which, however, did not misbecome an occasion so momentous. There was a light in her eyes, and a colour in her cheek, which had not been kindled for many a day, and which, joined to her great beauty, and the splendour o f her dress and jewels, occasioned her entrance to be greeted with an universal murmur o f applause, in which even the ladies could not refrain themselves from joining. While the cavalcade were getting to horse, Sir William Ash­ ton, a man o f peace and o f form, censured his son Henry for having begirt him self with a military sword o f preposterous length, belonging to his brother, Colonel Ashton. “ I f you must have a sword,” he said, “ upon such a peaceful occa­ sion, why did you not use the short weapon sent from Edinburgh on purpose?” T h e boy vindicated himself, by saying it was lost. “ You put it out o f the way yourself, I suppose,” said his father, “ out o f ambition to wear that thing that might have served Sir William Wallace— but never mind, get to horse now, and take care o f your sister.” T h e boy did so, and was placed in the centre o f the gallant train. At

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the time he was too full o f his own appearance, his sword, his laced cloak, his feathered hat, and his managed horse, to pay much regard to any thing else; but he afterwards remembered to the hour o f his death, that when the hand o f his sister, by which she supported herself on the pillion behind him, touched his own, it felt as wet and cold as sepul­ chral marble. Glancing wide over hill and dale, the fair bridal procession at last reached the parish church, which they nearly filled; for, besides domestics, above a hundred gentlemen and ladies were present upon the occasion. T h e marriage ceremony was performed, according to the rites o f the presbyterian persuasion, to which Bucklaw o f late had judged it proper to conform. On the outside o f the church, a liberal dole was distributed to the poor o f the neighbouring parishes, under the direction o f Johnny Mortsheugh, who had lately been promoted from his desolate quar­ ters at the Hermitage, to fill the more eligible situation o f sexton at the parish-church o f Ravenswood. Dame Gourlay, with two o f her con­ temporaries, the same who assisted at Alice’s late-wake, seated apart upon a flat monument, or through-stane, sate enviously comparing the shares which had been allotted to them in dividing the dole. “Johnny Mortsheugh,” said Annie Winnie, “ might hae minded auld lang syne, and thought o f his auld kimmers, for as braw as he is with his new black coat. I hae gotten but five herring instead 0’ sax, and this disna look like a gude saxpennys, and I dare say this bit morsel 0’ beef is an unce lighter than ony that’s been dealt round; and it’s a bit 0’ the tenony hough, mair by token, that your’s, Maggie, is out 0’ the back-sey.” “ M ine, quo’ she,” mumbled the paralytic hag, “ mine is half banes, I trow. I f grit folk gie poor bodies ony thing for coming to their wed­ dings and burials, it suld be something that wad do them gude, I think.” “ Their gifts,” said Ailsie Gourlay, “ are dealt for nae love o f us— nor for respect for whether we feed or starve. They wad gie us whinstanes for loaves, if it would serve their ain vanity, and yet they expect us to be as gratefu’ as they ca’ it, as if they served us for true love and likeing.” “ And that’s truly said,” answered her companion. “ But, Ailsie Gourlay, ye’re the auldest o’ us three, did ye ever see a mair grand bridal?” “ I winna say that I have,” answered the hag; “but I think soon to see as braw a burial.” “ And that wad please me as weel,” said Annie Winnie; “ for there’s as large a dole, and folk are no obliged to grin and laugh, and mak murgeons, and wish joy to these hellicat quality, that lord it ower us

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like brute beasts. I like to pack the dead dole in my lap, and rin ower my auld rhyme,— M y loaf in my lap, my penny in my purse, T h o u art ne’er the better, and I’m ne’ er the worse.”

“ That’s right, Annie,” said the paralytic woman; “ God send us a green Yule and a fat kirk-yard !” “ But I wad like to ken, Lucky Gourlay, for ye’re the auldest and wisest amang us, whilk 0’ these revellers’ turns it will be to be streekit first.” “ D ’ye see yon dandilly maiden,” said Dame Gourlay, “ a’ glistenin’ wi’ goud and jewels, that they are mounting on the white horse behind that hare-brained callant in scarlet, wi’ the lang sword at his side ?” “ But that’s the bride !” said her companion, her cold heart touched with some sense o f compassion; “ that’s the very bride hersell! Eh, whow! sae young, sae braw, and sae bonnie— and is her time sae short?” “ I tell ye her winding sheet,” said the sybil, “ is up as high as her throat already, believe it wha list. Her sand has but few grains to run out, and nae wonder— they’ve been weel shaken. Th e leaves are with­ ering fast on the trees, but she’ll never see the Martinmas wind gar them dance in swirls like the fairy rings.” “Ye waited on her for a quarter,” said the paralytic woman, “ and got twa red pieces, or I am far beguiled.” “ Ay, ay,” answered Ailsie, with a bitter grin; “ and Sir William Ashton promised me a bonnie red gown to the boot 0’ that— a stake, and a chain, and a tar-barrel, lass !— what think ye 0’ that for a pro­ pine ?— for being up early and doun late for fourscore nights and mair wi’ his dwining daughter. But he may keep it for his ain lady, cum­ mers.” “ I hae heard a sough,” said Annie Winnie, “ as if Lady Ashton was nae canny body.” “ D ’ye see her yonder,” said Dame Gourlay, “ as she prances on her grey gelding out at the kirk-yard ?— there’s mair 0’ utter deevilry in that woman, as brave and fair-fashioned as she rides yonder, than in a’ the Scotch witches that ever flew by moon-light ower North-Berwick L aw .” “ What’s that ye say about witches, ye damned hags?” said Johnnie M ortsheugh; “ are ye casting ye’re cantraips in the very kirk-yard, to mischieve the bride and bridegroom? G et awa’ hame, for if I tak my souple t’ye, I’ll gar ye find the road faster than ye wad like.” “ E h! sirs!” answered Ailsie Gourlay; “ bra’ are we wi’ our new black coat and our weel-pouthered head, as if we had never kenned hunger nor thirst oursells ! and we’ll be screwing up our bit fiddle,

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doubtless, in the ha’ the night, amang a’ the other elbo’ jiggers for miles round— let’s see if the pins haud, Johnnie— that’s a’, lad.” “ I take ye a’, gude people, to witness,” said Mortsheugh, “ that she threatens me wi’ mischief, and forespeaks me. I f onything but gude happens to me or my fiddle this night, I’ll make it the blackest night’s job she ever stirred in. I’ll hae her before Presbytery and Synod— I’m half a minister mysel’, now that I’m a bedral in an inhabited parish.” Although the mutual hatred betwixt these hags and the rest o f mankind had steeled their hearts against all impressions o f festivity, this was by no means the case with the multitude at large. T h e splend­ our o f the bridal retinue— the gay dresses— the spirited horses— the blithesome appearance o f the handsome women and gallant gentle­ men assembled upon the occasion, had the usual effect upon the minds o f the populace. The repeated shouts, o f “ Ashton and Bucklaw for ever!” — the discharge o f pistols, guns, and muskettoons, to give what was called the bridal-shot, evinced the interest the people took in the occasion o f the cavalcade, as they accompanied it upon their return to the castle. I f there was here and there an elder peasant or his wife who sneered at the pomp o f the upstart family, and remembered the days o f the long-descended Ravenswoods, even they, attracted by the plentiful cheer which the castle that day afforded to rich and poor, held their way thither, and acknowledged, notwithstanding their pre­ judices, the influence o f l’Amphitrion où l ’on dîne. Thus accompanied with the attendance both o f rich and poor, Lucy returned to her father’s house. Bucklaw used his privilege o f riding next to the bride, but, new to such a situation, rather endeavoured to attract attention by the display o f his person and horsemanship, than by any attempt to address her in private. They reached the castle in safety, amid a thousand joyous acclamations. It is well known that the weddings o f ancient days were celebrated with a festive publicity rejected by the delicacy o f modern times. Th e marriage-guests upon the present occasion were regaled with a ban­ quet o f unbounded profusion, the relics o f which, after the domestics had feasted in their turn, were distributed among the shouting crowd, with as many barrels o f ale as made the hilarity without correspond to that within the castle. The gentlemen, according to the fashion o f the times, indulged, for the most part, in deep draughts o f the richest wines, while the ladies, prepared for the ball, which always closed a bridal entertainment, impatiently expected their arrival in the state gallery. At length the social party broke up at a late hour, and the gentlemen crowded into the saloon, and, enlivened by wine and the joyful occasion, laid aside their swords, and handed their impatient partners to the floor. T h e music already rung from the gallery, along

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the fretted roof o f the ancient state apartment. According to strict etiquette, the bride ought to have opened the ball, but Lady Ashton, making an apology on account o f her daughter’s health, offered her own hand to Bucklaw as substitute for her daughter’s. But as Lady Ashton raised her head gracefully, expecting the strain at which she was to begin the dance, she was so much struck by an unexpected alteration in the ornaments o f the apartment, that she was surprised into an exclamation,— “Who has dared to change the pic­ tures?” All looked up, and those who knew the usual state o f the apartment, observed, with surprise, that the picture o f Sir William Ashton’s father was removed from its place, and in its stead that o f old Sir Malise Ravenswood seemed to frown wrath and vengeance upon the party assembled below. T he exchange must have been made while the apartments were empty, but had not been observed until the torches and lights in the sconces were kindled for the ball. T h e haughty and heated spirits o f the gentlemen led them to demand an immediate enquiry into the cause o f what they deemed an affront to their host and to themselves; but Lady Ashton, recovering herself, passed it over as the freak o f a crazy wench who was maintained about the castle, and whose susceptible imagination had been observed to be much affected by the stories which Dame Gourlay delighted to tell concerning “ the former family,” so Lady Ashton named the Ravenswoods. T he obnoxious picture was immediately removed, and the ball was opened by Lady Ashton with a grace and dignity which supplied the charms o f youth, and almost verified the extravagant encomiums o f the elder part o f the company, who extolled her performance as far exceeding the dancing o f the rising generation. When Lady Ashton sat down, she was not surprised to find that her daughter had left the apartment, and she herself followed, eager to obviate any impression which might have been made upon her nerves by an incident so likely to affect them as the mysterious transposition o f the portraits. Apparently she found her apprehensions groundless, for she returned in about an hour, and whispered the bridegroom, who extricated himself from the dancers, and vanished from the apartment. The instruments now played their loudest strains— the dancers pursued their exercise with all the enthusiasm inspired by youth, mirth, and high spirits, when a cry was heard so shrill and piercing, as at once to arrest the dance and the music. All stood motionless; but when the yell was again repeated, Colonel Ashton snatched a torch from the sconce, and demanding the key o f the bridal-chamber from Henry, to whom, as bride’s-man, it had been entrusted, rushed thither, followed by Sir William and Lady Ashton,

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and one or two others, near relations o f the family. T he bridal guests waited their return in stupified amazement. Arrived at the door o f the apartment, Colonel Ashton knocked and called, but received no answer, except stifled groans. He hesitated no longer to open the door o f the apartment, in which he found opposi­ tion, from something which lay against it. When he had succeeded in opening it, the body o f the bridegroom was found lying on the thresh­ old o f the bridal-chamber, and all around was flooded with blood. A cry o f surprise and horror was raised by all present; and the company, excited by this new alarm, began to rush tumultuously towards the sleeping apartment. Colonel Ashton, first whispering to his mother,— “ Search for her— she has murdered him !” drew his sword, planted himself in the passage, and declared he would suffer no man to pass excepting the clergyman, and a medical person present, related to the family. By their assistance, Bucklaw, who still breathed, was raised from the ground, and transported to another apartment, where his friends, full o f suspicion and murmuring, assembled round him to learn the opinion o f the surgeon. In the mean while, Lady Ashton, her husband, and their assistants, in vain sought Lucy in the bridal bed and in the chamber. There was no private passage from the room, and they began to think that she must have thrown herself from the window, when one o f the company, holding his torch lower than the rest, discovered something white in the comer o f the great old-fashioned chimney o f the apartment. Here they found the unfortunate girl, seated, or rather couched, like a hare upon its form— her head-gear dishevelled— her night-clothes torn and dabbled with blood— her eyes glazed, and her features convulsed into a wild paroxysm o f insanity. When she saw herself discovered, she gibbered, made mouths, and pointed at them with her bloody fingers, with the frantic gestures o f an exulting demoniac. Female assistance was now hastily summoned; the unhappy bride was overpowered, not without the use o f some force. As they carried her over the threshold, she looked down, and uttered the only articu­ late words that she had yet spoken, saying, with a sort o f grinning exultation,— “ So, you have ta’en up your bonnie bridegroom.” She was by the shuddering assistants conveyed to another and more retired apartment, where she was secured as her situation required, and closely watched. T h e unutterable agony o f the parents— the hor­ ror and confusion o f all who were in the castle— the fury o f contend­ ing passions between the friends o f the different parties, passions augmented by previous intemperance, surpass description. T he surgeon was the first who obtained something like a patient hearing; he pronounced that the wound o f Bucklaw, though severe

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and dangerous, was by no means fatal, but might readily be rendered so by disturbance and hasty removal. This silenced the numerous party o f Bucklaw’s friends, who had previously insisted that he should, at all rates, be transported from the castle to the nearest o f their houses. They still demanded, however, that, in consideration o f what had happened, four o f their number should remain to watch over the sick-bed o f their friend, and that a suitable number o f their domestics, well armed, should also remain in the castle. This condi­ tion being acceded to on the part o f Colonel Ashton and his father, the rest o f the bridegroom’s friends left the castle, notwithstanding the hour and the darkness o f the night. The cares o f the medical man were next employed in behalf o f M iss Ashton, whom he pronounced to be in a very dangerous state. Farther medical assistance was immediately summoned. All night she remained delirious. On the morning, she fell into a state o f absolute insensibility. T he next evening, the physicians said, would be the crisis o f her malady. It proved so, for although she awoke from her trance with some appearance of calmness, and suf­ fered her night-clothes to be changed, or put in order, yet so soon as she put her hand to her neck, as if to search for the fatal blue ribbon, a tide of recollections seemed to rush upon her, which her mind and body were alike incapable o f bearing. Convulsion followed convul­ sion, till they closed in death, without her being able to utter a word explanatory o f the fatal scene. T h e provincial judge o f the district arrived the day after the young lady had expired, and executed, though with all possible delicacy to the afflicted family, the painful duty o f enquiring into this fatal trans­ action. But there occurred nothing to explain the general hypothesis, that the bride, in a sudden fit o f insanity, had stabbed the bridegroom at the threshold o f the apartment. T h e fatal weapon was found in the chamber, smeared with blood. It was the same poniard which Henry should have worn upon the wedding-day, and which his unhappy sister had probably contrived to secrete upon the preceding evening, when it had been shewn to her among other articles o f preparation for the wedding. T h e friends o f Bucklaw expected that upon his recovery he would throw some light upon this dark story, and eagerly pressed him with enquiries, which for some time he evaded under pretext o f weakness. When, however, he had been transported to his own house, and was considered as in a state o f convalescence, he assembled those per­ sons, both male and female, who had considered themselves as en­ titled to press him on this subject, and returned them thanks for the interest they had expressed in his behalf, and their offers o f adherence and support. “ I wish you all,” he said, “ my friends, to understand,

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however, that I have neither story to tell, nor injuries to avenge. I f a lady shall question me henceforward upon the incidents o f that unhappy night, I shall remain silent, and in future consider her as desirous to break o ff her friendship with me. But if a gentleman shall ask me the same question, I shall regard the incivility as equivalent to an invitation to meet him in the Duke’s Walk, and I expect that he will rule himself accordingly.” A declaration so decisive admitted no commentary; and it was soon after seen that Bucklaw had arisen from the bed o f sickness a sadder and a wiser man than he had hitherto shewn himself. He dismissed Craigengelt from his society, but not without such a provision as, if well employed, might secure him against indigence, and against temptation. Bucklaw afterwards went abroad, and never returned to Scotland; nor was he known ever to hint at the circumstances attending his fatal marriage. By many readers this may be deemed overstrained, roman­ tic, and composed by the wild imagination o f an author, desirous o f gratifying the popular appetite for the horrible; but those who are read in the private family history o f Scotland during the period in which the scene is laid, will readily discover, through the disguise o f borrowed names and added incidents, the leading particulars of a n o w e r TRUE TALE.

Chapter E ig h t W hose mind’s so marbled, and his heart so hard, T h at would not, when this huge mishap was heard, T o th’ utmost note o f sorrow set their song, T o see a gallant, with so great a grace, S o suddenly unthought on, so o’erthrown, A nd so to perish, in so poor a place, B y too rash riding in a ground unknown ! Poem, in Nisbet's Heraldry, Vol. II

W e Ha v e anticipated the course o f time to mention Bucklaw’s recov­ ery and fate, that we might not interrupt the detail o f events which succeeded the funeral o f the unfortunate Lucy Ashton. This melan­ choly ceremony was performed in the misty dawn o f an autumnal morning, with as little attendance and ceremony as could possibly be dispensed with. A very few o f the nearest relations attended her body to the same churchyard to which she had so lately been led as a bride, with as little free-will, perhaps, upon that former occasion, as could be now testified by her lifeless and passive remains. An aisle adjacent to the church had been fitted up by Sir William Ashton as a family cemetery; here, in a coffin bearing neither name nor date, were con­

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signed to dust the remains o f what was once lovely, beautiful, and innocent, though exasperated to phrenzy by a long tract o f unremit­ ting persecution. While the mourners were busy in the vault, the three village hags, who, notwithstanding the unwonted earliness o f the hour, had snuffed the carrion like vultures, were seated on the “ through-stane,” and engaged in their wonted unhallowed conference. “ Did not I say,” said Dame Gourlay, “ that the braw bridal would be followed by as braw a funeral?” “ I think,” answered Dame Winnie, “ there’s little bravery at it; neither meat nor drink, and just a wheen silver tippences to the poor folk; it was little worth while to come sae far road for sae sma’ profit, and us sae frail.” “ Out, w retch!” replied Dame Gourlay, “ can a’ the dainties they could gi’e us be half sae sweet as this hour’s vengeance ? there they are that were capering on their prancing nags four days since, and they are now ganging as driegh and sober as oursells the day. They were a’ glistening wi’ gowd and silver; they are now as black as the crook; and M iss Lucy Ashton, that grudged when an honest woman came near her, a taed may sit on her coffin the day, and she never sconner when he croaks. And Lady Ashton has hell-fire burning in her breast by this time; and Sir William, wi’ his gibbets, and his faggots, and his chains, how likes he the witcheries o f his ain dwelling house ?” “ And is it true then,” mumbled the paralytic wretch, “ that the bride was trailed out o f her bed and up the chimlay by evil spirits, and that the bridegroom’s face was wrung round ahint him?” “ Ye needna care wha did it, or how it was done,” said Ailsie G our­ lay; “ but I’ll uphaud it for nae sticket job, and that the lairds and ladies ken this day.” “ And was it true,” said Annie Winnie, “ sin ye ken sae mickle about it, that the picture o f auld Sir M alise Ravenswood came down on the ha’ floor, and led out the brawl before them a’ ?” “ N a,” said Ailsie; “ but into the ha’ came the picture— and I ken weel how it came there— to gi’e them a warning that pride would get a fa’— but there is as queer a ploy, cummers, as ony o’ thae that’s gaun on even now in the burial vault yonder— ye saw twaL mourners, wi’ crape and cloke, gang down the steps pair and pair?” “What should ail us to see them?” said the one old woman. “ I counted them,” said the other, with the eagerness o f a person to whom the spectacle had afforded too much interest to be viewed with indifference. “ But ye did not see,” said Ailsie, exulting in her superior observa­ tion, “ that there’s a thirteenth amang them that they ken naething

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about; and, if auld freets say true, there’s ane o’ that company that’ll no be lang for this world. But come awa, cummers; if we bide here, I’se warrant we get the wyte o’ whatever ill comes o f it, and that gude will come o f it nane o’ them need ever think to see.” And thus, croaking like the ravens when they anticipate pestilence, the ill-boding sybils withdrew from the church-yard. In fact, the mourners, when the service o f interment was ended, discovered that there was among them one more than the invited number, and the remark was communicated in whispers to each other. T h e suspicion fell upon a figure, which, muffled in the same deep mourning with the others, was reclined, almost in a state o f insensibil­ ity, against one o f the pillars o f the sepulchral vault. T he relatives of the Ashton family were expressing in whispers their surprise and displeasure at the intrusion, when they were interrupted by Colonel Ashton, who, in his father’s absence, acted as principal mourner. “ I know,” he said in a whisper, “who this person is; he has, or shall soon have, as deep cause o f mourning as ourselves— leave me to deal with him, and do not disturb the ceremony by unnecessary exposure.” So saying, he separated himself from the group o f his relations, and taking the unknown mourner by the cloak, he said to him, in a tone o f suppressed emotion, “ Follow m e.” T h e stranger, as if starting from a trance at the sound o f his voice, mechanically obeyed, and they ascended the broken ruinous stair which led from the sepulchre into the church-yard. T h e other mourners followed, but remained grouped together at the door of the vault, watching with anxiety the motions o f Colonel Ashton and the stranger, who now appeared to be in close conference beneath the shade o f a yew-tree, in the most remote part o f the burial ground. T o this sequestered spot Colonel Ashton had guided the stranger, and then turning round, addressed him in a stern and composed tone — “ I cannot doubt that I speak to the Master o f Ravenswood.” No answer was returned. “ I cannot doubt,” resumed the Colonel, trem­ bling with rising passion, “ that I speak to the murderer o f my sister ?” “ You have named me but too truly,” said Ravenswood, in a hollow and tremulous voice. “ I f you repent what you have done,” said the Colonel, “ may your penitence avail you before G od ; with me it shall serve you nothing. H ere,” he said, giving a paper, “ is the measure o f my sword, and a memorandum o f the time and place o f meeting. Sun-rise to-morrow morning, on the Links to the east o f Wolfshope.” T h e Master o f Ravenswood held the paper in his hand, and seemed irresolute. At length he spoke— “ Do not,” he said, “ urge to farther desperation a wretch who is already desperate. Enjoy your life while

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you can, and let me seek my death from another.” “ That you never, never shall,” said Ashton. “ You shall die by my hand, or you shall complete the ruin o f my family by taking my life. If you refuse me my open challenge, there is no advantage I will not take o f you, no indignity with which I will not load you, until the very name o f Ravenswood shall be the sign o f every thing that is dishonourable, as it is already o f all that is villainous.” “ That it shall never be,” said Ravenswood, fiercely; “ if I am the last who shall bear it, I owe it to those who once owned it, that the name shall be extinguished without infamy. I accept your challenge, time, and place o f meeting. We meet, I presume, alone ?” “ Alone we meet,” said Colonel Ashton, “ and alone will the survivor o f us return from that place o f rendezvous.” “ Then God have mercy on the soul o f him who falls !” said Ravens­ wood. “ So be it !” said Colonel Ashton; “ so far can my charity reach even for the man I hate most deadly, and with the deepest reason. Now, break off, for we shall be interrupted. T h e links by the sea-shore to the east o f Wolfshope— the hour sun-rise— our swords our only weapons.” “ Enough,” said the Master, “ I will not fail you.” They separated; Colonel Ashton joining the rest o f the mourners, and the M aster o f Ravenswood taking his horse, which was tied to a tree behind the church. Colonel Ashton returned to the castle with the funeral guests, but found a pretext for detaching himself from them in the evening, when, changing his dress to a riding habit, he rode to Wolfshope that night, and took up his abode in the little inn, in order that he might be ready for his rendezvous in the morning. It is not known how the M aster o f Ravenswood disposed o f the rest o f that unhappy day. Late at night, however, he arrived at Wolfscrag, and aroused his old domestic, Caleb Balderstone, who had ceased to expect his return. Confused and flying rumours o f the late tragical death o f M iss Ashton, and o f its mysterious cause, had already reached the old man, who was filled with the utmost anxiety, on account o f the probable effect these events might produce upon the mind o f his master. T h e conduct o f Ravenswood had nothing to alleviate his apprehen­ sions. T o the Butler’s trembling entreaties, that he would take some refreshment, he at first returned no answer, and then suddenly and fiercely demanding wine, he drank, contrary to his habits, a very large draught. Seeing that his master would eat nothing, the old man affec­ tionately entreated that he would permit him to light him to his cham­ ber. It was not until the request was three or four times repeated, that

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Ravenswood made a mute sign o f compliance. But when Balderstone conducted him to an apartment which had been comfortably fitted up, and which, since his return, he had usually occupied, Ravenswood stopped short on the threshold. “ Not here,” said he, sternly; “ show me the room in which my father died. The room in which s h e slept the night they were at the castle. ” “Who, sir?” said Caleb, too terrified to preserve his presence o f mind. “ She, Lucy Ashton !— would you kill me, old man, by forcing me to repeat her name ?” Caleb would have said something o f the disrepair o f the chamber, but was silenced by the irritable impatience which was expressed in his master’s countenance; he lighted the way trembling and in silence, placed the lamp on the table o f the deserted room, and was about to attempt some arrangement o f the bed, when his master bid him begone in a tone that admitted o f no delay. T h e old man retired, not to rest, but to prayer; and from time to time crept to the door o f the apartment, in order to find out whether Ravenswood had gone to repose. His measured heavy step upon the floor was only interrupted by deep groans; and the repeated stamps o f the heel o f his heavy boot, intimated too clearly, that the wretched inmate was abandoning him­ self at such moments to paroxysms of uncontrouled agony. Th e old man thought that the morning, for which he longed, would never have dawned; but time, whose course rolls on with equal current, however it may seem more rapid or more slow to mortal apprehension, brought the dawn at last, and spread a ruddy light on the broad verge o f the glistening ocean. It was early in November, and the weather was serene for the season o f the year. But an easterly wind had prevailed during the night, and the advancing tide rolled nearer than usual to the foot o f the crags on which the castle was founded. With the first peep o f light, Caleb Balderstone again resorted to the door o f Ravenswood’s sleeping apartment, through a chink o f which he observed him engaged in measuring the length o f two or three swords which lay in a closet adjoining to the apartment. He muttered to himself, as he selected one o f these weapons, “ It is shorter— let him have this advantage as he has every other.” Caleb Balderstone knew too well, from what he witnessed, upon what enterprise his master was bound, and how vain all interference on his part must necessarily prove. He had but time to retreat from the door, so nearly was he surprised by his master suddenly coming out, and descending to the stables. The faithful domestic followed, and from the dishevelled appearance o f his master’s dress, and his ghastly looks, was confirmed in his conjecture that he had passed the night

[Chap. 35]

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without sleep or repose. He found him busily engaged in saddling his horse, a service from which Caleb, though with faultering voice and trembling hands, offered to relieve him. Ravenswood rejected his assistance by a mute sign, and having led the animal into the court, was just about to mount him, when the old domestic’s fear giving way to the strong attachment which was the principal passion o f his mind, he flung him self suddenly at Ravenswood’s feet, and clasped his knees, while he exclaimed, “ Oh, sir ! oh, master ! kill me if you will, but do not go out on this dreadful errand. O ! my dear master, wait but this day— the M arquis o f A— — comes to-morrow, and a’ will be remedied.” “ You have no longer a master, Caleb,” said Ravenswood, endeav­ ouring to extricate himself; “why, old man, would you cling to a falling tower?” “ But I have a master,” cried Caleb, still holding him fast, “while the heir o f Ravenswood breathes— I am but a servant; but I was your father’s— your grandfather’s— I was born for the family— I have lived for them— I would die for them— Stay but at home, and all will be w ell!” “ Well? fool! well?” said Ravenswood; “vain old man, nothing hereafter in life will be well with me, and happiest is the hour that shall soonest close it.” So saying, he extricated him self from the old man’s hold, threw him self on his horse, and rode out at the gate; but instantly turning back, he threw towards Caleb, who hastened to meet him, a heavy purse o f gold. “ Caleb,” he said, with a ghastly smile, “ I make you my executor;” and again turning his bridle, he resumed his course down the hill. The gold fell unheeded on the pavement, for the old man ran to observe the course which was taken by his master, who turned to the left down a small and broken path, which gained the sea-shore through a cleft in the rock, and led to a sort o f cove, where, in former times, the boats o f the castle were wont to be moored. Observing him take this course, Caleb hastened to the eastern battlement, which commanded the prospect o f the whole sands, very near as far as the village of Wolfshope. He could easily see his master riding in that direction, as fast as the horse could carry him. The prophecy at once rushed on Balderstone’s mind, that the Lord o f Ravenswood should perish on the K elpie’s Flow, which lay half way betwixt the tower and the links or sand-knolls, to the north-east o f Wolfshope. He saw him accordingly reach the fatal spot, but he never saw him pass further. Colonel Ashton, frantic for revenge, was already in the field, pacing the turf with eagerness, and looking with impatience towards the tower for the arrival o f his antagonist. T h e sun had now risen, and

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shewed its broad disk above the eastern sea, so that he could easily discern the horseman who rode towards him with a speed which argued impatience equal to his own. At once the figure became invis­ ible, as if it had melted into the air. He rubbed his eyes, as if he had witnessed an apparition, and then hastened to the spot, near which he was met by Balderstone, who came from the opposite direction. No trace whatever o f horse or rider could be discerned; it only appeared, that the late winds and high tides had greatly extended the usual bounds o f the quicksand, and that the unfortunate horseman, as appeared from the hoof-tracks, in his precipitate haste, had not attended to keep on the firm sands on the foot o f the rock, but had taken the shortest and most dangerous course. One only vestige o f his fate appeared. A large sable feather had been detached from his hat, and the rippling waves o f the rising tide wafted it to Caleb’s feet. Th e old man took it up, dried it, and placed it in his bosom. Th e inhabitants o f Wolfshope were now alarmed, and crowded to the place, some on shore, and some in boats, but their searches availed nothing. The tenacious depths o f the quicksand, as is usual in such cases, retained their prey. Our tale draws to a conclusion. T h e M arquis o f A— — , alarmed at the frightful reports that were current, and anxious for his kinsman’s safety, arrived on the subsequent day to mourn his loss; and, after renewing in vain a search for the body, returned to forget what had happened amid the bustle o f politics and state affairs. Not so Caleb Balderstone. If worldly profit could have consoled the old man, his age was better provided for than his earlier life had ever been; but life had lost to him its salt and its savour. His whole course o f ideas, his feelings, whether o f pride or o f apprehension, o f pleasure or o f pain, had all arisen from his close connection with the family which was now extinguished. He held up his head no longer— forsook all his usual haunts and occupations, and seemed only to find pleasure in mopeing about those apartments in the old castle, which the M aster o f Ravenswood had last inhabited. He ate without refreshment, and slumbered without repose; and, with a fidelity sometimes displayed by the canine race, but seldom by human beings, he pined and died within a year after the catastrophe which we have narrated. T h e family o f Ashton did not long survive that o f Ravenswood. Sir William Ashton survived his eldest son, the Colonel, who was slain in a duel in Flanders; and Henry, by whom he was succeeded, died unmarried. Lady Ashton lived to the verge o f extreme old age, the only survivor o f the group o f unhappy persons, whose misfortunes were in a great degree owing to her implacability. That she might internally feel compunction, and reconcile herself with heaven whom she had

[Chap. 3 5 ]

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offended, we will not, and we dare not deny; but to those around her, she did not evince the slightest symptom either o f repentance or remorse. In all external appearance, she bore the same bold, haughty, unbending character, which she had displayed before these unhappy events. A splendid marble monument records her name, titles, and virtues, while her victims remain undistinguished by tomb or epitaph. TH E END

E S S A Y ON T H E T E X T

I. T H E

GENESIS

OF T H E B R I D E

OF LAM M ERM OOR

2.

THE

: the M an u ­ script; Proofs; changes between M anuscript and First Edition 3 . t h e l a t e r e d i t i o n s : ‘ Second ’ and ‘T h ird ’ Editions; octavo Novels and Tales', duodecimo Novels and Tales', eighteenmo Novels and Tales; the Interleaved S et and the M agnum 4. t h e p r e s e n t t e x t : punctu­ ation and capitalisation; verbal emendations [misreadings, wrong inser­ tions and omissions, wrong substitutions, mechanical elimination o f repetitions, mistaken corrections, Anglicisations, problems with names, miscellaneous]. T h e following conventions are used in transcriptions from Scott’ s manuscript and the proofs : deletions are enclosed 〈 thus 〉and insertions ↑ ↑thus↓ ; an insertion within an insertion is indicated by double arrows ↑↑thus↓ ↓ superscript letters are lowered without comment; the letters ‘ N L ’ (new line) are Scott’s own, and indicate that he wished a new paragraph to be opened, in spite o f running on the text. Editorial com ­ ments within quotations are designated by square brackets [thus]. T h e same conventions are used as appropriate for indicating variants between the printed editions. co m po sitio n

of

t h e

b r id e

o f

l a m m e r m o o r

;

I.

the genesis

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The Bride o f Lammermoor was penned between early September 18 18 and (probably) late April or early May 1819, achieving publication along with A Legend o f Montrose as Tales o f my Landlord (Third Series) in June. Lockhart’s account of Scott’s wrestling with excruciating stom­ ach cramps while dictating the manuscript to William Laidlaw and John Ballantyne, and of his being unable to correct any proofs,1 is demon­ strable romancing: most of the manuscript survives in Scott’s hand, as do his corrected proofs from 240.28 to the end. There is a germ of truth in Lockhart, however: the last part of the manuscript was certainly dictated; 2 the surviving proofs were probably preserved as evidence of authorship to complement the incomplete manuscript. On 15 June 1 8 1 8 Scott’s publisher Archibald Constable wrote to Robert Cadell, as The Heart o f M id-Lothian expanded to fill the fourth and final volume of the second series of Tales o f my Landlord: ‘There is to be only one Tale in the four Volumes— the Author has Montrose & sundry others besides The Regalia quite untouched’.3 Whether the Bride was one of the sundry other tales already envisaged by that date is not known. Reliable evidence for the period of its composition is frustratingly scanty. The first reference to the third series of Tales o f my Land­ lord (comprising The Bride o f Lammermoor and A Legend o f Montrose) occurs in a letter from Scott to Constable dated 3 September 1 8 1 8 :

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‘The 3d Series is commenced & will go on regularly as I am now returned [to Abbotsford] from my tour [to visit the Duke of Buccleuch at Drumlanrig, Dumfriesshire and J. B. S. Morritt at Rokeby, York­ shire] & propose working hard’.4 Three days later, on 6 September, Cadell wrote to Constable : The morning after I received yours I set out for Abbotsford, which I reached about 1 1 oclock in the forenoon, I found the lion in his den, very busy, he however laid his pen aside and walked round the whole of his property with me, we were on foot nearly five hours— I saw the ambitious eye pointed at various and sundry neighbouring places, which I did not discourage, it being all for our good— we had a long crack both then and afterwards on various, indeed I may almost say, every subject, all which I shall tell you about when I return . . . he is in great spirits— and I do think we stand very well with him— and bid fair to retain the place we hold, he is working hard, and says he shall publish in November.5 Perhaps four days later, Scott was indeed progressing, but in the face of difficulties, and with some misgivings, as he explained to James Ballantyne: I have been interrupted sadly since my return by tourist gazers. This day a confounded pair o f Cambridge boys robbed me of two good hours, and you of a sheet o f copy— though whether a good sheet or no, deponent saith not. The story is a dismal one, and I doubt sometimes whether it will bear working out to much length after all. Query, if I shall make it so effective in two volumes as my mother does in her quarter o f an hour’s crack by the fireside ? But nil desperandum. You shall have a bunch to-morrow or next day— and when the proofs come in, my pen must and shall step out.6 By 14 November, Cadell indicated, Scott had slowed down seriously: The Tales I regret. . . to say get on most slowly— the first 7 Sheets only are printed— he may and I doubt not, will, get on better when he is in town, there are so many interruptions in the Country he can do nothing. John [ Ballantyne ] tells me he is determined to write no more Tales for a long long time.7 On 26 November Cadell wrote optimistically to Constable that Scott ‘positively assures me that the Third Series will be finished in January’,8 but a week later, on 4 December, he had to revise his estimate radically : ‘I fear we will not see the Third Tales till March. Drama has stopped them a little— there are only Seven sheets of Vol I done’ : these seven sheets would take the Bride up to the mid-point of the first volume.9 Scott wrote to John Ballatyne on 1 1 January that he was still making progress : ‘The 3d. Series goes on without interruption & shall do so to the end’.10 On 23 February Constable was advising customers that the new novels would not be ready until April.11 During March, Scott was stopped in his work by a near-fatal attack of gallstones; by 4 April he was still weak, he told James Ballantyne, but his mind was turning again to

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the Tales.12 Around 8 April he informed Constable : ‘I began to dictate yesterday & did it easily & with comfort. This is a great point. But I must work by little & little.’ 13 On 9 April he wrote to John Ballantyne : The novel is once more in progress & James will have copy by Mondays coach. I begin to gather strength slowly however & work at intervals. It will be out before Whit[ sunda ]y [ 15 May] certainly barring a relapse.14 On the n th , Scott informed Constable: ‘John Ballantyne is here and returns with copy which my increasing strength permits me to hope I may now furnish regularly’.15 I f ‘the novel’ and ‘copy’ in these two letters do indeed refer to the Bride, as has been generally assumed, then Scott had made reasonable progress during the winter, and he was now tack­ ling the final chapters. A letter to John Ballantyne convincingly dated by Frank McCombie to 15 April suggests that work on the Bride was approaching completion at that date : ‘M y next parcel finishes the Bride. All goes on capitally & yesterday a threat of my disorder was parried by the hot bath without anodynes which shows the disease grows weaker’.16 On 10 April Constables had regretfully informed Hurst Robinson that the third volume of the series was not as far advanced at press as had been hoped and ‘we fear [the series] will not be published for two months to come’, but on the 1 7th they asserted more confidently that the series was ‘proceeding briskly’,17 and on the 20th they ordered more foolscap paper from Longman and Dickinson o f London.18 On 17 April Scott wrote to Constable : ‘I wish you would look down and press mat­ ters at the printing office; they have plenty of copy. This comes with a fresh parcel, and health allowing, I anticipate no interruption.’ I9James Ballantyne’s announcement to Cadell of the Bride's completion is unfor­ tunately undated except for the day of the week, Wednesday : All is right. The Bride isfinished. It will run, I think, to about 80 or 90 pages of Vol. 3. So there are pretty nearly 2 vols, left for the next tale, the title of which is— A Tale of Montrose. I am getting copy more quickly than I ever got it before. I’ve no reason to doubt that the work will be ready for publication by the 1 st of June.20 The third series was advertised in the Edinburgh Evening Courant o f 6 May for publication ‘in the first week o f June’. The composition of A Legend o f the Wars o f Montrose (much of it probably involving dictation) and the printing of the volumes advanced during May, though still not without problems,21 and on the 22nd Constables wrote to Hurst Robinson : You will receive with this Vol 1.2.3 of the Tales for your foreign Correspondent which we need not add must not be seen by anyone except yourselves— The printing of the 4th volume is well advanced, and we do not anticipate any delay now in its completion.

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— Indeed we hope to send you the 4th volume, within ten days from this time We shall then send you duplicate Copy of the whole.22 On 29 May the fourth volume was ‘well advanced and we have every reason to hope that we shall keep the time fixed for the publication so far as having it at press at any rate’; 23 typesetting was completed on 3 June, and 5000 copies (of a probable run of 10,000) were shipped to London on the Wellington on 1 1 June.24 The third series of Tales o f my Landlord achieved ‘This day published’ status in the Edinburgh Evening Courant on Monday 21 June, and in the Literary Gazette on Saturday 26 June which may be regarded as the London publication date. The price was £ 1 . 1 2 s. (£1.60). On 13 August Constable regretted that the publication was ‘certainly too late in the season’, resulting in ‘dull’ sales.25 2. T H E C O M P O S I T I O N OF T H E B R I D E O F L A M M E R M O O R

T h e M anuscript. The surviving portion o f the manuscript of The Bride o f Lammermoory consisting of 127 leaves, is in the Signet Library, Edin­ burgh. The first volume (as originally conceived, and as restored in the present edition) is complete on 73 leaves, numbered by Scott 1 to 6 1, with a double set of numbers in the twenties and a triple use of 20 itself; there is one unnumbered leaf (preceding Scott’s 10), and there are in addition three blank or largely blank leaves at various points. The first chapter o f the novel is on a separate ten-leaf fascicle of which the last leaf is blank and the penultimate leaf only half filled. As Scott’s normal practice was to write on without leaving any blank space between chap­ ters, it appears that the first chapter was conceived after the second was begun. This hypothesis is supported by the heading of the second chap­ ter, ‘The Bride of Lammermoor. Chap. II.’, which must have been added later as it is in a different pen from the text that follows. Scott cannot have progressed far before he hit on the idea of the Tinto story, as the page numbering from 10 onwards (the second leaf o f Chapter 2) is in the same pen and ink as the main text. However, there is no sign of any break in the composition of the first two leaves o f the second chap­ ter. (The final sentence of the first chapter was added at proof stage, and the preceding sentence modified, in the light o f Scott’s experience of writing the early part of the novel.) The second volume is present to 2 1 3 .1 (‘and let me know the’ ), except for three missing leaves, and the surviving 48 leaves are numbered by Scott 1 to 50 (lacking 32, 35, and 36), with a double use of 3 1; there are in addition three blank or nearly blank leaves. There were thus at least 124 main leaves in Scott’s hand, of which 12 1 survive. The verso of the final surviving leaf contains inser­ tions for the next leaf which do not appear in the first edition : it is not known whether the first leaf of the final portion of the novel was wholly or only partly in Scott’s hand, or at what stage he began to dictate.26 Scott followed his usual practice of covering each recto densely; there is no space at the top or at the bottom or at the right, and only the

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narrowest of margins at the left. The size of his writing varies according to his mood, but on average there are about 700 to 800 words per leaf. Scott used the verso of the previous leaf for corrections and for inser­ tions varying from a single word to substantial passages. The evidence of pens and ink suggests that most of the alterations were made at the time of composition, but that some were introduced after the relevant portion of the main text had been penned, perhaps at the beginning o f the following day’s task. T o preserve the author’s anonymity, the manu­ scripts of all the novels to 1827 were transcribed for the press, and to judge from the folding o f the manuscript, copy was sent to the tran­ scriber frequently in small batches, so that the few manuscript revisions in different pens from the main text must have been made shortly after initial composition. Although the main text on the rectos may appear at first sight to be relatively free from corrections, a close examination shows that a typical folio contains around fifteen corrections or visible hesitations where Scott has begun a word and stumbled, or changed his mind. With so many minute and sometimes undecipherable alterations it would be impossible to quantify or classify at all satisfactorily the differ­ ent types of changes made on the rectos, or to describe them in detail, but many of them clearly anticipate the types of alteration which Scott, and in some cases his intermediaries, made at later stages, the most pervasive and least interesting being innumerable clarifications (some­ times by substituting nouns or proper names for pronouns) and the introduction o f ‘said so-and-so’ and new paragraphs. Other character­ istic changes in manuscript may be divided for convenience into eight categories. 1] Some of the inadvertent repetitions of words in close sequence are eliminated, though these repetitions often indicate the concept that was dominant in Scott’s mind— the concept of darkness at 4 1.2 6 —30, for example : ‘ . .. a large and loose cloak of a dark-brown colour. A Montero cap and a black feather droopd over the wearers brow and partly conceald his features which so far as seen were dark regular & full of majestic though somewhat sullen expression. Some 〈dark〉secret sor­ row . . . ’. 2 ] Scott’s awareness of stylistic refinement is evident in several of his second thoughts. Thus, he adds dignity: ‘the portals of the ancient and half ruinous tower in which Sir Allan had spent the last and troubled years o f his life opend (to permit) ↑that↓ his mortal remains (to) ↑might↓ pass forward to an abode yet more dreary and lonely’ ( 1 9 .1 6 – 19 ); and he avoids the commonplace : ‘The animal approachd the (place sl) intruders on his pasture-ground’ (37.30). 3 ] The substitution of a more vivid or simply more appropriate word can be observed on many occasions, e.g. ‘the tail o f that (noble animal) ↑quadruped↓ (6.8); ‘betwixt (great)↑ distinguishd↓ success and

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absolute failure’ ( 10 .2 – 3 ); ‘the ruin & 〈 misery〉disgrace he has brought on me and mine’ (2 1.4 ); ‘for should 〈 the〉 ↑such↓ deed be done 〈 there〉↑it ↓ will be no time for grass to grow beneath 〈 our〉their heels’ (50.30– 3 1 ) · 4 ] Narrative details can sometimes be observed coming in at the time of writing or shortly afterwards. The description of the death of Ravenswood senior at 19 .6 – 14 (‘The thread of life . . . the Scottish disposi­ tion.’ ) is a verso insertion, but in the same pen as the main text. A smaller, but memorable, detail is inserted in a later pen into the first description of old Alice : ‘She 〈 sate 〉↑ occupied a turf seat placed ↓ under a weeping birch’ (3 2 .7 ); and a more workaday example can be found in the second volume (13 2 .3 4 – 3 5 ): ‘raising his cane ↑and making a grasp at the captains bridle, ↓ ’. Although most of the manu­ script is extremely fluent, certain descriptive passages gave Scott a good deal of trouble. That Bucklaw is to be an ambiguous character is evident from the first manuscript description: ‘The other was about fifteen years younger short stout ruddy-faced and red haird with an open〈bold〉 resolute and 〈 even haughty〉↑cheerful ↓ eye to which ↑careless 〈 fear­ lessness〉and fearless 〈 th[ ?]〉freedom and↓ inward daring gave a light and expression’ (4 8 .17 – 20). The picture of the desolate hall at Wolfscrag was particularly hard-worked (63.6– 20) : Overturnd pitchers and blackjacks and 〈 large〉pewter stoups and flaggons still cumberd the large oaken table ↑〈 while fragments of g〉Glasses those more perishable implements of conviviality many of which had been voluntarily sacrificed by the guests in their enthusiastic pledges to favourite toasts strewd the stone floor with their fragments. As for the articles ↓ of 〈 the〉plate lent for the purpose by freinds and kinsfolks ↑these ↓ had been carefully withdrawn so soon as the ostentatious display of festivity equally unnecessary and strangely timd had been made and ended, ↑Nothing in short remaind that indicated wealth : all the signs 〈 of〉 were those of 〈 f〉recent 〈 revel〉↑↑wastefullness ↓↓ and present desolation, ↓ The black cloth ↑hangings ↓ which on 〈 this〉the ↑late ↓ moumfull occasion had replaced the tatterd and motheaten tapestries had been partly pulid down and 〈 hanging〉↑ dang­ ling↓ from the walls in irregular festoons disclosed the rough stone work of the building unsmoothed either by plaister or hewn stone. 5] Some alterations make it clear that Scott had a later part of a sentence, or a passage, in mind while writing the first part. Thus at the beginning of the novel he writes: ‘I confess〈 , I should more enjoy the vision,〉 ↑that, ↓ were it safe to cherish such 〈 thoughts〉↑dreams↓ at all, I should more 〈 enjoy〉↑cherish↓ the vision of remaining behind the curtain. . . ’ ( 3 .1 2 – 14). In the description o f the wild cattle the word ‘ancient’ was replaced by ‘savage’ at 36.36, only to appear at line 4 1, ‘the ancient race’. Frequently, deleted final inverted commas indicate that

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S co tt has been prom pted to expand on his original conception o f a speech. A striking exam ple is old A lic e ’s speech at 1 5 2 . 2 – 7, w hich originally ended at ‘cou n tenance.’ , and another is R aven sw oo d ’s at 1 5 7 · 3 7 – 4 3 , w hich was originally intended to stop at ‘rep resen ted ’ .27 6] T h e m anuscript shows no changes o f direction, and only a handful o f second thoughts about the conduct o f the narrative in the course o f com position. O ccasionally, S co tt w ill p ress ahead with the narrative and then realise that it needs m ore space to breathe. T h e m ost striking exam ple o f this occurs at 1 7 3 . 1 9 , w here after ‘his sauciness for w it.’ the m anuscript originally w ent on : O n the subject o f L u c y he contrived with great ease to alarm the fears o f L a d y A shton So m e rum ours o f the visit to W o lfscrag tower had already reachd h er ears w hich alarm d h er considerably and the m ore as h er husbands letters w ere silent on the subject. Indeed this was the principal motive w hich induced h er to lend an ear to the S co tt deleted this in favour o f the long exposition in the first edition and the present text, beginn ing ‘ L e st, how ever, any one should think this a violation o f probability . . .’ . T h e only other really noteworthy exam ple o f a change o f conception is to be found at 1 9 0 .4 3 – 1 9 1 . 5 w here the aged sibyl is an afterthought, apparently added (m ostly on the opposing verso ) in the original p en at a slightly later stage o f the day’s task ; the m anuscript reads : H e w as relieved how ever o f his sad office sooner than he could reasonably have expected from the distance betwixt the hut o f the deceased and the age 〈 o f two〉↑ and infirm ities o f three ↓ old w om en . . . . O n any other occasion the speed o f these reverend sybils 〈 fo r〉〈one o f w hom 〉↑ w ould have been m uch m ore m od er­ ate for the first was eighty years o f age & upw ards the second ↓ was paralytic and the 〈 other〉↑ third ↓ lam e o f a leg from som e acci­ dent 〈 w ould have been m uch m ore m o d e ra te . 7 ] T h e division betw een the second and third chapters o f V olum e 2 was an afterthought ( 1 3 3 ). T h e recto runs straight on thus : ‘ . . . led him back towards the hall. “ T h e answ er to your q uestion” he said “ though it is a ridiculous business is only fit for your own e ar.” A s they enterd the hall he again took the M a ste r apart into one o f the recesses o f the w indow and spoke with an appearance o f u nconcern . . .’ . O riginally S co tt decided to introduce the chapter division betw een ‘towards the h all’ and ‘ “ T h e a n s w e r. . . ” ’ , by m eans o f an ‘X ’ in the text and ‘ C h apter II I.’ on the verso. H e deleted this and instead deleted ‘ and spoke’ in the recto text and substituted on the verso ‘w h ere it w ill be easily believed . . . opend his com m unication’ .28 8 ] T h e m ottoes o f sixteen o f the chapters w ere added after the com ­ position o f the m ain text.29 P r o o fs . A s explained in the ‘ G e n e ra l Introduction’ , the practice was to

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have the manuscript transcribed (to preserve Scott’s anonymity) and to send the transcript to the printers. The Bride o f Lammermoor was prob­ ably transcribed by William Laidlaw, for he has copied some of the short verso insertions towards the end of the manuscript on to the recto, no doubt to ensure they were not missed.30 The transcript passed in batches through the hands of the compositors and other staff o f the Ballantyne firm. The compositors would have set the text and at the same time supplied punctuation, standardised spelling, and corrected minor errors, in conformity (theoretically) with a series of standing orders discussed below. The first proofs would have been read in-house against the transcript by one of James Ballantyne’s correctors; these first proofs have not survived. A second set of proofs was then prepared. Second proofs were read by James Ballantyne, and then by Scott. A portion of the second proofs is extant and is in the National Library of Scotland ( m s 3 4 0 1); it covers the final pages o f the novel, for which there is no manuscript (240.28, or 3.49.1 in the first edition, ( ‘ [ attri ]butes. The story’ ) to the end ). It is clear that this section derives, at least in part, from an original manuscript written at Scott’s dictation : as evidence one may cite the spelling ‘caviller’ for ‘cavalier’ (243.7), the readings ‘satisfaction’ for ‘salutation’ (253.39) and ‘as warn’t’ for ‘I’se warrant’ (264.3), and the false start at 2 5 1.3 6 – 38 : ‘O u r faith, honour, free-will— Are you willing to barter sworn faith, the exercise of free-will, and the feelings of mutual affection’. O f the 300–plus changes made to the text of the proof, Scott was probably responsible for all but twenty or so, though it is often difficult to tell whether punctuational changes were made by Scott or by Ballantyne. Most of Scott’s changes31 fall into definable categories, headed in quantity but not in interest by some fifty workaday and sometimes pedantic clarifications of the original text. There are some fifty changes in punctuation, very miscellaneous but showing a general tendency to introduce dashes in speech. Scott has corrected some 45 clear errors, including faulty tense sequences and other grammatical blunders, misreadings of the manuscript, and a number of typograph­ ical mistakes. There are some forty eliminations of ugly repeti­ tions, mostly straightforward, though on one or two occasions Scott seems to have mechanically cut effective rhetorical repetitions: ‘Are you prepared to pierce my heart for its fidelity, with the very weapon which (that very fidelity) ↑my rash confidence ↓ entrusted to your grasp?’ (252.6– 7 ); ‘may your penitence avail you before G od; with avail〉 ↑serve↓ you nothing’ (264.36– 37). Some 25 me it shall 〈 changes are apparently made for stylistic reasons, the most significant probably being the insertion o f ‘last & protracted’ at 243.42. These general stylistic refinements are complemented by a dozen minor rhet­ orical enhancements of speeches: e.g. Ί will ↑reply for h er↓, and in a manner which you cannot dispute’ (2 5 2 .10 – 1 1 ) and ‘〈 I saw〉↑What

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should ail us to see ↓ them?’ (263.38). The most interesting of Scott’s proof changes are approximately 25 small expansions, in some of which his imagination is momentarily brought into play: e.g. ‘I care not how↑— When the diamonds are gone what signifies the casket— ↓’ ( 2 4 1.3 7 – 38 ); ‘when she could not find it ↑ “ it was the link that bound me to life— ” ↓ ’ (254.21 – 22); ‘what was once lovely, beautiful, and innocent ↑though exasperated to frenzy by a long tract of unremitting persecution N L ↓’ (2 6 3 .1– 3 ) ; ‘it was little worth while to come so far road for sae sma’ profit ↑and us sae frail ↓ ( 2 6 3 .12 – 1 3 ) ; and ‘They were a’ glistening wi’ gowd and silver; ↑they are now as black as the crook; ↓ and Miss Lucy Ashton, that grudged when an honest woman came near her, a taed may sit on her coffin the day; ↑ & she never sconner when he croaks. ↓ ’ (2 6 3 .17 – 21 ). Right at the beginning of the extant proofs (240.42– 241.6) there is a larger insertion as part of a clarification of the plot business :

’

Stories were told ↑by her attendant ↓ so closely resembling her own ↑ in their circumstances ↓ that she was gradually led to 〈 repose a sort o f confidence in the sybil〉↑converse upon such tragic and mystical subjects with the beldame ↓ repose a sort of confidence in the sybil, whom she still regarded with involuntary shuddering. ↑ Dame Gourlay knew how to avail herself of this imperfect confidence She directed Lucy’s thoughts to the means of enquiring into futurity the surest mode perhaps of shaking the understanding and destroying the spirits ↓ There are a dozen changes affecting the sense, mostly unremarkable. Other small groups include the insertion o f ‘said so-and-so’ tags and of new paragraphs, the replacement of a less appropriate word by a more appropriate one, the addition and deletion of Scots, and the substitution o f nouns or proper names for pronouns. The twenty or so alterations in proof definitely attributable to James Ballantyne are all very minor corrections and punctuational changes, and most of them have been accepted in the present text, as explained below. Between corrected second proofs and the first edition a further hundred or so alterations were made, over twenty involving the addition of punctuation (especially commas), some forty the changing and dele­ tion of other punctuation, and eleven the changing of spelling. Scots was added on twelve occasions, the most remarkable being the substitution o f ‘ o w e r ’ for ‘ o v e r ’ at 26 2.21. There are a handful of grammatical and stylistic alterations. C hanges betw een M anuscript and F irst Edition. The first edition shows more than two thousand verbal differences from the extant por­ tions of the manuscript. Although some of the categories suggested below are fluid, an attempt to break down the majority of these altera­ tions may be helpful.

ESSAY ON THE TE X T

28ο

1 ] Over 200 alterations were made for the sake of clarity or precision, often substituting a name (or a noun) for a pronoun, especially after the creation of a new paragraph, or introducing an explanatory phrase. A particularly strenuous clarification can be observed when Ravenswood finds himself keeping watch over Alice’s body (19 0 .18 – 2 5 ): Notwithstanding his natural courage, 〈 he〉↑ the Master ↓was considerably affected by a concurrence of circumstances so extra­ ordinary. ↑ She died expressing her eager desire to see me. ↓ Can it 〈 then be〉↑be, then, ↓ —was his natural course of reflec­ tion— “ can strong and earnest wishes ↑, formed during the last agony of nature, survive its catastrophe, ↓ surmount the awful bounds of the spiritual world, and place before us its inhabitants in the hues and colouring of life ?

“

”

The insertion, at the beginning of a batch, of a leaf with ‘For this purpose . . . the Marquis’s approach’ (17 5 .2 0 – 39) is designed to clarify the ensuing carriage race. 2] Some 125 changes may be classed as primarily stylistic— pruning tautologies, substituting more precisely appropriate words for vaguer ones, and generally tightening up sentences. The description of Ding­ wall’s new attitude to Caleb at 2 10 .5 – 8 is a good example o f such unspectacular but effective craftsmanship at work at proof stage : ‘The writer— the ↑ very↓attorney himself—such is the thirst of preferment — felt the force of the attraction, and taking an opportunity to 〈 pull 〉↑d raw↓Caleb into a comer, spoke, with affectionate regret, of the declining health of the sheriff-clerk of the county.’ The enraged bull has a dreadful ‘bellow’ rather than ‘cry’ (44.8); Caleb refers to a ‘gravaminous’ rather than a merely ‘serious’ subject (97.9); and Mortsheugh prepares matters for the ‘reception’ rather than the ‘interment’ o f old Alice in the graveyard ( 1 9 1 .3 1 ) . Manuscript readings o f a clumsiness bordering on actual error would be tidied up by radical surgery: ‘He could talk, from his own knowledge, o f men and events, in a way which failed not to win attention, and ↑had↑ ↓the peculiar art, 〈 that〉while he never said a word which committed himself, 〈 he persuaded〉↑at the same time to persuade ↓the hearer that he〈spoke〉↑was speaking ↓ without the least shadow of scrupulous caution or reserve’ ( 116 .4 0 – 117 .2 ). 3 ] Another 150 changes were made to avoid the repetition of words (or occasionally sounds) in close conjunction, though a few alterations made for other reasons resulted in the inadvertent introduction of such repetitions. Such changes continue the process begun in the course of composition noted above and draw attention to predominant concepts issuing in clumsy repetition in the manuscript : ‘there was something in the graceful form and retiring modesty of the female . . . which even for the (moment) ↑time ↓struck him absolutely mute. At this moment the cloud which had long lowered〈over〉↑above↓ the height on which

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W olf’s Crag is situated, and which now, as it advanced, spread itself in darker and denser folds both over land and sea . . . ’ (8 4 .11 – 18). 4] Over a hundred changes were made to correct obvious errors, most frequently clearly faulty grammar or sentence construction, and quite wrong words where Scott’s attention slipped. A set of such prob­ lems is evident in the following sentence (96.31 – 39), where the manu­ script reads : Miss Ashton had by degrees gatherd her spirits so far as to pay some attention to what was going on and (from) the restraind impatience of Ravenswood contrasted with the peculiar ↑ deter­ mination o f↓ manner〈in〉↑with ↓ which Caleb detaild his ima­ ginary banquet & the whole struck her as so ridiculous that despite every effort to the contrary she burst into a fit of incontroulable laughter in which her father though with more moderation and finally the Master of Ravenswood himself though conscious that the jest was at his In this case the first problem arises from the deletion in manuscript of ‘from’ before ‘the restrained’ without the provision of any replacement; the other two problems are straightforward manuscript lacunae. The first edition makes a good job of the repair: Miss Ashton had by degrees gathered her spirits, so far as to pay some attention to what was going on; and ↑observing ↓ the re­ strained impatience of Ravenswood, contrasted with the peculiar determination o f manner with which Caleb detailed his imaginary banquet,〈& 〉the whole struck her as so ridiculous, that, despite every effort to the contrary, she burst into a fit of incontrolable laughter, in which ↑she was joined by↓ her father, though with more moderation, and finally ↑ by↓ the Master of Ravenswood himself, though conscious that the jest was at his ↑own expence,↓ 5] On some eighty occasions (as with the example just cited) Scott accidentally omitted one or more words : usually a single missing word is obvious, but occasionally he broke off before the end of a sentence and an intermediary (or the author himself in proof) had to supply the gap. 6] The first edition introduced nearly 200 Scots words and forms, usually straight conversions of their English equivalents. In manuscript the cooper says ‘a better goose neer walkd on stubble— twa finer daintier wilddeucks near wet a feather’, which becomes in the first edition ( 1 1 2 . 7 – 8 ) ‘a better guse never walkit on stubble; twa finer dentier wildducks never wat a feather’, where a couple of Scots forms are also lost. A similar, but more complex, mixture tending towards substantially more Scots can be observed in Caleb’s reminiscences of his military career. In manuscript this reads (slightly simplified) : “ Short I had been like to be cut short mysell in the very flour of my youth as scripture says and thats the very thing that I complain of— Weel into the water we behoved a’ to splace heels oer head sit or fa’ — ae horse drivin on anither as is the way o brute beasts and riders

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that hae as little sense— the very bushes on the other side we ableeze wi’ the flashes of the Whig guns and my horse had just taen the grund when a black-a-vised westland-Carle— I wad mind the face o him a hundred years syne— an eye like a wild falcon’s & a beard as broad as my shool, clapd the end of his lang black gun within a quarters length of my lu g !.. In the first edition this becomes ( 19 8 .7—16 ) : “ Short !— I had been like to be cut short mysell, in the flower of my youth, as scripture says; and that’s the very thing that I compleen o’.—Weel ! in to the water we behoved a’ to splash, heels ower head, sit or fa’— ae horse driving on anither, as is the way of brute beasts, and riders that hae as little sense,— the very bushes on the ither side were ableeze, wi’ the flashes of the whig guns; and my horse had just taen the grund, when a blackavised westland carle— I mind the face 0’ him a hundred years yet,— an ee like a wild falcon’s, and a beard as broad as my shovel, clapped the end 0’ his lang black gun within a quarters length o f my lug ! . . . ” 7 ] Only some forty alterations effected changes in the fundamental sense of a passage, and few of these cases involved radical surgery. Most commonly there is a slight shift o f emphasis or perspective: ‘There was 〈 some〉↑much ↓ surprise among Sir William Ashton’s polit­ ical friends and colleagues’ (46.36– 3 7 ) ; ‘each of the sportsmen 〈 expected〉↑seemed to expect↓ that his comrade would take upon him the perilous task o f assaulting and disabling the animal’ (79 .35– 3 7 ); ‘the various exactions with which, under every possible pretext, ↑or without pretext at all,↓ the Scottish landlords of the period, them­ selves in great poverty, were wont to harass their still poorer tenants at will’ ( 1 0 1 . 3 – 6); ‘such a consequence 〈 must〉↑might↓ have ensued from his examination’ ( 13 7 .3 5 – 36). Rather more radical is the changed analysis of Ravenswood’s thoughts about leaving Scotland : ‘Yet, though 〈 he told Bucklaw and ↑though↓ probably ↑h e ↓ himself believed that〉 such was his purpose, he remained day after day at W olf’s Crag’

(70.33– 35)·

8] On some fifty occasions ‘said so-and-so’, or a similar phrase, is added, occasionally with an indication of how the speech is delivered. 9] Among the most attractive and least routine alterations are some fifty imaginative rhetorical additions or re-workings, mostly in dialogue. Additions such as the following are a distinct enhancement: Mortsheugh’s ‘ ↑I’ll get my fiddle in the turning of a coffin-screw.↓’ (2 0 0 .17 – 18 ) and his corresponding ‘I’se gang hame, and ↑finish the grave in the tuning 0’ a fiddle-string, and then↓ get my bread-winner’ (200.36– 37); or Caleb’s ‘a’ in a bleeze, as if they were nae mair than sae 〈 mickle peat-strae〉 ↑mony peats, or as muckle pease strae↓’ ( 206.20– 2 1 ). The many effective but less striking rhetorical embellish­ ments include Ravenswood’s ‘I think you had better. . . otherwise I see

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little chance o f their being attended to ↑at all↓ ’ (6 2.7– 8). Less convinc­ ing, in Bucklaw’s mouth, is : ‘the vault somewhat damp, the rats ↑rather↓ more mutinous than I would have expected from the state of Caleb’s larder’ ( 6 7 .1 1 – 12 ). 10 ] Among the most important alterations is a set of some thirty involving the addition of details or the expansion of ideas. In the de­ scription o f the feast at Wolfshope Scott adds at proof stage to the profusion: ‘car-cakes and sweet scones, ↑Selkirk bannocks, cookies, and petticoat-tails, delicacies little known to the present generation... .↓ ’ ( 2 1 1 . 1 7 – 18). At 9 8 .17 – 19 the whole o f Caleb’s ‘purse’ speech is an addition, following on the added final sentence of Ravenswood’s pre­ ceding utterance: this is reinforced by a similar addition at 99.23– 27 (‘The M aster. . . siccan cases.” ’ ). 1 1 ] The fluidity of names in the manuscript was largely fixed at proof stage. In particular, Scott decided that Sir Allan Ravenswood should become Lord Ravenswood, and that his son should generally be deper­ sonalised from Edgar, or Sir Edgar, to the Master of Ravenswood. Material was added at 2 1.2 1 – 23 to justify this nomenclature : ‘The wine did its office on all but〈young〉↑the Master o f↓ Ravenswood ↑, a title which he still retained, though forfeiture had attached to that of his father. . . . ↓ ’. Other names are more or less perfectly fixed: Balderstone, Balderstoun, or Rutherford become Balderstone or Balder­ ston; Ganderscleugh wins out over Gandercleugh; Gibbie, Halbert, and Gilbert Girder settle down as John; and Gimington prevails over Gimagain and Girninghame. 1 2] In the manuscript the first volume ends after a long chapter which in the first edition was divided to form the final chapter of the first volume and the first of the second ( 13 and 14 in the present text). No doubt this change was made by the intermediaries to achieve a normal volume of around 330 pages. 13 ] Finally, there are more than a thousand (verbal) occasions where the manuscript has been misread, has generated mistakes, or where the standing orders have been imperfectly applied : these are discussed in the section ‘The Present Text’ below, and listed in the emendations to the base-text.32 3. T H E L A T E R E D I T I O N S As shown in the accompanying stemma, or family-tree of editions, the main line of development in the printed text o f Tales o f my Landlord (T hird Series) runs from the first edition, through the 18 19 octavo (8vo) Navels and Tales and the 1822 8vo Novels and Tales which was used as the basis for the Interleaved Set emended and annotated by Scott in 1829, then to a copy of the 18 19 8vo Novels and Tales into which Robert Cadell transcribed Scott’s emendations and in which he no doubt inserted many of his own, and finally to the Magnum Opus edition in which the

284

two novels appeared (as Volumes 1 3 –15 ) in June, July, and August 1830. The somewhat complex alternative line of transmission involving the 1823 1 8mo and the 18 2 1 1 2mo leads to a dead end in the 1825 1 2mo. T h e ‘Second’ and ‘T h ird ’ Editions. A second edition was advertised in the Edinburgh Evening Courant for 1 1 November 18 19 , and a third edition followed, but both of these were simply the first edition sheets with new title pages.33 T h e O ctavo N o vels an d T a les ( 18 19 , 18 22). The Bride o f Lammermoor occupies the whole of the eleventh and part of the twelfth and final volume of the handsome 18 19 octavo Novels and Tales. Either 1500 or 2000 copies of the set were ordered from Ballantyne in Spring 1 8 1 9.34It was announced in the Edinburgh Evening Courant on 9 December 1819, priced £7 4s. (£7.20). There are some 600 variants in all between the first edition and the 1 8 1 9 octavo text of the Bride, over 160 of them being verbal and the rest non-verbal. The non-verbal changes are mostly of minor importance: some 80 commas added and 50 deleted; a slight increase in the use of semicolons and initial capital letters; over fifty additions or deletions of hyphens; another hundred or so varied changes in punctuation; and some 90 spelling changes. Only very occa­ sionally do these changes materially affect the sense, perhaps the most significant example occurring at 7 7 . 1 3 – 18, where the first edition reads : “ And I hope your lordship disna want that muckle,” said Caleb; “ for considering a’ things, I trust we support the credit o f the family

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as weel as things will permit of. Only Bucklaw is aye sae frank and sae forward, and there he has brought out your lordship’s palfrey without the saddle, being decored wi’ the broidered sumpter-cloth, and I could have brushed it in a minute.” The 18 19 octavo introduces changes to the punctuation here, several of which affect the sense, in one case making an obvious correction to the horse furnishings : “ And I hope your lordship disna want that muckle,” said Caleb; “ for, considering a’ things, I trust we support the credit of the family as weel as things will permit of,— only Bucklaw is aye sae frank and sae forward.— And there he has brought out your lord­ ship’s palfrey, without the saddle being decored wi’ the broidered sumpter-cloth ! and I could have brushed it in a minute.” Most of the verbal changes in the 18 19 octavo are of a sort which could have been made by intermediaries. There are straightforward corrections: e.g. Norman becomes Edgar Ravenswood (102.38 , 40; 12 9 .3 1) ; and ‘kinswoman’ is corrected to ‘kinsman’ (173.29 ), which is also the reading in the manuscript. The Kelpie’s Flow is shifted, but not necessarily corrected, from a location ‘north-east’ to one ‘north’ of Wolfshope ( 267.39 ). Several changes are made in the interests of gram­ matical correctness, sometimes rather fussily. Repeated words are re­ placed. A few clear errors creep in. But several of the changes made in the interests of rhetorical and general stylistic enhancement, and a number of the changes in the sense, indicate authorial intervention, and any or all of the more routine changes may have also come from Scott’s pen. Rhetorical embellishments include : Mysie’s ‘Mercy save us, the auld man’s ga’en ↑ clean and clear ↓ wud wi’ the thunner!’ (9 5 .12 – 13 ) ; Caleb’s expanded laughter at 2 10 .2 7 – 28 (‘But the writer — ha ! ha ! ha !— ↑ ah, ha ! ha ! ha ! ↓ mercy on me’ ); and Lucy’s ‘Ask me no questions, ↑dear↓ Henry’ (245.9). General stylistic enhancements include: the substitution of ‘terrors’ for ‘apprehensions’ at 95.9; the elimination (characteristic o f Scott) of the word ‘own’ in the phrase ‘our (own) well-known friend the cooper’ (208.8); and the changing o f ‘the body’ to ‘his body’ in ‘a gude swap too, between what cheereth the soul of man and that which dingeth it clean out of the body’ (2 14 .3 3 – 34). Perhaps the most significant of the local changes in the sense is the deletion of ‘fortunately’ from the phrase ‘when he himself was fortu­ nately interrupted by the little sexton’ (200.9– 10). A copy of the 18 19 octavo Novels and Tales was apparently provided with manuscript corrections, probably by James Ballantyne, though Scott may have had a hand in them. This marked-up copy formed the basis o f the 18 2 1 duodecimo and the 1822 octavo Novels and Tales. The existence of such a marked-up copy of the 18 19 octavo text is suggested by a total of some 130 variants common to the 18 2 1 1 2mo and

↓

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1822 octavo texts of the Bride, and in particular by four verbal variants. Clinching evidence is to be found in the final volume of the set, where in A Legend o f Montrose the verbal variants, of which there are more than twenty, include a substitution o f ‘toils’ ( 1 8 2 1 ) and ‘trials’ (18 2 2 ) for the 18 19 octavo’s ‘hardships’ (EEW N 7b, 60.40), to avoid the repeti­ tion immediately after: the hand-written substitution o f either ‘toils’ or ‘trials’ in the marked-up 18 19 octavo has been misread by the 18 2 1 or the 1822 compositor. The four verbal variants probably deriving from the marked-up 18 19 octavo text of the B ride all occur in the final part of the novel : the word ‘ugly’ is deleted from the phrase ‘the ugly blue-eyed hag’ (240.22– 23); ‘know’ replaces ‘think’ in ‘it is some com­ fort to think that the old hag was tried . . . ’ ( 2 4 1.10 – 1 1 ) ; ‘stiffened’ is put in place o f ‘petrified’ in ‘Lucy seemed petrified to stone’ (247.16 ); and there is a correction o f ‘succeeding evening’ to ‘preceding evening’ at 26 1.32. Some of the non-verbal changes (o f the usual sorts, particu­ larly the addition o f commas and spelling changes) may well have been arrived at by 18 2 1 and 1822 independently, but it is likely that most of them were made in the marked-up 18 19 octavo text: certainly this must have been the case with a re-working of the sentence structure at 2 3 1.3 2 – 34. In the 18 19 octavo this reads: “ I will make it my particular entreaty to Lady Ashton,” said Bucklaw; “by my honour, madam, I respect your feelings, and although the prosecution of this affair . . . ” . The marked-up text as reflected in the 18 2 1 1 2mo and the 1822 octavo reads : “ I will make it my particular entreaty to Lady Ashton,” said Bucklaw. “ By my honour, madam, I respect your feeings; and, although the prosecution o f this affair . . . ” . The 1822 octavo was shipped to London in January 18 22,35 and publication was announced in the Edinburgh Evening Courant on 2 Feb­ ruary. Assuming for the sake of argument that the manuscript correc­ tions to the 18 19 octavo text included the non-verbal, as well as the verbal, variants common to the 1822 octavo and the 18 2 1 1 2mo, then the 1822 octavo B ride has some 525 additional variants peculiar to itself, some forty of them verbal. H alf the verbal variants involve the addi­ tion or deletion o f Scots, the former predominating but on such a small scale as to be insignificant. Seven of the other verbal variants involve the recovery of first-edition readings : it is always possible that these are independent corrections, but it seems more likely that somebody in the printing-house identified a problem and checked with a copy of the first edition. The passages involved are the following: ‘a herd 〈on〉↑in↓ Shortwood Shaw’ (29.28); ‘We ↑must↓ add, in justice to him’ ( 3 1 .1 7 ) ; ‘the honour of〈his〉↑the↓ family’ (99.22– 2 3 ); ‘a 〈 quavering〉↑quivering↓ voice’ (13 9 .2 9 ); ‘so 〈 devoutly〉↑devotedly↓

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attached to him’ (16 3 .4 2 ); ‘my venerable aunt 〈 Girninghame〉↑Girnington↓’ (167.40); and (amusingly) ‘The Lord Keeper remained long enough in the garden to give her ladyship’s 〈 mind〉↑mine ↓time to explode’ ( 1 8 4 . 1 1 – 12 ). The non-verbal variants show a noticeable de­ crease in the number of commas (over 100 deleted against less than fifty added), and a tendency on the compositor’s part to change semicolons into colons (on thirty occasions) and question marks into exclamation marks (nearly twenty). T h e D uodecim o N o vels an d T al e s (18 2 1) . The 16-volume 18 2 1 set was printed in a run of 1500 early in 18 2 1 36 and announced in the Edinburgh Evening Courant on 3 1 March at £6 in boards. The 18 2 1 1 2mo B ride occupies most of Volumes 14 and 15 and has a total o f some 650 variants from the putative marked-up 18 19 octavo. Fifty of these (three-quarters of them in the second volume) are verbal, a small number avoiding close verbal repetitions, or adding and deleting Scots apparently at random. A handful of the variants introduce errors, e.g. ‘as I knew’ for ‘as I know’ at 34 .10 and ‘an ye wad hear’ for ‘an he wad hear’ at 112 .2 6 . There is an intelligent but routine correction of the addressee’s name at 19 2.16 , and a plausible but, as the manuscript shows, actually mistaken change of ‘unwillingly’ to ‘and willingly’ at 152.26. There are the usual sorts of often fussy grammatical correc­ tions. A few rhetorical and general stylistic embellishments could be authorial, but as none is at all inventive they are more likely to be the work of James Ballantyne, e.g.: ‘answered the ambasssador ↑joy­ ously↓’ (17 2 .2 6 ); ‘said the M aster↑, short and↓abruptly’ (2 0 0 .13 ); ‘some sma’ provision making ↑ yonder ↓ at Lucky Sma’trash’s’ (206.22– 23 ); and ‘the best and the warst is just ↑this, ↓that the tower is standing’ (2 13 .3 ). The compositor introduces over 200 commas and deletes only thirty, besides changing some seventy commas to semi­ colons, increasing the weight of other punctuation marks by adding dashes, and creating nearly fifty new sentences. This affects only the first two volumes : the third volume follows the 18 19 octavo much more closely, suggesting a different compositor. T h e 1 8mo N o vels an d T a les (18 2 3 ). Hurst, Robinson & Co. con­ tracted for 5000 copies of the 1 2-volume 1 8mo set in August 18 2 1, with Constable forecasting a new market for Scott’s fiction. Unusual care went into the production of the set, for which Ballantyne was instructed to use a new type. Work on preparing the edition had begun by April 18 2 2 ; printing was completed and ‘a considerable portion’ shipped in mid-August 1823, and a last consignment went off to London by 5 September.37 It was advertised at £4 45. (£4.20) in the Edinburgh Evening Courant on 20 September. The 1 8mo Novels and Tales was mostly set from an uncorrected copy of the 18 19 8vo. Compared with this, there

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are nearly a hundred verbal changes and over a thousand non-verbal changes in the text of the Bride, which occupies all of Volume I I and a small part of the final volume. The verbal changes are difficult to cat­ egorise. The reasons for the alterations would seem to have included : a sometimes pedantic concern for grammatical correctness and stylistic propriety; the substitution of an easier word for a more difficult one (‘prosperity’ for ‘posterity’ at 20.18, and ‘clogs’ for ‘pattens’ at 5 2 .16 ); the addition or deletion o f Scots forms; and the elimination o f close verbal repetition. Corrections include ‘Episcopal’ for ‘English’ at 19.35 and the standardisation of Girder as Gilbert rather than John in the second volume. The most frequent categories of non-verbal alterations are the addition o f commas (nearly 300, as against less than sixty deleted) and changes in spelling (some 350). The collation record shows, how­ ever, that of these changes over a hundred (fifteen of them verbal) are also to be found in the 1822 octavo : while some of these may be coincid­ ental, the clustering of most of the shared readings in the pages corres­ ponding to the last quarter of the first volume of the first edition (from page 13 3 in the 1 8mo, pages 86– 1 1 5 of the present edition) suggests that the compositor for that portion at least of the 1 8mo had an 1822 rather than an uncorrected 18 19 octavo in front of him. It is possible that Scott was involved in the changes for the 1 8mo edition, but there are no unmistakable signs of his handiwork.38 T h e Duodecim o N o vels an d T a les (18 2 5 ). The 1825 1 2mo was published in Spring 18 25.39 Either it was set from a copy of the 18 2 1 1 2mo which had been (imperfectly) marked up against the 1 8mo, or it was set from an unmarked copy of the 18 2 1 1 2mo and then imperfectly corrected by collation against the 1 8mo. Judging from the readings common to the 1825 1 2mo and the 1 8mo texts of the Bride, against the 18 2 1 1 2mo, nearly forty verbal changes were transcribed into the marked-up copy or adopted as the result of collation, including the ‘Episcopal’, ‘prosperity’, and ‘clogs’ noted in the previous paragraph. There are also nearly 300 non-verbal readings common to the 1825 1 2mo and the 1 8mo against the 18 2 1 1 2mo, but it is impossible to say how many (if any) of these were transcribed into the marked-up copy, or derived from collation, and how many were made again spontaneously by the compositor or by the press corrector of the 1825 1 2mo. Between the marked-up or collated 18 2 1 1 2mo and the 1825 1 2mo there were more than forty verbal changes, and nearly 500 non-verbal changes. The verbal changes involve the addition and deletion o f Scots forms, the correction of a few real errors and many more readings thought to be errors, the substitution of easier words for more unusual ones, and another attempt to standardise Girder’s name, this time as John. The non-verbal alterations consist mainly of the addition and deletion of commas (in rough balance), changes in spelling, and the addition of

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nearly a hundred hyphens (especially in ‘W olf’s -Crag’ ). T h e Interleaved S et and the M agnum . O f the changes after the first edition noted in the preceding paragraphs, only some of those in the 18 19 8vo have Scott’s unmistakable imprint on them. He may have been involved at any stage, but if he was one would expect to find at least some creative revisions. The Interleaved Set is quite a different matter. The full story o f the making o f the Magnum Opus is told in Jane Millgate’s Scott’s Last Edition (Edinburgh, 1987), and the Interleaved Set of the Waverley Novels in which Scott wrote all his notes and textual revisions for the final edition to be published in his lifetime is described in Scott’s Interleaved Waverley Novels, ed. Iain G. Brown (Aberdeen, 1987). A set of the 1822 Novels and Tales was interleaved for Scott’s use. In an undated letter to Cadell, of late December 1828, Scott indicates that he is sending ‘all the remaining volumes of the Waverley Novels till the Legend of Montrose inclusive’, so that Cadell can ‘make your calcula­ tions clean and clear with all the volumes before you. Notes might be added if desired to make up any inequality of the volumes’.40 Cadell must have returned these volumes for annotation, and on 4 November 1829 Scott sent back ‘the copy of the bride of Lammermoor’ and stated that ‘The tales are almost finishd and will not stop’.41 Cadell began revising the Bride on 13 November and probably completed his work on 7 December, commencing Montrose the next day and finishing it on 29 December.42 In January and February Scott was still adding fresh in­ formation as a postscript to the new Introduction to Montrose,43 and the volumes of the Magnum containing the Bride (part of 13 and the whole of 14 ) and Montrose ( 15 ) were published in June, July, and August 1830.44 The textual history is complicated at this final stage by Cadell’s use o f an 18 19 rather than an 1822 set o f Novels and Tales to receive his transcription of Scott’s emendations to the 1822 text and probably fur­ ther emendations of his own. The variants noted above as characteristic o f the octavo edition mostly persist from the Interleaved Set into the Magnum. Apart from an entirely new introduction and new notes (both footnotes and notes designed to appear at the end of chapters), Scott made approximately 100 alterations in the text of the Bride, almost without exception verbal. Between the Interleaved Set and the Magnum some 1500 other alterations were made, approximately 235 of them verbal. O f Scott’s alterations in the Interleaved Set45 somewhat more than one third appear to have been made in the interests o f greater clarity, accuracy, or logic: the clergyman at the opening funeral is now of the ‘Scottish Episcopal’ rather than the ‘English’ communion (19 .35 ); Girder talks o f ‘the wicked troop o f militia when it was commanded out against 〈 Argyle〉↑the Saunts at Bothwell Brigg↓ by the auld tyrant Allan Ravenswood’ ( 1 1 2 . 1 7 – 19 ); in the same scene, at 112 .4 0 Scott

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adds after ‘the younger dame’‘ ,much encouraged by the turn o f the debate’; Ravenswood says to Sir William Ashton that he ‘may in a great measure have mistaken your ↑ personal↓character’ (12 9 .8 ); he asks Alice, ‘Are you such a wretched Christian as to suppose I 〈 should maintain〉↑ would in the present day levy ↓war with the Ashton family . . . ?’ ( 1 5 2 .1 8 – 20); Sir William ‘desired to hold the Master o f Ravens wood bound, but wished that he himself should 〈 be〉↑remain ↓free’ ( 1 6 1 . 3 – 4 ); Mortsheugh talks o f ‘〈 this〉Allan ↑last↓Lord Ravens­ wood, that〈 ’s〉↑was ↓far waur than ever his father was’ (19 8 .3 1 – 32); and Sir William says to his son, ‘I f you must have a 〈 sword〉↑weapon ↓ . . . why did you not use the short 〈 weapon〉↑poniard ↓sent from Edinburgh on purpose?’ (2 5 5 .35 – 37). The clarification includes sev­ eral substitutions of nouns for pronouns. Scott added a dozen ‘said so-and-so’s, eliminated half-a-dozen repe­ titions, and introduced a handful of rhetorical enhancements : ‘And it is to make room for such ↑scarecrows ↓as these, thought Ravens­ wood, that my ancestors have been tom ↑down ↓from the walls which they erected!’ (14 4 .2 6 – 28); Alice addresses Ravenswood as ‘Master o f Ravenswood’ rather than merely ‘Ravenswood’ ( 152.33 ); Lady Ash­ ton’s scorn for her husband is increased : ‘T o the interest o f your family I conceive you perfectly capable of attending. . . and even to the dignity o f your ↑own ↓family also ↑as far as it requires any looking after↓’ ( 1 8 2 .2 1 – 2 3 ); and Mortsheugh says: ‘I’se gang hame, and finish the grave in the tuning 0’ a fiddle-string, ↑lay by my spade ↓and then get my ↑t’other↓bread-winner’ (200.36– 37). Scott made some ten alterations to the actual sense of passages. Most of these involve slight changes, including several which make sentences more tentative : ‘it was not then, as ↑it may be ↓now, a necessary part of a young lady’s 〈 edu­ cation〉↓demeanour ↓, to indulge in causeless tremors of the nerves’ (3 7 .19 – 21 ); ‘a Scottish peasant, when pressed to admit a claim which his conscience owns ↑or perhaps his feeling↓’ ( 10 2 .3 – 4 ); ‘other defi­ ciencies [of Sir William], that those in power were glad to use and to reward, though without ↑absolutely↓trusting or ↑greatly↓respecting him’ ( 1 2 1 . 3 1 – 3 2 ); ‘the Marquis of A— — , one of your best friends, and another person, ↑ whom some call ↓one of your worst and most interested enemies’ ( 1 3 7 .2 1 – 23). The most interesting changes are those where Scott adds substantially (though never in this novel very substantially) to the octavo text. As well as the newly provided intro­ duction and notes there were several other significant additions to the Interleaved Set text. For example : Lucy imagines herself ‘wander­ ing in the wilderness with Una ↑under escort of the noble lion↓’ (2 5.38 – 39); Lady Ashton considers that marriage with Bucklaw would give Lucy ‘ ↑an easy↓fortune, and a ↑respectable country↓gentleman for her husband’ ( 1 7 3 .3 3 – 34 ); and at the Marquis’s departure from Wolfshope ‘The two landladies, old and young, ↑having received ↓in

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all kindly greeting, ↑a kiss from each of their noble guests, ↓stood simpering’ (2 19 .6 – 7). The most substantial addition is that at 122.24, where the following passage is added : Besides judging though most inaccurately from Courts which he had himself known in the unhappy times preceding the Scottish Union the Keeper might have too much right to think that in the House to which his lawsuits were to be transferd the old maxim might prevail which was too well recognized in Scotland in former times Shew me the man and Ill shew you the law. The high and unbiassd character of English judicial proceedings were then little known in Scotland and the extension of them to that country was one of [ the ] most valuable advantages which Scotland gaind by the Union But this was a blessing which the Lord Keeper bred under another system could not have the means of foreseeing. In the loss of his political consequence he anticipated the loss of his Lawsuit. This is one o f over a dozen changes (mostly much less extensive than this example) which Scott made to establish a new, post-Union setting for his Magnum text.46 The most substantial contribution to this enter­ prise was the addition of an explanatory note (Magnum 14 .116 ) to a passage at 12 9 .2 1– 24 which is emended thus : . . . it is in the 〈 Estates o f the nation, in the supreme Court of Parliament〉 , ↑House of British peers whose honour must be equal to their rank— it is in the Court of last resort ↓that we must parley together. The belted lords 〈 and knights〉o f 〈 Scodand〉 ↑Britain ↓, her ancient peers 〈 and baronage〉 , must decide. . . . (The Magnum introduction and notes will appear in the final two vol­ umes of the present edition.) No proof sheets of the Magnum version of the Bride are known to have survived, but there are some 23 5 verbal variants in the Magnum as against the Interleaved Set. These alterations were probably made in the proofs. It is not known to what extent, if at all, Scott was involved in the processing and proof-reading of the Magnum, but it is almost certain that Robert Cadell did much tidying. Groups of some 20 to 35 verbal alterations have the following purposes : correction of grammatical sol­ ecisms, o f the usual sorts; elimination of repetitions; increasing clarity, accuracy, or logic; making clear corrections; improving the style; add­ ing (and in a handful of cases, deleting) Scots; and changing the forms of words (e.g. ‘folks’ to ‘folk’, ‘on’ to ‘upon’, and ‘Craig’ to ‘Craigie’ ). Some fifteen changes affect the sense : for example, ‘we 〈 must〉add, in justice to [the Lord Keeper]’ ( 3 1 .1 7 ) ; Lady Ashton says ‘with a ↑keen ↓ glance reverting towards Lucy, “ against St Ju de’s day, we must all be ready to sign and seal.” ’ (232.24 – 2 5 ); her behaviour is likely to be judged ‘truly ↑detestable and↓diabolical’ (238 .22– 2 3 ); and the Reverend M r Bidethebent is ‘o f the very strictest order, and ↑the ↓

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most rigid 〈 principles〉↑ orthodoxy ↓’ (242.20– 2 1 ). Some 1250 non-verbal variants were introduced in the Magnum. Some 285 of these were preferred spellings, most frequently and notably ‘anteroom’, ‘connexion’, ‘enquire’, ‘farther’, ‘Gandercleugh’, ‘Privy Council’, ‘show’, the printing of words such as ‘meantime’ as single units, and the introduction o f ‘ -ise’ endings. Some 70 commas were deleted, but some 300 were added, making the Magnum the most heavily punctuated edition of this novel, moving strongly in the direction of a more grammatical style of punctuation. Some fifty hard hyphens were added, and nearly 100 removed. Approximately 80 exclamation marks were introduced, mostly in place of full stops or commas. On over sixty occasions semicolons replaced commas or colons, again increasing the punctuational formality, though some twenty semicolons went to commas. Raisings and lowerings of initial letters roughly balanced each other, and there was the usual bewildering variety of alterations invol­ ving punctuational combinations including dashes. There is an evident line of transmission from the manuscript, through proof and first edition to the 18 19 and 1822 Novels and Tales, then to the Interleaved Set, the Magnum proofs and the Magnum itself, the endproduct of a decidedly haphazard collaborative process. 4. T H E P R E S E N T T E X T Less than ten months elapsed between Scott’s writing the first words of The Bride o f Lammermoor and its publication as part of Tales o f my Landlord (Third Series), and one of those months, March, was lost as a result of his severe illness. Transcriber or transcribers, compositors and other printing house staff, as well as author and amanuenses, were working under considerable pressure. It was inevitable that many mis­ takes should occur, and since Scott was also working under pressure correcting proofs as well as continuing to write the novel and its com­ panion tale (not to mention his numerous other activities) it was inevit­ able also that many of those mistakes should go uncorrected, or be corrected imperfectly. The aim of the present editorial process is to produce a text as close as possible to what Scott and his intermediaries would have achieved had they been able to devote the requisite time to the task. Punctuation and Capitalisation. The most pervasive contribution of the intermediaries was the translation of Scott’s manuscript punctu­ ation, sentence structure, and orthography into an acceptable printed system. This was mainly the job of the compositors and proof-readers, and in the case of The Bride ofLammermoor they executed their task with considerable skill. What they achieved in narrative is almost entirely acceptable, and it is only in direct speech that their punctuation at times distorts the rhetorical shaping suggested by Scott himself. In the main,

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the present edition accepts their work, which involved something of the order of 30,000 tiny changes to the manuscript, most notably the inser­ tion of punctuation marks. It gives a text which is very much of its time in its mixture of grammatical and rhetorical elements. It is more fluid and less rigid than the Magnum or, still more, the Victorian editions deriving from the Magnum, and thus may be held to be ultimately truer to Scott’s minimally punctuated manuscript than the texts which have been gener­ ally read over the last century and a half. Readers of the present edition should follow contemporaneous practice and treat the punctuation as indicative rather than prescriptive. Notwithstanding the Edinburgh Edition’s policy of accepting firstedition punctuation in general, every punctuational sign and sentence division in the first-edition text has been examined to ascertain that it does not distort or unnecessarily restrict Scott’s apparent intention as evidenced in the particulars of the manuscript. Approximately 250 emendations have been made. Although the intermediaries clearly had authority to lower or raise initial letters, on a handful of occasions one of Scott’s numerous manu­ script initial capital letters lowered in the first edition has been restored in the present text where it is clear that something has been lost: thus, Dick Tinto writes him self ‘Artist’ (4.29); Lucy cautions against ‘Beauty’s charming’ (25.5 ); and Caleb’s menu begins with an emphatic ‘B e e f (95.23). Contrariwise, the manuscript sometimes calls for lower case initial letters : the obscure change-house is in the ‘back-wynd’ of Gandercleugh (6 .35); and ‘old Alice’ is simply that, not ‘O ld Alice’ (29.39)· More importantly, in some 120 cases the first edition altered sentence divisions or otherwise failed to follow clear manuscript punctuational directions. The Lord Keeper’s meditating voice ‘as if half speaking with himself’ at 13 4 .3 4 – 37 appears thus in the manuscript: “ I think the papers are with me— I think so— for as I was to be in this country it was natural for me to bring them with me— I ↑have them however at Ravenswood Castle— that I am sure of—so per­ haps you might condescend ↓— — The first edition largely loses the appropriate tone by formalising the punctuation : “ I think the papers are with me— I think so, for as I was to be in this country, it was natural for me to bring them with me. I have them, however, at Ravenswood Castle, that I am sure of—so perhaps you might condescend”— — Some additional punctuation is of course required by the conventions of the time, but this can be accommodated within the main divisions indic­ ated in the manuscript: “ I think the papers are with me— I think so— for as I was to be in this country, it was natural for me to bring them with me— I have

↓”

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them, however, at Ravenswood Castle— that I am sure of—so per­ haps you might condescend”— — The remaining punctuational emendations principally involve the rectifying of a few manifest errors,47 correction of misleading firstedition punctuation (having regard to the conventions of Scott’s time), the restoration of Scott’s use of punctuational signs appropriate for a printed text, and typographical errors.48 V erbal Em endations. It is clear that the intermediaries were expected to make many changes in addition to supplying punctuation. They were instructed to operate a set of standing orders involving the following procedures : changing words repeated in close proximity to each other; elimination of Scotticisms in narrative and in the speech of characters who are not Scots speakers, and the introduction of additional Scots forms in the speech of Scots speakers; correction o f clear grammatical errors; substitution o f nouns or proper names for pronouns (particu­ larly at the beginning of paragraphs); insertion of speech indicators; and addition o f appropriate (usually single) words to fill obvious lacunae left by Scott in his haste. When correcting proofs Scott continued these procedures as well as introducing substantial changes to the sense and some additional passages (he rarely deleted material), stylistic improve­ ments, clarifications of narrative business, and additional ‘said so-andso’s for unallocated speeches. Author’s proofs, when they survive, provide an invaluable basis for determining what the intermediaries did between receiving the parcels o f manuscript and sending Scott the proofs incorporating in-house corrections, though in the case o f The Bride o f Lammermoor the frag­ mentary proofs do not overlap with the manuscript. The Bride proofs enable one to see what Scott himself, and James Ballantyne, changed in those second proofs. For some novels occasional revises submitted to Scott survive, and these make it possible to follow his further corrections and revisions with some certainty. No revises survive for the Bride, but there is no evidence to suggest that Scott was involved after second proof stage in its case. In general the Edinburgh Edition accepts changes to the manuscript resulting from the application o f standing orders, though in the not infrequent cases where the rules have been applied mechanically or pedantically, or where their use has created unforeseen problems (such as generating new repetitions), the manuscript reading is re­ stored. Changes made by intermediaries which are not in accordance with the presumed standing orders are normally rejected. Scott’s own changes in proof are of course accepted except in a handful o f cases where his intervention resulted in problems that he did not notice (there are none of these in the Bride). In the case of the Bride all of Scott’s known proof changes have been

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accepted, including a handful which were missed or ignored by the intermediaries (see Emendation List for e.g. 2 4 1.2 , 245.14, and 268.2). The same is true of most of James Ballantyne’s, but not quite all. His changing o f ‘death chamber’ to ‘cottage’ at 240.35 is unnecessary and probably harmful, and at 244.28 his re-ordering is also unnecessary and creates an ugly phrase in ‘lady, who, however’. Most importantly, at 268.41 – 42 Ballantyne seems to have marked for deletion the phrase ‘in a great degree’ (he writes beside this line, ‘O ld jade ! They were alto­ gether owing to her implacability.’ ), but Scott has not actually deleted the phrase, so it is restored to the present text. The changes made, presumably by intermediaries including Ballan­ tyne, between second proofs and the first edition are mostly unexcep­ tionable and usually helpful. However a number involve misunder­ standing (see Emendation List for e.g. 2 5 1 .1 1 and 257.41). It is possible by examining the differences between manuscript and first edition in the rest of the novel to judge with a reasonable degree of assurance and confidence which changes are likely to have been made by Scott himself, or by intermediaries acting in accordance with stand­ ing orders, and which have been introduced without authority or simply as the result of error. In addition to the 250-odd emendations to punctuation and capital­ isation discussed above and the verbal and punctuational changes (some 35 in number) derived from examination of the proofs, over a thousand verbal emendations to the first-edition base-text have been made. Inev­ itably, some of these emendations will inadvertently restore manuscript readings changed by Scott in the lost proofs for the greater part of the novel; but the number will be small, they will tend to be undistinguished or even misguided, and the reader may be confident that the present text is much closer to Scott’s ideal in 18 19 than any hitherto achieved. The emendations may be divided for convenience into eight classes. I ] Misreadings. The most obvious reason for emendation (accounting for over 250 cases) is that the transcriber has misread a word in the manuscript. The transcriber of the Bride not only confused certain small words which are difficult to distinguish from each other in Scott’s hand (‘in’/ ‘on’, ‘these’/ ‘those’, ‘the’/ ‘this’, ‘the’/ ‘her’/ ‘his’, and so forth) but frequently tended to be approximate in his reading of small words in general. Often little hangs on such variations, but sometimes the effect of the first edition is very different from Scott’s manuscript intention. Thus Sir William Ashton is made to think ‘What could a woman desire’ rather than ‘What could the woman desire’ (14 2 .2 1) and Hayston of Bucklaw is divided into ‘Hayston and Bucklaw’ (16 5.27). The tran­ scriber is also particularly liable to confuse plurals and singulars, again sometimes with unfortunate consequences : the manuscript’s fine com­ parison, ‘Lady Ashton no more lost sight of her object than the falcon in his airy wheel turns his quick eye from his destined quarry’, is largely

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ruined by the misreading of ‘eye’ as ‘eyes’ ( 18 .5 – 7), and a similar lessening o f effect is observable in the path ‘worn by the daily steps [manuscript ‘step’ ] of the infirm inmate’ (31.29 ). H alf of the 250 cases involve more consistently significant misread­ ings of individual words; to select some of the most striking examples : Lady Ashton displays ‘the haughtiness of a firmer [not “ former”] char­ acter’ (18 .2 7 ); Lucy’s sentiments seemed ‘dull’, not ‘chill’ ( 2 7 .17 ); Bucklaw had ‘cut’, not ‘eat’, a portion of ham (6 5 .16 ); Bucklaw is ‘frack’, not ‘frank’ (7 7 .15 ); the French horn gave repeated ‘blasts’, not ‘bursts’ (7 8 .14 ); ‘town, and’ is a misreading o f ‘town-end’ ( 10 5 .17 ) ; the cooper and minister had travelled by wet and dirty ‘roads’, not ‘woods’ ( 1 10.23 ); the narrator refers to the ‘rites’, not ‘rules’, o f religion ( 1 6 3 .1 7 ) ; Craigengelt seeks a ‘personal’, not a ‘present’, discussion with Ravenswood (166.26); Bucklaw says that Craigengelt might have made ‘good your position’, not ‘a good year’s pension’ (16 9 .15 ) ; and Mortsheugh displays ‘importunate’, not ‘impertinent’ freedom (2 0 0 .15 ) . 2] Wrong insertions and omissions. Since Scott often inadvertently omitted single words and it was one of the functions of the inter­ mediaries to fill the gaps, it is hardly surprising that they sometimes imagined gaps where none existed and unnecessarily inserted single words on some eighty occasions. Sometimes, it was a matter of failing to recognise an idiom: ‘something of ↑a ↓nourice-ship’ (3 0 .18 ); ‘to say ↑the↓truth’ (62.36); ‘near at hand’ for ‘nearhand’ (8 7.27– 28); ‘vexes ↑m e↓maist of a” ( 1 1 2 .1 4 ) ; ‘enjoined ↑upon↓him’ ( 118 .3 6 ) ; ‘What have you to thank ↑ me fo r ↓ ’ ( 1 3 5 .3 1 ) ; ‘I am ↑a ↓ witch’ ( 1 5 1 .16 ) . On other occasions, insertions are made unnecessarily to formalise speech: Ί must see ↑that↓he gains no advantage’ (2 3 .2 2 – 2 3 ); ‘she may live ↑fo r↓many a long day’ (4 9 .13 – 14 ); ‘I had best ↑go ↓o ff (5 2 .10 ); ‘it’s no an ordinar grave ↑that↓will haud her in’ (19 5 .32). Frequently, small words are slipped in unnecessarily to match an earlier part of a sentence : ‘the pleasure at once and ↑the ↓ plague’ (22.30 ); ‘master of the remaining fortune, and even ↑o f↓the personal liberty’ (2 3 .10 – 1 1). Sometimes insertions can alter the sense or impair the style in a way unlikely to have been sanctioned by the author: ‘surprised him into ↑an ↓unusual emotion’ (2 6 .12 ); ‘to speak ↑it↓ ill became my station’ (35.20 ); ‘in the animation of ↑the↓ debate’ (88.36– 3 7 ); ‘to cover his embarrassment with ↑the↓exterior ceremonials of a well-bred demeanour’ (9 1.4 3 – 9 2 .1); ‘ ↑T h e ↓ 〈 S〉 soot, which had not been disturbed for centuries’ (9 3.25); ‘a sword and a cloak, ↑and↓ a bold heart and a determined hand’ (15 6 .3 4 – 35). Single words could also be omitted because, probably, of failure to recognise an idiom, or a word : ‘play 〈 you〉your own part’ (5 1.7 ); ‘afore 〈 frem〉folk’ ( 1 4 1 . 3 – 4 ); ‘look with 〈 the〉more steadiness’ (15 2 .2 4 – 25).

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Simple oversight is possible in these cases, and many single words were probably just missed, sometimes with deleterious consequences : ‘had quenched the light and 〈 the〉ingenuous vivacity of youth’ ( 4 1 .3 1 – 3 2 : m s : ' . . . light 〈 of youth〉and the ingenuous vivacity . . . ’ ); ‘equally unchristian, and not 〈 quite〉so bloodless’ (5 8 .10 – 1 1 ); ‘to shoot 〈 at) an old man’ (5 8 .12 ); ‘until this harvest season 〈 ensuing〉shall be passed over’ ( 72.27 – 28 ); ‘exclusion of 〈 the〉free air’ ( 12 0 .16 – 17 ) ; ‘But as 〈 if〉 this plot had been foreseen’ ( 12 5 .1 ); Ί thank ye, Craigie, and 〈 I〉pledge you’ (17 2 .2 8 ); ‘to 〈 a〉walk upon the terrace’ ( 17 5 .18 ) ; ‘so strong and brilliant a light as is now 〈 glaring〉above W olfs Crag’ (206.9– 10). Such omissions account for some seventy emendations. In over thirty cases phrases, or complete sentences, have been omit­ ted without any apparent good reason : such phrases and passages are restored in the present text and are recorded in the Emendation List.49 The present text also deletes twenty phrases introduced pedantically or in ignorance of manuscript idioms.50 3] Wrong substitutions. On some ninety occasions the intermediaries replaced a manuscript word or phrase with one more commonplace, less distinctively idiomatic, or just pointlessly different: ‘A shooting-dress o f dark 〈 green richly laced with gold〉↑cloth↓’ (4 1.2 5 ); ‘O u r roads homeward, 〈 and〉↑as well a s↓our roads through life’ (54.40– 5 5 .1) ; ‘those ancient and 〈 disgarnishd〉↑disfumished↓walls’ ( 9 1 .2 1 – 22); ‘to 〈 round〉 ↑ whisper↓ a few words’ (9 6 .16 – 17 ) ; ‘M r Balderstone had been a 〈 thing〉↑ person ↓in their eyes connected with a superior order of beings’ (10 4 .7 – 8 ); ‘two spits, turned ↑each↓ by (two) ↑one↓of the cooper’s apprentices’ (10 6 .4 – 5 ); ‘do our 〈 devoir〉↑en­ deavour↓’ ( 1 15 .3 4 ) ; ‘Bring 〈 you〉↑m e↓King James to Edinburgh’ ( 1 68. 1 ); ‘that have 〈 wrang〉↑taken ↓his broad lands’ (199.20). In addition to these substituted words, there are some eighty ex­ amples where Scott’s preferred forms of words (which are not always consistent) are changed. Though the distinction is not of any real im­ portance, the manuscript ‘forward’ is preferred to the first edition’s ‘forwards’, and similar differences are treated in the same way. Unless there are contra-indications, the present text also adopts the manuscript form of full and abbreviated forms such as ‘I am’/ ‘I’m’. In all cases which are not purely a matter of spelling, the manuscript form is pre­ ferred, e.g. ‘Philistian’ to ‘Philistine’ (4.8), ‘funereal’ to ‘funeral’ ( 2 1.2 1) , and ‘uncivility’ to ‘incivility’ (55.20). 4] Mechanical elimination o f repetitions. The elimination of close verbal repetition was one of the standing orders, but on some thirty occasions this was done mechanically, so that effective rhetorical repetition disap­ peared. A particularly telling example occurs in Dingwall’s pedantic speech at 10 3.29 – 3 1 : ‘his clients thought 〈 themselves〉↑they w ere↓ able to protect themselves; but should they find themselves mistaken, they would apply to the government. . . ’. (That rhetorical repetition was

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an accepted device is indicated by Scott’s introduction of one example at proof stage in Caleb’s speech a t 115 .3 1 – 3 2 : ‘although . . . these times are not like the 〈 good〉↑gude ↓auld 〈 days〉↑times ↓’ .) 5] Mistaken corrections. Apart from mistaken diagnosis o f lacunae and failure to recognise idiom, the intermediaries occasionally over-cor­ rected grammatically, especially in speech, as in Bucklaw’s ‘neither helped him on with it ↑n↓or off from it’ ( 5 1.3 9 – 40), supported by his ‘Not too honest, ↑n↓or too much of the soldier neither’ (17 2 .10 ) , or in Mortsheugh’s ‘Los〈 e〉↑t ↓ — to be sure I lost it’ (198.28). Tenses are sometimes pedantically altered, and there is also a clutch o f more miscellaneous mistaken attempts at correction (see Emendation List for 84.18, 85.43, and 87.26). All these mistaken corrections together account for over thirty emendations. 6] Anglicisations. On over a hundred occasions, manuscript Scots forms are anglicised for no apparent reason. The Scots forms are re­ stored in the present text. 7] Problems with names. Scott often has problems with naming his characters and places consistently. The first edition clears up some confusions. It correctly normalises the occasional manuscript variants of Ravenswood (Ravensworth, Ravenscroft, and Ravenstone), but the present edition restores the double occurrence of the Scots form Ravensweed at 2 10 .15 . The first edition distinguishes Marion and Jean Lightbody consistently as mother and daughter, whereas in manuscript Scott uses Marion for both after their first appearance. In some cases, the first edition itself has not succeeded in achieving consistency. In manuscript Scott usually writes Bittlebrain, and the possessive Bittlebrains : only twice does the name occur as Bittlebrains. The first edition begins with Bittlebrain, but gradually Bittlebrains takes over, so that all the occurrences in the second volume take that form. The present text reverts to Scott’s overwhelming preference for Bitdebrain. M r Girder presents an acute problem. He first appears in manuscript as Gibbie (1.30 3.2 0 : Gibbie; first-edition reading following first-edition refer­ ence), then in rapid succession as Halbert ( 1.309.23 : Gilbert), Gilbert ( 1 .3 1 2 . 1 4 : Gilbert), and John ( 1 .3 2 1 .1 8 : Gilbert; 1.3 2 2 .3 : Gibbie; 1.3 2 3.4 : Gilbert; 1.3 2 5 .13 : Gilbert; 1 .3 3 1 .1 8:John).Tow ards the end o f the second volume, the first edition has John consistently, but there is no manuscript. In this case it would seem that Scott changed to John spontaneously and at an early stage, so the present text drops Gibbie, Halbert, and Gilbert. Lady Girnington appears as such in manuscript and first edition on her first three mentions ( 1 . 1 4 1 . 1 2 ; 1.16 6 .15 ; 1 . 1 70.2 ). Shortly thereafter she is Girnagain in manuscript, but the first edition standardises to Girnington ( 1.19 5 .4 ). In the second volume she is first of all Girnington in both manuscript and first edition (2.69.14), but in the middle of the volume there are two references in both manu­ script and print to Bucklaw as the new laird of Girninghame (2 .15 1.5 ;

THE PRESENT TEX T

299

2 .15 2 .2 5 ); there follow Girnington in both (2.157.20 ), Girninghame in both (2.160 .22), Girnington in both (2.164 .3), Girnington in manu­ script and Girninghame in print (2 .17 6 .13 ), and in the third volume Girnington twice in print (3.4.8; 3 .17 .10 ). The present text adopts the first and predominant manuscript form Girnington. Mortsheugh appears in that form in both manuscript and first edition (2 .228 .18 ; 2.234.6), but in the third volume (where there is no manuscript) he is twice Mortheuch (3.93.9 and 19 ) and twice Mortheugh (3.9 7.19 ; 3.98.10). The form Mortsheugh is adopted, but there is no need to standardise the variant spellings of his Christian name, first of all Johnie in manuscript and first edition (2.228 .17), then in the first edition only Johnny (3.93.9, 19) and Johnnie (3.9 7.19 ; 3.98.10). The normal form Hayston is shared by manuscript and print in most cases, but twice manuscript has Haystoun and first edition Hayston ( 1.3 15 .4 ; 2.53.5 ), at 2.68.16 manuscript and first edition both have Haystoun, and at 2.69.6 where the manuscript has Hayston the first edition gives Haystoun. In the third volume the first edition has three uses of Haystone (3.6.4; 3 .1 3 .4 ; 3 . 1 5 .1 9). Hayston is adopted as standard. The same variation is preserved to a more limited extent with Balderstone, which appears in that form in both manuscript and first edition in the vast majority of instances : the Scots form Balderstane is recovered from manuscript on six occasions ( 1.2 8 1.8 : Caleb himself; 1.3 2 2 .10 , 1.3 2 8 .3 : Marion; 1 .3 3 1 .2 1 : foreman; 2.246.18: Mortsheugh; 2.278.13 : John Girder), but the normal manuscript Balderstone is preferred to the first edition’s Balderston at 1.18 4 .4 and 1.18 5 .13 , and the first edition’s Balderstone is allowed to stand when in the manuscript Ravenswood once refers to Balderstoun (2.73.5), as it is when Caleb twice acquires the surname Rutherford ( 1.249.1 5 ; 1 .2 7 3.1 6 : for the reason for this slip, see Histor­ ical Note, 333). Lady Blenkinsop appears as Blenkensop on all seven occasions in the first edition, but Scott always spells it with an ‘i’ (the first occurrence is ambiguous), and his spelling is now restored. On the model of the first series o f the Tales Gandercleugh (on the title pages, and twice in the manuscript of the opening chapter : 1.14 .14 ; 1.18 .5 ) is preferred to Ganderscleugh ( 1 .1 3 ·1 2 ; 1 .1 4 .1 : manuscript and first edi­ tion; 1 . 14 .14 : first edition; 1.2 1.7 and 1.2 4 .23: manuscript and first edition), and Ganderscleuch ( 1.18 .5 : first edition). Scott’s overwhelm­ ing manuscript preference for Wolfscrag is followed : this form, along with occasional manuscript variants (Wolfs Crag, Wolfs crag, W olfscrag, Wolfcrag, W olfs-crag) is standardised throughout the first edition to W olfs Crag. On similar principles the present text adopts Wolfshope, the dominant manuscript form, to cover also W olfs Haven and Wolfshaven: the first edition has at various points Wolfshope, W olf s-hope, and W olfs Haven. The name of the inn is more problem­ atic; Scott uses the same form on only two occasions, the last two : ‘the Todshole’ (2.252.3; 2.264.16). Earlier occurrences are ‘the T od’s den’

300

E S S A Y ON T H E T E X T

( 1.13 8 .12 ) , ‘the T od’s-den’ ( 1 .1 5 7 .1 1 ) , ‘the Tods den’ ( 1 .15 8 .1 ) , ‘the TodsDen’ (2 .215.4 ), ‘the Tods-hole’ (2.224.2), ‘the Tod-hole’ (2.228.20), ‘T od ’s hole’ (2.234.3), and ‘T od’s-hole’ (2.236.5). The change from ‘den’ to ‘hole’ is presumably unintentional. The first edi­ tion gives the first three occurrences (those in the first volume) as ‘T od’s Den’, and then changes to ‘the Tod’s-hole’ or just ‘T od’s-hole’ for the remaining seven, in the second volume. The present text adopts the first edition’s T od’s-hole as a reasonable solution, given the occa­ sional presence of the definite article before the name. Nothing can be done about Lady Ashton, whose husband calls her Eleanor (2.200.19), but who signs herself ‘Margaret Douglas, otherwise Ashton’ in her letter to Ravenswood (2.318 .9) : the reader may charitably assume that both are her Christian names. Craigengelt is George in manuscript and John in the first edition (2 .16 3 .15 ; 2.16 4 .5): it must be presumed that Scott made the change, possibly to avoid too close an association with the George Craigengelt of the Gowrie Conspiracy (see Historical Note, 335 ), so John is retained.51 Jedidiah, rather than Jedediah, is adopted in line with the decision made for the first series o f the Tales (EEW N 4a, 174). Changes in first-edition names account for over 150 emenda­ tions. 8] Miscellaneous. Further errors, o f a more miscellaneous nature, made by intermediaries (or, occasionally, by Scott himself) and cor­ rected in the present text may be observed in the Emendation List. They include: transposition of words; faulty accents; inappropriate italicisation, though italicisation for emphasis is normally accepted as part of the standing orders; and a number of more complex misreadings or misunderstandings. In the first edition the first volume ended with a short Chapter 12 (misnumbered 1 1 ) which divides Scott’s original long chapter, presum­ ably because the volume had reached the statutory 333 pages: if the manuscript had been followed there would have been over 350 pages. (Scott’s error in producing two sets of leaves numbered 20 to 29 may have thrown his calculations out.) The manuscript makes it clear that Scott envisaged his first volume ending, not with Caleb’s triumph but with Ravenswood’s ambiguous feelings about Lucy and her father, and since the present edition is not constrained by the demands of three separate physical books it has been able to restore the original intention. NOTES A ll m an u scrip ts re fe rre d to are in the N atio n al L ib r a r y o f S c o tland u n less otherw ise stated. F o r the sh orten ed fo rm s o f re fe re n c e em p lo yed see pp .

339– 40. 1 2

L o c k h a rt, 4 .2 5 7 – 58 . Letters, 5 .3 4 1 .

NOTES 3

4

5 6

7 8 9

10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

m s 3 1 9 , f. 1 4 I V. F o r a tim e S c o tt en visaged that one o f the ‘T a le s o f M y L a n d lo r d ’ sh ou ld b e b ased on the ad ven tu res o f the Sco ttish cro w n jew els d u rin g the C iv il W ar p erio d (Letters, 5 .5 5 – 5 6 ). Letters, 5 . 1 8 1 – 8 2 . E d g a r Jo h n s o n has a good acco u n t o f Jo h n B a lla n tyn e’s tea sin g o f C o n sta b le w ith the p ro sp ect that the n ew w o rk m igh t b e given to B lack w o o d or M u r r a y b efo re granting him fa ir term s : S ir W alter S co tt: The G reat Unknow n (L o n d o n , 1 9 7 0 ) , 6 2 5 – 26. m s 3 2 2 , f. 3 7 9 r – v. Letters, 5 .1 8 6 . L o c k h a rt dates this letter 1 0 S ep tem b er. J . C . C o rso n ’ s su ggestio n that it shou ld b e dated 1 0 M a y is u n co n v in cin g : although S c o tt w as at M e lv ille C a stle , n e ar E d in b u rg h , on 1 0 S ep tem b er, he w as at A b b o tsfo rd on 9th and n t h . L o c k h a rt’s dating (it m ay b e S c o tt’ s o w n ) is p ro b ab ly not m ore than a day o r tw o o u t: com pare S c o tt’s letter to J . B . S . M o rritt also dated fro m A b b o tsfo rd on 1 0 S e p te m b e r: Letters, 5 .1 8 5 . m s 3 2 2 , f.4 2 7 r . m s 3 2 2 , f. 4 5 4 r. P resen t text, 5 8 : M S 3 2 2 , f. 4 6 5 . T h e referen c e is to the article on the D ra m a w h ich S c o tt w as co m p o sin g fo r the Encyclopaedia B ritan n ica. It seem s likely that he w as also h am p ered b y his stom ach pain s d u rin g the autum n : Letters, 5 .2 9 4 (to C o n sta b le, 1 7 Ja n u a r y [ 1 8 1 9 ] ) . m s 2 3 1 1 7 , f. 1 4 5 r. m s 7 9 0 , p. 3 8 0 : to Jo h n sto n & D e a s , D u b lin . m s 2 1 0 5 9 , f. 1 1 6r. Letters, 5 .3 4 1 . M S 2 1 0 5 9 , f. 1 1 2 r . Letters, 5 .3 4 3 . Letters, 5 .3 9 2 . S e e F ra n k M c C o m b ie , ‘T h e C o m p letio n o f “ T h e B rid e o f L a m m e rm o o r” ’ , N otes an d Q ueries, 2 2 1 (O c to b er 1 9 7 6 ) , 4 5 4 . m s 7 9 0 , pp. 4 5 0 , 46 0. ‘W e find the quantity o f fo o lscap p a p er w anted fo r the w o rk n ow in p ro ­ gress w ill be about 5 4 0 ream s altogether— w e have alread y re c d 1 4 0 — p lease fo rw ard as m u ch m ore w ithout an y d elay— an d in a m onth after a sim ilar quantity— w e shall let you know fu rth er as to the final sup ply— w e w ant the d em y v ery m u c h ’ ( m s 7 9 0 , p. 4 6 2 ).

19

M S 1 7 5 0 , f. 2 1 5 r .

20 21

M S 2 3 2 3 0 , f. 6 3 r.

22

23 24

301

S c o tt to Jo h n B allan tyn e, after 5 M a y : ‘O u r tales get on rapid ly b u t m y h ealth has got a shake fro m the L is b o n new s [ o f the D u k e o f B u c c le u c h ’s d e a th ]’ ( Letters, 5 .3 7 9 ) ; C o n sta b les to H u rs t R o b in so n , 1 4 M a y : ‘T h e 3 d S e r ie s gets on & hope w ill be read y h ere at least b y the tim e an n o u n ced ’ ( MS 7 9 0 , p. 4 9 1 ) · m s 7 9 0 , pp. 4 9 6 – 9 7 . T h e fo reign corresp o n d en t has not b een iden tified, b u t he w as ap parently con n ected w ith the A m eric an p u b lish in g trade : com pare m s 7 9 0 , p. 3 7 7 . T h e ad van ced cop y w o u ld facilitate the tim eous p rin tin g o f an edition fo r the fiercely com petitive A m eric an m arket. MS 7 9 0 , p . 5 0 8 . m s 7 9 0 , pp. 5 1 7 , 5 2 7 . 1 0 ,0 0 0 cop ies had b een p rin ted o f the first edition o f the seco n d series ( m s 79 0 , p . 1 1 9 ) , and a sale o f 5 0 0 0 o f the th ird series to the L o n d o n trade w as an ticipated ( m s 3 2 2 , f. 4 4 9 r ) . T h e next novel,

302 25 26

E S S A Y ON T H E T E X T Ivan h o e, w as also to have a run o f 10 ,0 0 0 ( ms 7 4 2 , f. 1 9 1 r). ms 7 9 0 , p. 608. T h e foliation o f the m an u scrip t is co n fu se d . S c o tt’s acciden tal do u ble u se o f the tw enties has led a librarian to assign a m islead in g set o f n u m b ers to the leaves o f the seco n d volum e. In the p resen t essay a fre sh foliation has b e e n adopted, details o f w h ich are given belo w . T h e q u arto -typ e leaves o f the m an u scrip t v ary sligh tly in size, m ea su rin g on average ap proxim ately 2 6 .5 b y 2 0 .5 cm , and w e re m ostly fo rm ed b y the fo ld in g in two o f tw o sets o f fo lio -typ e leaves derived fro m d em y sh eets o f two m ain sorts. O n e, u sed fo r m ost o f the first volum e and at vario u s stages in the seco n d , h as a h o rn w aterm ark (co m p a re H eaw o o d 2 7 6 1 ( R M ) ) an d a cou n term ark ‘ B A N K M I L L 1 8 1 3 ’; the other, u sed tow ard s the en d o f the first v olu m e an d at vario u s stages in the seco n d , h as a cro w n w aterm ark (co m p a re H eaw o o d 2 7 5 5 ) and a cou n term ark ‘V A L L E Y F I E L D 1 8 1 7 ’ . T h e ch ain lines are on average 2 .4 cm apart. T h e m an u scrip t b egin s w ith two b lan k leaves w a term ark ed ‘J G R E E N & S O N ’; this p a p er recu rs in th ree b lan k leaves at the en d w ith the date ‘ 1 8 2 9 ’ . T h e s e blan k leaves are reg ard ed as b in d in g m aterial and ign o red fo r the p u rp o se o f foliation. T h e nin e leaves o f the first ch apter share the n u m b erin g [ 1 ] to 9 in S c o tt’s han d (th e first is not actu ally n u m b ered ) an d in the foliation ad op ted h ere; the b lan k le a f at the en d o f the first fa scicle and the u n n u m b ered first le a f o f the seco n d ch apter (ff. 1 0 , 1 1 ) a r e fo llow ed b y S c o tt’ s leaves 1 0 to 2 9 , * 2 0 , and 2 0 to 3 0 (ff. 1 2 – 4 3 ). T h e r e is th en in serted (f. 4 4 ) an u n w aterm ark ed le a f w ith a blan k recto and the fo llow in g legen d on the v erso : ‘ T h is F ra g m e n t o f the A u to ­ grap h M a n u scrip t o f T h e B rid e o f L a m m e rm o o r w as p u rch a sed at the pu b lic sale o f the W averley m s s . in L o n d o n on the 19 th . o f A u g u st 1 8 3 1 , ch iefly in co n seq u en ce o f its su p p o sed con n exio n w ith the scen ery o f our coast n ear D u n g la ss, and is p resen ted to Ja m e s H a ll Ju n r . E s q r. b y his affection ate U n c le Ja m e s H a ll L o n d o n 10 th . N o vr. 1 8 3 1 . [d o u b le ru le ] m em . A t the bottom o f P . 5 4 w ill be fo u n d the first con cep tio n o f C a le b ’s ad ven tu re o f the w ild fow l. O pposite P. 7 o f vol 2d. a specim en o f “ O ld P la y ” .— ’ T h e rem ain d er o f S c o tt’s first volu m e is n u m b ered 3 1 to 6 1 , and th ere is a blan k le a f at the en d o f the p ack et ( ff. 45 – 7 6 ). It is p ro b ab le that the m an u scrip t u p to this point is the ‘ 6 1 p ages o f M a n u sc rip t’ d ep o sited b y C o n sta b le w ith T h o m a s T h o m so n in J u n e 1 8 2 7 ( ms 6 8 3 , f. 82V). A fte r a le a f (f. 7 7 ) b earin g on the recto S c o tt’s legen d ‘V ol. I I d .’ an d on the v erso the m otto fo r V o lu m e 2, C h a p te r 1 (rep lac in g that fro m K in g a n d N o K in g tran sferred to C h a p te r 2 ) , he n u m b ers the o p en in g o f the seco n d volum e [ 1 ] to 3 1 and 3 1 * ( ff. 7 8 – 10 9 : the actual n u m bers 1 0 to 1 8 have b een lost as a resu lt o f lo cal fire d am age); le a f 3 2 is m issin g (it w ill have con tain ed fro m 1 7 7 . 3 2 : ‘w e re not co n fin ed ’ to 1 7 9 . 1 6 : ‘ speed , th erefo re, an d ’; th ere is a trace o f this le a f in the fo rm o f a stub in the gutter, th ou gh w h eth er it w as to m fro m the b o u n d volum e or at an earlier stage fro m a con ju gate le a f cann ot be d eterm in ed ; L a id la w has cop ied ‘ still m ore slo w ly’ ( 1 7 9 .2 2 ) fro m the verso o f this m issin g le a f), an d after leaves 3 3 and 3 4 ( ff. 1 1 0 – 1 1 ) th ere are two blan k leaves in serted to m ark the ab sen ce o f leaves 3 5 and 3 6 (ff. 1 1 2 – 1 3 : th ese w ill have con tain ed fro m 1 8 2 .3 2 : ‘ en em y o f yo u r fam ily’ to 1 8 6 . 1 8 ‘w ith L a d y A sh to n ,’ ). T h e n u m b e rin g is th en con tin u o us fro m 3 7 to 5 0 ( ff. 1 1 4 – 2 7 : the actual n u m b er 45 has b een lost th ro u gh lo cal fire

NOTES

27

28

29

30

31 32 33

303

d a m age). In an u n d ated letter to Ja m e s B allantyne ( m s 2 1 0 5 9 , f. 1 9 o r) S c o tt sen d s the m otto to V o lu m e 3 , C h a p te r 6 and a short in sertion fo r 2 5 6 .2 5 – 2 7 ( ‘and it’s a b i t . . . b a c k –se y ’ ). N o tew o rth y exam ples o f substantial exp ansion s or elaborations in serted in the o riginal or a later p en on the v erso in clu de : 4 6 .1 0 – 1 7 ( ‘ ↑T h e s e w ere . . . co n stru ed ↓’ in the n ew p en ad op ted at 4 6 .2 0 ) ; 6 5 4 – 5 ( ‘↑that has b een . . . the h eel o f ↓’ , p ro b ab ly in the original p e n ), 1 0 6 . 3 5 – 3 6 ( ‘ ↑w e hae killd . . . w ild fow l ↓’ ); and 1 2 6 . 3 3 – 3 7 ( ‘↑T h e stern . . . S ir W illiam A sh to n ↓’ , in a later p en ). T h e exact po in t o f division w as actu ally fluid even d u rin g this verso insertion , w h ich has ‘ . .. th eir co n feren ce. H e re S ir W illiam A sh to n o pen d the c o n ver­ sation w ith ’ : S c o tt cro ssed out ‘w ith ’ , obviously m ean in g to delete the w h ole sen ten ce, and w en t on w ith ‘ C h a p te r I I I .’ , the m otto, and the first w o rd s o f the n ew chapter, ‘ T h e L o r d K e e p e r o pen d his com m u nication w ith ’ . V o lu m e 1 , C h a p ters 2 and 5 ( absen t fro m m an u scrip t); V o lu m e I , C h a p ter 7 (o n o ppo sin g v erso , pro b ab ly in the sam e p en as the m ain text o f the o p en in g o f the ch ap ter); V o lu m e 1 , C h a p te r 9 (o n o ppo sin g v erso in a d iffere n t p en fro m the m ain text o f the o p en in g o f the ch ap ter); V o lu m e 1 , C h a p te r 1 1 (o n o p p o sin g v erso , in the p en ad op ted fo r the third sentence o f the ch apter o n w ard s); V o lu m e 1 , C h a p te r 1 2 (ab se n t fro m m an u scrip t); V o lu m e 1 , C h a p te r 1 3 (in the m argin, in the p en ad op ted fo r 3 1 9 .8 o n ­ w a r d s ) ; V o lu m e 1 , C h a p te r 1 4 (ab se n t fro m m an u scrip t, w h ich do es not have this ch apter d ivision ); V o lu m e 2, C h a p te r 1 , w h ich has its original m otto d eleted and tran sferred to C h a p te r 2 and the p resen t rep lacem en t on the o ppo sin g v erso in a d iffere n t p en fro m the m ain text; V o lu m e 2, C h a p ­ ter 2 , w h ich has the tran sferred m otto fro m C h a p te r 1 on the oppo sin g verso in a d iffere n t p en fro m the m ain te x t; V o lu m e 2, C h a p te r 5 (ab sen t fro m m an u scrip t); V o lu m e 2 , C h a p ters 6 and 7 (o n the o p p o sin g v erso s, p ro b ab ly in the sam e p en as the m ain text); V o lu m e 2, C h a p te r 8 (ab se n t fro m m an u scrip t); V o lu m e 2, C h a p te r 1 0 (o n o ppo sin g verso , in the sam e p en as the m ain text); V o lu m e 2 , C h a p te r 1 1 (o n o ppo sin g v erso , pro b ab ly in the sam e p en as the m ain text); V o lu m e 2, C h a p te r 1 2 (o n o ppo sin g v erso , in the sam e p en as the m ain text). ( T h e r e is no m an u scrip t extant fo r C h a p te r 1 3 . ) F u rth e r sup po rt fo r W illiam L a id la w ’ s b ein g the cop yist com es in B a lla n tyn e’s com m en t on the m otto at the b egin n in g o f the fifth ch apter o f V o lu m e 3 : ‘W e can n ot m ake out this; and the w h ole extract is n early illegible. W h en not aid ed b y the content, w e can do n othin g w ith M r. L a id la w ’s hand. W e can get C ra b b e , i f n e cy .’ , to w h ich S c o tt resp on d s ‘A ll righ t bu t one w o rd ’ . T h e o dd th in g about this exch an ge is that L a id la w w rote a very legible hand. S c o tt’s p r o o f co rrectio n s are given in th eir o riginal form , rath er than as they ap p ear in the first edition. N o textual varian ts, apart fro m dro p p ed ch aracters, have b een d isco vered in the first edition o f the third series o f Tales. T h e title-p ages are r e fe rre d to in a letter fro m C o n sta b les to H u rst R o b in ­ son o f 1 3 A u g u st 1 8 1 9 , th ou gh the exact im port is u n clear : ‘W e think yo u r W areh o u sem an m u st have com m itted a m istake as to the titles o f the T ales 3 d S e r ie s .— O f the last th ou sand th ere w e re 8 0 0 w ith S e c o n d E d itio n —

304 34

35 36

37 38

39 40 41 42

43 44 45 46

47

48

49

50

51

E S S A Y ON T H E T E X T and 2 0 0 w ith th ird ’ ( m s 7 9 0 , p. 6 0 8 ). Letters, 5 .3 6 7 . T h e size o f the im p ressio n is given as 1 5 0 0 in m s 3 1 9 , ff. 3 0 o r , 3 0 2 r ; bu t 2 0 0 0 is cited in a later m em oran d u m dated 26 F e b ru a ry 1 8 2 2 ( m s 2 3 2 3 2 , f.6 o r ). F o r fu ll details o f the circu m stan ces su rro u n d in g the pu blication o f the 1 8 1 9 8vo see the E E W N editions o f The A n tiqu a ry an d The B la ck D w a rf (3 –373–75 ; 41.151–52 )· m s 3 2 6 , f. 1 1 1 r. T h e first two volu m es o f the 1 8 2 2 8vo are dated 1 8 2 1 in som e copies. m s 2 3 2 3 2 , f. 6or. m s 326, f. 42r; m s 323, ff. 238r, 245v; m s 792, p. 138; m s 320, f.160. The B la ck D w a rf ( E E W N , 4 a ), 1 5 3 . T h e ten d en cy to add dash es noted b y P eter G a rs id e in that novel as a p o ssib le sign o f S c o tt’s involvem ent is not evid ent in the th ird series o f the Tales. m s 3 2 3 , f. 5 2 4 r Letters, 1 1 .80. Letters, 1 1 . 2 5 8 . m s 2 1 0 1 9 , ff. 4 8 r – 54v. Letters, 1 1 .288– 89,301. J a n e M illg a te , Scott's L a st E dition : A Stu dy in P u b lish in g H istory ( E d in ­ b u rgh , 1 9 8 7 ) , 2 3 . In terleaved S e t addition s are given in th eir o rigin al ( M S S 2 3 0 1 1 – 1 2 ) rath er than final M a g n u m form . T h e ch an g es are an alysed b y Ja n e M illg ate, ‘T ext and C o n text : D a tin g the E v en ts o f The B rid e o f Lam m erm oor’ , B ibliotheck, 9 ( 19 7 9 ) , 2 0 0 – 1 3 , and P eter D ig n u s G a rs id e , ‘ U n io n an d The B rid e o f Lam m erm oor' , Stu dies in Scottish L itera tu re, 1 9 ( 1 9 8 4 ) , 7 2 – 9 3 . P erio d con ven tion can hardly, h o w ever, be a ju stificatio n fo r a h an d fu l o f erro rs su ch as the d escriptio n o f A lic e as ‘the last retain er o f the h o u se o f R a ven sw o o d , w h o still abode on th eir p atern al d o m ain s’ ( 1 8 9 .2 0 – 2 1 ) : the rem oval o f the com m a p reserv es C a le b ’ s dignity. C h a n g e s o f case betw een u p p er an d lo w er w h en sp eech es are resu m ed after ‘ said s o -a n d -s o ’ are not u su ally felt to be u n faith fu l to S c o tt’s im plied m ovem ent. M o r e gen erally, on a h an d fu l o f o ccasio n s it has b een felt to be p referab le to leave a slight distortion in the b a se -te x t rath er than risk

disrupting a carefully constructed first-edition hierarchy. 3 . 9 , 3 . 1 9 , 1 2 . 1 5 , 1 4 .3 6 , 1 5 .8 , 16 .3 3 , 2 5 .3 , 3 0 .3 4 , 3 2 .8 , 3 7 .2 5 , 3 7 .2 9 , 53.36, 5 5 .3 4 , 6 0 .13, 70. 1 2 , 70 .18, 7 0 .3 3 , 8 5 .2 9 , 1 1 3 . 1 8 , 1 1 7 . 8 , 1 2 8 . 4 1 , 13 7 .17 , 1 4 2 .1 0 , 1 4 6 .5 , 1 5 4 .2 , 16 2 .3 5 , 1 8 7 . 1 2 , 1 9 5 . 1 2 , 19 7 .2 1, 202.26, 204.26, 2 1 3 . 1 5 , 214.28. 1 3 .4 2 , 1 5 .6 , 4 2 .3 , 42.7, 59.2, 8 3 .3 2 , 9 2 .5 , 9 4 .1 0 , 10 7 .2 4 , 1 3 5 . 3 1 , 139 .5, 14 0 .6 , 1 6 0 .1 2 , 1 6 8 .3 1 , 18 2 .3 0 , 18 8 .2 5 , 1 9 5 . 3 1 , 19 9 .37 , 206.4, 206.34.

A John Craigengelt (variously spelt) appears charged with heresy shortly before the Reformation in the first volume of Robert Pitcairn, C rim in a l T ria ls in Scotland, 3 vols (Edinburgh, 1833), 216,339, 383.

EMENDATION L IST

The base-text for this edition of The B ride o f Lammermoor is a specific copy of the first edition, owned by the Edinburgh Edition of the Waverley Novels. All emendations to this base-text, whether verbal, ortho­ graphic, or punctuational, are listed below, with the exception of certain general categories of emendation described in the next paragraph, and of those errors which result from accidents of printing such as a letter dropping out, provided always that evidence for the ‘correct’ reading has been found in at least one other copy of the first edition. The treatment of Bidethebent, Bittlebrain, Balderstone, Blenkinsop, John Craigengelt, Gandercleugh, John Girder, Girnington, Hayston, Jedidiah, Jean Lightbody and Marion Loupthedyke, Mortsheugh, Todsden, Wolfscrag, and Wolfshope is explained in the Essay on the Text (see 298– 300). Inverted commas are sometimes found in the first edition for displayed verse quotations, sometimes not; the present text has standardised the inconsistent practices of the base-text by eliminat­ ing such inverted commas, except when they occur at the beginnings or ends of speeches. The typographic presentation of mottoes, volume and chapter headings, and the opening words of volumes and chapters, has been standardised. Ambiguous end-of-line hyphens in the base-text have been interpreted in accordance with the following authorities (in descending order of priority) : predominant first-edition usage; octavo Historical Romances. Each entry in the list below is keyed to the text by page and line number; the reference is followed by the new, EEW N reading, then in brackets the reason for the emendation, and after the slash the base-text reading that has been replaced. The great majority of emendations are derived from the manuscript, or from the proofs corrected by Scott. Most merely involve the replace­ ment of one reading by another, and these are listed with the simple explanation ‘( m s )’ or ‘ (proof)’. The spelling and punctuation of some emendations from the manuscript have been normalised in accordance with the prevailing conventions of the base-text. And although as far as possible emendations have been fitted into the existing base-text punc­ tuation, at times it has been necessary to provide emendations with a base-text style of punctuation. Where the manuscript reading adopted by the EEW N has required editorial intervention to normalise spelling or punctuation, the exact manuscript reading is given in the form : ‘( ms actual reading)’. Where the new reading has required editorial inter­ pretation of the manuscript, in the provision of punctuation for example, the explanation is given in the form ‘( m s derived: actual reading)’. Occasionally, some explanation of the editorial thinking behind an emendation is required, and this is provided in a brief note. 305

306

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

In transcriptions from Scott’s manuscript: deletions are enclosed 〈 thus〉and insertions ↑thus↓. In spite of the care taken by the intermediaries, some local confusions in the manuscript persisted into the first edition. When straightening these, the editor has studied the manuscript context so as to determine Scott’s original intention, and where the original intention is discernible it is o f course restored. But from time to time such confusions cannot be rectified in this way. In these circumstances, Scott’s own corrections and revisions in the Interleaved Set have more authority than the pro­ posals of other editions, but if the autograph portions of the Interleaved Set have nothing to offer, the reading from the earliest edition to offer a satisfactory solution is adopted as the neatest means of rectifying a fault. Readings from the later editions and the Interleaved Set are indicated by ‘ 18 19 8vo’, etc., ‘(ISet)’ or ‘(Magnum)’. Emendations which have not been anticipated by a contemporaneous edition are indicated by ‘ (Editorial)’. tid e -p a g e

r e p o r t e d ( E d ito rial ) / a r r a n g e d F o r a d iscu ssio n o f this an d the fo llow in g two em en dation s see The Black Dwarf, E E W N 4a, 1 7 3 – 7 4 . title-p age J E D I D I A H (E d ito ria l) / J E D E D I A H title-p age p a r i s h - c l e r k a n d s c h o o l m a s t e r ( E d ito rial ) / s c h o o l m a s t e r

ΑN D P A R I S H - C L ER K .

title-p age V O L S . I, II, & III ( P A R T ) . (E d ito ria l) / V O L . I. [2] [In the first edition the ep igrap h fro m C e rv an tes ap p eared on the v erso o f the h alf-title.] 3 .10 w as en gaged in com p ilin g ( m s ) / w as com p ilin g 3 .2 0 th eir style and sentim ents up to (M S th eir stile & sentim ents u p 〈 on ?〉to ) / th eir nam e up to 3 .2 6 fle x ib le ( m s ) / p o lis h e d 3 .2 9 lio n ” (M S ) / lio n ,” 3 .2 9 I cann ot rise ( m s ) / I cou ld not rise 4 .5 I care not fo r (M S ) / I cann ot b e tem pted to “ com e a lo ft,” fo r A cop yist’s m isrea d in g at the cram p ed en d o f a line p resu m ab ly led to this elaboratio n in pro of. 4 .8 P h ilistian ( m s ) / Ph ilistine 4 .2 1 urbem ( M a g n u m ) / urbe 4 .2 7 to the su c c essfu l (M S ) / to a su c c essfu l 4 .2 9 A rtist (M S ) / artist 4 .3 2 his p en cil (M S ) / the p en cil 4 .3 4 go od m an (M S ) / go od m an 5 .2 0 s u b s titu tin g th is ( m s ) / s u b s titu tin g th a t 5 .2 3 an d so d ep icted . . . ch eer as (M S ) / and dep icted . . . c h eer so as 5 .2 6 even the (M S ) / even as the 5 .3 0 the w o rth y (M S ) / a w orthy 5 .3 0 d ecad en t p ro fessio n w h om (M S decad [ en d o f line ] p ro fessio n w h om ) / d ecayed p ro fessio n , as 5 .3 1

in d ic a te d ( M S ) / in tim a te d

5 .3 6

that have b een (M S derived : that (bein g) ↑b een ↓) / that b ein g S c o tt d eleted the ‘ g ’ o f ‘b e in g ’ , tu rn in g it into ‘b e e n ’ (to avoid a triple o ccu rren ce o f ‘ -in g ’ ), bu t he failed to in sert ‘ h ave’ . this b ran ch o f his (M S ) / that b ran ch o f the sort ( m s ) / sorts

5 .4 3 6 .1

E M E N D A T IO N 6 .17 6 .2 2 6 .2 3 6 .3 5 6 .4 1 7 .7 7 .10 7 .2 9 7 .3 2

L IS T

ale h ad failed (M S ale had fa ild ) / ale failed into go o d -h u m o u r ( M S into go o d h u m o u r) / in good h u m o u r b ack -w y n d ( m s ) / B a ck -w y n d all allu sions ( m s ) / an y allu sion T h e se ( m s ) / T h o se the n eigh b o u rin g feu ars (M S ) / the feu ars th e v e r y la s t ( m s ) / th e la s t s ) / other

w id e r ( m

7.41

misfortunes ( m s ) / misfortune

8 .1 1 8 .1 6 8 .3 0 9 .3 9 .4 9 .4 9 .15 9 .2 7 9 .4 3

stout; (M S ) / stout, h an d. ( 1 8 1 9 8 v o ) / han d, (M S han d— ) “ p sh aw ,” ( m s “ p sh aw ” ) / pshaw , as the conception ( m s ) / as conception reminded that ( m s ) / reminded him, that being ( m s ) / feeling

1 o.1

307

proficience ( m s ) / proficiency

b e t te r ( m s ) / h ig h e r

h earin g, so (M S d erived : h earin g so ) / h earin g,— so E xh ib itio n ( m s ) / exhibition

field which he (MS feild which he ) / field he

1 0 .3 6

s a id h e ( m s ) / h e s a id

1 0 .3 7

gob-box ( m s ) / gob box po stu re, m an n er ( ms po stu re 〈 & 〉m an n er) / p o stu re, and m an n er ap p roach es ( m s ) / ap p roach ed D escrip tio n , he said, w as (M S D escrip tio n he said w a s) / “ D e s c r ip ­ tio n ,” h e said, “ w as ru les, he con ten d ed , ap plied (M S ru les he con ten ded ap plied ) / ru le s,” he con ten d ed , “ ap plied action ( m s ) / actions “ But ( m s ) / But he stu died (M S ) / he had stu died art. T h e story, h e said, w as (M S art. T h e story he said w as ) / art. [ n ew p a ragrap h ] “ T h e sto ry,” he said, “ w as dou bt ( m s ) / doubts en tertained, ( m s en tertaind. ) / en tertain e d .” p ictu re on a canvas o f (M S ) / pictu re o f appropriated ( m s ) / appropriate

1 1 .1 3 11.2 2 1 1 .2 7 1 1 .3 2 1 1 .3 8 1 1 .3 9 1 2 .9 1 2 .1 0 12 .12 1 2 .13 1 2 .1 5

12.17 12.21 1 2 .3 3 13 .3 13 .4 1 3 .1 1 13 .13 13 .2 5

13.28 1 3 .4 2

1 4.7 1 4 .1 1

1 4.24 1 4 .3 6 15 1 1 5 .6 1 5 .8

1 6.24

an animated debate (MS ) / a debate

arm ’s ( m s ) / a rm s’ p erfo rm an ce— I . . . others— I ( m s ) / p erfo rm an ce, I . . . o th e rs; I m y ow n d eficien cies (M S ) / m y d eficien cies rep lied that ( m s rep lied that ) / rep lied , “ T h a t subject, ( m s ) / su b je ct.” P assam o n te ( m s ) / P assam o n t persons whom you ( m s ) / persons you I, “ yo u r (M S I “ y o u r) / I, in terru p tin g h im ,” yo u r know that ( m s ) / know then, the an cient (M S ) / an an cient weave ( m s ) / wove L o th ia n into the m ou ntain ous an d m o o rish district o f L am m erm o o r, th ere ( m s L o th ia n . . . L a m m e rm o o r th ere) / L o th ian , th ere H o m es ( m s ) / H u m es in fo reign (M S ) / in tim es o f fo reign its lords and owners (M S ) / its owners supereminent ( m s ) / supreme

308

e m e n d a t i o n

16 .2 8

clo sely (M S ) / clearly

1 6 .2 9 16 .3 3

la r g e , (M S la r g e ) / la r g e ;

17 .1 1 17 .4 2 18 .6 18 .17 18 .18 18 .2 0 18 .2 1

l i s t

sovereign s w h o w e re rem ark able ( m s So v e re ig n s w h o w e re rem ark ­ ab le) / sovereign s, rem ark able a n o th e r ( m s ) / o r d e r slan der, and ( m s slan d er an d ) / slan der. A n d eye ( m s ) / eyes

18 .2 2 18 .2 7 1 9 .2 9 2 0 .1 2 2 0 .14 2 1 .1

th is , h o w e v e r , ( 1 2 m o ) / th is, h o w e v e r (M S th is h o w e v e r ) know n. Lady ( m s ) / know n; L ady it w o u ld ( m s ) / th a t w o u ld in fa llib le , h is ta ste a p p e a le d ( m s in fa llib le h is ta ste a p p e a ld ) / in f a l­ lib le ; h is ta ste w a s a p p e a le d to a n d ( m s ) / to , a n d fir m e r ( m s ) / fo r m e r lu g u b r io u s ( m s ) / m e la n c h o ly h u m m in g as w h o ( m s ) / m u t te r in g a s o n e w h o In ( m s ) / U n d e r h a th ( m s ) / h a s

2 1 .5 2 1 .8

T h e m ore n u m ero u s ( m s T h e 〈 yo 〉m ore n u m e ro u s) / A n u m ero u s fu rth er ( m s ) / farth er

2 1.15 2 1.2 1 2 1 .3 0 2 1.4 2

jo v ia lity ( m s ) / jo v ia lty fu n e r e a l ( m s ) / fu n e r a l th e d r a u g h ts (Ms) / its c o n te n ts fa m ily ( m s ) / h o u s e

2 2 .1 4

A dam B e ll, Clym o f the Clough, an d W illiam o f Cloudesly (E d ito ria l) / W illiam B e ll C lim o ' the C leugh, & c . ( m s : W illiam B e ll C lim o ’ the C le u g h & c . ) T h e eccen tric ascriptio n is stan d ard ised fro m P ercy.

2 2 .2 8 2 2 .3 0 2 2 .3 5 2 2 .3 6 2 3 .11 2 3 .18 2 3 .2 3 2 3 .2 7 2 3 .2 8 2 3 .2 9 2 3 .3 0

lib r a r y ( 1 8 m o ) / h is to r ia n a n d p la g u e (m s ) / a n d th e p la g u e r e s o lu tio n (M S ) / r e s o lu tio n s a n d s o m e w h a t tim id (M S & s o m e w h a t t im id ) / a n d tim id e v e n th e ( m s ) / e v e n o f th e o f fe r ( m s ) / e ffo r t s e e h e ( m s ) / s e e th a t h e im p o s e d — a n ( m s ) / im p o s e d ; an im p r o p e r — e v e n ( m s ) / im p r o p e r ; e v e n e x p r e s s io n s — th o u g h ( m s ) / e x p r e s s io n s , th o u g h extent— N o — I w ill not — I ( m s ) / extent. N o , I w ill not; — I

2 3 .3 1

p o w er— and ( m s ) / p o w er; — and follow s ? R estitu tio n ( m s ) / follow s ?— R estitu tio n re v e n g e — I ( m s ) / reven g e. I in flu e n c e — W h at (M S ) / in flu e n c e . W hat a d m in is t r a t io n !” ( 1 8 2 2 8 v o ) / a d m in is t r a t io n ? ” ( m s a d m in is t r a ­

2 3 .3 2 2 3 .3 3 2 3 .3 5 2 3 .3 6 2 4 .13

2 5 .3

2 5 .5

t io n ? — ” ) fa m ily fo r . . . a r r o w s a n d . . . la w , ( m s fa m ily 〈 a g a in s t 〉↑f o r ↓w h o s e . . . a r r o w s a n d . . . a r m s a n d . . . la w ) / fa m ily ( f o r . . . a r r o w s , a n d . . . la w ,) a c c o m p a n im e n t in a n a n c ie n t a n d s o le m n a ir (M S a c c o m p a n im e n t 〈 of a n d 〉in a n c ie n t a n d s o le m n a ir ) / a c c o m p a n im e n t in a n a n c ie n t a ir

2 5 .12

B e a u ty ’s ( m s B eau tys ) / b eau ty’s K in g s ( m s ) / kings d ie .” ( 1 8 2 1 1 2 m o ) / die. ( m s as E d 1 )

2 5 .1 5 2 5 .2 6

p e c u lia r ly ( m s ) / p a r t ic u la r ly a n d m o r e e n e r g e t ic (M S & m o r e e n e r g e t ic ) / a n d e n e r g e t ic

2 5 .6

E M E N D A T IO N 2 6 .3 2 6 .1 2

L IS T

309

2 6 .1 4 2 6 .2 4 2 6 .3 3

t e m p e r so s o ft ( m s ) / t e m p e r s o ft into u n u su al ( m s ) / into an u n u sual h u m an and dom estic affectio n (M S ) / h u m an affection h e r w a n t (M S ) / h e r d a u g h te r ’ s w a n t h e r h o u s e (M S ) / th e h o u s e

2 7 .9 2 7 .11 2 7 .17

S c o tt first w rote ‘h e r’ , w h ich is req u ired b y the sen se, b u t m istaken ly ch an g ed it in M S to ‘h is ’ . c h ild ren ’ s ( 1 8 2 1 1 2 m o ) / c h ild ren s’ ( m s ch ild ren s) co m p ariso n ( m s com p araiso n ) / com pario n fe e lin g s s e e m e d d u ll ( m s fe e lin g s s e e m d d u ll) / s e n tim e n ts s e e m e d c h ill

2 7 .18 2 7 .2 4 2 8 .3 2 8 .4 2 8 .7 2 8 .11 2 8 .2 1

2 8 .2 1 2 8 .2 2 2 8 .2 6 2 8 .3 4 2 8 .3 7 2 8 .4 0 2 8 .4 2 2 9 .4 2 9 .5 2 9 .5 2 9 .1 3 2 9 .1 8 2 9 .1 9 2 9 .2 7 2 9 .2 9 2 9 .3 8 2 9 .3 9 3 0 .10 3 0 .11 3 0 .13 3 0 .18 3 0 .2 3 3 0 .3 0 3 0 .3 4

3 0 .3 7 3 1.19 3 1.2 9 3 1 .3 1

3 1.3 9 3 2 .8 3 2 .4 0

th em : h er ( m s ) / them . H e r p rem atu re— or ( m s p rem atu re— 〈 ” 〉o r) / prem atu re.— O r w oo d sm an ’s ( m s ) / w o o d m an ’s am — w u ll (M S ) / am . W ill h a d h e ( m s ) / h a d h e r fa th e r dou n ( m s ) / dow n w o o d th e re ( m s ) / w o o d — th e re

tim e— W h en ( m s ) / tim e— w h en faith— B u t (M S ) / faith. B u t th e ta ste ( m s ) / th a t taste hand ( m s ) / hands due ( m s ) / done

in d eb iti. ( m s ) / in d ebiti ? and yo u r (M S ) / and— yo u r him . ( m s ) / him ? B ra v e ? (M S ) / B ra v e ! ye ( m s ) / you he is ( m s ) / is he h a d ( m s ) / w is h e d

N o rm a n — good (M S ) / N o rm a n . G o o d raes in (M S ) / raes on gaes ( m s ) / goes a n y th in g a b o u t th e ( m s a n y th in g a b o u t th e ) / a n y th in g o f th e old ( m s ) / O ld had ( m s ) / have m an n er ( m s ) / m an n ers to see A lic e ( m s ) / to A lic e o f n o u ric e-sh ip (M S ) / o f a n o u ric e-sh ip drink o f m y (M S ) / drink m y the R a ven sw o o d s b ecau se ( m s the R a ven sw o o d b e c a u se ) / the

R a ven sw o o d p eo p le, b ecau se A lic e — h er cottage is so b ad b esid es, an d I am sure yo u w ill cau se F o rm e r the carp en ter p u t it som ew hat to righ ts i f yo u see h o w d ecayed it is— D o com e to see old A lic e .” ( m s A lic e — h er cottage is so bad b esid es and I am su re yo u 〈 r〉w ill cau se cau se F o rm e r the c arp en ter put it som ew hat to righ ts i f yo u see h ow d ecayd it is— D o com e to see old A lic e — ” ) / A lic e .” d ragged on the (M S ) / d ragged the fo n d n ess ( m s ) / k indn ess step ( m s ) / steps b e e n s itu a te d ( m s ) / b e e n so s itu a te d giving to the ( m s ) / giving the rep rese n ted in coins sitting (M S ) / rep rese n ted sitting

m oth er— h o w ( m

s)

/ m oth er ?— H o w

310 3 2 .4 1 3 3 .7 3 3 .10 3 3 .16 3 3 .19 3 3 .2 5 3 3 .3 7 3 4 .1 3 4 .5 3 4 .16 3 4 .17 3 4 .3 4 3 4 .3 7 3 4 .4 0 3 5 .1 3 5 .13 3 5 .14 3 5 .17 3 5 .2 0

35.35

3 5 .4 1 3 5 .4 1 3 5 .4 6 3 6 .17 3 6 .2 8 3 6 .4 1 3 7 .1 2 3 7 .13

3 7 .2 5 3 7 .2 8 3 7 .2 9 3 7 .3 3 3 8 .5 3 9 .3 3 9 .2 0 3 9 .3 6 3 9 .3 8 4 0 .2 8 4 0 .3 1 4 0 .3 5 4 0 .3 9 4 1.2 4 4 1.2 5 4 1.2 7 4 1.3 1 4 1.3 4 4 1 .4 0 4 2 .3 4 2 .7 4 2 .12 4 2 .15 4 2 .17

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

retu rn ed ( M s retu rn d ) / resu m ed A sh to n ; th ey ( m s ) / A sh to n — they to b e e x p e c t e d ( m s ) / to have b e e n e x p e c t e d felled ( m s felld ) / fallen p ro p erty ,” (M S p ro p erty” ) / p ro p erty ?” o rigin ally,” ( m s o rigin ally” ) / o rigin ally ?” ru in o u s. ” ( m s ru in o u s” ) / ru in ou s ?” b ro k en ( m s ) / broke m u st have w itn essed ( m s m u st have w itn essd ) / have p ro b ab ly w it­ n e ssed estates— yo u (M S ) / estates. Y o u o n ( m s ) / in than b y w h at ( m s ) / than w h at do— yo u ( m s ) / d o ; you has ( m s ) / H a s h a r d o n with ( m s ) / h a r d with n o ble— bu t ( m s ) / noble. B u t tim e— rem em b er ( m s ) / tim e. R e m e m b e r hall at ( m s ) / h a l l o f sp eak ill (M S ) / sp eak it ill the sm all clo se (M S the sm all close) / the clo se A ct ( m s ) / a c t H ig h S h e r iff ( m s ) / high s h e r iff ingenium ( m s ) / genium t h e s e ( m s ) / th ose aro un d ( m s ) / rou n d w e re ( m s ) / had the Sco ttish (M S ) / a Sco ttish y e t ( m s ) / still M is s A sh to n ’s scre e n o r m an de ( m s M is s A sh ton s s creen or m an d e ) / M is s A sh to n ’s m an de w er e ( m s ) / w as b o u g h s o f the fores t. (M S ) / b o u g h s . into ( m s ) / t o w eap o n s : (M S ) / w eap o n s; orn am en t ( m s ) / o rn am en ts w e e k ; ( m s ) / w eek , ru n g at h a lf ( m s ) / ru n g h a lf fro m the M alleu s ( m s ) / fro m M a lleu s to the ( m s ) / t o a in this (M S ) / on this that ( m s ) / w h ich rem em b ered (M S rem em b erd ) / called to rem em b ran ce w o n d er ( m s ) / th in kin g dark green , rich ly la c e d w ith gold , ( m s d ark green rich ly la ced w ith go ld ) / d ark cloth, cap and ( m s ) / cap, and an d the in gen u o u s ( m s ) / and in gen u o u s pity o r f ear ( m s ) / pity or awe accen t b egan ( m s accen t (she) b e g a n ) / accen t she b eg an w h om you have ( m s ) / w h om it is p o ssib le yo u m ay have give an y ( m s ) / give h er d eliv erer any nam e— ” ( m s ) / nam e ?” it w ill affo rd (M S ) / it is lik ely to affo rd ow n— you ( m s ) / own. Y o u

E M E N D A T IO N 4 2 .2 7 4 2 .2 9 4 2 .3 0 4 3 .5 4 3 .1 5 4 3 .3 0 4 4 .1 2 4 5 .10 4 5 .2 4 4 5 .2 9 4 7 .3 4 7 .14 4 7 .16 4 7 .4 0 48. 1 o 4 8 .1 2 4 8 .3 7

4 8 .4 0 4 9 .8 4 9 .1 0 4 9 .1 3 4 9 .1 7 4 9 .2 0 4 9 .3 5 4 9 .4 0 5 0 .3 5 0 .5 5 0 .6 5 0 .8 5 0 .9 5 0 .1 0 5 0 .12 5 0 .1 6 5 0 .17 5 0 .2 0 5 0 .2 4 5 0 .2 4 5 0 .3 8 5 1 .6 5 1.7 5 1.10 5 1.2 9 5 1.4 0 5 2 .5 5 2 .10 5 2 .16 5 2 .2 7 5 2 .3 1 5 2 .3 2 5 3 .5 5 3 .7

L IS T

311

graze ( m s ) / grazed f o rw ar d s ( m s ) / forw ard not the (M S ) / not p erh ap s the sir— thank G o d — ( m s S ir — th ank G o d — ) / sir, thank G o d , re q u e st” — — ( M a g n u m ) / req u est— ” ( M s as E d 1 ) R a ven sw o o d said ( m s ) / R a ven sw o o d had said su ffe r th eir reco llectio n ( m s ) / su ffe r reco llectio n p ar ticu lar altog eth e r gratify ( m s ) / particu lar gratify n e cessary fo r ( M S ) / n e cessary to a n d to m isf o rtu n e (M S ) / a n d m isf o rtu n e W eel ( m s ) / W ell estate ( m s ) / estates T o (M s)/O n th an ( m s ) / th en e m i n e n t ( m s ) / i m m in e n t five or six (E d ito ria l) / th ree or fo u r w o u ld — — ” ( E d ito rial ) / w o u ld ” — ( M s as E d 1 ) T h e o n e -e m d ash in E d 1 cam e at the en d o f a lin e, b u t the no rm al E d 1 con ven tion fo r in d icatin g a p au se is a tw o -em d ash b efo re the c lo sin g sp eech m arks. b ran d y : ( m s ) / b ran d y; h o u s e , 1 ( 1 8 1 9 8 v o ) / h o u s e , a n d I (M S h o u s e a n d I) brigad e. W h at (M S ) / b rig a d e,— w h at live m an y ( m s ) / live fo r m an y not d o n e s o ( m s ) / not s o sk eld er ( m s ) / sh elter the an nu al ren t eats (M S ) / the in terest eats G e rm a in s, you ( m s G e rm a in s yo u ) / G e rm a in s— you eyess— the ( m s eye ss-h a w k — th e ) / eyess. T h e yet not (M S ) / yet is not C ra ig e n g e lt— bu t ( m s ) / C ra ig e n g e lt ?— B u t co n fid e n ce .” (M S derived : co n fid en ce— ” ) / con fid en ce ?” B u c k law — he ( m s ) / B u ck law . H e m e— bu t ( m s ) / m e, bu t says— and p erh ap s thinks— w ith ( m s says— & p erh ap s thinks— w ith ) / says, and p erh ap s thinks, w ith a tig ht bullying ( m s ) / a bullying p rivy -co u n sello r. S o ( M s p rivy -c o u n sello r S o ) / p rivy -c o u n sello r; so E y em o u th .” ( m s ) / Eyem o u th . us b u t slen d er (M S ) / us slen d er p referm en t. A n d (M S ) / p re fe rm e n t; and th o se ( m s ) / th ese the F a ta l (M S ) / T h e F a ta l p lay yo u yo u r ( m s play Î yo u 1 y o u r) / p lay yo u r en ou gh. S ta y ( m s ) / en ou gh — S ta y B u t if ( m s B u t if) / bu t i f o r ( m s ) / no r in ” — — ( 1 8 1 9 8 v o ) / i n ” — best o ff ( m s ) / best go o ff pattens: ( m s ) / pattens; u s, so determ in ed (M S us so d eterm in ed ) / u s, determ in ed him and ( m s ) / him ? and ask ed ( m s askd ) / said C r a ig ie ( M S ) / C r a i g C r a ig ie ( M S ) / C r a i g

EM EN DATIO N

3 12

53.20 53.24 5 3.34 53.36 54.13 54.16 54.21 54.22 54.25 54 .4 0 55.2 55.7 55 .2 0 5 5.24 5 5.34 55.42 56 .1 6 56.19 56 .2 0 56.21 56.22 56.29 56.29 56.33 5 6 .3 6

57.13 57.15 57.18 5 7.34 58 .1 0 58.11 58.12 58.28 5 8.34 5 8.43

59.2 59.3 59.7 59.7 59.11 59 .2 0 5 9 .2 1

59 .3 0 60.3 60.13 6 0 .16 6 0 .18 60.28 6 1 .1

61.6 61.7 61.8 6 1.10

LIST

in haste ( MS ) / in this haste hand in his ( m s ) / hand into his him ” — — ( M agn u m ) / him— — ” state to him the ( MS ) / state the b a c k . Its ( m s ) / b a c k ; its h u r l e - b u r le -sw ire ( m s ) / h u rle - b u rle sw ire I’m ( m s ) / I a m ower ( m s ) / over

rode, on ( 18 m o ) / rode on, ( m s rode on ) hom ew ard, and ( m s hom ew ard an d ) / hom ew ard, as well as ou r ( m s ) / us

then? he ( m s ) / then? H e uncivility ( m s ) / incivility you— i f ( m s ) / you. I f to the b est advantage ( m s ) / to advantage followed up with ( m s ) / followed with say ( m s ) / s a y ,

are little ( m s ) / are a little afterw ards— i f ( m s ) / afterw ards. I f settled— i f ( m s ) / settled; if beast ( m s ) / brat s ) / yourselves y e t ha t t h e r e ( m s ) / y e t h e r e there is ( m s ) / there’s tow er you ( m s ) / tow er w h e re you a b it ( m s ) / ab it my ( m s ) /m e high ( m s ) / highly acquaintance. H e ( m s ) / acquaintance ; he

yoursells ( m

cœteras ( Editorial ) / cœteras n o t q u i t e s o ( m s ) / n o t so

shoot at an ( m s ) / shoot an folks ( m s ) / folk conduct— it ( m s ) / conduct. It Ravensw ood— ‘“ H ell is paved with good intentions’— A s ( m s derived : Ravensw ood “ H ell is paved with good intentions”— “ A s) / R av en s­ w ood— [se tin ] “ H ell is paved with good intentions.” [ran ged left] “ A s a n d n o t d r i n k ( m s ) / a n d h a v e d e t e r m i n e d n o t to d r i n k wine— unless ( m s ) / wine, unless w ere ( m s ) / was on ( m s ) / a t dirgie ( m s ) / dirge over ( m s ) / on towards ( m s ) / toward or a m ore ( m s ) / or m ore

o f an isthm us ( Ms o f an istm hus ) / o f isthm us or he has fallen ( m s ) / or fallen Ravensw ood— is ( m s ) / Ravensw ood, is body ?— for ( m s body— for) / body ? F o r its ( m s ) / his cautious ( m s ) / courteous you rse ll ( m s ) / y o u r s e lf yate ( m s ) / gate

a’ ( M s ) / a w o m a n — stir ( m s ) / w o m a n , stir

EM EN DATIO N 6 1 .1 1 6 1 .12 6 1 .17 6 1 .2 1 6 1 .2 5 6 1.3 6 6 1 .4 2 6 2 .13 6 2 .15 6 2 .16 6 2 .2 7 6 2 .2 9 6 2 .3 6 6 2 .3 8 6 3 .11 6 3 .14 6 3 .1 6 6 3 .1 7

63.38 63.39 63 .4 0 64.4 64.7 64.7 6 4 .11 6 4 .12 6 4.14 6 4 .15 6 4.16 64.25 64.26 64.26 64.33 64.37 64.37 64.42 65.3 65.5 65.8 65 .1 6 65.21 65.25 65.27 65.42

67.6 67 .1 0 6 7 .11 67 .1 4 67.24 6 7 .4 1

LIST

313

m en d ed — take ( m s ) / m en ded ; take m ak (M S )/m a k e ye ( m s ) / you leave— sorry ( m s ) / leave.— S o r ry strength, S ir, for ( m s strength S ir fo r) / strength for let us ( m s ) / let’ s spoiled— therefore ( m s ) / spoiled ; therefore stable— there ( m s ) / stable. T h e r e Ow ( m s ) / Ou voice ( m s ) / tone reco llect right, h a lf ( m s reco llect right h alf) / recollect, h a lf V e ra ( m s ) / V ery say truth ( m s ) / say the truth ingenious ( m s ) / generous these ( m s ) / those w e a lth : ( m s ) / w e a lth ; occasion, had rep laced (MS o ccasio n had re p la c e d ) / occasion, re ­ p laced tattered and m o th -eaten ( MS tatterd and m oth eaten ) / tattered m o th eaten

all that I ( m s ) / all I one— I ( m s ) / o n e ; I

M ysie— p oor ( m s ) / M ysie, poor it is ( m s ) / it’s m istak ( m s ) / m istake m istak (E d itorial) / m istake ( m s as E d 1 ) hall— and ( m s ) / hall, and bogle— and ( m s ) / bogle; and hand— and ( m s derived: ↑ . . . hand ↓ an d ) / hand. And d ress— and how ( m s d ress— & how ) / dress; how ha e ( M s ) / h a v e o’ ( m

s

) / of

in d eed?— but ( m s ) / indeed !— B u t butcher-m eat— there’s ( m s butcher-m eat th eres) / bu tcher-m eat? T h e r e ’s aw ( m

s

) / a’

short— this ( m s ) / short. T h is Bucklaw — he ( m s ) / Bucklaw ; he mi ckl e ( m s ) / m u c k l e lee ( m

s

) /lie

ken— and there’s ( m s ken— and th eres) / k en ; and— there’s great formality ( m s ) / m uch formality cu t ( m s ) / eat f ur ( m s ) / for W ine,” ( m s W ine” ) / W ine ?”

hae(M s)/have Bucklaw , sworn friend to the grape as he w as, found ( m s Bucklaw 〈 a〉 sworn freind to the grape as he w as fou n d) / Bucklaw , a sworn friend to the grape, found m orning ( m s ) / m orning’s is (

m s

) / wa s

rats m ore ( m s ) / rats rather m ore accom m odation ( m s accom odation ) / accom m odations bosom -sn ake ? you ( m s ) / bosom -sn ake ? You mickle ( m s ) / m uckle

314 6 7 .4 2 6 8 .2 7 6 8 .3 3 6 8 .3 4 6 8 .3 7 6 8 .4 0 6 8 .4 0 6 8 .4 0 6 8 .4 0 6 9 .1 4 6 9 .1 7 6 9 .2 1 6 9 .2 5 7 0 .1 2

7 0 .1 8 7 0 .2 1 7 0 .2 4

7 0 .3 3

7 1.3 7 1.2 0 7 1.2 4 7 1.3 3 7 1 .4 2 7 2 .2 0 7 2 .2 3 7 2 .2 8 7 2 .3 6 7 3 .9 7 3 .1 6 7 3 .3 4

7 4 .1 7 4 .1 8 7 4 .1 9 7 4 .2 4 7 4 .3 4 7 4 .3 5 7 5 .14 7 5 .3 4 7 5 .3 4 7 6 .3

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

w e re ejacu latio ns (M S ) / w e re the ejacu latio n s H is m aster ( m s ) / T h e M a ste r S m a ’trash ( 1 8 1 9 8 v o ) / S m atrash ( m s S te e n so n ) sow p ( m s ) / soup T h e r e (M S ) / th ere K e e p ( m s ) / k eep aboon ( m s ) / abune sall keep ( m s ) / sall h au d credit, ( m s ) / cr ed it qu ietly ( m s ) / gen tly and en joys ( m s ) / b u t en joys h o u r to (M S ) / h o u r till u p o n ( m s ) / on cou n teracted , and th ese w e re p o w e rfu lly con n ected w ith the im age o f L u c y A sh to n ; and, on the oth er h an d, a (MS co u n teracted ↑an d th ese . . . A sh to n ↓ an d on the other h an d a) / co u n teracted ; and, w h ile he did so, a T h is and the next th ree em en dation s restore w o rd s lo st on f. 43V, the en d o f a packet, an d reverse E d I ’ s su rg ery co n seq u en t on that lo ss. he who had ( m s ) / he had death, w as n o w o p en in g his b o so m to a p a ssio n fo r the d au gh ter o f that v ery perso n , h e (M S ↑ death w as . . . p erso n ↓ h e ) / death, he that, i f it w e re not alread y fo u n d ed in truth it m ight, acco rd in g to the p resen t tone o f his sentim ents, v e ry soo n b e so (M S that i f it w e re not alread y fo u n d ed in truth it m ight acco rd in g to the p resen t tone o f his sentim ents v ery soo n be so ) / that it had , at one p erio d , som e fou n d atio n in truth, th ou gh, acco rd in g to the p resen t tone o f his sentim ents, it w as difficu lt to b elieve that this h ad really b e e n the case th ou gh he told B u c k law , an d th ou gh p ro b ab ly he h im s e lf b eliev ed that su ch ( m s th ough h e told B u c k la w an d ↑ though↓p ro b ab ly ↑h e↓ h im s e lf b eleived that su ch ) / th ou gh su ch faction o f ( M s ) / faction in ascen d an ce ( m s ) / ascen d an cy “ and yet ( m s ) / “ yet w h ich is ( m s ) / th at is footpost ( m s ) / c o u rier as w e o u rselves (M S ) / as o u rselves rem eid ( m s ) / rem ed y seaso n en su in g shall (M S ) / seaso n shall H ig h lan d ( 1 8 1 9 8vo) / h ighland T h e s e — W ith ( m s ) / T h e s e , w ith you , I ( m s ) / y o u I T h e y gave the d o g an ill nam e, an d th en th ey h an ged h im ( m s T h e y gave the d o g an ill nam e an d th en th ey h an gd h im ) / T h e y first gave the do gs an ill nam e, and th en h an ged th em tru m p et-so u n d — as (M S ) / tru m p et-so u n d . A s earn est— m y ( m s ) / earnest. M y an d m y b re a d -w in n e r ( m s ) / an d b re a d -w in n e r one shou ld ( m s ) / one w h o shou ld B u ck law , for f r o m (M S B u c k la w for f r o m ) / B u c k law , f r o m d ish ” — — (M S ) / d ish .” h e r rin g s ( m s ) / h er rin g v iew hollo ( m s v eiw hollo ) / lo u d halloo w ak ed ( m s ) / aw aked our ( m s ) / t h e

E M E N D A T IO N 7 6 .5 7 6 .1 9 7 6 .2 0 7 6 .2 6 7 6 .2 8 7 6 .3 4 7 6 .3 6 7 6 .4 2 7 6 .4 2 7 6 .4 3 7 7 .1 7 7 .1 7 7 .11 7 7 .13 7 7 .14 7 7 .15 7 7 .16 7 7 .17 7 7 .2 6 7 7 .2 7

7 7 .3 1 7 7 .3 3 7 7 .3 3 7 7 .3 8 7 8 .14 7 8 .3 1 7 9 .1 5 7 9 .1 9 8 0 .2 3 8 1.7 8 1.10 8 2 .10 8 2 .11 8 2 .2 6 83. 1 8 3 .11 8 3 .15 8 3 .1 9 8 3 .3 2 8 4 .1 8 8 5 .2 0 8 5 .2 0 8 5 .2 9 8 5 .3 6 8 5 .4 3 8 6 .3

8 6 .2 0

L IS T

315

h o u rs’ ( 1 8 1 9 8vo) / h o u r’ s su ch a like ( m s ) / su ch like w ad ( m s ) / w o u ld S a c rife e s e (M S ) / S a c rific e S a c rife e s e ( m s ) / S a c rific e Be ( m s ) /b e d ra p -d e -b e rry ” — — (E d ito ria l) / d ra p -d e -b e rry ” — say’ d ( m s ) / try’d d r a p -d e -b e rry (M S ) / drap d e -b e rry it ( m s ) / it’ s do u n ( m s ) / dow n yo n d e r” — — ( E d ito rial ) / y o n d e r” — w a s ( m s ) / w ere m ickle (M S ) / m u ckle sae w e el ( m s ) / as w e el frack ( m s ) / fran k p a lfrey, w ithou t the sad d le b ein g ( 1 8 1 9 8vo ) / p a lfrey w ithou t the sad d le, b e in g ( m s p a lfrey w ithou t the sad d le b ein g ) sum p ter-clo ath ( m s sum pter cloath ) / sum p ter-clo th d en n er (M S ) / din ner the fea st day, and sae, i f (M S the fea st day and sae if) / a fea st day, as w h en I cam o w er B u c k la w w i’ Q u een M a rg a re t— an d, to speak truth, i f T h e clu m sy, o ver-e x p licit p r o o f in sertion is p ro b ab ly b y an in term ed i­ a ry ; ‘ cam ’ is not a S c o tt form . som e sh ift ( m s ) / y o u r shift aw ed ye ( μ s ) / aw ed you w o ld ( m s ) / w ad tow er (M S ) / T o w e r b lasts ( m s ) / b u r s t s blow n , s ir ,” said ( m s b lo w n 〈 ” 〉〈S〉 S ir said ) / b lo w n ,” said the h o rse ( m s ) / t h e n ag sou n d s ( m s ) / shouts sh eep ish ly b ash fu l (M S ) / sh eep ish and b ash fu l w o o d sm an ( m s ) / w o o d sm an ’s And if I ( m s ) / A n I aw aked ( m s ) / aw akened p ress ( m s ) / d ep ress em barrassm en t, [n e w p a rag rap h ] “ Y o u (M S derived : em barassm en t ↑ “ Y o u . . ↓ ) / em barrassm en t. “ Y o u h o m ew ard s ( m s ) / h o m ew ard b ack gro u n d ( m s ) / b ack grou n d h is ( m s ) / this R a ven sw o o d ?” ( m s R a ven sw o o d — ” ?) / R a v e n sw o o d .” seem a ( m s ) / s e e m to b e a m o re n ear ( M s derived : m ore ) / n e arer b y a tacit ( M s ) / b y tacit w ith a w atch fu ln ess w h ich ( m s w ith a (w atch fuln ess) w h ich ) / w ith w atch fu ln ess w h ich cam e and saw — an d not (M S cam e & saw — and n o t) / cam e, and not fo lk ( m s ) / folks fu rn ish ( M S d erived : fu rn ) / fo rm pro m ise; but, su ch as it is, you m ay com m an d it.” ( M S pro m ise bu t such as it is yo u m ay com m an d it” ) / p ro m ise yo u ; but, su ch as th ey m ay ch an ce to b e, yo u m ay com m an d th em .” o r” — ( 1 8 1 9 8 vo) / o r” —

316 8 6 .2 4 8 6 .2 6 8 6 .2 6 8 6 .2 8 8 7 .2 2 8 7 .2 6 8 7 .2 7 8 7 .3 5 8 8 .4 8 8 .2 1 8 8 .2 8 8 8 .3 0 8 8 .3 1 8 8 .3 6 8 8 .3 9 8 9 .3 5 90. 1 90 .8 9 0 .2 0 9 0 .2 3 9 0 .2 7 9 0 .2 8 9 0 .3 2 9 0 .3 3 9 1.14 9 1.2 1 9 1.2 7 9 1 .43 9 2 .2 9 2 .3 9 2 .5 9 2 .17 9 2 .2 3 9 2 .3 4 9 3 .19 9 3 .2 0 9 3 .2 5 9 3 .3 0 9 3 .3 1 9 3 .3 9 94. 1 0 9 4 .1 6 9 4 .2 3 9 4 .3 7 9 4 .4 0 9 4 .4 1 9 5 .1 9 5 .2 9 5 .2 9 5 .3 9 5 .5 9 5 .5 9 5 .1 6 9 5 .1 6

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

th in g (M S ) / things g u ests’ ( m s ) / g u est’s accep t” — — ( 1 8 1 9 8vo) / accep t” — i n te rm in g led ( m s ) / m in g le d yate ( m s ) / gate every th in g w h ich ( m s every think w h ic h ) / every one w h o n earh an d ( m s ) / n ear at hand le a f ( m s ) / fo ld in g -d o o r set ( m s ) / s a t yate ( m s ) / gate C a le b also (M S ) / also C aleb s le e p ’d and w ak ed ( m s sleepd and w a k ed ) / sleepit and w a k en ’d m o rn ’s m orn ( m s ) / m o rn ’ s m o rn in g o f debate (M S ) / o f the debate o n ( m s ) / in honest ( m s ) / h o n est R e e k ie — po o h ( m s ) / R e e k ie — P o o h b u rgh (M S ) / bo ro u gh p ie c e s? — (M S ) / p ie c e s ? ” — m otives ( m s ) / m otive n eith er ( m s ) / either n ’empêche (E d ito ria l) / n ’empeche (M S as E d I ) o b servin g he (M S ) / observin g, “ that he p re s s-m o n e y ; and ( m s p re ss-m o n e y A n d ) / p r e s s -m o n e y ;” and m an œ uvres ( m s ) / m anœ uvre disgarn ish ed ( M s d isgarn ish d ) / d isfu rn ish ed m an n er ( m s ) / m an ners w ith exterio r ( m s ) / w ith the exterio r as w ith (M S ) / as i f with cloak ( m s ) / coat w e igh ed a (M S w eigh d a) / w eigh ed eq u al w ith a exo rcizer ( m s ) / exo rcist little,” said ( m s little” said ) / little,” — said p assio n ( m s ) / p assion s eye ( m s ) / ey es a seco n d (M S ) / an instant S o o t ( m s ) / T h e soot seem ed ( m s seem d ) / m ight seem w a s ( m s ) / w ere favourite to (M S ) / favourite o f m eans p red o m in an t ( m s ) / m eans those m ost p red o m in an t flash ( m s ) / flush disp len ish ed ( m s d isp len ish d ) / u n fu rn ish ed H e a v e n (M S ) / H eav en s p a rley ( M s p a rly) / party are sitting ( M s ) / are ye sitting ch im lay-n u ik ( m s ch im lay-(m oo k ?) ↑ nuik ↑ ) / ch im n ey nuik skirl— it’s ( m s ) / skirl as loud as ye can— it’s y e ’s e ( M s ) / y e ’re skirl— skirl as lou d as ye can— lo u d er— lo u d er w o m an (M S ) / skirl— skirl— lo u d er— lo u d er— w om an doun ( m s ) / down cro ck ery— ” ( 1 8 2 5 1 2 m o ) / c ro c k ery” — (M S as E d 1 ) d en n er ( m s ) / din ner don e it a’ in the clap ( m s ) / done a ’ in a clap

E M E N D A T IO N 9 5 .1 6 9 5 .17 9 5 .2 2 9 5 .2 3 9 5 .2 3 9 5 .4 2 9 5 .4 3 9 6 .7 96 .8 9 6 .1 5 9 6 .1 6 9 6 .2 1 9 6 .2 7 9 6 .2 9 9 7 .3 9 7 .4 9 7 .8 9 7 .2 1 9 7 .2 5 9 7 .2 6 9 7 .2 7 9 7 .2 7 9 7 .3 6 9 8 .2 98 .9 9 8 .1 3 9 8 .1 3 9 8 .1 4 9 8 .2 9 9 8 .3 3 9 9 .11 9 9 .2 9 9 9 .3 0 9 9 .3 2 9 9 .3 4 10 0 .7 10 0 .9 1 0 0 .1 4 10 1.17 10 1.4 3 1 0 2 .3 8

1 0 2 .3 8 10 2 .4 0 10 3 .15 1 0 3 .2 4 1 0 3 .2 6

1 0 3 .2 9 1 0 3 .3 3 1 0 3 .3 4 1 0 4 .8 1 04. 1 o

L IS T

317

h an d !” ( m s han d— ” ) / han d ! ” — m a n ! ( m s ) / m an , com e ( m s ) / c a m e ch im la y ( m s ) / ch im le y Beef ( m s ) /b eef d ou n (M S ) / dow n th ere aw a’ , ( 1 8 1 9 8vo ) / th ere aw a,’ ( M s th ereaw a ) grit ( m s ) / great L o u v e r (M S ) / L o u v re apartm en t ( m s ) / apartm et rou n d ( m s ) / w h isp er d in n er fo r ( m s ) / d in n er fit for b la ck -c o ck (M S B la c k co ck ) / b la c-k c o ck com fits— A n d ( m s ) / com fits— and noise ( m s ) / voices w a s ( m s ) / w ere B a ld e rsta n e ’s ( m s B ald e rsta n e ) / B a ld e rsto n e ’s doun ( m s ) / down he said (M S ) / said he sw eep it (M S ) / sw eep ed spilt— I ( m s ) / spilt. I fin ger ( m s ) / fin gers a n ew ( m s ) / a t l e n g t h w h ere (M S ) / w h en that at the (M S ) / that for the So ( m s ) / D o M a ste r, “ go ( 1 8 1 9 8 v o ) / M a s te r ,” go w e c a n ( m s ) / y ou c a n sh ew that ( m s sh ow that) / sh ew you, that o r to d ep en d en ce (M S ) / or d ep en d en ce hu ntsm an ( m s ) / hu ntsm en th eir ( m s ) / h er till ( m s ) / w h ile K e e p e r ( m s ) / k eep er d i n n e r . ” (M S ) / dinner. su ffisa u n ce (E d ito ria l) / su fferau n ce m isgivin g ( m s ) / m isgivings som eth in g ( m s ) / som ew hat that aw fu l ( m s ) / that the aw fu l 2 8 0 (E d ito ria l) / 2 5 0 ( m s as E d I ) E d g a r ( 1 8 1 9 8 v o ) / N o rm a n ( m s as E d 1 ) L o g ic a lly , this in cid en t m u st have taken place in L o r d A lla n ’s lifetim e, bu t he w o u ld hard ly have b een called ‘M a s te r ’ after his fo rfeitu re. called M a s te r ( m s calld M a s te r) / called the M a ste r E d g a r ( 1 8 1 9 8vo) / N o rm a n ( m s as E d 1 ) L o r d ( m s lo rd ) / L o r d s toun ( m s ) / t o w n stouthrief, or o p p ressio n b y strength o f han d ( m s d erived : sto u th -rie f or o pp ressio n b y (stren gth o f han d) ↑ rule o f thum b . . . ↓ ) / sto u th rief o p p ressio n b y rule o f thum b th em selves able (M S ) / th ey w ere able again st the L o r d o f R a ven sw o o d (M S ) / again st L o r d R a ven sw o o d fo llow in g (M S ) / fo llow ers th in g ( m s ) / p erso n com m u nication ( m s ) / com m u nication s

318

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

104.13 m a i s t ( m s ) / m o st 104.23 free of ( m s ) / from 104.36 dinner—but is a (M S) / dinner; but, as a 104.37 o f fe r a (MS ) / o f fe r y e a 104.41 fe e t ( m s ) / fo o t 1 05.8 The brewster ( ms The Browster ) / the brewster’s 10 5 .12

so u n w illin g ( m s ) / le s s w illin g s ) /then 1 0 5 . 1 7 t o w n - e n d — th e ( m s ) / to w n , a n d th e

105.13 as ( m

105.19 o n ( M s ) / i n 105.40 o f h e r ( m s ) / o f th e 105.41 in full ( m s ) /in the full 106.4 turned by two of ( M s turnd by two of) / turned each by one of 1 06.5 apprentices who sat in ( M s derived : apprentices who in) / apprentices, seated in 106.20 g u d e ( m s ) / g o o d 106.23 and daughter (MS & daughter) / and the daughter 106.32 een—sit doun—sit doun ( m s ) / een.—sit down—sit down 106.33 Ye n a r ( m s ) /ye n a r 106.35 ordinance—we ( m s ) / ordinance.—We 106.38 b e e n ( m s ) / b e 106.42 what it ( m s ) / what ill it 106.42 owerlook ( m s ) / overlook 107.4 we a’ are (MS derived : wea are) / we are 1 07.8 Southron ( m s ) / English 10 7 .13

h o u s e w ife s k a p ( m s ) / h o u s e w ife s k e p s ) / till’t 1 0 7 . 2 4 fa ll. ( m s fa ll) / fa ll in h is w a y .

107.19 till it ( m 107.37 107.39 107.41 1 08.1 108.6 108.7 1 08.11 108.18 108.22 108.23 108.24 108.24 108.31 108.32 108.33 108.33 108.41 1 09.1 7 109.20 109.23 109.29 109.40 110.2

1 10.18 1 10.19

rheumatics (MS ) / rheumatism mountain-man nae ( m s ) / mountain-man—nae Service-book ( m s Servicebook) / service-book psalm ( m s ) / psalms o ’t ( M S ) / o n ’t

there is (m s ) / there’s into the (MS in to the) / in the weelbe ( m s ) / weel to s h e s h o u ld (MS ) / s h o u ld s h e w i ’ ( m s ) / w ith be ( m s ) /b eco m e ken he (MS ) / ken that he d a ft ( m s ) / a u ld dinna hear (MS ) / dinna ye

hear weary (MS) / dreary ower it (MS our it) / ower’t e ld e r ( m s ) / e ld e s t intimated with authority to... Bittlebrain, that ( ms intimated (in a tone of) ↑with↓ authority to . . . Bittlebrain that / intimated to . . . Bitdebrain, in a tone of authority, that tone ( m s ) / manner as ( m s ) /when to ( m s ) / of ill-clackit ( m s ) / ill-cleckit a s t o u n d e d ( m s ) / a s to n is h e d ab ack ( m s ) / back head ( m s ) / heed

E M E N D A T IO N 110 .2 3 1 1 0 .3 0 1 1 1 .4 1 1 1 .9 1 1 1 . 18 1 1 1 .1 9 1 1 2 .5 1 1 2 .7 112 .8 112 .8 1 1 2 .9 1 1 2 .1 2 1 1 2 .1 4 112 .2 0 112 .3 2 1 1 2 .3 3 112 .3 7 1 1 2 .4 3 1 1 3 .8 1 1 3 .1 8

L IS T

319

roads ( m s ) / w o o d s fea rs she (M S ) / fea rs w h ich she m outh ( m s ) / sp eech are no ( m s ) / arena ru d as ! and (M S ru d as an d ) / ru d as ! A n d B a ld ersta n e ( m s ) / B ald ersto n e com fo rts ( m s ) / com fo rt n e ’ e r w a lk e d (M S n e e r w a lk d ) / n e v e r w a lk it w ild - d e u c k s ( m s w ild d e u c k s ) / w ild - d u c k s n e ’ er ( m s d erived : n e a r) / n ever s o ( M S s 〈ae〉↑ 0↓ ) / s a e

S c o tt ch an g es ‘ s a e ’ to ‘so ’ in M S . in hills and hags (M S ) / on hills and bogs v exes m aist (M S ) / v exes m e m aist h im !” — — ( 1 8 1 9 8vo) / h i m ! ” — i d e o t ( m s ) / id io t c h eese.— L o r d ( m s ch eese— L o r d ) / c h eese.— T h e L o r d

an d ” — — ( 1 8 1 9 8 v o ) / a n d ” — s a w a ’ the L o r d (M S d erived : saw a ’ L o r d ) / saw the L o r d P u n ch eo n is ( M s ) / P u n ch e o n ’s m o th e r-in -la w on his re tu rn ,” to ( M s M o th e r in law on his retu rn to ) / m o th e r-in -la w ,” to 1 1 3 . 1 9 B ald ersta n e ( m s ) / B ald ersto n e 1 13 .2 1 h a e (M s)/h a v e 1 1 3 . 2 2 le a s t ( m s ) / l e s t 1 1 3 . 2 3 is no ( m s ) / is in no 1 14 .18 m uzzle; until, com pletely exh austed and in (M S m uzzle; u ntill c o m ­ p letely exh au sted & in ) / m u zzle, until co m pletely exh austed. In 1 1 4 .2 0 can e, at (M S d erived : cane ↑ a t . . . ↓ ) / can e; at 1 1 4 .3 2 B ald ersta n e (M S ) / B ald ersto n e 1 1 4 .3 6 d ow nw ard ( m s ) / dow nw ard s 1 14 .4 0 rid e o n the (M S ) / rid e on to the 115 .8 [ n o te x t] ( m s ) / E n d o f v o l u m e f i r s t . i i 5 . i 7 W h en C a le b had ( m s ) / W e left C a le b B ald ersto n e in the extrem ity o f trium ph at the su c c ess o f his vario u s atchievem en ts fo r the h o n o u r o f the h o u se o f R a ven sw o o d . W h en he had 1 1 5 . 2 1 c arb o n ad ed ( m s ) / carb o n ad o ed 1 15 .2 7 lam b w as his (M S ) / lam b his 1 1 5 . 3 2 due (M S ) / right 1 1 5 . 3 4 d e v o ir ( m s ) / e n d e a v o u r 1 1 6 .6 w h an ( m s ) / w h e n 1 1 6 . 1 3 crinkle ( m s ) / cu itle 1 1 6 .3 3 in con ven ien cies (M S ) / in con ven ien ces 1 1 7 .4 aw kw ard ( M s aw w ard ) / inw ard 1 1 7 .8 s m ile d , a n d s h e s a n g ; a n d w h a t ( m s s m ile d a n d s h e s a n g [ o r : s u n g ] a n d ) / s m ile d ; a n d w h a t

1 1 7 .3 9 cerem on ial ( m s ) / cerem on ials T h e p h rase ‘w ith all the cerem o n ial due to to rch es o f w a x’ w as tran s­ p o sed in p r o o f fro m the en d o f the sen ten ce, b u t ‘cerem o n ia l’ had pro b ab ly b een m isread b y an in term ed iary b efo re that stage. 1 1 7 .4 0 fo rm ed ( m s derived : fu rn d ) / fram ed 1 1 7 .4 0 th ese days (M S ) / th ose days 1 1 8 .6 M ic k letale ( m s [p o ssib ly : M ic k le to le ] ) / M ick leto b 1 1 8 . 3 4 an ger, ( m s ) / an ger ? 1 1 8 .3 6 en join ed him ( m s en join d h im ) / en join ed u pon him

32O

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

1 1 9 .3 0 p ress (M S ) / p u rsu e 1 1 9 .3 3 F a v o u r? no, you ( m s F a v o u r? no yo u ) / F a v o u r? — no— you 1 1 9 . 3 8 c o u n c il ( m s ) / c o u n s e llo r 1 2 0 .3

a c q u ie s c in g ( m s ) / a c q u ie s c e n t

1 2 0 .4 re fe rre d ( m s r e fe r r d ) / postpon ed 1 2 0 .7 stony floor (M S ) / pavem ent 1 2 0 . 1 6 o f the free ( m s ) / o f free 12 0 .2 1 d esire d ( m s ) / desires 1 2 0 .2 4 com plain t? W h at (M S ) / com plain t?— w h at 1 2 0 . 2 6 co n q u ero rs. W e ( m s ) / c o n q u e ro rs; w e 1 2 0 .3 3 end of vol u m e f i r s t , ( m s E n d o fV o l. I st.) / [n o text] 1 2 1 . 1 9 s u ffe r in g ( m s ) / s h ip w r e c k 1 2 1 . 2 0 and a ( m s ) / and th e

1 2 1 . 2 1 W iltsh ire ( E d ito rial ) / N o rth am p to n 1 2 2 .7 h is con versio n ( M s ) / his po litical con versio n 1 2 2 . 1 4 h is cold and hau ghty retu rn to the (M S ) / the cold and hau ghty retu rn received in exch an ge fo r the 1 2 2 . 2 2 R a ven sw o o d s w e re out ( m s R a ven sw o o d w e re out) / R a ven sw o o d fam ily w as out 1 2 2 . 2 7 the Sco ttish (M S ) / the K in g d o m , i.e. by the S co ttish 1 2 2 .2 8 a p p e a l f ro m ( m s ) / ap p e a l by 1 2 2 . 3 0 th e r e g u la r it y o f s u c h a p r o c e d u r e ( m s ) / th e le g a lity o f s u c h a p r o ­ c e e d in g

12 2 .3 5 1 2 2 .3 9 1 2 2 .4 0 1 2 3 .3 1 2 3 .9 1 2 3 .1 1

session s ( m s ) / session tim e— th ere (M S ) / tim e. T h e r e agone ( m s ) / ago th ese w e re ( m s ) / th ese m utations w ere state, and ( m s state an d ) / state, or that L o r d R a ven sw o o d that is d eceased w as (M S ) / that the d eceased L o r d R a ven sw o o d w as 1 2 3 . 1 5 suld ( m s ) / should 1 2 3 .3 3

a lw a y s s a v in g ( m s ) / s till s a v in g s ) / or o f p le d g in g 1 2 3 . 4 2 fu r t h e r ( m s ) / fa rt h e r 1 2 4 .6 w e d d e d ( m s ) / a tta c h e d

1 2 3 .4 0 o r p le d g in g ( m

1 2 4 .4 2 12 4 .4 3 12 5 .1 12 5 .3 1 2 5 .5 1 2 5 .2 6

to fill him d ru nk i f (M S ) / to p ly him w ith liq u o r i f letters ( m s ) / letter as i f this ( m s ) / as this laid him ( m s ) / laid fo r him en q u iries ( m s ) / en q u iry seem ed ( m s seem d ) / served

1 2 5 . 3 4 r e in fo r c in g ( m s ) / e n fo r c in g

1 2 5 . 3 6 like ( m s ) / likely 1 2 5 .4 0 frien d ed ( m s firen d ed ) / b efrien d ed 1 2 6 . 1 7 em b raced ( m s ) / en tered into 1 2 6 .3 8 d riven ( m s ) / draw n 1 2 7 .1

b e a u t y ( m s ) / b e a u ty ,

1 2 7 .8 12 7 .18 1 2 7 .3 1 1 2 8 .3 1 2 8 .9

this ( m s ) / the artifice ( m s ) / art o ffice ( m s ) / o ffe r K e e p e r reso lved ( m s K e e p e r 〈 h ad 〉reso lv ed ) / K e e p e r w as reso lved m u ltip lepo in d in g ( m s M u ltip le -p o in d in g ) / m u ltip le-p oin d in gs

12 8 .10

d e c la r a t o r s ( m s ) / d e c la r a tio n s

1 2 8 .3 6 o n ( m s ) / u p o n 1 2 8 . 4 1 lan ds o f R a ven sw o o d w h ich ( m

s)

/ lan d s w h ich

E M E N D A T IO N 12 9 .6 1 2 9 .2 4 12 9 .2 5 12 9 .3 1 1 3 0 .9 1 3 0 .2 3 1 3 0 .3 2 1 3 0 .4 2 1 3 0 .4 3 1 3 1 .5

L IS T

321

than m e ( m s ) / t h a n I do is w ell ( m s ) / is th eir w ill n u m b er ( m s ) / m em bers E d g a r ( 1 8 1 9 8vo) / N o rm a n soon, and w e w ill reserve ( m s soon and w e w ill reserve ) / soon— it is as w ell to reserve th e s e ( m s ) / th o se p u rp o se, C a le b , I ( m s p u rp o se C a le b I) / p u rp o se, I m essen ger— yo u r ho no u r fo r debt— and ( m s M e ss e n g e r . . . an d ) / m essen g er arrest y o u r h o n o u r fo r debt, and yo u r ( m s ) / Y o u r It w as no o ffic e r . . . h o w ever, bu t no ( M s It w as no o ffic e r . . . ho w ever bu t n o ) / H e w as not an o fficer . . . h o w e v e r; b ein g no although the ( M s ) / although p o ssessin g the B u ck law , sir,” ( m s B u c k la w S ir ” ) / B u c k la w ,” acco m p an ied w ith (M S ) / acco m p an ied by reason w h atever to ( M s ) / reason to C raig en g elt— b e ( m s ) / C raig en g elt. B e m e e g r e g io u s (M S ) / m e a n e g r e g io u s

1 3 1 .1 8 1 3 1 .2 7 1 3 1 .3 4 13 1 .3 8 1 3 2 .1 4 1 3 2 .3 0 1 3 3 .1 1 w age ( m s ) / w ager 1 3 3 . 1 5 n o w ; fo r ( m s ) / now — fo r 1 3 3 . 1 7 G ra ig e n g e lt ( m s ) / C ra ig e n g e lt S c o tt ch an ges the ‘ C ’ to ‘ G ’ in M S . 1 3 3 . 1 7 h is nam e is ( m s ) / is h is nam e 1 3 3 .2 7 believed M is s ( m s b eleived M is s ) / b elieved that M is s 13 3 .4 1

13 4 .1 1 3 4 .4 1 3 4 .5 1 3 4 .2 8 1 3 4 .3 3 1 3 4 .3 4

im p o s itio n s ( m s ) / im p o s itio n o r i f ( M s ) / o r even i f r ig h t ( m s ) / rig h ts

priso n ; i f (M S d erived : p riso n if) / p riso n , or, i f truly— A n d (M S ) / truly— and w ith h im s e lf (M S ) / to h im s e lf so — fo r ( m s ) / s o , fo r

134.35 me—I ( m s ) /me. I

1 3 4 .3 6 C a s tle— that ( m s ) / C a stle , that 13 5 .4 authority ( m s ) / authorities 1 3 5 .5 tu rned ( m s tu rnd ) / w ent 13 5 .10

13 5 .18 13 5 .2 4 13 5 .3 0 13 5 .3 1 13 5 .4 1 1 3 6 .3 0 1 3 6 .3 0 1 3 6 .3 4 13 6 .3 7 1 3 6 .4 2 13 7 .17 1 3 7 .18 1 3 7 .2 9 13 7 .3 5 1 3 7 .4 2 1 3 8 .2 1 3 8 .9 1 3 8 .2 8

th e p a p e r s ( m s ) / th e s e p a p e r s h im ( m s ) / h i s start in (M S ) / start from although ( m s ) / though

thank, m y (M S thank m y) / thank m e for, m y o ur ( m s ) / h i s a r is e ( m s ) / r is e felt ( m s ) / fo u nd in union (M S ) / in a union m om ents ( m s ) / m inutes in to ( m s ) / w ith

K e e p e r w ith a sm ile, “ to ( m s K e e p e r w ith a sm ile “ to ) / K e e p e r, “ to on m ere ( m s ) / on the m ere B u ck law . I ( m s ) / B u c k la w — I m u s t ( m s ) / m ig h t alread y. O ld (M S ) / a lre a d y ; old r ic h ( m s ) / w e a l t h y gallo w -tree ( m s ) / gallo w s-tree cake (M S ) / o at-cak e

322

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

1 3 8 .2 8 C a le b — than ( m

s ) / C a le b . T h a n 1 3 8 . 2 9 s p u le - b a n e — it ( m s ) / s p u l e - b a n e ; it 13 8 .4 1 h a e (M s)/h a v e 1 3 9 .1 g r e a t - g r a n d s ir e ( m s g r e a t g r a n d s ir e ) / g r e a t- g r a n d fa t h e r 1 3 9 .5 E d g a r !” ( m s E d g a r ” ) / E d g a r,— that is, m y lord ! ” 1 3 9 .7 is n o ( m s ) / is n a 1 3 9 .7 an es ( m s ) / an ce 1 3 9 .9 s u ld n a s a y n a e ( m s d e r iv e d : [M S d a m a g e d ] n a e s a e n a ) / s u id a s a y n a 1 3 9 . 1 7 c o u ld n a lie (M S ) / c o u ld n a b e fa u s e 13 9 .3 3 on ( m s ) / i n 14 0 .3 q u ic k - s a n d , e s p e c ia lly ( m s q u ic k s a n d e s p e c ia lly ) / q u ic k - s a n d , a n d e s p e c ia lly 1 4 0 .6 a m id ( m s ) / a g a in s t 1 4 0 .6 tid e a n d lo s t ( m s ) / tid e , a n d th e y w e r e lo s t 14 0 .8 S o u th ro n (M S ) / sou th ern 1 4 0 .1 0 b r in g in g in a (M S ) / b r in g in g o n s h o r e a 1 4 0 . 1 1 c u lv e rin , a n d ( m s c u v e r in & ) / c u lv e r in , o r 1 4 0 .2 0 a n d s ta tio n e d ( m s a n d s ta tio n d ) / a n d t h e r e a t s ta tio n e d 14 0 .2 6 th e s e ( m s ) / th o se 1 4 0 .3 0 w o u ld (M S ) / c o u ld

1 4 0 .3 3 A s You L ik e It (E d ito ria l) / A s you lik e it 1 4 1 .3

a fo r e fr e m fo lk ( m s ) / a fo r e fo lk s ) / on s o m e t h in g g i’ e n ( m s ) / s o m e c iv ility d id a c tic (M S ) / d id a c tic s q u ic k - s a n d — A w e e l ( m s q u ic k s a n d — A w e e l ) / q u ic k s a n d ?— A w eel C u p a r — b u t ( m s ) / C u p a r. B u t y e ( m s ) / you b y ( m s ) / w it h a p p r e c ia t e w h a t h e d id n o t q u ite so w e ll c o m p r e h e n d , b e in g a (M S a p p r e c ia te . . . c o m p r e h e n d b e in g a ) / a p p r e c ia t e a c o u ld th e w o m a n ( m s ) / c o u ld a w o m a n hesitate — b u t ( m s ) / hesitate — B u t attention ( 1 8 1 9 8 vo) / attentions ( m s as E d 1 ) a cro w ( m s ) / an ow l at ( m s ) / o f c o p a r tm e n ts ( m s ) / c o m p a r tm e n ts h y p o c r itic (M S ) / h y p o c r ite o r ( m s ) / and lo v e ly (M S ) / liv e ly scen e ( m s ) / seem s c a r c e ly ( m s ) / h a r d ly b irk ie ( m s ) / b ir k ie fitted in (M S ) / fitted up in c r o s s a p a tc h a s ( m s ) / c r o s s as w h e r e ’ s ( m s w h e r e s ) / w h e r e is a tte n tio n ( m s ) / a tte n tio n s ye ( m s ) / you c lo a k ( m s ) / c o a t w h im p e r in g ( m s ) / w h is p e r in g y o u t u r n ( m s ) / y o u w ill tu rn i d e o t ( m s ) / id io t w h is k e r s a n d n o t a b e a r d lik e th e (M S w h is k e r s . . . b e a r d t h e ) / n o t a b e a r d a n d w h is k e r s lik e th e th e c o u n t e n a n c e (M S ) / h e r c o u n t e n a n c e

1 4 1 .1 1 upon ( m 14 1.18

14 1.2 5 14 1.2 7 14 1.2 8 14 1.3 7 1 4 2 .7 1 4 2 .10 1 4 2 .2 1

1 4 2 .2 6 1 4 3 .2 14 3 .12 14 3 .19 1 4 4 .1 1 14 4 .2 5 1 4 4 .2 6 1 4 4 .3 0 14 5 .i

1 4 5 .7 1 4 5 .2 4 1 4 5 .3 5 1 4 6 .5 1 4 6 .8 1 4 6 .1 5 1 4 6 .2 7 1 4 6 .3 6 1 4 7 .16 14 7 .18 14 7 .18 1 4 7 .2 2 1 4 7 .3 6

E M E N D A T IO N 1 4 8 .2 0 1 4 8 .2 1 14 8 .2 9 1 4 8 .3 5 1 4 8 .3 6 14 9 .3 1 4 9 .2 3 14 9 .3 5 15 0 .11 15 0 .15 15 0 .17 1 5 0 .2 7 1 5 0 .4 1 1 5 0 .4 3 1 5 1 .7

15 1.16 15 1.2 7 1 5 1.2 8 15 2 .2 1 5 2 .5 1 5 2 .2 4 1 5 2 .2 6 15 2 .2 7 15 2 .3 0 15 2 .3 2 15 2 .3 3 1:5 3 .3 15 3 .19 15 3 .2 6 1 5 3 .3 5 1 5 3 .3 6

1 5 4 .2 1 5 4 .6 15 4 .3 1

1 54.39 1 5 5 .3 4 15 6 .2 1 1 5 6 .3 4 15 7 .15 1 5 7 .16 15 7 .17 15 7 .18 1 5 7 .2 4 1 5 7 .4 0 1 5 8 .1 3 1 5 8 .1 7 1 5 8 .2 0 1 5 8 .2 8 1 5 8 .4 0 1 5 8 .4 2

L IS T

323

b ach elo r (M S ) / b ac h elo r’ s aro u n d ( m s ) / u pon re q u ire d ( m s ) / req u ire M a lisiu s (M S ) / M a lise tim e— it ( m s ) / tim e. It tête-à-tête (M a g n u m ) / tête-a-tête fu rth er ( m s ) / farth er the fir m (M S ) / this firm let ( m s ) / L e t is h e i n d e e d ( m s ) / is in d e e d but ( m s ) / B u t In d e e d ? ( m s ) / I n d e e d ! m ea n s” — — (E d ito ria l) / m ea n s” — know ( m s ) / K n o w g o o d -h u m o u r : i f ( M s ) / go o d -h u m o u r. I f a m w itch ( m s ) / a m a witch A lic e ( m s ) / h e r alon e— w e ( m s ) / alone. W e an d R a ven sw o o d s ( m s ) / and the R a ven sw o o d s And ( m s ) /a n d with the m o r e ( m s ) / with m o r e fa th er’s, o w n ed u n w illin gly as (M S fathers ow nd u n w illin gly a s) / fa th er’s ow n, u nw illingly, as are ( m s ) / A r e can ( m s ) / C a n m u rth erer (M S ) / m u rd erer o ldest ( m s ) / eld est yo u r ( m s ) / th eir w h ich ( m s ) / that fidelity. Y o u ( m s ) / fid elity; you upon ( m s ) / o n said at len gth , raisin g ( m s derived : said at len gth raisin g) / said, at len gth raisin g ‘ said ’ and ‘ at’ are jo in ed in the M S , and ‘raisin g ’ b egin s a n ew line. C h a n g e d in 1 8 1 9 8vo. p resen c e— i f h er p assio n receives no cou n ten an ce fro m yo u r p resen c e it w ill ( m s p re se n c e 〈 ”〉 — i f . . . w ill) / p resen ce. H e r p assio n w ill co n seq u en ces (M S ) / c o n seq u en ce B u t ( m s ) / S till the resolution ( m s ) / this resolution by h aving p la c e d (M S ) / by th e c o n s c i o u s n e s s that s h e h a d pla c e d no ( m s ) / N o cloak, a (M S cloak a) / cloak, and a not!— let(MSnot— let)/not!Let determ in ed , yo u r ( m s ) / d eterm in ed — yo u r father. I ( m s ) / fa th e r; I m oth er— — ” (E d ito ria l) / m o th er” — — W h at ( m s ) / w h a t that su c c eed ed (M S ) / w h ich su cceed ed h o u se— its ( m s ) / h o u se, its m e — bu t ( m s ) / m e . B u t m e and I ( m s m e & I ) / m e — I p o ssib le ?— w h y ( m s p o ssib le— w h y) / p o ssib le ?— W h y aro un d ( m s arro u n d ) / rou n d than you (M S ) / than yo u r’s

324 1 5 9 .3 1 5 9 .2 4 16 0 .2 16 0 .10 1 6 0 .1 2 16 1.3 16 1.5

161.25 16 1.2 6 16 2 .11 1 6 2 .3 5 16 3 .1

1 63.2 16 3 .16 16 3 .17 1 6 3 .2 3 1 6 3 .2 3 1 6 3 .2 4 16 3 .4 0 16 5 .1 1 6 5 .2 7 1 6 5 .3 8 1 6 5 .4 3 16 6 .2 6 1 6 6 .3 2 1 6 6 .4 1 16 6 .4 3 16 7 .1 16 7 .12 16 7 .15 16 7 .15 16 7 .17 16 7 .18

1 67.32 1 6 7 .4 2 16 8 .1

1 68.9 16 8 .3 1 1 6 8 .3 3 1 6 8 .3 3 16 8 .4 0 16 9 .8 1 6 9 .1 1 16 9 .15 16 9 .2 4 16 9 .4 0 1 7 0 .5 1 7 0 .3 7 17 1.6 17 1.8 17 1.9 17 1.14 17 1.19

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

th eir in terview ( m s ) / this interview few m ish es ( m s ) / fu rn ish es w i’ . I ( m s ) / w i’— I jo es ( m s ) / sw eethearts M a s te r w as ( m s ) / M a s te r o f R a ven sw o o d w as but that ( m s ) / but wished that he w ish ed she ( M s he w ish d she ) / he h o ped she replied with ( m s ) / replied, by écoute ( M a g n u m ) / ecoute éclairdssem ent ( m s e claircissem en t) / ecclaircissem ent w atch w ith ap p reh en sion the (M S ) / w atch the such. B u t ( m s ) / s u c h ; but butchery ( m s ) / buttery th e s e ( m s ) / th ose rites ( m s ) / rule s h ig h -c h u rc h ( m s ) / H ig h -C h u r c h ep isco palian (E d ito ria l) / E p isc o p alian (M S as E d 1 ) h er com m u nion ( m s ) / h er ow n com m u nion life, as resolved ( ms life as resolved) / life, resolved ch an ge in ( M s ) / ch an ge o f H aysto n o f (M S ) / H aysto n and d ru nk ( m s ) / dran k “ m aking . . . B u c k la w .” (M S ) / m aking . . . B u ck law . p erso n al ( m s ) / p resen t this ( m s ) / the “ I know nothin g o f the m atter? a (M S ) / “ A n d I know n othin g o f the m atter?” — a m aître (M a g n u m ) / m aitre S e ig n o r ( m s ) / S ig n o r kn ow s ( m s ) / k n ow the 16 9 5 ( m s ) / t h e y e a r 16 9 5 the C h ev alier (M S ) / a C h e v a lie r b irk ie s” — — ( E d ito ria l) / b irk ies— — ” B u ck law , yaw ning, ( m s B u c k la w yaw n in g ) / B u ck law , in terru p tin g him w ithou t cerem on y. some—twenty ( m s ) / some twenty a tale w ith a drink (E d ito ria l) / a drink w ith a tale you ( m s ) / m e you if it were ( m s ) / you were it “ D isc a rd , m y (M S ) / “Jilt, did I say?— discard , m y k in g of h earts ( m s ) / K in g o f H earts B u t yet— — ” (E d ito ria l) / B u t y e t” — — secret— a (M S ) / secret a con trary— w h at ( m s con trary w h at) / con trary— W hat frien d s : ( M s frein d s : ) / frien d s; m ad e good yo u r po sitio n (M S ) / m ad e a good y e a r’s p en sio n G le g g — bu t ( m s ) / G le g g . B u t bitch es ( m s ) / jad es palsy— bu t ( m s ) / palsy. B u t on. I ( m s ) / o n — I I am ( m s ) / I ’m yo n d er— ash am ed ( m s ) / yo n d er— A sh am ed no! G ad ( m s ) / n o !— G ad tight ( m s ) / light him . I f I can w in this girl from h im ” — — ( m s him I f . . . h im ” — — ) /

E M E N D A T IO N 111.30 1 7 2 .6 1 7 2 .10 17 2 .16 1 7 2 .2 4 1 7 2 .2 8 1 7 2 .3 8 1 7 2 .3 9 17 3 .2 4 1 7 3 .2 9 Í7 3 -3 2 1 7 3 .3 7

1 7 4 .6

L IS T

325

him — i f I can w in this girl fro m him , I w ill w in h e r .” Je ric h o — and ( m s ) / Je ric h o , and I w ill ( m s ) / I ’ll or ( m s ) / nor h eark ( m s ) / h ear trim — yo u ( m s ) / t r i m . Y o u an d I p led ge ( m s ) / and p led ge B u rg u n d y 1 6 7 8 ( m s ) / B u rg u n d y, 16 7 8 u p a h a lf- d o z e n (M S u p a h a l f d o z e n ) / u p h a lf- a - d o z e n tred ille (M S ) / tred rille k insm an ( m s ) / kinsw om an w h om ( m s ) / w h ich s e p a r a te ( m s ) / p o litic a l

settin g up fo r the county ( m s d erived : setting up cou nty) / sitting fo r the county 1 7 4 .3 4 again st m atrim on ial (M S ) / again st h er m atrim onial 1 7 5 . 1 1 one after noon ( m s ) / one in the afternoon 17 5 .14 dém êlée (E d ito ria l) / dem êlée ( m s d em eleé) 1 7 5 . 1 8 to a w a lk ( m s ) / to w a lk 1 7 5 .2 5 a m idd le resem b lan ce to a castle and a ( M s ) / a resem b lan ce partly to a castle, partly to a 1 7 5 .3 5 fid g e tty ( m s ) / fid g e ttin g 1 7 5 .4 2 hand ( m s ) / hands 1 7 6 . 1 6 th ey ( m s ) / these 1 7 6 . 1 7 e m u la tin g ( m s ) / im ita tin g 1 7 7 .5 S u r e ly ( m s ) / S u r e 1 7 7 . 1 1 this ( m s ) / the 1 7 7 . 1 9 scarce ( m s ) / scarcely 1 7 9 .3 0 in pro po rtio n (M S ) / b eyo n d p roportion 17 9 .4 0 p r o u d e x p r e s s io n ( m s ) / p r o u d , e x p r e s s io n 18 0 .2 S ir W illiam (M S ) / the L o r d K e e p e r 1 8 0 .3 h er ( M s ) / his daugh ter 1 8 0 . 1 3 L e t m e en treat ( m s L e t m e intreat) / P erm it m e to b eseech 1 8 0 .2 3 servente ( m s ) / serviente 18 1.2 cou rtsy ( m s ) / cou rtesy 1 8 1 . 2 3 p erfectly acqu ain ted ( m s ) / p erfec tly w ell acqu ainted 1 8 1 . 3 9 terror. S o m e ( m s : terror.〈N L 〉S o m e ) / terror. [ n ew paragrap h ] S o m e 1 8 2 .5 u n d ressin g -ro o m (M S ) / d ressin g -ro o m 1 8 2 .6 th ey ( m s ) / the sp o uses 1 8 2 .1 1 astonished ( m s astonishd ) / astou nd ed 1 8 2 . 1 4 con fo rm ity to ( m s ) / con fo rm ity w ith 1 8 2 . 2 1 yo u r ( m s ) / y o u r 1 8 2 .2 3 y o u r ( m s ) / y o u r 1 8 2 .3 0 and, fo r (M S and fo r) / and led you, fo r 1 8 3 . 1 8 agitation 5 ( 1 8 1 9 8vo ) / agitation, 1 8 6 .2 2 cu rtsied ( m s ) / cou rtsied 1 8 6 .3 3 state ( m s ) / fate 1 8 7 . 1 2 and in con sid eration o f the circu m stan ces in w h ich he stood w ith L u c y the ( m s ) / and the 1 8 7 .2 4 those ( m s ) / the 1 8 7 .4 0 w o u ld not be a (M S ) / cou ld not be called a 1 8 8 .5 in the ( m s ) / on the 1 8 8 .6 his fatal (M S ) / the fatal 1 8 8 . 1 9 blind and d ecrep it p erso n ( m s blin d and in firm [ n ew le a f] and (infirm ) ↑ d ecrep it↓ p erso n / b lin d , infirm , and d ecrep it p erso n

326 18 8 .2 2

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

ap p roach ed h er, she rose up fro m ( m s ap p roach d h er S h e ro se up fro m ) / ap proach ed , she aro se fro m th e m ; and ( m s them , an d) / them . R a ven sw o o d sto p p e d ; and hid h er fro m (M S ) / hid the fo rm from the fo rm w h ich (M S ) / the b e in g w h ich R a ven sw o o d w ho ( m s ) / R a ven sw o o d , w ho v illa g e c h u r c h to lle d ( m s v illa g e c h u r c h t o lld ) / v illa g e to lle d D e a th ( m s ) / death am on gst ( m s ) / am on g o f (M S ) / fro m streigh t ( m s ) / straight eld est ( m s ) / e l d e r su p plied ( m s ) / sup ported He ( m s ) /h e o n /u p on

1 8 8 .2 5 18 8 .2 8 18 8 .2 9 1 8 9 .2 1 1 8 9 .4 1 19 0 .2 8 1 9 0 .3 4 19 0 .4 3 19 1.16 19 1.3 4 19 1.3 9 19 1.4 2 19 2 .10 1 9 2 . 1 3 le a s t ( m 19 2 .15

19 2 .16 19 2 .2 9 1 9 2 .3 0 1 9 2 .3 4 19 2 .4 1 19 2 .4 1 1 9 2 .4 2 1 9 3 .1 1 1 9 3 .19 19 3 .2 1 1 9 4 .3 4 1 9 4 .3 6 19 5 .12 19 5 .12 19 5 .18 19 5 .19 1 9 5 .2 4 1 9 5 .2 6 19 5 .3 1

s ) / le s t a n d a fu ll- g r o w n ( m s ) / a n d fu ll- g r o w n

A ilsie G o u rla y ( 1 8 2 1 1 2 m o ) / A n n ie W in n ie (M S as E d 1 ) d e ’il o r (M S ) / d e ’il, or w e ’se ( m s w e se ) / w e ’ll an’ ( m s a n )/ a n d

than ( m s ) / then G o u rla y ? — w ill (M S G o u rla y — w ill) / G o u rla y ? — W ill fu rb eirs (M S [o r ‘ fu rb e e rs’ ] ) / fo rb ears h o rs e -fe e t ( m s ) / h o rse ’ s feet that to ( m s ) / t h a t , to S a ra c e n s. H e ( m s ) / S a ra c e n s ; he in con ven ien ce ( m s ) / in con ven ien ces fo u n d him (M S ) / fo u n d the M a ste r shovel ( m s ) / spad e it— b r id a ls a n d b u r ia ls ; a n d ( m s it— b r id a ls a n d b u r ia ls a n d ) / i t ; a n d s ) / w ed lo ck. W eel, w e el, the s h o o l( m s ) / shovel th a t is ( m s ) / t h a t ’ s

w e d lo ck — w e el— w e e l— the ( m

dow ncom e— and ( m s ) / dow ncom e. A n d h ere— b u t grave ?— L o r d (M S ) / h ere. B u t ye w e re sp eak in g 0 ’ h er grave ?— L o r d 1 9 5 .3 2 grave w ill ( m s ) / grave that w ill 1 9 5 .3 3 days— A n d ( m s ) / d a y s; and 1 9 5 .3 6 A n d ( m s ) / a n d 1 9 5 .3 8 s h a ll ( m s ) / w ill 1 9 5 .3 9 t h e re is ( m s ) / t h e r e ’ s 1 9 5 .4 0 b ell is / b e ll’s 1 9 5 .4 1 su m ( m s ) / so m e 1 9 6 .3 w a r r a n d ( m s ) / w a rr a n t 1 9 6 .4 station. It ( μ s ) / station; it 19 6 .9 its ( m s it s ) / i t is 1 96. 1 o k in d r e d : w h at ( m s ) / k in d r e d — w h at 19 6 .15 eye ( m s ) / eyes 19 6 .18 gu d e ( m s ) / goo d 19 6 .2 5 doubt, nae (M S ) / doubt— nae 19 6 .2 9 fo llow ers lie h ere (M S ) / fo llow ers h ere 1 9 6 .4 2 m ysell ( m s ) / m y se lf 1 9 7 .8 an d as fo r this (M S ) / an d to u ch in g this 1 9 7 .2 1 his troop o f m ilitia ( M s ) / his m ilitia

E M E N D A T IO N

197.21 197.22 197.22 197.24 197.28 197.30 197.31 197.32 1 97.33

L IS T

327

thae(Ms)/the behuved (MS) / behoved munt on a (M S) / munt a reasonable,” said ( ms reasonable” said)/ reasonable, “said skreigh ( m s ) / skirl cam e ( m s ) / cam g a e ’t ( m s ) / g a e ’ d

a’ days (M S) / a’ the days year—Drums beat, guns rattled, horses kicked and trampled—Hackstoun ( m s year—Drums beat guns rattled—horses kickd and trampled —Hackstoun) / year,—drums beat—guns rattled—horses kicked and trampled. Hackstoun

1 9 7 .3 5 h o rse ( m s ) / h o rse m e n 197.35 d o u n ( m s ) / d o w n

197.38 197.38 1 97.39 1 97.39 1 97.40 197.42 198.1 198.2 198.2 1 98.2 198.3 198.7 198.10 1 98.1 2 198.14 198.15 198.16 198.24 198.27 198.28

Andrea Ferrara (MS) / Andrew Ferrara hus ( m s ) / us com e on an d ( m s com e on

&) / c o m e were ganging (M S) / had been gaun Balderstane ( m s ) / Balderstone bridle— ( m s ) / bridle,—

and

se rv e d ( m s ) / serve

‘Sound (1819 8vo) / “Sound ( ms as Ed 1) ye ( m s ) / you

poltroon ! Sound, you ( ms poltroon Sound you ) / poltroon ! sound, you out!’ (1819 8vo) / out!” ( ms out” ) flo u r (MS) / flo w e r o’ ( m s ) / of whigs’ ( ms Whigs) / whig syn e ( m s ) / y et sh o o l ( m s ) / sh o vel s w a rv it ( m s ) / s w a r v e d dung ( m s ) / dang

Ravenswood. ( ms Ravenswood— ) / Ravenswood.” Lose . . . lose ( ms derived : Lose . . . lost) / Lost. . . lost The intermediaries should have extended Scott’s MS use of the Scot­ tish past tense rather than anglicising it. 198.28 c o u ld n a p la id w h e w ( m s c o u ld n a p la id w h e w ) / c o u ld n a h a v e p la id pew

198.37 198.38 1 99.6 199.16 199.17 199.20 199.31 199.36 199.37 1 99.37 199.38 199.40 200.5 200.14

huz ( m s ) / us ruined ( ms ruind) / removed rhematise ( m s ) / rheumatise an es ( m s) / an c e Sarra ( m s ) / Sorra wrang ( m s ) / taken be astrue ( m s ) / be true seek ( ms derived : see) / look the Marquis ( m s ) / he apology for (MS) / apology to the Master for forwards (MS) / forward said he (MS) / he said What ( m s ) / what

th a n ( m s ) / th e n 2 0 0 . 1 5 im p o r tu n a te ( m s ) / im p e r tin e n t 2 0 0 .2 5 honest (M S ) / h o n e s t

200.28 drucken ( m s ) / drunken

328

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

2 0 1 .4 0 fu d g e ( m s ) / turn

2 0 2 .1 5 2 0 2 .1 9 2 0 2 .2 3 2 0 2 .2 3 2 0 2 .2 6

said— it ( m s ) / said. It In d ian ( m s ) / In dia u ses ( m s ) / u sed

h e r’s ; and I (M S h ers A n d ) / h e r’s ; I ch an g e-h o u se, and i f the things have b een d resse d w h ich I took the p recau tion o f sen d in g fo rw ard, w e shall have an in d ifferen t good n o o n ­ in g o f it.” ( m s C h a n g e h o u se and i f . . . d ressd w h ic h . . . fo rw ard w e . . . o f it— ” ) / c h a n g e -h o u se .” 2 0 2 .2 9 ere th ey ( m s ) / as he 2 0 2 .4 1 sh ou ld have liked w ell (M S ) / shou ld like w ell 2 0 3 .7 w ell s a c r ific e . . . affection , I . . . h er, the ( M s w ell s a c r ific e . . . affectio n I . . . h er th e) / w e ll m ake som e sacrifice . . . affection — I . . . h e r the 2 0 3 .1 6 sin ce ( m s ) / ago 2 0 3 . 1 6 b r a ttlin g ( m s ) / b a ttlin g

2 0 3 .17 2 0 3 .2 4 2 0 3 .2 5 2 0 3 .2 8 2 0 4 .4

P arliam ent, has ( m s p arliam en t 〈? 〉h as) / P arliam en t, he has w h a t ( m s ) / th a t

spoils he (M S ) / spoils w h ich he u n case ( m s ) / cou rse

2 0 4 .7

b r o u g h t h im ( m s ) / b r o u g h t th e m h is s e r v a n ts (M S ) / th e s e rv a n ts

2 0 4 .2 6 2 0 4 .3 1 2 0 4 .3 2 2 0 5 .11 2 0 5 .1 8 2 0 5 .2 0 2 0 5 .2 5

storm , m y lo rd ,” said (M S storm m y L o r d ” S a id ) / sto rm ,” said in ou r last b u m p er to (M S ) / in a b u m p er health to qu arters— m y ( m s ) / q u arters.— M y kin sm an ’s ( M s kinsm an s ) / relatio n ’s that it w as h igh ly (M S ) / that the ch arge w as in p ro sp ect highly p ro sp ect ( m s ) / hope been ( m s ) / be

2 0 6 .4 2 0 6 .6 2 0 6 .7 2 0 6 .9

as at (M S ) / as w e cou ld have done at find the (M S ) / exp erien ce that the fr ie n d s g r e a tly ( m s fr e in d s g r e a tly ) / fr ie n d s is g r e a tly n ow glarin g above W o lfscrag — T h e (M S ) / n ow above W o lfs C r a g ,— the W o lfscra g ’s (M S ) / W o lfs C r a g is fa ir ( m s ) / f in e n e e d le - w a r k ( m s n e e d le w a r k ) / n e e d le - w o r k his castle (M S ) / the castl e p ro tégé (E d ito ria l) / p ro tegé (M S as E d 1 ) an d see ( m s ) / t o see save or to extin gu ish— rid e (M S ) / save the fu rn itu re, or to extin gu ish the fire— ride g u n -p o w d e r?— how ( m s gu n p o w d er?— h o w ) / g u n -p o w d e r? H o w

205.28 w ith ( m s ) / to

2 0 6 .1 7 2 0 6 .1 9 2 0 6 .1 9 2 0 6 .2 8 2 0 6 .3 3 2 0 6 .3 4 2 0 6 .3 4 2 0 7 .7

2 0 7 . 1 0 m o r e q u e s t io n s (M S ) / m o r e q u e s tio n s

2 0 7 .2 1 th ere w as so (M S ) / th ere w ere so 2 0 7 .2 3 lia r,” ( 1 8 1 9 8vo) / lia r,’ 2 0 7 .2 4 o u n c e ” — — (M S ) / o u n c e o f ’ — — 2 0 7 .2 6 m aster ( m s ) / m aster’ s 2 0 7 .2 8 s u n e ( m s ) / s o o n 2 0 7 . 3 1 lo rd — w h at ( m s d erived : L o r d w h at) / lo rd— W hat 2 0 7 .3 2 h ad n a ( m s ) / had nae 2 0 7 .3 6 so im m in e n t (M S ) / as im m in e n t 2 0 7 .3 9 w as ( m s ) / W a s 2 0 8 .2 castie— a ’ . . . them , they ( m s castie— a’ . . . them th ey) / castl e, a ’ . . . them — they

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

329

2 0 8 .3

g e t (M S ) / h a v e g o tte n 2 0 8 .1 3 m o d e in w h ic h ( m s ) / m o d e b y w h ic h 2 0 8 .2 3 o f so lic ita tio n (M S ) / o f th e s o lic ita tio n 2 0 8 .2 9 m ic k le (M S ) / m u c k le

2 0 8 .3 4 2 0 8 .3 5 2 0 8 .3 8 2 0 8 .4 1 2 0 8 .4 3 2 0 8 .4 3 2 0 9 .5 2 0 9 .9 2 0 9 .1 2 2 0 9 .16 2 0 9 .2 1 2 0 9 .2 2 2 0 9 .2 6 2 0 9 .4 0 2 1 0 .4

fo o t-p ath ( m s ) / pathw ay on ( M S ) / in G od ( m s ) /G u d e m ickle (M S ) / m uckle th ere is nae ( m s d erived : th ere [en d o f lin e ] n ae) / th ere’s nae B ald ersta n e ( m s ) / B ald ersto n e c erem o n y ?— A n e ( m s cerem on y— A n e ) / cerem on y ?— ane I had had only ( MS ) / I h ad only m an, its (M S m an its) / m an, is girth ( m s ) / gird fro m it (M S ) / from u n d er it ben eath (M S ) / b ehind do u bting that (M S ) / do u btin g bu t Q u een (E d ito ria l) / K in g (M S as E d 1 ) their ( m s ) / the

2 1 0 . 1 0 p u ir ( m s ) / p e e r 2 1o . 1 1 s u m b o d y ( m s ) / s o m e b o d y 2 1 0 . 1 2 s u ld n a b e th a n k le s s ( m s ) / s u ld b e t h a n k fu l

2 1 0 . 1 5 o f R a ven sw eed ( m s ) / o f R a ven sw o o d S c o tt ch an g es ‘0 0 ’ to ‘ e e ’ in M S . 2 1 0 . 1 5 L o r d R a ven sw eed ( m s ) / R a ven sw o o d 2 1 0 .2 3 g r e e n -g a islin g s !— T h e ( m s g reen -g aislin g s— T h e ) / g r e e n -g a islin g s ! — the 2 1 1 . 1 9 s u c h ta p p in g ( m s ) / s u c h a ta p p in g 2 12 .2 w e r e ta k in g ( m s ) / h a d ta k e n

2 12 .7 th o se ( m s ) / th ese 2 1 2 . 3 8 B ald ersto n e ? ( M s ) / B ald ersto n e ! 2 1 3 . 1 5 h ere b efo re w e are b lessed w i’ better p rovision, let (M S [m issin g ] ↑b efo re . . . b lessd . . . p rovisions↓ [m issin g ]) / h ere, let In this and the fo llow in g item only the insertion s on the last surviving v erso are p resen t. 2 1 4 .2 8 n e s t ;’ and I ’ll no say but som e 0 ’ th em m ay m ake th em selves h eard in the field yet u n less tim es be a ’ the qu ieter. A n d ( m s [m issin g ] :’↑ and I l l . . . o th em . . . qu ieter. ↓[m is s in g ]) / n e s t :’ A n d 2 1 4 .4 2 “ I think ( 1 8 1 9 8vo) / “ I I think 2 2 1 . 2 1 others w h o ( 1 8 2 2 8vo) / o thers, w ho 2 2 7 .2 2 C ra ig ie (M a g n u m ) / C ra ig y 2 2 7 .2 3 ‘ fam ou s w itn e ss.’ ( 1 8 2 1 1 2 m o ) / “ fam ou s w itn e ss.” 2 2 7 .2 5 C ra ig ie (M a g n u m ) / C ra ig y 2 2 8 .5 C ra ig ie ( M a g n u m ) / C ra ig y 2 3 0 .8 C ra ig ie (M a g n u m ) / C ra ig y 2 3 0 . 1 3 C r a ig ie ’ s (M a g n u m ) / C r a ig y ’ s 2 3 0 .3 6 “ It ( 1 8m o ) / ‘ It 2 3 0 .3 7 new . ( 1 8m o ) / n e w .’ 2 3 0 .3 8 B u t ( 1 8 m o ) / “ B u t 2 3 1 . 1 9 M y ( 1 8 1 9 8vo) / m y 2 3 2 .6 castin g o f (E d ito ria l) / castin g o f f 2 3 2 .1 0 C ra ig ie (M a g n u m ) / C ra ig y 2 3 3 .3 very righ t,” ( 1 8 1 9 8 v o ) / v ery right, 2 3 3 .6 that can ( 1 8 1 9 8 vo) / than can 2 3 3 .2 1 grim and ( 1 8 1 9 8 v o ) / g r i m , and

33O

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

2 38.30 envied. (E d ito rial) / envied.” 239.29 A ils ie ( 18 2 1 12 m o )/ A ils e y 240.35 death cham ber (p ro o f) / cottage T h is unn ecessary change w as m ade by Ja m e s Ballantyne. 241.2 beldam e, whom (p ro o f correction : 〈 repose a sort o f confidence in the sybil 〉↑converse . . . beldam e↓w hom ) / beldam e, and to repose a sort o f confidence in the sybil, whom 2 4 1.18 appear (1 8 1 9 8vo ) / appeared 241.37 how.— W hen (p ro o f correction : how. ↑— W hen . . . ↓) / how. W hen 2 43.6 hereafter— for (p ro o f correction) / hereafter,— for 243.8 J e s s e — nevertheless (p ro o f correction) / J e s s e ,— nevertheless 243. 10 covenant (1 8 1 9 8vo) / convenant 2 4 4.28 lady, however (p ro o f) / lady, who, however 2 4 4.28 him self, who w as (p ro o f) / him self, was 24 5 .1 4 ally (p ro o f) / allies 2 4 5.29 the stage d ress (p ro o f correction) / the dress 246.27 irregularity, indicating her (p ro o f correction : irregularity indicating h er) / irregularity, indicative o f her 246.32 m enials— the (p ro o f correction) / m enials. T h e 2 4 8 .11 both— at (p ro o f correction) / both; and 249.13 arm ed m an,— I (p ro o f correction) / arm ed m an— I 249.15 m outh— from (p ro o f correction) / m outh ; from 249.27 said he (p ro o f) / he said 2 49.36 forw ards (p ro o f) / forw ard 24 9 .4 0 thus— it (p ro o f correction) / thus : it 250.27 p roce d u re”— — (E d ito rial) / p rocedu re— — ” (p ro o f as E d 1 ) 2 5 1. 11 it was I (p ro o f) / it was I 252.35 bosom . T h e (p ro o f correction) / b o so m ; the 2 5 3.18 “ Say to C olonel (p ro o f) / “ T e ll C olonel 2 5 6.28 sh e, ( m s [ m s 21059, f. 1 9 o r ]) / s h e ? 257.41 “b ra ’ (p ro o f) / “ how b ra’ 258.3 a ’, gude people, to w itness, (p ro o f) / a’ to w itness, gude people, 258.23 où Von dine (M a g n u m ) / ou Von dine 2 6 0 .14 and a m edical p erson present, related to the fam ily. (p ro o f correction) / and the m edical person present. 260.25 couched, like (p ro o f) / couch ed like 26 0 .2 6 dishevelled— her (p ro o f correction) / dish evelled; her 260.27 blood— her (p ro o f correction) / blood,— her 260.35 b ridegroom . (p ro o f) / bridegroom ? 261.32 p re c e d in g (1821 12 m o )/s u c c e e d in g 263.3 p ersecu tion . [new p aragraph ] W hile (p ro o f correction) / persecution. W hile 263.15 vengean ce? there (p ro o f derived : vengeance; th ere) / vengean ce? T h e re 2 6 3.18 silver; they are (p ro o f correction) / silver— they’re 2 6 3.18 crook ; and (p ro o f) / crook. A nd 26 3 .2 0 scon ner (p r o o f correction) / scun ner 263.25 chim lay (p r o o f correction) / chim ley 263.27 G ourlay (1 8 1 9 8vo) / G ourley 263.35 fa’— but there is as (p ro o f correction) / fa’ . B u t th ere’s as 263.35 thae that’s (p ro o f correction) / thae, that’s 26 3 .3 6 yonder— ye / yonder— [en d o f line] — ye 2 64.38 p aper, “ is (1 8 1 9 8vo) / p aper, is 265.3 by taking (p ro o f) / on taking 26 6 .6 died. T h e (p ro o f) / died; the

E M E N D A T IO N

L IS T

267.15 breathes—I (proof correction) / breathes. I 268.2 with a speed (proof correction) / with speed 268.11 sands on (1819 8vo) / sandson 268.17 searches (proof) / search 268.41 were in a great degree owing (proof) / were owing

331

END -O F-LINE HYPHENS

All end-of-line hyphens in the present text are soft unless included in the list below. The hyphens listed are hard and should be retained when quoting.

6.34

22.21 2 5 .3 9

4 2 .4 I

59 .2 2

6 1 .11 61.40 6 5 .3 67.22

73.9 73.37 85.25

86.32 101.38 105.36 118.17 125.42 129.2

130.25 13141 1 3 4 .3 8 1 3 5 .2 2

137.7

142.38 147.40 150.21

167.5

change-house banquetting-room noble-minded wood-cutters draw-bridge three-legged dead-foundered mutton-ham morning-draught post-haste apple-women court-yard ne’er-do-weel fishing-boats good-humoured re-entering self-delusion annual-rent morning-draught morning-draught mail-box well-feigned self-interest common-place over-clouded liege-lord High-Dutchman

167.9

broad-sword

176.9

state-carriage

175.23 flat-leaded 177.5 out-riders 188.8 I9 6 .2 7

197.5

197.21 200.17 206.43 208.8 208.17 209.10 209.20 210.10 211.15 211.19 217.40 218.24 221.19 223.4 232.4 240.22

24243 249.4 252.27

332

well-known through-stane gude-sire wrang-headed coffin-screw corner-stane well-known wild-fowl wild-deukes re-adjusted cock-screech barn-door grey-beards over-weening drink-money pen-feathers close-written good-nature blue-eyed ivory-headed extra-judicial ill-placed

H ISTO RICA L NOTE

The Bride of Lammermoor transfers a story founded on a series of events which actually took place in 1669 to an historical setting shortly before the Union of Scotland and England in 1707. The story was told, in one of its several versions, to Scott as a boy by his maternal great-aunt Margaret Swinton, who died in 1780, and it was also one of his mother’s favourite tales.1 He follows this oral narrative closely in his novel, with Lucy Ashton deriving from Janet Dalrymple, daughter of the eminent lawyer James Dalrymple ( 1 6 1 9 – 95), first Vis­ count Stair from 1690. The Stairs of Kyle, Ayrshire, were a minor landowning family sympathetic to the Covenanting cause, who rose to prominence, like the Ashtons, during the Civil War. Janet had become engaged secretly to the third Lord Rutherfurd:2her parents’ favoured suitor was Rutherfurd’s nephew David Dunbar, of Baldoon, Wigtown­ shire. Scott’s retelling of his source story in the Magnum Introduction suggests that many of the most striking features of his own narrative derive from it.3 Although he denied in that Introduction that he had modelled Sir William Ashton on Viscount Stair, both the Viscount and his son John were especially noted for brilliant pliability in an age of trimming.4 As well as the oral version heard in childhood, Scott was familiar with a number of other main versions of the story. One of these, a brief allusion in Robert L aw's Memorialis, which Scott’s friend Charles K irk­ patrick Sharpe published from manuscript in 18 18 , introduces a diabol­ ical element into the story : ‘The president had a daughter before this time, being married, the night she was bride in, she was taken out from her bridegroom and harled through the house, and afterward died’. Sharpe has a long note to the passage with variant traditions, which include the imputation of witchcraft to Lady Stair and a mention o f ‘her own violent turn towards conventicles’.5 Accusations o f diabolism are particularly fierce in a lampoon by Sir William Hamilton of Whitelaw, ‘Satyre on the Familie of Stairs’, which Scott himself intended to pub­ lish in the late 1820s: he was anticipated by James Maidment, who included it in his A Book o f Scottish Pasquils &c. in 1827. Coleman Parsons has suggested that Scott’s characterisation of the Ashtons was influenced by their portrayal in this lampoon, ‘vacillating and two-faced’ and ‘domineering’ respectively.6 The Stair family also seem to have suggested (again by way of Margaret Swinton’s narration) the charge against Ailsie Gourlay (2 4 1.9 – 17 ) ; furthermore, it is worthy of note that Eleanor, Viscountess Primrose (d. 1759), who married John, sec­ ond Earl of Stair, Janet Dalrymple’s nephew, is said to have seen her unfaithful first husband, then abroad, in a magic mirror.7 As Claire Lamont has shown,8Scott’s chief modification of his source 333

334

H IS T O R IC A L

NOTE

story, in which events move rapidly forward, is his introduction of the hiatus of Ravenswood’s year abroad between the second and third vol­ umes, during which intolerable psychological pressure is put on Lucy. Indeed, if the novel’s time-scheme is to be analysed rigidly, this foreign assignment must have been preceded by some nine months in Edin­ burgh at the end of the second volume. The first two volumes occur in November and perhaps early December; after the hiatus the cata­ strophe centres on St Ju d e’s day, 28 October. In the present text, follow­ ing the first edition, the action takes place at some period between the accession o f Queen Anne in March 1702 and the Union of May 1707. If the matter is pressed, the two years from November 1703 to October 1705 might be suggested. These encompass the brief Tory ascendancy referred to at 2 19 .3 5 – 220 .15, lasting from May 1704 with decreasing confidence for a year. A number of references to events shortly before 1702 or shortly after 1707 present no insuperable problems. Several utterances by Caleb, the villagers, and Sir William Ashton which might be taken to imply that William is still on the throne are (with one exception) certainly o f a more general proverbial or automatic cast.9 Caleb’s complaint ( 140.8– 10 ) about excise laws prohibiting the import o f brandy may seem to anticipate post-Union 1707 legislation, but a similar law was in operation from 17 0 1 to 1 703.IOThe narrator’s refer­ ences to the ascendant Tories as the ‘Whimsicals’ (220.4), a term first recorded in 17 14 , and to Law’s Scheme of 17 1 7 (16 5 .3 3 ), may seem authorial slips, but are better seen as adjustments of historical facts which bring period events within the scope o f the fiction. In the former case it seems clear that the focus is earlier than 17 1 4 because of the reference to ‘Harley, afterwards Earl of Oxford’ : Harley, leader of the Tory compromisers in the interests of powerbroking, was created Earl in 1 7 1 1 .11 Lady Ashton’s hope that her son Sholto may take his place in the British Parliament (17 3 .3 8 – 40) can reasonably be interpreted as a shrewd anticipation of the forthcoming Union. Legally, probably the most significant feature o f the pre-Union set­ ting for the plot of the novel is the existence o f a provision in the Claim of Right of 1689 for Scottish ‘Subjects to protest for Remeed o f Law to the King and Parliament, against sentences pronounced by the Lords of Session’, together with a debate about the extent and applicability of this provision. Politically the period was immensely complex, with much jostling for position and shifting of allegiances: the novel alludes in particular to the ever-present threat of Jacobite uprising with French support, and to the absence of responsible government in a Scotland under delegated authority. In this environment the devious Sir William Ashton is able to flourish, for a while. One of the novel’s strongest links with actual history is in the charac­ ter of the Marquis of A— — , based on John Murray (16 6 0 – 1724), second Marquis and first Duke of Atholl, who succeeded his father of the same name ( 1 6 3 1 – 170 3), as second Earl and first Marquis in 1703, when the dukedom was created. The father had led the Scottish Jacob­ ites during the 1689 Revolution, but thereafter his opportunism led him to play an ambiguous, though powerful, role.12 The son began as a

H ISTORICAL

NOTE

335

supporter of King William, but by 1703 he was tending to Jacobitism and supported the increasingly powerful Tories in the years following. Apart from his caution (179 .4 0 – 4 1), Scott’s Marquis bears a close resemblance to his historical model.13 In a fine paragraph, James Anderson draws attention to the import­ ance o f the Gowrie Conspiracy as a pervasive influence on the Bride : The story. . . is derived . . . from a tragedy in the private life of a family of rank in the later 17th Century. But the novel has a basis in more general history as well : it is clearly connected with the Gowrie Conspiracy of 1600, to which Scott refers frequently in his historical writing—Somers, Secret History, Provincial A n­ tiquities, Grandfather, and the “ Lardner” History— so often in fact, that it would be surprising if the case produced no echo in the novels. King James VI, having exhausted his horse in the chase, visited, at his house in Perth, the Earl of Gowrie, whose father had been executed by the King’s warrant; Sir William Ashton, having seen Ravenswood exhaust his horse in the chase, visited, at his house of W olf s Crag, the Master of Ravenswood, whose father had been ruined and driven to his death by Ashton’s chi­ canery. Logan of Restalrig, one of the conspirators, proposed to kidnap the King at Gowrie House and imprison him in his fort­ ress of Fast Castle, on the Berwickshire coast : and behold, W olf ’s Crag, though Scott would not admit its identification with Fast Castle , cannot in fact be anything else. The secret chamber, said Caleb, had not been used since the time of the Gowrie Conspir­ acy. The name o f one o f the lesser men in the conspiracy— [George] Craigengelt, the Gowrie cook, who, like Caleb, sent out for a fowl for the unexpected guest’s dinner— is given to a petty intriguer in the novel. In a letter to Gowrie, Logan proposed a conference over a hattit kit ; now, this old-fashioned Scotish sweet is mentioned nowhere in Scott’s writings except in the Bride, where Caleb Balderstone’s simulated thunderbolt spoils the hatted kit that was for the Master’s dinner, just after Ashton and his daughter have entered W o lf ’s Crag. The Gowrie conspir­ acy developed into an obscure stabbing incident in a locked room : so did Lucy’s marriage to Bucklaw, and in neither case has the whole truth about what happened ever been discovered. The Gowries were interested in magic and astrology; James VI was a notorious witch-hunter ; and the Bride ofLammermoor is the supreme literary product of popular superstition, a story enacted beneath a brooding cloud, and pervaded by an evil fate.14 The geographical setting o f the novel can easily be related generally to the actual map of the eastern Borders, but the detailed topography is essentially imaginary. None of the speculations about possible originals of Ravenswood Castle or Wolfscrag carry conviction,15 and there is no point in trying to identify Wolfshope with any particular Berwickshire fishing community.16

336

H IS T O R IC A L

NOTE

Table of dates. 1660 Restoration of Charles II after the Commonwealth. 1662 In spite of having accepted, at his enthronement as King of Scots in 16 5 1, the two Covenants guaranteeing Presbyter­ ian government for Scotland, Charles II re-establishes epis­ copacy. The Privy Council of Scotland requires ministers to take the oath of allegiance, to accept presentation to their charges by lay patrons, to submit themselves to their bishops, and to recognise holy days. Some 270 ministers refuse to conform, leave their parishes, and with the Coven­ anters loyal to Presbyterianism begin to worship in open-air conventicles. 1679 Following the murder of Archbishop James Sharp on 3 May, the Covenanters rout the Royalist forces at the battle of Drumclog on 1 June, but are defeated at Bothwell Bridge on 22 June. 16 8 1 The Test Act and Oath requires all public officials inter alia to accept royal supremacy in the ordering of ecclesiast­ ical as well as political affairs, and to renounce the Coven­ ants. 1 6 8 1 – 85 The ‘killing time’, marked by brutal persecution of the Cov­ enanters. 1688 In the ‘Glorious Revolution’, the Protestant William and Mary of Orange replace the Roman Catholic James VII and II on the throne of England. James is supported in exile at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, France by Louis XIV. 1689 i i A p ril In the ‘Claim of Right’ the Scottish Convention of Estates complete the Revolution by declaring James VII to have forfeited the throne and offering it to William and Mary, stating the conditions upon which it wished them to govern. 27 Ju ly. A Highland Jacobite army led by Claverhouse (Viscount Dundee) defeats government troops at Killiekrankie, but Claverhouse is himself killed. 26 August. The Highlanders are defeated at Dunkeld, marking the end of effective armed resistance during Wil­ liam’s reign. 1690 The Church of Scotland becomes fully Presbyterian, and Episcopal services are restricted. 1 694 Queen Mary dies. 17 0 1 James VII and II dies, and his son James Francis assumes the title James VIII and III, but remains in exile until his death in 1766 in spite of several plots and uprisings in the period to 1745. 1702 William III dies and is succeeded by Queen Anne. 1 707 The Act of Union.

HISTO R IC AL NOTE

337

NOTES 1

2 3

4 5

F o r a fu ll acco u n t o f the version s see C o lem an O . P arso n s, ‘T h e D alry m p le L e g e n d in T h e B r id e o f L a m m erm o o r ’, R e v ie w o f E n g lish S tu d ie s , 1 9 ( 1 9 4 3 ) , 5 1 – 58. C a le b B ald ersto n e is tw ice called R u th erfo rd in the m an u scrip t : 8 6 .1 5 , 9 4 .2 6 . M a g n u m , 1 3 . 2 3 8 – 48. S c o tt did not feel able to reveal fo rm ally the sou rce o f his story until the M a g n u m b ecau se the cu rren t L o r d D alry m p le had b e e n involved in a p ro tracted p ro cess involving m atrim on ial scan dal b e ­ tw een 18 0 8 and 1 8 2 0 : see Jo h n W . C a irn s, ‘A N o te on T h e B r id e o f L a m m erm o o r : W h y S c o tt did not M en tio n the D alry m p le L e g e n d until 1 8 3 0 ’, Sco ttish L ite ra ry Jo u r n a l, 2 0 : 1 ( M a y 1 9 9 3 ) , 1 9 – 3 6 . W illiam F ergu so n , S c o tla n d 1 6 8 9 to the P resen t, E d in b u rg h H isto ry o f S c o t­ land, V ol. 4 (E d in b u rg h , 19 6 8 ) , 7. M em o ria lls ; o r, T h e M em o ra b le T h in g s th a t f e ll out w ith in th is Is la n d o f B ritta in fro m 1 6 3 8 to 1 6 8 4 (E d in b u rg h , 1 8 1 8 ) , 2 2 5 – 2 7 . S c o tt had ad vised

6 7 8

9 10 11

12

S h a rp e on this pu blicatio n : L etters, 4 .5 3 8 – 9 ( 1 1 O cto b er 1 8 1 7 ) . In his P refa to ry N o tice (lx ), S h a rp e m entions the n icknam e A n n ie W in nie ap plied to an alleged w itch in 1 6 4 4 : com pare 1 9 2 .3 4 etc. P arso n s, 5 3 . S c o tt w as to tell the story in ‘M y A u n t M a rg a re t’ s M ir r o r ’ ( 1 8 2 8 ) : see his M a g n u m In tro du ction to that tale ( 4 1 .2 9 4 ) . ‘ S c o tt as S t o r y - T eller : T h e B r id e o f L a m m erm o o r ’ , Sco ttish L ite ra ry Jo u r n a l, 7 : 1 ( M a y 19 8 o ), 1 1 3 – 2 6 .M iss L a m o n t also notes ( 1 2 0 ) : ‘ S c o tt b rin gs the h ero in e’ s fath er out o f the shadow s to create the ch aracter o f S ir W illiam A sh ton , a w ily law yer and politician w h ose su ccess has b een largely at the exp en se o f the fam ily o f the lover, the M a s te r o f R aven sw o o d . T h e original story says that the lo ver w as u n acceptable to the g irl’s fam ily “ on acco u n t o f his political prin cip les, or his w ant o f fo rtu n e” . T h e r e is no suggestio n that the two fam ilies had b e en in any w ay con n ected b efo re. In the novel S c o tt ad ds the tw ist that the lo v er’s loss o f fo rtu ne has b een the fa th er’s gain, and, fu rth erm o re, that the po litical circu m stan ces that b rou gh t this about c a n ­ not be relied u po n to con tinue. A t the start o f the novel the read er w ell v ersed in S c o tt m ight sup po se that he is w atch in g a representative o f an old w ay o f life b ein g rem o rselessly sup planted b y a n ew m an; b u t he w ill not be en tirely correct. In this novel the ch aracters are not on a slide, bu t a s e e ­ saw .’ M is s L a m o n t fu rth er su gg ests ( 1 2 2 ) that the develo pm en t o f the story m ay have b een in flu en ced b y S c o tt’s tran slation o f the G e rm a n ballad ‘ D e r edle M ö rin g e r’ as ‘ T h e N o b le M o r in g e r ’ d u rin g his com position o f the B r id e , ‘the tale o f a p ilgrim w h o retu rn ed hom e on the day w h en his w ife w as about to m arry an o th er’ . 8 8 .2 1 , 1 2 3 . 3 3 – 3 4 , 2 0 9 .1 3 , and 2 1 6 . 1 8 ; the exceptio n is at 2 0 9 .4 0 , w h ich has b een em en ded . A cts o f the P a rlia m e n t o f S c o tla n d , 1 0 .2 7 8 , 1 1 . 1 1 2 . S e e fo r this and oth er relevan t points Ja n e M illg ate, ‘T e x t and C o n text : D a tin g the E ven ts o f T h e B r id e o f L a m m erm o o r ’ , B ib lio th e ck , 9 ( 1 9 7 9 ) , 2 0 0 – 1 3 ( 2 0 4 – 5 ). F e rg u so n , 3.

338 13

14 15

16

HISTORICAL NOTE S e e fo r exam ple the en try in the D ictionary o f N a tio n a l Biography, and The Lockhart P apers, 2 vols (L o n d o n , 1 8 1 7 ) , 1 . 7 2 – 7 4 ( G e o r g e C ra ig e n g e lt ap p ears at 2 . 1 5 1 : S c o tt’s ch aracter is called G e o rg e in the m an u scrip t). Ja m e s A n d erso n , S ir W alter Scott an d H istory (E d in b u rg h , 1 9 8 1 ), 69– 70 . F a s t C a s tle, on the B erw ic k sh ire coast N o f S t A b b ’s H e a d , is m ost often cited as the o riginal o f W o lfscrag , an d A n d e rso n ’s m en tion o f its role in the G o w rie C o n sp ira cy is suggestive; b u t S c o tt den ied any specific id en tifica­ tion in his M a g n u m In tro du ction to C hronicles o f the Canongate ( 4 1 . x x iii– xxiv : com pare Letters, 1 1 . 3 3 1 ), and certain ly the ap proach to the castle, steep ly dow nhill, is quite unlike that in the novel. In the Chronicles In tro ­ du ction , S c o tt su ggests that ‘the K a im [fo rtre ss] o f U r ie ’ gave an id ea fo r W o lfscrag. T h e tow er in qu estio n , g en erally know n as the K a im o f M a th e rs, fro m 1 3 5 1 u ntil 1 6 5 0 a seat o f the B a rc la y s o f U r y (S to n e h a v e n ), stan ds on a sm all pro m o n tory 2 km N o f S t C y ru s, K in c a rd in e sh ire , and S c o tt p ro b ab ly v isited it w h en he stayed at n earb y B e n h o lm in 1 7 9 6 ( Letters, 1.4 6 ). M u c h ero sio n has taken place sin ce S c o tt’s tim e, so that the o nly access to the survivin g fragm en t o f the tow er is n o w b y w ay o f a v ery n arro w isthm u s, bu t (as w ith F a s t C a s tle ) the ap proach m u st alw ays have b een steep ly dow nhill (fo r details see A n d re w Jervise an d Ja m e s G am m ac k , M em orials o f A ngus an d the M ea rns, 2 vols (E d in b u rg h , 18 8 6 ), 2 .1 4 5 ). T h e K a im o f M a th e rs can have p ro vid ed no m ore than a dram atic site ( the story o f the b u ild in g o f the K a im , related in the M in strelsy, 4 .2 4 3 , is hard ly relevan t to the B rid e ). O f the vario u s su gg ested originals o f R a ven sw o o d C a s tle, the o nly one w ith an y au thorial b ack in g is C rich to n C a s tle, 1 6 km S E o f E d in b u rg h : S c o tt ap proved the p lacin g o f a vign ette o f the c astle on the title-p a g e o f V ol. 1 5 of the 1 8 2 1 d u o d ecim o N ovels an d Tales (M S 7 9 1 , p. 69 ), bu t the sp len d id ru in b ears no specific resem b lan ce to the m an sio n in the novel. T h e relationship o f the B rid e to p revio u s w o rks in the G o th ic m o d e has b een th oro ugh ly exp lo red b y F io n a R o b ertso n , the m ost sign ifican t d o c u ­ m en ts b ein g H o ra c e W alp o le’s The C astle o f O tranto: A G othic Story ( 1 7 6 5 ) , C h a rle s R o b e rt M a tu rin ’ s The M ilesian C h ie f: A Rom ance ( 1 8 1 2 ) , an d S c o tt’s ow n dram a The Doom o fD evorgoil, w ritten in 1 8 1 7 – 1 8 , bu t not p u b lish ed until 1 8 3 0 : see the notes to h er W o rld ’s C la ssic s edition o f the B rid e ; ‘ C a stle S p e c tre s : Sco tt, G o th ic D ra m a , and the S e a rc h fo r the N a rra to r’ , Scott in C a rn iv a l: Selected P apers fro m the Fourth In tern a ­ tion al Scott Conference, E dinburgh, 19 9 1, ed. J . H . A lexan d er and D av id H ew itt (A b e rd e e n , 19 9 3 ), 4 4 4 – 5 8 ; an d Legitim ate H istories : Scott, G othic, a n d the A u thorities o f Fiction (O x fo rd , 1 9 9 4 ) . T h e p ervasive p resen c e o f H am let is clear fro m the E x p lan ato ry N o tes to the p resen t edition, bu t F ra n k M c C o m b ie has dem on strated that S c o tt w as particu larly in flu en ced b y C h a rle s K e m b le ’ s con tem plative interp retation o f the role o f the P rin ce o f D e n m a rk : ‘ S c o tt, H am let, and The B rid e o f Lam m erm oor’ , Essays in C riticism , 25 ( 1 9 7 5 ) , 4 1 9 – 3 6 ·

EXPLANATORY NOTES

In th ese notes a com p reh en sive attem pt is m ad e to id en tify S c o tt’s so u rces and all quotation s, re fe re n c e s, h isto rical events, an d histo rical p erso n ag es, to exp lain p ro verb s, an d to tran slate difficu lt or o b scu re lan gu age. (P h ra se s are exp lain ed in the notes w h ile sin gle w o rd s are treated in the g lo ssa ry .) T h e notes are b r ie f; th ey o ffe r in fo rm atio n rath er than critical com m ent or exposition . W h en a quotation h as not b een reco gn ised this is stated : an y n ew info rm atio n fro m read ers w ill be w elco m ed . R e fe re n c e s are to stan dard editions, o r to the editions S c o tt h im s e lf u sed . T h u s p ro verb s are n o rm ally id en tified both b y re feren c e to the third edition o f R a y ’s A C o m p lea t C o llectio n o f E n g lish P ro ve rb s , an d to T h e O x fo rd D ictio n a ry o f E n g lish P ro ve rb s. B o o k s in the A b b o tsfo rd L ib r a r y are id en tified b y referen c e to the ap prop riate p age o f the C a ta lo g u e o f th e L ib ra ry a t A b b o tsfo rd . W h en quotations rep ro d u ce th eir so u rces accu rately, the referen c e is given w ithou t com m ent. V erb al d iffere n c es in the so u rce are in d icated b y a p refato ry ‘ s e e ’ . B ib lic a l re fe re n c e s are to the A u th o rised V ersio n . P lays by Sh a k e sp e a re are cited w ithou t au thorial ascription, and re fe re n c e s are to W il­ lia m S h a k e sp e a re : T h e C om plete W orks, edited b y P eter A le x a n d e r (L o n d o n and G la sg o w , 1 9 5 1 , fre q u e n tly rep rin ted ). T h e fo llow in g p u blicatio n s are d istin gu ish ed b y abbreviation s, or are given w ithou t the nam es o f th eir au thors, in the notes and essays : C h ev io t

A n d re w C h ev io t, P ro verb s, P ro v e rb ia l E xp ressio n s, a n d P o p u la r R h ym es o f S c o tla n d (P a isle y an d L o n d o n , 18 9 6 ) . C h ild T h e E n g lish a n d S co ttish P o p u la r B a lla d s , ed. F ra n c is Ja m e s C h ild , 5 vols (B o sto n and N e w Y o rk , 1 8 8 2 – 9 8 ). [J. G . C o ch ra n e ], C a ta lo g u e o f th e L ib ra ry a t A b b o tsfo rd ( E d in b u rg h , 18 3 8 ). T h e F a e rie Q u een e E d m u n d S p e n se r, T h e F a e rie Q u een e (w ritten 1 5 7 9 – 9 6 ), ed. J . C . Sm ith , 2 vols (O x fo rd , 19 0 9 ) . K e lly J am es K e lly, A C o m p lea t C o llectio n o f S cotish P ro verb s E x p la in e d a n d m ade In te llig ib le to th e E n g lish R e a d e r (L o n d o n , 1 7 2 1 ) : C L A , 16 9 . L etters T h e L etters o f S i r W alter S c o tt, ed. H . J . C . G rie rs o n an d o thers, 1 2 vols (L o n d o n , 1 9 3 2 – 3 7 ) . L o c k h a rt J . G . L o c k h a rt, M em o irs o f th e L ife o f S i r W alter Sco tt, B a r t ., 7 vols (E d in b u rg h , 1 8 3 7 – 3 8 ) . M a g n u m W alter S co tt, W averley N o v e ls, 48 vols ( E d in b u rg h , 1 8 2 9 – 3 3 ) . M in strelsy W alter S co tt, M in strelsy o f the S co ttish B o rd er, ed. T . F . H en d erso n , 4 vols (E d in b u rg h , 19 0 2 ) . O D EP T h e O x fo rd D ictio n a ry o f E n g lish P ro ve rb s, 3 r d edn, rev. F . P. W ilso n (O x fo rd , 1 9 7 0 ) . O ED T h e O x fo rd E n g lish D ic tio n a ry , 1 2 vols ( O xfo rd , 1 9 3 3 ) . P e rc y R eliq u es o f A n c ie n t E n g lish P o etry , [ed . T h o m a s P e rc y ], 3 vols (L o n d o n , 1 7 6 5 ) : com pare C L A , 1 7 2 . P o e tic a l W orks T h e P o e tic a l W orks o f S i r W alter Sco tt, B a r t ., ed. J . G . L o ck h art, 1 2 vols (E d in b u rg h , 1 8 3 3 – 3 4 ) . P ro se W orks T h e P ro se W orks o f S i r W alter Sco tt, B a r t ., 28 vols (E d in b u rg h , 1 8 3 4 – 3 6 ). R a m sa y A llan R a m say, A C o llectio n o f Scots P ro verb s ( 1 7 3 7 ), in T h e W orks o f A lla n R a m sa y, ed. A le x a n d e r M . K in g h o rn and A le x a n d e r L a w , V ol. 5 C LA

339

340

EXPLANATORY NOTES

(E d in b u rg h and L o n d o n : Sco ttish T e x t S o ciety, 1 9 7 2 ) , 5 9 – 1 3 3 . R a y J [ o h n ] R a y , A C o m p lea t C o llectio n o f E n g lish P ro ve rb s , 3 r d ed n (L o n d o n , 1 7 3 7 ) : C L A , 16 9 . T ille y M o rris P a lm er T ille y , A D ictio n a ry o f th e P ro verb s in E n g la n d in the S ix teen th a n d Seven teen th C en tu ries (A n n A rb o r, M ic h ig a n , 1 9 5 0 ) . T u rb e rv ile [ G e o rg e T u rb e rv ile , ] T h e N o b le A r t o f V en erie o r H u n tin g , etc., 2n d ed n (L o n d o n , 1 6 1 1 ) : C L A , 1 0 5 . A ll m an u scrip ts re fe rre d to in the notes are in the N atio n al L ib r a r y o f Sc o tla n d . In fo rm atio n d erived fro m the notes o f the late D r J . C . C o rso n is in d icated b y ‘ ( C o r s o n ) ’ . F o r legal m atters the notes b y L o r d N o rm a n d ( m s 2 3 0 7 7 ) have b een u sefu l. In fo rm atio n d erived fro m F io n a R o b e rtso n ’s W o rld ’s C la ssic s edition o f T h e B r id e o f L a m m erm o o r (O x fo rd and N e w Y o rk , 1 9 9 1 ) , o r o c c a ­ sio n al rep rod u ctio n o f h er fo rm u latio n s, is in d icated b y ‘ ( R o b e rtso n )’ or ‘ (fro m R o b e rts o n )’ . T h e D ry b u rg h E d itio n , 25 vols (L o n d o n , 1 8 9 2 – 9 4 ), V o l. 8, and the edition b y J. H aro ld B o ard m an (L o n d o n , 19 0 8 ) have also p ro ved u sefu l. title -p a g e Je d id ia h C le ish b o th a m Je d id ia h ( ‘b elo ved o f the L o r d ’ ) is the nam e given to S o lo m o n in 2 S a m u e l 1 2 .2 5 . ‘ C la sh b o tto m ’ w as a facetio u s nam e u sed b y one o f Jo s e p h T r a in ’s co rresp o n d in g ‘ P a rish C le rk s and S c h o o l­ m asters o f G a llo w a y ’ , ‘ d erived . . . fro m his u sin g the B ir c h ’ ( m s 3 2 7 7 , pp. 2 2 – 2 3 ) ; d ash in S c o ts m eans ‘ strik e’ or ‘ flo g ’ . F o r fu rth er discu ssio n o f the nam e an d its o rigins, see T h e B la c k D w a rf, ed. P e te r G a rs id e , E E W N 4 a ( E d in ­ b u rg h an d N e w Y o rk , 1 9 9 3 ) , 1 2 9 – 30 . title -p a g e P a r is h -c le r k clerk to the kirk session , the lo w est c h u rch cou rt in the P resb yterian system . T h e p o sitio n w as v ery o ften given to the sch o o l­ m aster. title -p a g e G a n d e r c le u g h in S c o ts, cleugh is a go rge o r ra v in e ; h en ce, m ost obviously, ‘ g o o se-h o llo w ’ . title -p a g e H e a r, L a n d 0 ’ C a k e s . . . p re n t it R o b e rt B u rn s, 'O n the L a te C ap tain G r o s e ’s Peregrin atio n s th ro ’ S c o tla n d , collectin g the A n tiq u ities o f that K in g d o m ’ ( 1 7 8 9 ) , lines 1 – 6. e p ig ra p h fo r the tran slated p a ssage, see T h e L ife a n d E x p lo its o f the In g en io u s G en tlem a n D o n Q u ixo te D e L a M a n c h a T ra n sla ted fro m the O rig in a l S p a n ish o f .. . C ervan tes . . . b y C h a rles Ja r v is , E s q ., 2 vols (L o n d o n , 1 7 4 2 ), 1.2 0 4 . T h e in cid en t

o ccu rs in P a rt 1 , B k 4, C h . 5 ( or P a rt 1 , C h . 3 2 : ‘W h ich treats o f w h at b e fe l D o n Q u ixo te’s w h ole com pan y in the in n ’ ). 3 m o tto see ‘T h e G a b e rlu n z ie M a n ’ , in A n c ie n t a n d M o d e m Sco ttish So n g s, H e ro ic B a lla d s , & c ., ed. D a v id H e rd , 2n d edn , 2 vols (E d in b u rg h , 1 7 7 6 ) , 2 .5 1 : C L A , 1 7 1 . ‘T o carry the gaberlu n zie o n ’ m ean s ‘to m aintain the b e g g a r or tin k er’ . F o rtu n e -te lle rs w o u ld p reten d to be dum b and u se cau k ( ‘ch alk ’ ) and k eel ( ‘ ru d d le, red ch alk ’ ) to m ake m agic signs. 3 .13 m o n stra ri d igito L a tin , lite ra lly to be po inted out w ith the fin g er; to beco m e fam ou s. S e e P ersiu s ( a d 3 4 – 6 2 ), 1 .2 8 . 3 . 1 6 P u n c h an d his w ife Jo a n the u su al m o d ern nam e J u d y fo r the w ife in the celeb rated p u p p et-sh o w first ap pears in 1 8 2 5 . 3 .18 P e te r P attie so n the fictitious sch o o lm aster ( tea ch er o f the lo w er classe s at the G a n d e rc le u g h v illage sch o o l), au thor o f the first and seco n d series o f T a les o f m y L a n d lo rd ( T h e B la c k D w a r f and T h e T a le o f O ld M o rta lity , and T h e H e a rt o f M id -L o t h ia n ) . T h e s e had b een p u b lish ed an on ym ou sly, like all o f S c o tt’s novels b efo re 1 8 2 7 , in 1 8 1 6 and 1 8 1 8 . Je d id ia h C le ish b o th am exp lain s in the In tro du ction to the seco n d series that he m erely tran sm itted the m an u ­ scrip t b y his d eceased yo u n g colleagu e to the p u blish er. 3 .2 0 u p to b ack to. 3 . 2 9 – 3 1 “ c o m e in p la ce as a lio n ” . . . ro a r y e as it w e r e a n y n igh tin gale a d o u b le allu sio n to A M id su m m er N ig h t's D rea m , ech o in g L io n ’s sp eech

EXPLANATO RY NOTES

341

( 5 . 1 . 2 2 2 – 2 3) and slightly a d a p tin g part o f B o tto m ’ s p lea to be allow ed to act the p art o f L io n ( 1 . 2 . 7 3 – 7 4 ) . T h e r e is also a referen c e to lio n as ‘ so u gh t-after celeb rity’ . 4 .6 – 8 im prisoned Sam pson . . . Philistian lords and ladies see Ju d g e s 1 6 . 2 1 – 2 7 . 4.1 0 – 1 1 the iron and earthen vessels ‘T w o P o ts’ b y the R o m a n fabulist A vian u s (fl. c. ad 4 0 0 ), fable 1 1 . A b rass pot p ro m ises not to h arm an earth en one as th ey are sw ep t dow n a river, b u t the earthen p o t is w o rried that th ey m ay collid e accidentally. 4 .2 1 Parve . . . urbem the first line o f T ris tia , w ritten b y the R o m a n poet O vid c. ad 8 d u rin g the early years o f his exile from R o m e , is fo llow ed b y the line ‘ei m ihi, qu o d d om in o non licet ire tuo !’ ( ‘ L it tle book, you go to R o m e w ithout m e (I d o n ’t b eg ru d g e yo u that) bu t alas yo u r m aster cann ot go too !’ ) 4.26 Tin to an Italian w o rd , fo rm erly u sed in E n g lish w ritin g about art, m ean in g ‘tin ted ’ or ‘ a tint’ . 4 .2 9 wrote h im self d esign ated h im self. 4.30 the ancient fam ily o f Tinto, o f that ilk, in Lanarkshire T in to is a p ro m in en t hill 1 1 . 5 km S E o f L a n a rk : T in to is h en ce a com m on lo cal su r­ nam e. 4.36 tailor in ordinary reg u lar tailor : the p h rase ‘in o rd in ary’ is norm ally u sed o f cou rt o fficials (su ch as ch ap lain s-in -o rd in ary ) regu larly en gaged b y the m onarchy. 4.36 Langdirdum fictitious, m ad e up o f the S c o ts w o rd s la n g ( ‘lo n g ’ ) and d ird u m (a w o rd o f vario u s sign ifican ces, notably ‘u p ro a r’, ‘ sco ld in g ’ , and ‘p u n ­ ish m en t’ ). 5 .1 2 sub Jo ve frigido L a tin u n d er the cold open sky. H o ra c e , O des , 1 ( 2 3 B C),

I.25.

5 .2 7

6 .2 – 3

as y e t still. a limb supernum erary

the u n u su al po sitio n in g o f the adjective after the n ou n in tro d u ces a facetio u sly fo rm al o r arch aic note. 6 .12 point d’appui F r e nch point o f support, prop.

6 .2 7 – 28

the Scottish Ten iers, as Wilkie has been deservedly styled

D a v id W ilkie ( 1 7 8 5 – 1 8 4 1 ) w as noted, as the F le m ish D a v id T e n ie r s the Y o u n ger ( 1 6 1 0 – 9 0 ) h ad b een , fo r his pain tings o f p easan t life . T h e com pariso n w ith T e n ie r s w as m ad e, fo r exam ple, at the R o ya l A c ad em y D in n e r in 18 0 6 by the co n n o isseu r Jo h n Ju liu s A n gerstein . 6.32 the nursery rhym es o f Pope see A le x a n d e r P o p e (16 8 8 – 1 7 4 4 ) , ‘ E p istle to D r A rb u th n o t’ ( 1 7 3 5 ) , lines 1 2 7 – 2 8 : ‘A s yet a C h ild , n o r yet a F o o l to F a m e ,/ I lisp ’ d in N u m b e rs, fo r the N u m b e rs c am e’ . 7 .1 hum an face divine M ilto n , P a ra d is e L o st, 3 .4 4 . 7.4 W allace S ir W illiam W allace ( 1 2 7 2 ? – 1 3 0 5 ) , Sco ttish patriot, han ged and q u artered in L o n d o n . 7 .16 had Christian faith with k ept faith with. 7 .1 9 R ubens F le m ish p ain ter P eter P a u l R u b e n s ( 1 5 7 7 – 16 4 0 ) , noted for his la rg e –scale po rtrait grou ps o f w ealth y and noble clients. 7 . 2 3 – 2 4 th e w h e tsto n e o f m in e h o s t’s w it com pare A s Y ou L ik e It , 1 . 2 . 5 0 : ‘alw ays the d u lln ess o f the fo o l is the w h etsto ne o f the w its’ ( C e lia , o f T o u c h s to n e ). 7 .2 8 – 3 1 the sloth . . . dying o f inanition the slo th ’ s habit o f strip pin g a tree o f its leaves an d bark, dro p p in g h eavily fro m it (n o t b ein g fo rm ed to d e sc e n d ), an d p a in fu lly fin d in g a n e w tree to feed u pon is d escrib ed in O liver G o ld sm ith , A n H isto ry o f the E a rth , a n d A n im a te d N a tu re, 8 vols (L o n d o n , 1 7 7 4 ) ,

4 .3 4 5 – 6 .

7.40 S ir Jo sh u a S ir Jo s h u a R ey n o ld s ( 1 7 2 3 – 9 2 ) , artist, p o rtrait-p ain ter, and first p resid en t o f the R o ya l A cad em y.

342

EXPLANATORY NOTES

8 . 1 – 2 m u se o f p a in tin g in classical literature th ere is no m u se o f p a in t­ in g ; bu t the nine M u s e s w e re go d d esses o f the arts an d in tellectu al p u rsu its in gen eral. 8 .2 9 lo n g s t it c h e s eith er ‘ ted io u s’ , o r (p ro v erb ially) ‘c are lessly eco n o m ical’ (A le x a n d e r N ico lso n , G a e lic P ro verb s, rev. M a lc o lm M a c In n es (G la s g o w , 1 9 5 1 ) , 2 0 6 : ‘T h e lazy tailor’s lo n g stitch’ ). 8 .3 2 – 3 4 the m a je stic h ead o f S ir W illia m W a lla c e . . . the felo n E d ­ w a rd fo r W allace see note to 7 .4 ; E d w a rd I, K in g o f E n g la n d , o rd ere d his execu tion in clu d in g h alf-h a n g in g and decapitation. 8 .4 3– 9 .1 the sta g in the fab le in A e s o p ’s fable ‘ A S ta g D rin k in g ’ , the stag co n sid ers his b ran ch in g an tlers rath er than his p itifu l leg s as effective again st all his en em ies, b u t his an tlers catch in b u sh es, and he is killed b y h ou nds. 9 .1 1 – 1 3 H o g a rth . . . D o m e n ich in o , o r so m e b o d y else . . . M o re la n d W illiam H o g arth has a ragged artist pain tin g an in n -sig n in his en gravin g B e e r S tre e t ( 1 7 5 1 ) , p erh ap s to allu de to the fact that artists w e re red u ce d to su ch straits. T h e B o lo g n e se p ain ter D o m en ic o Z a m p ie ri ( 1 5 8 1 – 1 6 4 1 ) p ain ted th ree outdo o r fre sco e s at S . O n o frio , R o m e in 1 6 0 4 – 5 , b u t F io n a R o b e rtso n is p ro b ab ly righ t in su gg estin g that the re fe re n c e is delib erately v agu e. T h e artist G e o rg e M o rla n d ( 1 7 6 3 – 1 8 0 4 ), fo rced to hide on the Isle o f W igh t in 1 7 9 9 , w as red u ce d to p ain tin g sign s fo r in n -k eep ers in settlem en t o f bills. 9 .2 1 to b o o t into the bargain . 9 .4 2 – 4 3 the p rize at the Institu tio n . . . the h a n g in g co m m itte e the B ritish Institution, fo u n d ed in 18 0 6 , aw ard ed prizes in vario u s catego ries ( in ­ c lu d in g histo rical com p o sitio n s) fro m 1 8 1 0 to 1 8 1 7 fo r w o rk s subm itted to the an n u al exhibition in com petition. T h e R o ya l A c ad em y o f A rts h eld its an nu al exhibition at S o m e rse t H o u se in the S tra n d fro m 1 7 8 0 : the h an gin g com m ittee w o u ld have h u n g T in to ’s w o rk in o b scu re or u n flatterin g position s. 1 0 .1 2 S w a llo w -s tr e e t alon g w ith L ittle S w a llo w S tre e t ( the p resen t S w a l­ lo w S tre e t) this w as the prin cip al th oro u gh fare b etw een O xfo rd S tre e t and P iccad illy. It w as m ostly rep la ced by R e g e n t S tre e t in 1 8 1 7 – 20. 1 0 . 1 4 – 1 5 t h e M o rn i n g P o st daily n ew sp ap er first p u b lish ed in 1 7 7 2 , n oted fo r its coverage o f the arts. 1 0 . 1 7 M r V a rn ish allu d in g to the p ractice o f fin ish in g pain tings w ith a thin layer o f varn ish. 1 0 .1 8 on h an d in his po ssessio n . 10 .2 9 cu ls de la m p e p rin tin g o rn am en ts u sed to fill u p b lan k p ages. 10 .3 0 se rjean t o f in valid s sergean t in a reserv e fo rce o f disab led sold iers. 1 0 .3 1– 3 2 B o t h w e ll . . . D a v id D e a n s ch aracters in T h e T a le o f O ld M o r­ ta lity and T h e H e a rt o f M id -L o th ia n . 1 0 . 4 1 – 4 2 T h e an cien t p h ilo s o p h e r . . . k n o w thee the G r e e k p h ilo ­ so p h er S o c ra te s (died 3 9 9 bC ) is cred ited b y C ic e ro w ith the ad age : ‘A s a m an ’s life is, so is his sp eec h ’ ( T u scu lan D isp u ta tio n s , 5 .4 7 ) . S c o tt’s fo rm u latio n is p ro b ab ly in flu e n ced b y B e n Jo n s o n ( 1 5 7 2 – 1 6 3 7 ) : ‘ speak e that I m ay see th ee’ ( T im b e r; o r, D isco veries ( 1 6 4 0 ) , in T h e W orks o f B e n J onson , ed. C . H . H e rfo rd , an d P e rc y and E v ely n Sim p so n , I I vols (O x fo rd , 1 9 2 5 – 5 2 ) , 8 .6 2 5 : O D E P , 7 6 0 ). 1 0 .43 p erso n æ d ra m a tis L a tin d ram atic ch aracters. 1 1 .3– 4 It is a false co n clu sio n . . . u n filled can n see T w elfth N ig h t , 2 ·3 ·6 – 7 ( S ir T o b y ) . 1 1 . 6 – 7 th at P y th a g o re a n t o p e r . . . sp o iled c o n v ersatio n the ad vice ‘ D o n ’t sp eak a lot w h ile yo u are drinking, fo r yo u w ill get things w ro n g ’ is attributed to C h ilo n o f S p arta, a G r e e k p h ilo so p h er o f the 6th cen tu ry b c . In fact, u nlike his d au gh ter C h ilo n is, he w as no t a d iscip le o f the con tem p o rary p h ilo so p h er and m athem atician Pythagoras. 1 1 . 7 – 8 a p ro fe sso r o f a p erso n p ro fe ssin g th em selves an exp ert in.

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has occasion to n e ed s to. 1 1 . 1 9 – 20 the serene and silent a r t . . . one o f our first living poets 1 1.8

the re feren c e is to T h o m a s C a m p b e ll’s ph rase ‘ seren ely silent art’ in his ‘ S tan zas to P a in tin g’ ( 1 8 0 3 ), line 3 3 : fir s t m eans ‘m ost em in en t’ , ‘ fin est’ . 12 .2 3 Vandyke dress rich ly b ro cad ed clothes w ith broad lace or lin en collars u su ally w o rn b y the m en in the portraits b y S ir A n th o n y V an D y c k , ap poin ted C o u rt P ain ter to C h a rle s I in 1 6 3 2 . 1 2.39 the darkened tube o f an am ateur cultivators o f the arts w e re w on t to u se su ch tu bes to view lan d scap es as th ough they w e re pain tings. A n a m a teu r is one w h o has a taste fo r the subject. 13 .9 – 10 the nam e o f Tin to . . . m ists allu d in g to the n u rsery rhym e 'O n T in to c k tap th ere is a m ist,/ A n d in the m ist th ere is a k ist,/ A n d in the kist th ere is a c a p ,/ A n d in the cap th ere is a d ra p ,/ T a k up the cap, drin k out the d ra p ,/ A n d set it dow n o n T in to c k tap ’ . F o r T in to c k T a p ( T in to ) see note to 4 .3 0 . 1 3 .2 4 – 25 the A p e o f the renowned Gines de Passam onte C erv an tes, D o n Q u ixo te , P a rt 2 ( 1 6 1 5 ) , C h . 25 : the (frau d u len t) p u p p eteer’ s ape is repu ted to b e able to reveal events in the p ast and p resen t, bu t not in the fu tu re. 13 .4 3 – 1 4 .2 the dram atic art o f M r P u f f . . . L o rd Burleigh’s head see R ic h a rd B rin sle y S h e rid a n , T h e C ritic ( 1 7 7 9 ) , 3 . 1 . 1 1 9 – 3 0 . 14.8 East Lothian and Berw ickshire ad join in g cou nties on the S E coast o f S c o tla n d : the L a m m e rm u ir hills stradd le th eir com m on b o rd er. 14 motto 2 H e n ry V I, 5 .3 .2 0 – 2 2 (S a lis b u ry after the battle o f S t A lb a n s). 15 .5 Berw ickshire or the M erse S c o tt u s e s ‘the M e r s e ’ in the p o p u lar sen se : strictly it is the p lain o ccu p yin g the south o f B erw ic k sh ire and the eastern p art o f R o xb u rg h sh ire. 15.6 the Lothians the cou nties o f E a s t L o th ian , M id lo th ian , and W est L o th ian . 1 5 .1 2 the Revolution involving the deposition o f Jam es V II o f S c o ts and II o f E n g lan d and the accep tan ce b y W illiam and M a r y o f the E n g lish cro w n in 16 8 8 and the Sco ttish in 16 8 9 . 15 .15 Saint A b b ’s H ead . . . Eyem outh E yem o u th is a fish in g village 1 2 km N o f B e rw ic k -u p o n -T w e e d , and S t A b b ’ s H e a d is a fu rth er 6 km N . 1 5 .1 6 the . . . G erm an O cean the N o rth S e a . 15.2 0 bending his m ind to co n d escen d in g to accept. 15.2 0 civil w ar o f 1689 see ‘H isto ric al N o te ’ , 3 36. 1 5 . 2 1 – 23 although he had escaped . . . his tide abolished fo r taking p art in the risin g in sup port o f Jam es V II and II in 16 8 9 ( see H isto ric al N o te, 3 3 6 ) , R a ven sw o o d w as p ro secu ted fo r treason in a p ro cess b efo re Parliam ent. C o n v ictio n cou ld lead to execu tion , fo rfeitu re o f real and m o veable property, and ‘ attainder o f b lo o d ’ , w h ich involved the loss o f the righ t to in h erit or to tran sm it a h ered itary title. R a ven sw o o d escap ed all bu t the last pen alty, en ablin g his son to in h erit his rem ain in g property, bu t no title, after his death. 1 5 .3 2 great civil w ars i.e. the civil w ars o f 1 6 4 2 – 5 1 . 1 5.34 skilful fisher in the troubled waters p ro verb ial : see O D E P , 26 5; Jo h n D ry d e n and N ah u m T a te , A b sa lo m a n d A ch ito p h e l, P a rt 2 ( 1 6 8 2 ) , lines 3 1 4 – 15 ·

1 5 .35 governed by delegated authority the C ro w n ’s p o w e r w as exercised (o ften co rru p tly) b y the Sco ttish P rivy C o u n c il, and its m em b ers, the Sco ttish o ffic ers o f state; although dom in ated b y the E a r l o f L a u d e rd a le fro m 16 6 2 to 16 8 0 , the C o u n c il w as an unstable body, w rack ed b y the in trigu es o f co u n cil­ lo rs w h o w e re o ften m otivated b y th eir ow n shortage o f m oney. ‘T h o s e b est e q u ip p ed fo r this elaborate gam e o f financial ch arad es w e re those w ho h eld o ffice or in flu e n c e’ (M ic h a e l L y n c h , S c o tla n d : A N e w H isto ry (L o n d o n , 1 9 9 1 ) , 2 9 1).

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1 6.6 the L o r d K e e p e r the L o r d K e e p e r o f the G r e a t S e a l o f S co tla n d , and a m em b er o f the Sco ttish P rivy C o u n cil. 1 6 .8 – 9 ex ten sive p e c u n ia ry tran sactio n s see M ic h a e l L y n c h , S c o tla n d : A N e w H isto ry (L o n d o n , 1 9 9 1 ) , 2 9 1 , fo r an analysis o f the n ature o f the in ­ deb ted n ess o f p o st-R esto ratio n society in Sco tlan d . 16 .1 6 – 17 In tho se d ay s th ere w a s no k in g in Israe l Ju d g e s 1 7 .6 , 1 8 . 1 , 1 9 . 1 , and 2 1 .2 5 . 1 6 .1 7 – 18 the d e p a rtu re o f J a m e s V I . . . . E n g la n d at the U n io n o f the C ro w n s in 1 6 0 3 Ja m e s V I and I m oved his cou rt fro m E d in b u rg h to L o n d o n . 1 6 .2 0 c o u r t o f S t J a m e s ’ s S t J a m e s ’s P a lace, bu ilt b y H e n ry V III, w as one o f the royal resid e n ces in L o n d o n , and fro m 1 6 9 8 to 1 8 3 7 the L o n d o n resid e n ce o f the so v e re ig n ; fo reign am b assad ors are still accred ited to the C o u rt o f S t J a m e s ’s. 16 .2 3 an Irish estate o w n ed b y an ab sen tee the n eglect o f Irish estates b y lan d o w n ers w h o p re fe rre d to sp en d th eir tim e in E n g la n d had lo n g b e e n a cau se fo r c o n ce rn : com pare, e.g ., S w ift’s AhSo rt V iew o f th e S ta te o f Ire la n d ( 1 7 2 8 ) , and M a ria E d g ew o rth , ‘T h e A b se n te e ’ , in T a les o f F a sh io n a b le L ife (18 12 ). 16 .3 2 – 3 3 the esta b lish m e n t o f the th ron e in rig h te o u sn ess see P r o ­ verb s 1 6 . 1 2 . 1 6 .4 2 – 1 7 . 1 A b o n H a ssa n . . . his o w n h o u seh o ld in ‘ T h e S to ry o f the S le e p e r A w a k e n e d ’ , fro m th e A ra b ia n N ig h ts , the m erch an t A b o n H a ssa n is tran sferred w h ile asleep to the p alace o f the C a lip h and treated as C a lip h fo r one day (T a les o f the E a s t , ed. H e n ry W eb er, 3 vols (E d in b u rg h , 1 8 1 2 ) , 1 . 3 1 5 – 40 : C L A, 4 3 ) . S c o tt follow s W e b e r’ s fo rm o f ‘ A b o u ’ . 1 7 .8 S h o w m e the m an . . . la w p ro verb ial : K e lly , 28 9 ; R a y, 3 0 4 ; O D E P , 729. 1 7 . 1 8 the k in g ’ s co u n sel the L a w O ffic ers o f the C ro w n , esp ecially the L o r d A d vo cate, the K in g ’s A d vo cate o r cou n sel, w h o looked after the royal in terest in litigation, bu t also his ju n io r colleagu e the S o lic ito r-G e n e ra l. 1 7 . 1 8 – 20 p o u re d fo rth . . . co n ce a lm e n t not iden tified. 1 7 . 2 6 – 2 9 it w a s b e liev ed . . . M a c b e th in the d ays o f y o re see M a cb eth , 1 . 5 , 1 . 7 , and 2 .2 . 18 .6 a iry w h ee l M ilto n , P a ra d is e L o st, 3 . 7 4 1 : S a ta n ‘ T h r o w s his steep flight in m an y an A e r y w h e e l’ . 1 8 . 3 9 – 40 d u rin g the sessio n s o f the S c o ttish P a rlia m e n t an d P r iv y c o u n cil the P rivy C o u n c il, w h ich had resp on sibility fo r p u b lic o rd er, m et fa irly freq u en tly th ro u gh o u t the yea r w h en P arliam en t w as not in session , bu t at the tim e o f the n o vel’s action its b u sin ess ten d ed to be con cen trated in the sum m er. It w as at once the Sco ttish execu tive, a cen tre o f legislative p o w e r, and a su p rem e cou rt, bu t its m em bers w e re ch o sen b y the sovereign . P arliam en t m et on sp ecific dates, sum m o ned b y the sovereign . 1 9 .8 – 9 fo u n d ed , p e rh a p s, ra th e r in e q u ity than in la w S c o tt seem s to m ean sim ply that L o r d R a v e n sw o o d ’s case w as n atu rally just, or had ju stice on its sid e, b u t that the L o r d K e e p e r ’s case had the strict letter o f the law on its side. T h is m ight apply i f the term s o f the ‘ extensive p ecu n iary tran sactio n s’ ( 1 6 . 8 – 9 ) b etw een the m en w e re oppressive, or i f the eld er R a ven sw o o d had b een fined, and the fine paid to the L o r d K e e p e r (co m p a re 4 7 .2 7 – 3 1 , and 2 2 0 .4 3 – 2 2 1 . 5 )· 19 .3 4 – 3 7 C o n tr a r y to the c u s t o m . . . se rvic e o f the c h u rch p relacy, i.e. E p isc o p alian ch u rch govern m ent, w as ab o lish ed in an A c t o f 2 2 J u ly 16 8 9 , and P resb yterian ch u rch govern m en t establish ed in a fu rth er A c t o f 7 Ju n e 16 9 0 . A n g lic an b u rial services w e re not exp ressly p ro h ibited , bu t it w as illegal fo r a m in ister to w e ar a su rp lice, and it w as illegal fo r a m in ister w h o h ad re fu se d to p ray fo r W illiam and M a r y in 16 8 9 , and had b een ejected fro m his p arish as a resu lt, to con d u ct religio u s cerem o n ie s in pu blic.

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1 9 .3 8 – 3 9 the to ry g e n tlem en , o r ca va lie rs th ese T o rie s are Ja c o b ite s, or sup po rters o f the exiled Ja m e s V II and II; they style th em selves ‘cava liers’ to recall the royalist faction d u rin g the C iv il W ar. 1 9.40– 4 1 T h e p re sb yte ria n c h u r c h -ju d ic a to ry o f the b o u n d s the lo cal p resbytery, the ecclesiastical cou rt im m ed iately su p erio r to the p arish kirk session . 2 0 .5 M a s te r E d g a r ’s fath er having fo rfeited the title o f lord, E d g a r is not fo rm ally entitled to be called ‘M a s te r ’ (the tide given to the eld est son o f a visco u n t or lo rd ) : com pare note to 1 5 . 2 1 – 2 3 . 2 0 .1 3 Y o u ’ll ru e the d a y . . . a n sw e r s e e M a cb eth , 3 .6 .4 2 – 4 3 , w ith ‘ d ay’ fo r ‘tim e’ . 2 0 .1 7 d u st to d u st, an d ash es to ash es see the (E p isco p a lia n ) P ray er B o o k ’s O ffic e fo r the B u ria l o f the D e a d : ‘ ashes to ashes, du st to d u st’ . 2 0 .1 9 co u n te n an ces m o re in an g e r th an in so rro w see H o ratio ’s d e ­ scription o f the ghost o f H a m le t’s fath er : ‘ A cou n ten an ce m ore in sorrow than in an g e r’ ( H a m let , 1 . 2 . 2 3 1 ) . 2 1 .3 H e a v e n do as m u c h to m e an d m o re reca llin g R u th to h er m o th erin -la w N ao m i : ‘the L o r d do so to m e, and m ore also, i f o ugh t bu t death p art thee and m e ’ (R u th 1 . 1 7 ) . 22 m otto see C h ild 1 1 6 , stanza 1 6 2 . T h e ballad w as in clu d ed in P ercy, 1 . 1 59 . ‘O v e r G o d s fo rb o d e ’ m eans ‘ G o d fo rb id ’ . 2 3 .6 In fine in short. 2 3 .9 m ad e good substantiated. 2 3 .2 5 an a gg rav ated rio t in law , ‘ aggravatio n ’ in crea ses the serio u sn ess o f an y crim e. In this case a poten tially vio len t assem b ly is argu ably aggravated by stoppin g an o ffic er o f the Privy C o u n c il go in g about his law fu l bu sin ess. 2 3 .2 6 stan d co m m itte d are b o u n d to act. 2 3 .2 8 B la c k n e ss C a stle a state p riso n 6 km N E o f L in lith g o w , W est L o th ian . 2 3 . 2 8 - 2 9 a ch a rg e o f tre aso n b y the old S c o ts L a w o f T r e a s o n aggravated riot cou ld be con stru ed as sedition, and p erh ap s treaso n in certain c irc u m ­ stan ces. T h e old law w as rep laced b y the T r e a so n A c t ( 1 7 0 9 ) . 2 3 .3 3 – 3 6 A th o le . . . o u r a d m in istratio n for Athole ( A tholl) and his son

(w ho leant tow ards the Jaco b ite party), and the W hig adm inistration, see H istorical N ote, 3 3 4 – 5. 2 4 .4 – 5 in te rro re m L a tin as a w arn in g. 2 4 .6 a p o in t o f d e lica c y a m atter re q u irin g skilfu l han dlin g. 2 4 .1 6 I bid e m y tim e this m otto w as and is sh ared b y several S co ttish fam ilies. 2 4 .1 9 M a lisiu s latinised v ersio n o f the E n g lis h ‘M a lis e ’ . 2 4 .2 8 – 2 9 a b u ll’s h ead . . . w a s p la ce d u p o n the table fo r the ‘ B la c k D in n e r ’ o f 14 4 0 on w h ich this in cid en t is m o delled , s e e M in strelsy , 4 .2 7 5 – 76. 2 5 .5 – 12 L o o k n ot thou . . . q u iet die the lines are S c o tt’s own. 2 5 . 2 3 – 2 4 S o m e th in g th ere w a s o f a M a d o n n a ca st she bo re a certain resem b lan ce to p ictu res or statues o f the V irgin M a ry . 2 5 .3 6 – 40 d istrib u tin g the p riz e s . . . e n ch an tm en t the descriptio n com bin es th ree allu sions. In M ilto n ’ s ‘L ’A lle g ro ’ (w ritten c. 1 6 3 1 ) tourn am en ts are graced b y ‘lad ies, w h ose b righ t e y e s/ R a in in flu en ce, and ju d ge the p rize’ (lin es 1 2 1 – 2 2 ) ; in the first bo ok o f S p e n s e r ’s T h e F a e rie Q u een e the virgin U n a, rep rese n tin g true religio n , u n d ergo es persecu tio n at the han ds o f the h ypo crit­ ical en ch an ter A rch im ago and the false D u e s sa ; M ira n d a is P ro sp e ro ’s inn ocent dau gh ter in T h e T em pest. 2 6 .3 3 n am ed a fte r the h ead o f h e r h o u se acco rd in g to D a v id H u m e o f G o d sc ro ft, the h o u se o f D o u g la s w as fo u n d ed b y royal d ecree in the 8th century, the first b earer o f the n am e b ein g a noble w a rrio r called Sh o lto . S e e T h e H isto ry

346

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o f the H ouse and Race o f D ouglas and A ngu s (Edinburgh, 16 4 4 ), [ 1 ] – 4 : C L A , 3.

27.1 5 the gourd o f the prophet see Jonah 4.6. 28.4 Saul interjection upon my soul, upon my word. 2 8 .1 7

2 8 .2 1

m an and m other’s son proverbial : compare O D E P , 54 6 . T ristrem see Scott’s edition o f the 13th-centu ry romance S ir T ris-

trem ( 18 0 4 ), 1 .2 7 : ‘M ore he couthe o f veneri,/ T h an couthe M anerious’ ( Poet­ ical W orks, 5 .15 1, and note, 5 .377 – 79 ).

2 8 .2 2 hauds out presents his gun. 2 8 .3 6 – 3 7 the bad p aym a ste r . . . before it is due proverbial : see O D E P , 6 1 4 ( ‘ Pay beforehand was never well served’ ). 28.40 condictio indebiti Scots law an action to recover payment made in mistake or ignorance. 2 8 . 4 1 – 4 2 sue a beggar, and . . . what follows ‘ Su e a beggar and get a louse’ (R ay, 7 7 ; O D E P , 7 8 4 ). 2 9 .6 Tyningham e estate, house and village between D unbar and North Berwick. 2 9 .8 stout old T ro jan o f the first-head, ten-tyned branches cour­ ageous fellow o f great stamina, superlative, with ten-pointed horns. 2 9 .1 1 w hipt roundly in moved in smartly. 2 9 .2 3 – 3 0 T h e monk m ust a rise . . . worth them a’ these stanzas are based on an old quatrain referring to Liddesdale quoted in a note to Canto 4 o f The L a y o f the L a st M in strel ( 18 0 5 ) : ‘Billhope braes for bucks and raes,/ A nd Carit haugh for swine,/ A nd Tarras for the good bull-trout,/ I f he be ta’en in time’ (Poetical W orks, 6 .1 2 6 ) . 29.38 Ledington probably Lethington, then the home o f the earls o f Lauderdale. T h e house and estate, 2 km S o f Haddington, were sold in the early 1 8th century and renamed Lennoxlove. 30.29 put them upon encourage them to tell.

30 .35 Fo rm er in Scott’s time aform er was a carpenter’s cutting tool. 3 1 motto The Fa erie Q ueene, 3 .7 .5 : Florimell sees the witch’s cottage. 3 1 . 1 5 A n d every bosky bourne . . . side Milton, Com us (written 16 3 4 ) , line 3 1 2 .

3 1 . 2 4 – 25

scenes o f deeper seclusion see Wordsworth, ‘ Lin es Written a F e w M iles Above Tintern A b b e y . . . ’ ( 1 7 9 8 ) , lines 6 – 7 : ‘W hich on a wild secluded scene im press/ Thoughts o f more deep seclusion’ . 3 2 . 1 wom an old Scott may be alluding to The Fa erie Q ueene as in the chapter motto, but on all eleven pertinent occasions Spenser has ‘old woman’ . 3 2 . 8 – 9 as Ju d ah is represented . . . palm -tree Judaea is so represented in coins struck at Rome to commemorate the capture o f Jerusalem ( ad 7 2 ) , in the years following that event. 3 3 . 2 9 – 3 0 I have drank the c u p . . . destined fo r m e the utterance is rich in Old and N e w Testam ent overtones. T h e ‘cup’ is taken figuratively as those sufferings which G o d sends on a person or people at Psalms 2 3 .5 , 7 5 .8 , Isaiah 5 1 . 1 7 , M atthew 2 0 .2 3 , and 2 6 .3 9 ; it denotes joy and thanksgiving at Psalm 1 1 6 . 1 3 and 1 Corinthians 10 .16 . 34 .28 an article in the sale one o f the conditions o f the sale. 3 5 .1 driven m atters hard on prosecuted matters in a harsh, uncomprom­ ising, insensitive way. 3 5 .2 2 the judgm ent-seat i.e. at the L ast Judgm ent. 3 5 . 2 8 – 3 6 .1 harped aright the fear see M acbeth, 4 .1 .7 4 (M acbeth to the Apparition o f an Arm ed H ead). 3 5 note the C ou rt o f Session the supreme civil court in Scotland, o f which Lockhart, as President, was head. 3 5 note D airy D airy House, Edinburgh; now in Orwell Place, formerly the junction o f Fountainbridge and Canal Street.

EXPLANATORY NOTES

347

3 5 note the L a w n m a r k e t the w estern extension o f the H ig h S tre e t, lead in g tow ard s the C a s tle. 3 5 n ote as J a c k C a d e s a y s . . . o ccasio n see the sp eech , actu ally b y C a d e ’s fo llow er Sm ith the w eaver, in 2 H enry V I, 4 .6 .9 – 1 0 : ‘ I f this fello w b e w ise, h e ’ll n e ver call ye J a c k C a d e m ore; I think he hath a very fa ir w a rn in g ’ . 3 5 n ote sp e cia l A c t o f the E sta te s o f P a rlia m e n t after Ju n e 16 4 0 the S c o ttish P arliam en t con sisted o f th ree estates : n o bles, represen tatives o f the baro n s, an d represen tatives o f the royal b u rgh s, bu t b etw een 16 6 2 an d 16 8 9 the old clerical estate w as restored , and nine b ish o ps w e re p resen t at the M a rc h 16 8 9 P arliam en t. T h e A c t ( 1 A p ril 1 6 8 9 ) w as sp ecial in that it dealt w ith a particu lar situation only : it d eclared that the u se o f torture in this case, to d isco ver p o ssib le a cco m p lices, w as not to b e regard ed as establish in g a p re c e d ­ ent, or en d o rsin g its earlier u se. 3 5 n o t e p e r f e r v id u m i n g e n iu m S c o t o r u m L a tin v ery fiery tem p er o f the S c o ts. T h e p h rase is q u o ted b y G e o rg e B u c h an an ( 1 5 0 6 – 8 2 ) , Rerum Sco ti­ carum H istoria ( 1 5 8 2 ) : see his O pera O m nia, ed. T h o m a s R u d d im an , 2 vols (E d in b u rg h , 1 7 1 5 ) , 1 . 3 2 1 : ‘ S c o to ru m praefervida in g en ia’ . (R o b e rtso n ) 36 m o tto Rom eo an d Ju lie t , 1 . 5 . 1 1 5 – 16 . 3 6 .3 8 p o in t o f state m atter o f d ign ified status. 3 6 .3 9 – 3 7 . 1 4 S p e c im e n s co n tin u e d . . . T a n k e rv ille it is th ought likely that the B ritish w hite cattle are d escen d an ts o f do m estic cattle in tro d u ced b y the R o m a n s w h ich b ecam e feral on th eir d ep artu re. T h e H am ilton , or C ad yo w , h erd can still b e seen at C h a telh e rau lt C o u n try P ark , H am ilton , L a n a rk sh ire, fo rm erly ow n ed b y the D u k e o f H am ilton . S c o tt’s b elief, exp ressed in the Intro du ction to ‘ C a d y o w C a s tle ’ (P oetical W orks, 4 .2 0 1 ), that th ey had b een extirpated in the m id - 1 8th cen tu ry is alm ost certain ly in correct, an d b y 1 8 3 5 th ere w e re som e 80 an im als. T h e h erd at D ru m la n rig C astle, D u m frie ssh ire , seat o f the D u k e o f B u c c le u c h and Q u een sb erry, w as driven aw ay to an u n ­ know n destin ation c. 1 7 8 0 . T h e estate and castle o f C u m b ern a u ld , D u m b arto n ­ sh ire, w as o w n ed b y the F le m in g fam ily u ntil 1 8 7 5 : a h erd o f w h ite cattle roam ed w ild in a rem n an t o f the an cien t C aled o n ian F o r e s t in the area u ntil at least 1 5 7 0 and m ay have survived in the p a rk as late as 1 7 3 0 . T h e p u rest h erd is that still su rvivin g at C h illin g h am C a stle , N o rth u m b erlan d , seat o f the E a rls o f T an kerville. T h is w as p ro b ab ly en clo sed on the creation o f the p a rk in the 1 3 th cen tu ry : aro un d 1 8 1 0 th ere w e re 1 2 0 an im als. B o th the C h illin g h am an d H a m ­ ilton h erd s have b lack tips o n th eir h o rn s an d black ho ofs, th ou gh it is pro bable that in S c o tt’s tim e the H am ilto n h erd w as h o rn less. T h e C h illin g h am h erd is the less docile o f the two and has p ro n o u n ced rem nants o f a m ane. F u ll details can b e fo u n d in G . K e n n e th W h iteh ead , The A n cien t W hite C attle o f B rita in and th eir D escendants (L o n d o n , 1 9 5 3 ) . A n en gravin g b y N e e le o f the S tra n d after a d raw in g b y B a ile y sh ow in g a m ark sm an aim in g at th ree w h ite cattle at C h illin g ­ ham w as p u b lish ed in 17 9 4 . 3 7 .1 the a cco u n ts o f o ld c h ro n icle s notably in H ector Boece, trans. Jo h n B ellen d en , The H ystory a n d C hroniklis o f Sco tlan d ( 1 5 2 7 ; reprin ted as V o ls 1 and 2 o f The Works o f Jo h n B ellen den , 3 vols, E d in b u rg h , 1 8 2 1 – 2 2 ) , 1 .xxx ix– x l; and in Jo h n L e s le y , D e O rigine, M oribus, et Rebus G estis Scotorum [C o n c e rn in g the o rigin, custo m s, an d m ilitary affairs o f the S c o ts ] (R o m e , 1 5 7 8 ) , 19 · 3 7 .3 – 4 the sh a g g y h o n o u rs o f his m a n e com pare H o m er, Odyssey, tran s. A le x a n d e r P o p e, assisted b y W illiam B ro o m e and E lija h F e n to n ( 1 7 2 5 – 2 6 ), 1 8 . 1 8 2 : ‘the g rac efu l h o n o u rs o f his h e a d ’ . 3 7 .4 1 lo ve stro n g as d eath see So n g o f Solom on 8 . 6 . 3 8 .6 w a lk in g sw o rd sm all sw o rd , o r large knife c arried fo r u se as a w eapon. 3 9 .1 2 – 13 like a seco n d E g e r i a . . . N u m a N u m a P o m p iliu s, legen d ary k in g o f R o m e , w as said to have b een ad vised b y the w ater-n ym p h E g e ria . T h e

348

EXPLANATORY NOTES

p a ssage is p ro b ab ly design ed to recall B y ro n ’s d escriptio n o f E g e r ia ’s fo u n tain in C h ild e H a ro ld 's P ilg rim a g e , 4 ( 1 8 1 8 ) , 1 1 5 – 19 . S c o tt review ed the fou rth canto fo r the Q u a rterly R e v ie w w h ile w ritin g the B r id e ( L etters , 5 .2 2 3 ). 3 9 .3 8 M a lle u s M a le fic a ru m , S p re n g e ru s, R e m ig iu s only two w orks are involved h ere. T h e im portan t collection o f sign s o f w itch craft and the b lack arts, M a lle u s M a lefic a ru m [ T h e W itch H a m m e r] ( S p e y e r , c. 1 4 8 6 ), w as the w o rk o f tw o D o m in ica n s, Ja k o b S p re n g e r, and H e in ric h K r a m e r (H e rn ic u s In stito ris). ‘ R e m ig iu s ’ is the F re n c h d em on o lo gist N ich o las R e m y , w h ose D æ m o n o la treiœ (L y o n s , 1 5 9 5 ) to som e extent rep la ced the M a lle u s M a lefic a ru m as the lea d in g authority on w itch -h u n tin g (R o b e rtso n ). N e ith e r w o rk contains an ythin g relatin g to the sup erstition re fe rre d to in this passage. 4 0 .1 4 battle o f F lo d d e n on 9 S e p te m b e r 1 5 1 3 the S c o ts u n d er Ja m e s IV w e re d efeated b y the E n g lish on the N o rth u m b rian sid e o f the b o rd er, the K in g an d m an y o f the S c o ttish nobility b ein g k illed in this nation al catastrophe. 4 0 .2 9 – 3 0 a G ra h a m e to w e a r g ree n . . . M o n d a y it w as b eliev ed that ‘in battle a G ra h a m e is gen erally shot th ro u gh the g reen ch eck o f his p la id ’ ( S c o tt’s L etters on D em on ology a n d W itchcraft, a dd ressed to J . G . L o ck h a rt, E sq . (L o n d o n , 1 8 3 0 ) , 1 6 7 ) . A c c o rd in g to tradition, R o b e rt the B ru c e (R o b e rt I, K i n g o f S c o ts, 1 2 7 4 – 1 3 2 9 ) reso lved at a lo w point in his fo rtu n es to d eterm in e his fu tu re p o licy b y the su ccess or failu re o f a sp id er stru g glin g to b u ild a w eb n e ar him . O n his w ay S to F lo d d e n in 1 5 1 3 , W illiam S in c la ir, seco n d E a r l o f C a ith n ess fro m 1 4 7 6 , led fo rty o f his m en on a M o n d a y o ver the O rd o f C aith n ess, w h e re all excep t one w e re killed . 4 1.2 7 M o n te ro ca p S p a n ish h u n ter’s cap w ith sp h erical cro w n an d flap to d raw over the ears. 4 3 .7 h e r elo q u en t blo o d see Jo h n D o n n e , T h e S ec o n d A n n iv e rs a ry , ‘O f the P ro g re ss o f the S o u l’ ( 1 6 1 2 ) , line 2 4 4 : ‘h er p u re and elo qu en t b lo o d ’ . ( R o b ­ ertson ) 4 5 .2 9 in cid en t to liable to o ccu r to. 4 6 .2 4 in so m e so rt to som e extent. 4 7 .6 – 7 as soon c o m e s . . . the au ld tu p ’s pro verb ial : see R a y, 1 7 2 , 2 8 0 , and O D E P , 7 5 2 . T h e lam b is E d g a r R a ven sw o o d , the au ld tup (m ale sh e e p ) his father. 4 7 .1 0 A w ilfu l m an m a u n hae his w a y p ro verb ial : O D E P , 890. 4 7 .1 1 y e a r an d d a y legal term fo r a fu ll year. 4 7 .1 2 w in d h im a p irn create d ifficu lties fo r him . 4 7 .1 5 h e h as n ot a c ro ss to b le ss h im s e lf w ith he has no m o n ey (old coin s h avin g b e e n stam ped w ith cro sses, and bless m ean in g ‘ m ake the sign o f the c ro ss’ ). 4 7 .1 6 T u rn tip p e t a tip p et is a ho od; to ‘tu rn tipp et’ is to be a turncoat. 4 7 .1 7 – 18 I f he h a sn a g e a r . . . to p in e pro verb ial : see K e lly , 14 9 and R a m say, 8 5 . T h e seco n d line refers to the torture o f the boot, d esc rib ed in T h e T a le o f O ld M o rta lity , E E W N 4b, 2 8 0 – 8 2. 4 7 .1 9 the R ev o lu tio n o f 1 6 8 8 – 89. 4 7 . 1 9 – 20 L u itu r c u m p e r s o n a . . . la w L a tin he is p aid w ith the p erso n [ o f h im ] w h o cann ot p ay w ith his p u rse. In spite o f T u rn tipp et’s ‘ law L a tin ’ this does not seem to b e a stan dard legal m axim . 4 7 .2 5 H irp le h o o ly lite ra lly lim p o r ho bble slow ly or cautiously. 4 7 .2 8 d isp o n ed u p o n dealt w ith, tran sferred . 4 7 .2 8 L o r d T r e a s u r e r the L o r d H ig h T r e a s u r e r w as the C h a n c e llo r o f the S c o ttish E x c h e q u e r b efo re the U n io n . 4 7 .2 9 – 3 0 S h a m e be in m y m e a l- p ok e . . . n oo k o f it allu d in g to the d ep recato ry p ro verb ‘ S a irie [in a p o o r state, i.e. n e a r–em p ty] b e yo u r m eil po ke, an d ay yo u r fist in the nook [c o rn e r] o f it’ (R a y , 3 0 4 ). 4 7 .3 0 set th at d o w n fo r a b y e b it had it in m ind fo r a snack.

EXPLANATORY NOTES 4 7 .33

you are like the m iller’s d o g . . . untied

349

proverbial : see Ray, 30 8

and O D E P , 84.

4 7 .3 6 – 39 I, w ha hae com plied w i’ a’ com pliances . . . th irty y e a r s b y ­ p a s t to ‘co m p ly’ w as in the late 17 t h cen tu ry to accep t the prevailin g political and ecclesiastical authority. T h o s e in p u b lic o ffice had , fro m 1 6 6 1 , to take the oath o f allegian ce reco gn isin g C h a rle s II as ‘ sup rem e go vern or o f this k in gd o m ’ , and, fro m 1 6 8 1 , the T e s t oath reco g n isin g C h a rle s as su p rem e go vern or ‘in all c au ses, as w ell ecclesiastical as c ivil’ . B o th oaths also involved a com m itm en t to m ain tain the pro testan t religio n and a ren u n ciatio n o f p o pery, bu t a n ew oath o f loyalty p ro m u lgated in Ja m e s ’ s first in d u lgen ce o f 16 8 7 d ro pped the re q u ire ­ m en t to m ain tain the protestan t religio n , and p ro m ised ‘n ever to resist his po w er and authority’ . A fte r 16 8 9 the oath o f allegian ce involved only a pro m ise to be ‘ faith fu ll and b e a r true allegian ce to th eir M a je stie s K in g W I L L I A M & Q u een M A R Y ’ , and the C la im o f R ig h t, p a ssed b y P arliam en t w ith o nly five dissen tin g on 1 1 A p ril 16 8 9 , d ecla red that ‘p r e la c y . . . is and hath b een , a great and in su ppo rtable grievan ce and trouble to this n a tio n . . . and th erefo re o ugh t to be ab o lish ed ’ . 48 motto see H e n ry M ac k en zie, ‘D u n c a n : A F ra g m e n t fro m an O ld S co ts M a n u sc rip t’ ( 1 7 6 2 ) , in T h e W orks o f H en ry M a ck en z ie, 8 vols (E d in b u rg h , 18 0 8 ) , 8 .7 : C L A , 2 0 2 . 4 8 .3 0 One m an is enough to right his own w rong C h ev io t ( 2 7 1 ) reco gn ises this as pro verb ial, citin g this u se. 4 8 .36 – 3 7 but that I hold a hasty m an no better than a fool see P ro verb s 2 9 .2 0 . 4 9 .3 a deeper stake g a m b lin g a m ore substantial or hazard o u s stake. 4 9 .7 laid on im po sed. 49.8 to boot m o reover, in addition. 49.9– 10 the Irish brigade a b o d y o f troops w h o en tered the p ay o f the F re n c h K in g u n d er the con trol o f the exiled K in g Ja m e s V II o f S c o ts and II o f E n g lan d , a cco rd in g to the term s o f the T r e a ty o f L im e ric k in 1 6 9 1 . 4 9 .16 on his own i.e. on his ow n reso u rces. 4 9 .1 9 the far end o f a fair estate the v ery en d o f a fa ir am ount o f capital. 4 9 .2 0 shift about ch an ge lo dgin gs. 49 .2 1 Saint G erm ains S a in t-G e rm a in -e n -L a y e , n e ar P a ris, w h ere the exiled S tew a rt fam ily held cou rt after the fligh t o f Ja m e s V II and II in 16 8 8 . 4 9 .2 3 – 24 the C hevalier ‘ C h e v a lie r de S t G e o r g e ’ w as the title co n ferre d b y L o u is X I V o f F ra n c e on Ja m e s F ra n c is S tew a rt ( 1 6 8 8 – 1 7 6 6 ) , w h o styled h im s e lf Ja m e s V III o f S c o ts and III o f E n g lan d on his fa th er’s death in 1 7 0 1 . 4 9 .2 4 – 2 5 the field the p lace assign ed fo r a d u el; actu al com bat. 49.26 perish from the w ay P salm 2 . 1 2 . 49.39 Versailles L o u is X I V ’ s great palace n e ar Paris. 50.3 take and reclaim an eyess fa lc o n ry capture a y o u n g haw k (e y a s) and call it b ack as p art o f its training. 5 0 .13 puts him to his defence obliges him to d efen d h im self. 50 .19 L ’Espoir F ren ch the H o p e. 50 .2 0 Eyem outh see note to 1 5 . 1 5 . 50.30– 31 no time for grass to grow beneath their heels pro verb ial : see R a m say, 82 and O D E P , 3 3 1 . 50 .3 8 – 39 art and part Scots la w p h rase den o tin g participation in a crim e. 50.40– 4 1 T h e d ia l sp o k e n o t . . . m u r d e r Jo h n D ry d e n , T h e S p a n ish F r y a r ( 1 6 8 1 ) , 4 . 2 . 8 1 – 8 2. 5 1 .6 the Fatal C on sp iracy i.e the Ja c o b ite plot into w h ich C ra ig e n g e lt is tryin g to inveigle B u ck law . A lth o u gh S c o tt’s ow n invention it is also a p lau sible title fo r a Ja c o b e a n or R esto ratio n tragedy. 5 1 . 1 0– 1 7 A le x a n d e r. . . p o o r L e e B u c k la w gives a free versio n o f

350

EXPLANATORY NOTES

A le x a n d e r’s sp eech c o n clu d in g A c t 4 o f The R iv a l Q ueens; or, The D eath o f A lexa n d er the G reat ( 1 6 7 7 ) b y N ath an iel L e e ( ? 16 4 9 – 92 ) : L e e su ffe re d d e c lin ­ in g literary abilities, insanity, and an ign o m in io us death as an alco h o lic. Com e out m ean s ‘m ake a d ébu t on the stag e’ . 5 1 .19 led h o rse sp are h o rse, led b y an attendant or groom . 5 1 .2 0 – 2 1 set u p p u t in the stable, i.e. exhausted. 5 1 .2 3– 2 4 this b o u t on this occasio n . 5 1 .3 0 n e ith e r art n o r p a rt see note to 5 0 .3 8 – 3 9 5 1 .3 3 m y co m m issio n i.e. his appoin tm en t as an arm y o fficer. 5 1 .4 3 B la c k M o o r b la ck a m o o r; black skin n ed . 5 2 .1 – 5 T a k e a fa t su c k in g m a s t iff w h e lp . . . w o rk in g it in sim ilar fantastic rem ed ies can b e fo u n d in 1 7 th -cen tu ry fa rriery m an u als, e.g. G e rv a se M ark h am , M arkham s M a ister-P eece; or; W hat D oth a H orse-M an Lacke ( L o n d o n , 1 6 1 0 ) , w h ich w en t th rou gh 2 1 editions (w ith v aryin g tid es) u p to 1 7 3 4 w h en m o re so b er m an u als finally ren d ered it obsolete. O il o f spikenard is arom atic oil d erived fro m an In d ian plant. 5 3 . 8 – 9 h e h ad gallo w s w ritte n . . . his b irth M o sle m s b elieve that the d ec reed events o f every m an ’s life are im p ressed in divine ch aracters on the fo reh ead , b u t are invisible to m ortal eyes. V arian ts o f the id ea cam e to have p ro ­ verb ial status in E n g lish : see R a y , 7 , 1 0 9 ; T ille y , F 5 9 0 ; and S a in t R o n an 's W ell, E E W N 1 6 , 2 6 2 .1 3 (text an d n o te). 54 .9 the salm o n is o f f w ith h ook an d all iro n ic allu sion to the p ro verb ‘A h o ok w ell lost to catch a salm o n ’ ( R a y , 1 2 0 ; O D E P , 3 8 3 ). 5 4 .1 4 Its good sle e p in g in a h ale skin p ro verb ial : R a y , 2 9 6 ; K e lly , 2 2 0 ; R a m say, 9 2 ; O D E P , 7 4 2 . 5 4 . 1 5 – 16 L ittle k e n s the au ld w ife . . . h u r le -b u r le -s w ir e p ro verb ial : R a y , 299; R a m say, 9 7 ; O D E P , 4 7 1 . K e lly ( 2 2 9 – 3 0 ) su ggests that H u r le - B u r le S w ire is a particu larly w in d y p a ssage th ro u gh a rid ge o f m ountain s sep aratin g N ith sd ale fro m T w e e d d a le an d C ly d esd a le. 5 4 m o tto see ‘ G r a e m e and B e w ic k ’, stanza 2 7 , in M in strelsy, 3 .8 3 ( C h ild 2 11). 5 5 .1 3 h av e m o re re a so n in y o u r w ra th to -m o r r o w com p are E p h esian s 4 .2 6 : ‘let not the su n go dow n u po n yo u r w rath ’ , an d the p ro verb ial ‘ T a k e W it w ith yo u r A n g e r ’ (R a m sa y , 1 0 9 ) . 5 5 .1 5 c a r ry it o f f d ispo se o f the m atter. 5 6 .2 7 – 2 8 sen d in g, like one o f O s s ia n ’s h ero es, his v o ic e b e fo re h im re ca llin g su ch p h rases as ‘ the terrib le vo ice o f F in g a l’ fro m Ja m e s M a c p h e rso n ’s O ssian ic p o em F in g a l: A n A n cien t E p ic P o em . . . translated fro m the G a lic L a n ­ guage (L o n d o n , 1 7 6 2 ) , 5 3 ( B k 4 ) : C L A , 1 4 . 5 7 .13 d ra w n b rid le p u lled the rein s so as to slack en o u r pace. 5 7 . 1 8 S a th a n this sp ellin g o f S a ta n is no t reco rd ed in E n g lish u sa ge after the 1 7 t h century, bu t survives in S co ts. 5 7 .19 d ra w in g u p w ith takin g up w ith, en terin g into a relatio nship with. 5 7 .2 3 at the n e a re st w h en w e w e re v ery clo se to ach ievin g o ur object. 5 7 .3 4 – 3 5 the d evil is alw a y s at o n e’s e lb o w a pro verb ial sentim ent : com p are O D E P , 1 8 2 : ‘ T h e D e v il is n ever fa r o f f . 5 7 .3 7 – 3 8 p u t m y th u m b u n d e r his be lt pu t m y se lf in his po w er. P ro v e r­ b ial (se e R a y , 3 0 7 and O D E P , 8 2 0 ). 5 7 . 4 1 – 5 8 .2 y o u h ave in d eed n o u rish e d in y o u r b o so m the sn ak es . . . o ne g re a t g o o d ly sn ak e pro verb ial : see R a y , 2 1 4 ; O D E P , 7 4 7 . 5 7 .4 3 T h a t ’s h o m e as w e ll as tru e C h e v io t ( 3 1 3 ) reco gn ises this as p ro v e rb ia l: hom e m eans ‘ to the p o in t’ . 5 8 .1 0 et cæ te ras L a tin ad dition al things. 5 8 .1 1 b re a k in g a p a rk -p a le m ak in g a hole in the fen ce o f an estate, o r tresp ass w ithin the lim its o f an estate.

EXPLANATORY NOTES

351

5 8 .4 2 – 4 3 the ex p re ssio n o f the E n g lish d ivin e . . . H e ll is p a v e d w ith go o d in ten tio n s pro verb ial : O D E P , 3 6 7 . T h is fo rm o f the p ro verb is qu oted b y the M eth o d ist lea d er Jo h n W esley : A n Extract o f the R ev. M r. Jo h n Wesley’s Jo u rn a l fro m his E m barking fo r G eorgia to his R eturn to London (B risto l, [ 1 7 3 9 ] ) , 26 ( 1 0 J u ly 1 7 3 6 ) . 5 9 .1 0 – 1 1 y o u sh o u ld n ot d rin k u p the last flask . . . ill lu ck in that S c o tt is the only know n authority fo r this belief. 5 9 .2 0 – 2 9 c lif f th at b e etle d o ve r the G e r m a n O c e a n . . . sh eeted sp e c tre com pare E lsin o re in H am let, 1 . 4 . 7 0 – 7 1 ; 1 . 1 . 1 1 5 . 6 0 .14 the sev en sle e p e rs seven n o ble C h ristia n youths o f E p h e su s w ho, after takin g refu g e in a cave to escap e p ersecu tio n , w e re b elieved to have slept fo r 1 8 7 years. 6 0 .18 in v e r y blo o d an d b o d y in true flesh and b lo o d ; h avin g real hu m an existen ce. 6 0 .19 aro in t y e the ap proved com m and in S h ak esp eare fo r b id d in g su p e r­ n atu ral bein gs b e g o n e : s e e M acbeth, 1 .3 .6 , and K in g L e a r, 3 . 4 . 1 2 2 . 6 0 .2 0 – 2 1 lith an d lim b join t and lim b (a stan dard S c o ts p h rase). 6 0 .3 1 m e n o f m o u ld m ortal m en . T h e stan dard exp ressio n ap pears in S ir Tristrem , stanza 5 9 , line 1 (P oetical W orks, 5 .1 6 5 ) and in H enry V, 3 .2 .2 2 . 6 1 .8 w ith a’ w ithal, b esid es. 6 1.13 this so m e m o n th s fo r several m onths. 6 1.14 c o n fo rm till in acco rd an ce with. 6 1 . 1 4 – 5 a s gu d e rig h t is as is very right. 6 1 .2 4 let th e m ca re th at co m e ah in t pro verb ial : let th ose w h o com e after do the w o rryin g (se e R a m say, 9 7 ). 6 1 .2 7 ill co n v en ien t incon venient. 6 1 .3 3 w ith o u t d o ors o utside the c a stle . 6 2 .5 o u t b y e aw ay fro m hom e. 6 2 .2 2 th e B a s s an d N o r t h -B e r w ic k L a w the B a ss R o c k rises fro m the sea som e 5 km N E o f N o rth B e rw ic k ; N o rth B e rw ic k L a w is a hill 1 km S o f the tow n. 6 2 .2 3 m a rsh a l y e u p con d u ct you cerem o n io u sly u pstairs. 6 3. 1 n eith er h earth n o r h a rb o u r no p lace o f sh elter o r entertainm ent. 6 3 .3 W e s tm in s te r -H a ll the H all, in the P alace o f W estm in ster, L o n d o n , h as an oak h a m m er-b eam r o o f w h ich w as installed in 1 3 9 7 . 6 3.6 b l a c k ja c k s leath er b e e r ju gs. 6 4.4 it is e a sy to p u t a fa ir fa ce on o n y th in g pro verb ial : see O D E P , 3 1 9 ( ‘T o p u t a good face on a th in g’ ). 6 4 .5 – 6 as teu gh as b o w -s tr in g s an d b e n d -le a th e r p ro verb ial in o rigin : see R a y , 2 2 6 ( ‘A s tou gh as w h itleath er’ ) and O D E P , 8 3 4 ( ‘ as tou gh as lea th er’ ). 6 4 .1 1 so m e gate som ew h ere. 6 4 .1 5 sh e ’s to p u ’ she has to b e p luck ed. 6 4 .1 7 b id e y e th ere a w e e stay th ere a short w hile. 6 4 .3 7 u n d e r h id in g in hiding. 6 4 .4 1 u n d e r d istre ss u n d er p ressu re o f adversity. 6 5 .4 – 5 the n e a re r the b an e th e sw e e te r pro verb ial : see R a y, 8 1 and O D EP, 557. 6 5 .6 – 7 th at’s a ’ th at’s to tru st to that’s all th at’s to b e d ep en d ed upon. 6 5 .1 9 a w fu ’ th u n n er th u n d ery con ditions w o u ld be bad fo r sto rin g beer. C o m p a re note to 9 7 .2 8 – 29. 6 5 .2 1 en gag e fu r gu aran tee, w arran t. 6 6 .7 – 8 the G o w r ie C o n s p ir a c y o n 5 A u g u st 16 0 0 Ja m e s V I w as lu red to G o w rie H o u se in P erth b y A lexan d er, M a s te r o f R u th ven , an d claim ed to have b een th reaten ed w ith death th ere, p o ssib ly in an u ltra-P ro testan t con sp iracy. J a m e s ’s fo llow ers killed the M a s te r and his brother, the E a r l o f R u th ven . T h e r e w e re vario u s fu gitives fro m royal ju stice, in clu d in g the yo u n ger R u th ven

352

EXPLANATORY NOTES

b roth ers, and other parties, su ch as S ir R o b e rt L o g a n w h o th en ow n ed F a st C a s tle, and his law agent, G e o rg e S p ro tt o f E y em o u th , w e re im plicated . S e e Letters, 8 .4 5 6 – 5 9 , and ‘ F a st C a s tle ’ , in Prose W orks, 7 .4 4 6 – 5 7 . 66 m o tto S c o tt’s arran gem en t o f two stanzas (2 and 4 ) fro m P art 2 o f ‘ T h e H e ir o f L in n e ’ , a b allad in clu d ed (in a versio n part traditional, part m o d ern ) in P erc y, 2 . 3 1 3 – 1 4 . S e e C h ild 2 6 7 . 6 6 .19 t h e lo n e ly lo d ge the p h rase in P e rc y is ‘ the lo n eso m e lo d g e ’ (last stanza o f P a rt 1 and stanza 1 o f P a rt 2 ). 6 6 .30 F a v o u ra b le to c a lm reflectio n , as w e ll as to the M u s e s , the m o r n ­ in g fo r the m o rn in g as favo u rable to calm reflectio n com pare N ich o las R o w e, The F a ir P en iten t ( 1 7 0 3 ), 1 . 1 . 1 6 2 ; see also The A n tiq u a ry, E E W N 3 , 3 9 .2 0 ; and S a in t R o n an 's W ell, E E W N 1 6 , 2 1 4 . 1 0 . M o rn in g as favo u rable to the M u s e s allu d es to the L a tin p ro verb ‘A u ro ra M u s is am ica [ est ] ’ ( ‘ D a w n [ is ] a frien d to the M u s e s ’ ) : see The Jo u rn a l o f S ir W alter Scott, ed. W . E . K . A n d erso n (O x fo rd , 1 9 7 2 ) , 1 5 1 ( 2 8 M a y 1 8 2 6 ) , and The A n tiqu a ry, 1 7 6 . 2 2 – 2 3 . 6 7 .7 – 8 the exiled E a r l o f A n g u s . . . a k in g ’ s re se n tm e n t A rch ib a ld D o u g la s, 6th E a r l o f A n g u s ( ? 14 8 9 – 1 5 5 7 ) , m arried M a rg a re t T u d o r, w id o w o f Ja m e s IV , in 1 5 1 4 , and fro m 1 5 2 5 con tro lled the p erso n o f h er son, Ja m e s V. Ja m e s esca p ed in 1 5 2 8 , raised sup port, and had A n g u s sum m o n ed b efo re p a r­ liam en t to be tried fo r treason. A n g u s did not ap pear, and w as outlaw ed; the royal arm y b esieg ed his stron ghold , T a n ta llo n C astle, 4 .5 km E o f N o rth B e r ­ w ick, fo r 2 0 days, bu t failed to take it. 6 7.9 the sle e p e r aw ak en ed see note to 1 6 .4 2 – 1 7 . 1 . 6 7 .2 4 – 2 5 y o u r b o so m -sn a k e . . . m y v ip e rs see note to 5 7 . 4 1 – 5 8 .2 . 6 7 .3 4 as the h allad h as it see ‘A d am B e ll, C lim o f the C lo u g h , and W illiam o f C lo u d e s ly ’ , C h ild 1 1 6 , stanza 10 4 . T h e b allad is in P ercy, 1 . 1 2 9 – 60, th ese lin es b e in g at 14 9 . 6 8 .10 as the old so n g sa y s ‘ I H av e a g reen P u rse and a w ee p ickle G o w d ’ is the o p en in g line o f a son g in A llan R a m say, The T ea -T a b le M iscellany ( 1 7 2 4 – 2 9 ) , in The Works o f A lla n R am say, V ol. 3 , ed. A lexan d er M . K in g h o rn an d A lexan d er L a w (E d in b u rg h and L o n d o n , 1 9 6 1 ), 58– 5 9 . It is also in D av id H e r d , A n cien t a n d M odem Scottish Songs, 2n d edn , 2 vols (E d in b u rg h , 1 7 7 6 ) , 2 .9 4 (fo r both collection s see C L A , 1 7 1 ). In H e rd , the sp eak er w o o s his love C h risty thus : ‘ I have a g reen p u rse and a w ee p ickle g o w d ,/ A b o n n y p iec e land, and p lan tin g o n ’t,/ It fattens m y flocks, and m y b a m s it has stow ’ d; / B u t the b est th in g o f a ’s yet w an tin g o n ’t.’ 6 8 .1 2– 1 3 an en d o f an au ld sa n g p ro verb ial : R a m say, 1 1 4 ; O D E P , 2 2 0 – 2 1 . T h e p h rase w as u sed m ost m em orably as a ‘ d esp isin g and con tem n in g rem ark ’ b y the E a r l o f S e a fie ld on sign in g the A c t o f U n io n o f 1 7 0 7 ( The Lockhart P apers, 2 vols (L o n d o n , 1 8 1 7 ) , 1 . 2 2 3 ) . 6 8 .1 3 to b o o t into the bargain. 6 8 .1 4 th at gate in that m an ner. 6 8 .1 7 p u ttin g it u p again pu tting it b ack in yo u r pocket. 6 8 .2 2 gu d e rig h t v ery right. 6 8 .2 3 ta ’en on b o u gh t on cred it. 6 8 .3 3 E p p ie S m a ’tra sh the surn am e su gg ests ‘ sm all trash ’ , sm all or p o o rquality b u sin ess. 6 8 .3 8 L u c k ie C h ir n sid e the surn am e d erives fro m a village 1 5 km W o f B e rw ic k -u p o n -T w e e d . 6 8 .3 9 m a k sh ift m an age. 6 8 .4 1 to the fo re alive, still in existen ce. 70 .3 7 – 3 8 the M a r q u is o f A — — A th o le : fo r the M a rq u is, an d fro m 1 7 0 3 D u k e o f A tholl and the situation outlined in the fo llow in g p aragrap h see H is to r­ ical N o te , 3 3 4 – 3 5 . 7 1 . 8 – 9 p ro b ab le ch an ge . . . a d m in istratio n see H isto rical N o te, 3 3 4 .

EXPLANATO RY NOTES

353

sloth . . . necks see note to 7 .2 8 – 3 1 . watches for aw aits. one revolution too m uch already i.e. that o f 1 6 8 8 – 89. m y dream ’s out m y d ream ’ s out in the open, over, exp lain ed , r e ­

7 1 .2 9 – 3 1

7 1 .3 2 7 1 .3 6

7 1.3 8

vealed not to be a dream . 7 2 . 5 – 6 our friend Ballantyne’s types Ja m e s B allan tyn e ( 1 7 7 2 – 1 8 3 3 ), S c o tt’s frien d fro m b o yhood, w as m an ager o f the firm o f B allan tyn e and C o . w h ich p rin ted the W averley novels. 7 2 .1 5 good liking frien d ly or kindly feelin g. 7 2.25 forth o f out of. 7 2 .2 9 verbum sapienti L a tin proverb v erb u m sat sapienti : a w o rd [is ] en ou gh fo r a w ise m an. 7 2 .2 9 – 30 a word . . . fool p ro v e rb ia l: com pare R a y , 1 0 2 , 1 7 1 and O D E P , 9 14 – 15 .

7 2 .3 2 – 3 3 sliddery w ays crave w ary walking sliddery m eans ‘ slip p ery’ , ‘ in con stan t’ , ‘u ntru stw orthy’ : com pare ‘F o rtu n e ’s slid d ’ry b a ll’ (R o b e rt B u m s , ‘ T h e F a re w e ll. T o the B re th re n o f S t Ja m e s ’s L o d g e , T a rb o lto n ’ ( 17 8 6 ) , line 6 ). T h e next p h rase ech oes Ju liu s Caesar, 2 . 1 . 1 5 : ‘ It is the b righ t day that b rin gs forth the a d d e r,/ A n d that craves w a ry w a lk in g.’ 7 3 .6 – 7 our poor house o f B — — B la ir C astle, n ear B la ir A th o ll, P erth sh ire. 7 3 .9 – 1 0 Th ese — W ith h a ste . . . delivered a sim ilar fo rm u la ap pears as a m otto in The A n tiqu a ry, w ith the com m en t ‘A n cien t In d o rsation o f L e tte rs o f Im p o rtan ce’ , bu t is p ro b ab ly b y S c o tt ( E E W N 3 , 1 0 9 ) . 7 3 . 1 5– 1 6 W it’s In te rp re te r, o r the C o m p le te L e tte r -W r ite r I . C . [Jo h n C o tgrav e ], Wits In terpreter: The E nglish Parnassus; or; A S u re G u id e to those A d m irable Accom plishm ents that Com pleat our E nglish G entry, in the M ostAcceptable Q ualifications o f D iscourse, or W riting, & c. (L o n d o n , 1 6 5 5 ) : see C L A , 1 1 1 . The Com plete L etter-W riter. .. W ith directionsfo r W riting Letters, an d the P roper Form s o f A ddress (E d in b u rg h , 1 7 6 8 ) is a Sco ttish v ersio n o f the o ften -rep rin ted The Com plete L etter-W riter; or, N ew an d P o lite E nglish Secretary (2 n d edn, L o n d o n , 1 756 )· 7 3 .2 6 Saint G erm ains see note to 4 9 .2 1 . 7 3 .3 2 – 33 crop-eared dogs, whom honest Claverse treated as they de­ served C o ve n an ters w h om Jo h n G ra h a m o f C la verh o u se ( 1 6 4 8 – 8 9 ), first V isco u n t D u n d e e , p ersecu ted d u rin g the ‘k illin g -tim e’ o f 1 6 8 1 – 85 : crop-eared m ean s prim arily ‘sh o rt-h a ire d ’ , w ith ears exp osed , bu t it also allu des to the cro p p in g o f ears as a pu n ishm en t. 7 3 .3 4 T h e y gave the d o g . . . hanged him pro verb ial : see R a y, 98 and O D EP, 302. 7 3 . 3 9 – 4 0 the iron has en tered . . . souls see P salm 1 0 5 . 1 8 as in The Book o f Common P rayer. 7 4 .6 – 9 T o see good co m . . . wanton m e B u rn s reco rd s lines very like th ese in the seco n d o f two ‘ old stan zas’ to the tu n e ‘ T o daunton m e ’ in his cop y o f The Scots M u sica l M useum : ‘ T o see gu de corn u pon the rig s ,/ A n d ban ishm en t am an g the W h ig s,/ A n d righ t resto r’ d w h ere righ t su d b e ,/ I think it w ad do m eikle fo r to w anton m e ’ . T h e lines re fe r to the R ev o lu tio n o f 1 6 8 8 – 89. S e e N otes on Scottish So n g by R obert B u m s, W ritten in an In terleaved Copy o f the Scots M u sica l M useum w ith A dditio n s by R obert R id d ell an d O thers, ed. Ja m e s C . D ic k (L o n d o n , 19 0 8 ) , 3 5 – 3 6 . (R o b e rtso n ) 7 4 .1 0 cantabit vacuus Ju v e n a l, S a tires, 1 0 .2 2 : ‘ C an tab it v acu u s coram latron e viato r’ ( T h e em p ty-h an d ed traveller w ill w h istle in the ro b b er’s fa ce). 7 4 .1 7 treasurer or lord com m issioner fo r ‘ tre a su re r’ see note to 4 7 .2 8 ; fo r ‘lo rd co m m issio n er’ see note to 2 1 0 .2 5 . 7 5 .3 – 4 not a pair o f clean spurs . . . old times ‘W e are told, that w h en the last b u llo ck w h ich A u ld W at [S c o tt’ s an cesto r] had p ro vid ed fro m the

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E n g lish p astu res w as con su m ed , the F lo w e r o f Y arrow [ his w ife ] p lace d on h er table a dish con tain in g a p air o f clean spu rs; a hint to the c om pan y that th ey m u st b estir th em selves fo r th eir next d in n er’ (L o c k h a rt, 1 .6 7 ) . 75.9 Saint M agdalen’s Eve . . . her day C a le b m ean s to re fe r to Q u een M a rg a re t ( 1 0 4 6 – 9 3 ) w h o m arried M a lc o lm III, K in g o f S c o ts, in 10 6 9 . S h e w as can o n ised in 1 2 5 0 , and h er feast day is 1 6 N o vem b e r. F a stin g on vigils (w h ich w o u ld have involved eatin g fish rath er than red m eat) in p rep aration fo r a fea st day w as p ractised in the C h u rc h o f E n g la n d in the 16 th and 17 t h cen tu ries, an d Q u een M a rg a re t’ s E v e m ight have b een so d istin gu ish ed b y E p isco p alian s in S c o tland. 7 5 .11 reflection C a le b m eans refection ( ‘m ea l’ ). 7 5 . 1 7 O ut upon interjection fie upon. 7 5 motto see Jo a n n a B aillie , E th w a ld : A Tragedy ( 1 8 0 2 ), 1 . 1 . 3 1 – 3 5 , in A S en es o f P la ys in W hich it is A ttem pted to D elin eate the Stronger Passions o f the M in d , 3 vols (L o n d o n , 1 7 9 8 – 1 8 1 2 ) , 2 . 1 1 2 : C L A , 2 1 2 . 7 5.2 9 L ig h t m eals procure light slum bers com pare ‘W h o go es to b ed su p p erless all night tu m bles and to sses’ : R a y , 29; O D E P , 3 1 5 . 7 5 .3 4 view hollo shou t given b y a hu ntsm an on seein g a fo x b reak cover. 7 6 .10 Bittlebrain ‘b e a t-b ra in ’ . 7 6 . 1 3 – 14 the freedom s and im m unities . . . free-forestry righ ts granted b y C ro w n ch arter, en croach m en ts on w h ich cou ld b e severely p u n ish ed u n d er A c ts o f 1 5 3 4 , 1 5 9 2 , 1 5 9 4 , and 1 6 1 7 . T h e freedom s w e re the righ ts to h u nt as the k in g cou ld have don e in a royal fo re st; the im m unities w e re im m u nities fro m the k in g’s norm al righ t to hunt. 7 6 .1 9 such a like right a righ t o f su ch a kind. 7 6 .3 8 com e at obtain. 7 7 .4 – 5 their bridles rin g in g . . . Elfland the rin gin g b rid les an d cou rt o f E lfla n d recall the o p en in g stanzas o f the ballad ‘ T h o m a s the R h y m e r’ : M in ­ strelsy, 4 .8 6 – 87 (C h ild 3 7 C ) . 7 7 .10 serve the turn o f do in stead of. 7 7 .1 0 out o’ the gate absent, aw ay fro m the castle. 7 7 .2 7 fast on the feast day i.e. w h ile it is ap prop riate to fast in prep aration fo r a fea st day (se e note to 7 5 .9 ) , one cann ot p ro p erly do so on the fea st day itself. 7 7 .2 8 cast yoursell in the w ay o f dining pu t y o u rs e lf in a po sitio n to dine. 7 7 .2 9 cast about braw ly for the m o m m an age v ery w e ll fo r the next m o rn in g (o r day). 7 7 .2 9 – 3 0 stead o’ instead of. 7 7 . 3 1 m ak some shift for the lawing m an age in som e w ay to d eal w ith the bill. 7 8 .3 9 – 40 T ak e the goods . . . the great Jo h n D ryden says see ‘A le x a n ­ d e r s F e a s t’ ( 1 6 9 7 ) , line 10 6 . 79.8 flesh and fell flesh and skin; en tirely (K in g L e a r, 5 .3 .2 4 ) . 7 9 . 1 2 – 1 3 blowing him at bay b lo w in g the h o rn to an no u nce that the stag has tu rn ed to face its p u rsu ers. 79.20 Hyke a T alb o t! Hyke a Teviot! ‘ H yk e a T a lb o t’ is given in T u r b e r vile ( 1 1 2 ), hyke b ein g a call to u rge o n ho u n d s, and Talbot th e g en eric n am e fo r a h u n tin g-d o g. T h e nam e T eviot d erives fro m a tributary o f the R iv e r T w e e d . 8 0 .1 7 – 19 the huntsm an’s knife . . . venison the p ro ced u re follow s that p rescrib ed (w ith an illustrative p rin t) in T u rb e rv ile , 1 3 2 – 3 4 .

80.25 T aking unto h im self heart o f grace 80.32

U ds daggers and scabbard

plucking up courage.

m ean in gless oath ( G o d ’ s d a ggers and scab b a rd ). S e e Jo h n W eb ster and T h o m a s D e k k e r, W estward H o ( 1 6 0 7 ) ,

5 .3 .2 3 .

EXPLANATORY NOTES

355

8 0 .34 s o th at pro vid in g that. 8 0 .3 5 h u n ted at fo rce hunting ru n the gam e dow n w ith dogs; hu nted in the o pen w ith ho u n d s in fu ll cry. 8 0 .3 7 I d u rst h av e go n e ro u n d ly in on h im I d ared to attack him v ig o r­ o u sly w ithou t delay. 8 0 .3 7 u se an d w o n t accu sto m ed p ractice or p ro ced u re. 8 1 . 5 – 6 the C a b r a c h m ou ntain ous area in W A b erd een sh ire noted fo r hunting. 8 1 . 8 – 9 I f thou b e h u r t . . . le sse r fe a r see T u rb e rv ile , 1 2 4 . S u c h d o g ­ g erel cou plets are the p re fe rre d v eh icle fo r h u n tin g lo re in several 16 th and 1 7 t h –cen tu ry w orks. 8 1 .1 4 b rea k u p c u tu p . 8 1 . 1 5 – 16 i f he b re a k s h im u p w ith o u t d r in k in g . . . n ot k eep w e ll the sup erstition derives fro m T u rb e rv ile , 1 2 8 . 8 1 .2 9 m a n o r w o m a n eith e r see H am let, 2 .2 .3 0 7 – 08. 8 1 .2 2 w ith the p re cisio n o f S ir T ristre m h im s e lf see S c o tt’s edition o f the 13 th -c e n tu r y rom ance S ir Tristrem , 1 . 4 1 – 4 8 , in P oetical W orks, 5 .1 5 7 – 6 1 . 8 2 .2 0 u n lo o p ed an d slo u ch ed w ith the broad b rim h an gin g dow n over the face, not lo o ped up. 8 3 . 1 2 sh o rt m ile i.e. an E n g lish m ile rath er than a S c o ts m ile w h ich w as lo n ger. 8 3 .2 8 – 2 9 ad re -æ d ific a n d a m an tiq u a m d o m u m L a tin to reb u ild the an cien t hou se. 8 4 . 1 – 4 the w o rd s o f the B a r d o f H o p e . . . e n c ir c le th e s e a see ‘ L in e s W ritten on V isitin g a S c e n e in A rg y le sh ire ’ ( 1 8 0 0 ), lines 7 – 9, by T h o m a s C am p b ell, au thor o f The Pleasures o f H ope (E d in b u rg h and L o n d o n , 17 9 9 ) · 8 5 .1 6 b u t w h a t he re m a rk e d as to p reven t him fro m noticing. 8 5 .2 9 c a m e an d s a w allu d in g to the rem ark ascrib ed to Ju liu s C a e s a r ( 1 0 2 ?– 44 b c ) : ‘V en i, vid i, v ic i’ ( ‘ I cam e, I saw , I c o n q u e re d ’ ). 8 5 .3 9 m irk n igh t the dead o f night. 8 6 .1 2 the n ak ed n e ss o f the lan d G e n e sis 4 2 . 9 , 1 2 . 8 6 .1 4 – 1 5 red w u d , an d a w a ’ w i’t stark starin g m ad , an d out o f his sen ses. 8 6 .1 7 as m a d as the se v e n w ise m a ste rs in The Proces o f the Seu yn Sages seven w ise m en save th eir p u p il F lo ren tin e fro m his im p erial fa th er’s an ger by tellin g a series o f sign ifican t stories. T h e rom an ce is in clu d ed in the third volu m e οfM etrica l Rom ances o f the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, an d Fifteenth Centuries, ed. H e n ry W eb er, 3 vols ( E d in b u rg h , 1 8 1 0 ) : C L A , 1 0 5 . In the th ird volum e o f his Specim ens o f E a rly E n glish M etrica l Rom ances (3 vols (L o n d o n , 1 8 0 5 ) : C L A , 1 0 5 ) , G e o rg e E llis gives a p réc is w ith extracts u n d er the tid e ‘T h e S e v e n W ise M a s te r s ’ . In n eith er versio n are the m asters at all insane. 8 6 .2 1 T r u c e to en ou gh o f ; have do n e w ith. 8 6 .3 2 P h ilistin e s w arlik e peo p le w h o con stantly h arassed the Israelites. 8 6 .3 6 w o n into o btained entry. 8 6 .36 at the b a c k o f follow in g, behind . 8 7 m o tto see lines 1 5 4 – 5 8 o f C o le rid g e ’ s p o em ( 1 7 9 8 ) . 8 7 .9 – 10 n e ve r h esitate b e tw e e n th eir frien d an d th eir je st com pare ‘ B e tte r lo se a jest than a frie n d ’ : R a y , 1 2 5 ; O D E P , 5 4 ; The A n tiqu a ry, E E W N 3 , 3 3 9 .3 8 – 3 9 . 8 7 .2 1 P ra ise be b le sse d G o d b e b lessed . 8 8 .8 – 10 like L o u is X IV . . . . w ith o u t d ire c tly ly in g L o u is X IV , K in g o f F ra n c e fro m 1 6 4 3 till 1 7 1 5 , ad vocated k eep in g o n e’ s w o rd inviolably, bu t h e w as a skilled eco n o m iser w ith the truth (e .g . ‘treaties are not alw ays to b e o b served literally’ ).

356

EXPLANATORY NOTES

8 8 .2 3 the k in g on the th ron e to be taken as a p ro verb ial p h rase rath er than literally. 8 8 .30 the d e ’il o f o n y absolu tely no. 8 8 .3 1 the m o r n ’ s m o m tom orrow m orning. 8 8 .3 1 – 3 2 It sets the like o f h im iron ical it is fitting fo r som eb od y in his situation. 8 9 .5 p o st o f au d ien ce listen in g post. 8 9 .4 2 as fre e as the w in d at M a rtin m a s com pare the p ro verb ‘W h ere the w in d is on M artin m a s E v e , th ere it w ill be the rest o f w in ter’ (O D E P , 89 3 ). M artin m a s is 1 1 N o vem b e r, one o f the Sco ttish q u arte r-d ay s, w h en vario u s taxes and in terest paym en ts w e re due. 8 9 .4 3 – 90.1 the h o n est old d rivellers y o n d e r o f A u ld R e e k ie i.e. the law yers o f ‘O l d S m o k y ’ (E d in b u rg h ). 90 .2 a w e e k o f d ays a w h ole w eek. 9 0 .13 c o ck o f the p it p lucky, spirited fellow . 9 0 .13 – 1 4 th y v e r y A c h a te s yo u r faith fu l com pan ion, as A ch ates is to A e n e a s in V irg il’s A en eid. 9 0 .14 – 1 5 h an d an d glo ve— b ark an d tree p ro verb ial exp ressio n s : R a y , 2 7 1; O D EP, 346, 556. 9 0 .2 8 L ’u n n ’e m p ê c h e p a s l’au tre French the one does not p reven t the other. 9 1 .6 fo o lin g h im u p to the top o f his b e n t see H am let, 3 . 2 .3 7 4 – 7 5 . 9 3.4 0 G e n iu s o f the H o u se tutelary and co n tro llin g spirit o f the ho u se. 9 4 .2 2 d esig n e d fo r in ten d in g to travel to. 94 m o tto see Jo h n F le tc h e r and p erh ap s F ra n c is B eau m o n t, L o ve's P ilg rim ­ age (p rin ted 1 6 4 7 ) , 2 .4 .1 – 4 : ‘p u t them o f f ' m eans ‘p ass them o f f '. 94.37 – 3 8 this c o m e s to h a n d . . . p in t-sto u p p ro verb ial : G u y M an n erin g, M a g n u m , 4 .2 0 7 η . 9 4 .4 1 d e ’il m a y care an exp ressio n o f irritation. 9 5 .4 the B a s s the B a ss R o c k . S e e note to 6 2 .2 2 . 9 5 .1 0 b its 0 ’ p ig s h an d fu l o f crockery. 9 5 .1 1 – 1 2 hatted kitt p reparation o f m ilk w ith a cream y top, m ad e o f bu tterm ilk, m ilk, su gar, and spices. 9 5 .1 8 e v e r co m e h a m e to h im sell b y som e ch an ce ( or in som e d eg ree ) reco v er his w its. 95.37 W u ll a w in s! alas ! 9 5 .4 2 – 4 3 h ere a w a ’, th ere a w a ’ hereab o u t, th ereabout. 9 5 .4 3 like the L a ir d 0 ’ H o tc h p o tc h ’ s lan d s in E n g lish (b u t not in S c o ts ) law hotchpotch is ‘the b len d in g or gath erin g to geth er o f p ro p erties fo r the p u rp o se o f secu rin g eq uality o f division, esp ecially as p ractised in certain cases in the distribution o f the p ro p erty o f an intestate p a ren t’ ( O E D ). 9 6 .6 – 7 w a s n ae grit m a tte r o f p re p a ra tio n d id n ’t take m u ch prep arin g. 96.8 o rd in a ry co u rse o f fare no rm al eatin g habits or diet. 96.8 p e tty co ver, as th e y sa y at the L o u v e r the Fren ch p etit couvert ( ‘ sm all p la ce -se ttin g ’ ) m eans an u n cerem o n iou s m eal taken b y a k in g or no blem an . A t the p erio d o f the novel the L o u v re w as the royal palace in P aris. 9 6 .1 9 – 20 g a n g on con tinue. 9 6 .2 1 d e ’il b u t I d re ss y e I ’ll certain ly p rep a re fo r you. 9 6 .2 5 w ith re v e re n c e w ith its garnishings. 9 7 .7 G e o rg e B u c h a n a n re fe rrin g not to the ren aissan ce hu m an ist, b u t to the p o p u la r chapbook The W itty an d E n tertain in g E xploits o f G eorge Buchanan, who was Com m only C a lled , the K in g 's F o o l (G la s g o w , 1 7 7 7 ) . O n pages 3 7 – 40 th ere is a set o f ‘W itty and E n terta in in g Je s t s , E p ig ram s and E p itap h s, & c .’ . 9 7 .2 3 w h ite b ro th a rich soup, involving prep aration over several days, w h ose in gredien ts in clu d e w h ite ch ick en an d grou n d alm ond.

EXPLANATO RY NOTES

357

9 7 .2 6 as w a s w e e l h e r p a rt w h ich w as p ro p er fo r h er to do. 9 7 .2 8 – 2 9 the e ffe ct o f th u n n e r it is still a w id ely-h eld b e lie f that th un der turns m ilk sou r, the sam e atm o sp heric con dition p ro d u cin g the two effects. 9 7 .3 0 o u r haill d ish e s all o u r dishes. 9 7 .3 2 c o m m a n d his co u n te n an ce con trol his facial exp ressio n s. 9 7 .4 2 – 9 8 .1 the h ig h -sp irite d e le p h a n t . . . a b ro th e r in c o m m issio n see O liver G o ld sm ith , A n H istory o f the E arth, an d A n im ated N atu re, 8 vo 3s (L o n d o n , 1 7 7 4 ) , 4 .2 7 9 . A ‘b roth er in co m m issio n ’ is som eon e sh arin g a p a r ­ ticular resp on sibility. 99.9 H e n rie tta M a r ia ( 1 6 0 9 – 6 9 ), daugh ter o f H e n ri IV o f F ra n c e and Q u een o f C h a rle s I. 9 9 .19 on a n y p in ch in any extrem ity. 9 9 .3 3 – 3 4 w e a r y fo r his d in n e r C h ev io t ( 3 7 8 ) exp lains : ‘ It w as an old custo m in S c o tland, fo r a h o st to take his gu est to the top o f the tow er o f his h o u se . . . in o rd er that he m ight ad m ire the view , and b y m eans o f the k een air gain a sharp appetite, and so, “ W eary [y earn ] fo r his d in n er.” ’ 10 0 m o tto see The Canterbury Tales, 1 1 1 ( D) 1 8 3 8 – 43 : in all texts available to S c o tt the seco n d line begin s ‘ H av e I ' and the last w o rd (as h ere em en d ed ) is ‘ s u ffisa (u )n c e ’ . T h e F re n c h ‘J e vou s dis sans d o u te’ m eans ‘I tell yo u fo r su re ’ , and ‘ I ne w o ld e ’ m eans ‘ I w o u ld n ’t w ish ’ . 1 0 0 .1 8 b o ld as a n y lio n pro verb ial : see P ro verb s 2 8 .1 and O D E P , 7 2 . 1 0 1 . 1 – 6 fe u -rig h ts . . . rig h ts o f co m m o n ty . . . fe u d a l d ep en d e n ce . . . ten an ts at w ill ‘ fe u -rig h ts ’ w e re righ ts o f p ro p erty granted in p erpetu ity in retu rn fo r paym en ts o f cash , kind, or service to the feu d al su p erio r. ‘ C o m m o n ty’ w as a fo rm o f sh ared o w n ersh ip o f land fo r the p u rp o se o f grazin g anim als or cutting peats. T e n a n ts at w ill h eld land on a type o f p erp etu al lease go vern ed b y an cien t lo cal custom ; th ey had to p ay ren t and p ro vide other services and th eir ten u re w as v ery p recario u s. S in c e ten an cy at w ill is not strictly ‘ fe u d a l’ ten u re, S c o tt is u sin g ‘ fe u d a l’ h ere in a p ejorative rath er than a legal sense. 1 0 1 . 1 0 – 1 4 an d footnote the ro yal p u rv e y o rs . . . an h u n d re d ca ve rn s E d m u n d B u r k e ’s sp eech o f 1 1 F e b ru a ry 1 7 8 0 is qu oted fro m the third volum e o f The Works o f the R ig h t H onourable E dm u nd B u rk e, p u b lish ed in vario us co m ­ bination s o f dates and w ith variation s in the text b y R ivin gto n in L o n d o n . S c o tt’s versio n is clo se to that given in the 1 4 –volum e versio n ( 1 8 0 1 – 2 2 ) at A b b o tsfo rd ( C L A , 1 9 3 ) : the th ird volum e in this set w as p u b lish ed in 1 8 0 1 . T h e em en d ed p a ge no. (280) is co rrect fo r all the version s o f the R ivin gto n collection exam ined. 1 0 1 . 1 7 – 18 aw fu l ru le an d rig h t su p re m a c y The Tam ing o f the S h rew , 5 .2 .1 0 9 . 1 0 1 .39 m a tte r o f u n d e rsta n d in g som ething u n d ersto o d. 10 2 .8 k in d ly aid Scots L a w con tribu tion exacted b y a feu d al lo rd fro m a ‘k in dly ten an t’ , one w h o o ccu p ied land on favo u rable term s u n d er a sp ecial lease w h ich gave a sort o f h ered itary right. 1 0 2 .1 5 C o n s c r ip t F a th e r s o rigin ally m em b ers o f the R o m a n senate, now senators or legislators. 1 0 2 .2 0 D u n s e . . . D in g w a ll the w rite r D u n s, 20 km W o f B e rw ic k -u p o n T w e e d , w as the cou nty tow n o f B erw ic k sh ire. D in g w all is ‘ D in g w e ll’ on his first ap p earan ce in the m an u scrip t, and his A b e rd e e n accen t su gg ests that ‘ D in g w a ll’ is in ten d ed to su gg est ‘hit w e ll’ rath er than to recall the tow n in E a ste r R o ss. A ‘w riter’ is a solicitor. 1 0 2 .2 3 p a la v e r ‘ as the natives o f M a d a g a sc a r call th eir national c o n ven ­ tio n ’ : S a in t R onan’s W ell, E E W N 1 6 , 5 1 . 1 4 – 1 5 . 10 2 .3 5 – 36 c o m p o u n d o r co m p e n sa te com prom ise, or set o f f again st a sum due b y the cred ito r, in this case the feu d al su p erio r (N o rm a n d ). 1 0 2 .3 6 in fine, to agé as a c c o rd s Scots law in short, to act as agen t as m ay b e n e cessary and legal.

358

EXPLANATORY NOTES

1 0 3 . 1 8 – 19 he co u ld n ot see it— ’tw as n ot in the bo n d see T h e M erc h a n t o f V enice, 4 . 1 . 2 5 7 (S h y lo c k ). 1 0 3 .2 6 – 2 7 sto u th rief, o r o p p re ssio n . . . te rm e d it in S c o ts law ‘ stouthrief, or o p p ressio n b y strength o f h an d ’ is th eft aggravated b y v io len ce; ‘v ia facti’ is a L a tin lega l p h rase m ean in g ‘b y m ean s o f an act’, an extraju d icial b u t n o n -vio len t d eed. 1 0 3 .3 4 b y the stro n g h an d b y p h ysical fo rce : see H a m let , 1 . 1 . 1 0 2 . W h en vio len ce o ppo ses the p ro p er execu tion o f a d ec ree, the civil m agistrate can ask the m ilitary to h elp to execu te it ‘m an u m ilitari’ . 1 0 3 .4 2 M a g g y L a u d e r p o p u lar Sco ttish air first p rin ted in A d am C ra ig , A C o llectio n o f th e C h o icest Sco ts T u nes [ 1 7 3 0 ] , 3 8 . T h e w o rd s w e re p u b lish ed b y D a v id H e rd in A n c ie n t a n d M o d e m S co ttish So n g s , H e ro ic B a lla d s , E tc ., 2n d edn , 2 vols (E d in b u rg h , 1 7 7 6 ) , 2 . 7 2 – 7 3 : C L A , 1 7 1 . 1 0 4.2 E l D o ra d o the g o ld en land (o r city); at first the nam e o f an im agin ary cou n try o f fabu lou s rich es w h ich S p a n ish travellers p ro fe sse d to have fo u n d in A m e ric a ; later a gen era l term fo r C e n tra l and S o u th A m erica. 10 4 .5 w ith in its c a u se w a y w ithin the paved area o f the village. 1 0 4 .1 6 gall an d w o rm w o o d L am en tatio n s, 3 . 1 9 . 1 0 4 .2 0 – 2 1 n e c e ssity w a s e q u a lly im p e rio u s an d la w le ss allu d in g to the p ro verb ‘ N e c e ssity h as no la w ’ : see R a y , 1 3 9 , R a m say, 1 0 2 , an d O D E P , 557–58.

1 0 4 .3 2

C a u ld K a il in A b e r d e e n

p o p u lar so n g p u b lish ed b y D a v id H e rd :

s e e A n c ie n t a n d M o d e m S co ttish So n g s, H e ro ic B a lla d s , E tc ., 2n d edn , 2 vols (E d in b u rg h , 1 7 7 6 ) , 2 . 2 0 5 : C L A , 1 7 1 . A n o th er v ersio n ap p eared in the th ird edition o f H e rd ( 1 7 9 1 ), 2 .1 6 0 . T h e m o re literary versio n in T h e Sco ts M u s ic a l M u seu m , ed. Ja m e s Jo h n s o n , 6 vols (E d in b u rg h , 1 7 8 7 – 18 0 3 ), no. 1 6 2 , is attrib­

u ted to A le x a n d e r G o rd o n ( 1 7 4 3 – 1 8 2 7 ) , 4th D u k e o f G o rd o n . T h e tune ap p ears in D o m e n ic o C o r r i, A N e w a n d C om plete C o llectio n o f th e M o st F a v o u rite Sco ts S o n g s, 2 bks ( E d in b u rg h , [c. 1 7 8 3 ]) , 2 4 – 2 5 ( ‘ C a u ld b e the reb els cast’ ), as w e ll as in T h e Sco ts M u s ic a l M u seu m . 1 0 4 .3 8 – 3 9 in ca se the th u n n e r sh o u ld h ae so u re d o u rs see notes to 6 5 .1 9 and 9 7 .2 8 – 29. 1 0 5 . 7 – 8 his p re sen tatio n fro m the late lo rd in the C h u rc h o f S c o tla n d u ntil 1 6 90 , an d again fro m 1 7 1 2 to 1 8 7 4 , the p a rish m in ister w as n o m in ated b y a p atron (u su ally the c h ie f la n d o w n er) to P resb ytery fo r ad m ission to a p arish . B e tw e e n 16 9 0 and 1 7 1 2 , an d sin ce 1 8 7 4 a m in ister is elected b y the p a rish con gregatio n . 1 0 5 .8 – 9 b re w ste r w ife w o m an w h o b rew s an d sells m alt liq u o rs. 10 5 .9 sco re d u p ad d ed u p and en tered as an account. 10 5 .1 2 stan d h is frien d act the p art o f a frien d to him . 10 5 .1 5 a ’ co m e s o ’ tak in g folk on th e rig h t sid e everyth in g d ep en d s on getting on the righ t sid e o f p eo ple. 10 5 .2 0 L o u p t h ed y k e lite ra lly ‘leap the w a ll’ , a term u sed to ind icate a w ild , w ayw ard , u n d iscip lin ed p erso n . 1 0 5 .2 1 w a s ab o u t m y la d y i.e. w as h er p erso n al m aid. 10 5 .2 6 h e is e ’en c h e a p o ’ t he d eserve s it; he gets o f f lightly. 1 0 5 .3 9 a c a n ty carlin e see R o b e rt B u m s , ‘T h e A u th o r’s E a rn e st C r y and P ra y e r’ ( 1 7 8 6 ) , lin e 6 2 . 1 0 6 .1 5 c u tty sp oo n s sh o rt-h an d le d spoon s, u su ally o f horn . 1 0 6 .2 9 – 3 o settin g u p th e ir th roats raisin g th eir voices. 1 0 6 .3 1 – 3 2 A sig h t o f y o u is g u d e fo r sa ir een pro verb ial : O D E P , 7 3 2 . 10 6 .3 4 th e n igh t tonight. 10 6 .3 8 w a d b e en w o u ld have b een . 10 6 .4 0 T h e n e ’e r a fit y e ’s g a n g y o u ’re not go in g a foot. 10 7 .15 at e ’en in the evening.

EXPLANATORY NOTES

359

1 0 7 .1 7 – 18 N e ’e r a b it b u t she G o o d heaven s ! she. 10 7 .2 0 g aw sie co w , go o d ly c a lf p ro verbial : com pare ‘ L ik e cow , like c a lf (O D E P , 1 5 1).

107.34 H o u t tout! n o n sen se! 1 0 7 .3 7 B id e th e b e n t en d u re the d anger. 1 0 7 .3 8 – 3 9 ly in g in the h ills . . . a m o u n ta in -m a n betw een 16 6 2 and 1 6 9 0 the C o ve n an ters, o r m o u n tain -m en , sou gh t refu g e in the hills to w o rsh ip in secret con ven ticles. 1 0 7 .4 1 the S e r v ic e -b o o k either the S co ttish P ray er B o o k , in tro d u ced b y C h a rle s I in 1 6 3 7 , o r the A n g lic an B o o k o f C o m m o n P ray er (as revised in 16 6 2 ). H o w ev er, the u se o f a litu rgy w as not req u ired in the R esto ratio n p erio d : see G o rd o n D o n ald so n , S c o tla n d : Ja m e s V – Ja m e s VI I (E d in b u rg h , 19 6 5 ), 3 6 4 , and T h e T a le o f O ld M o rta lity , E E W N 4b, note to 9 4 .18 . 10 8 .4 gn id e the g e a r m an age the m o n ey econ om ically. 1 0 8 .1 0 – 1 1 ilk a lan d h as it’s ain la u c h pro verb ial : see R a y , 2 8 5 and O D E P , 4 4 1 . L a u ch is a varian t o f ‘la ic h ’ , an area o f lo w -lyin g groun d. 108.12 u p b y e y o n d e r up there (som e distance away, and su ggestin g an accom panying gesture). 1 0 8 .1 3 – 1 4 P u n ch e o n . . . L e ith P u n ch eo n , w h ose nam e m eans ‘large c ask ’ , w as (fictio n ally) co o p er b y appoin tm en t to Q u een A n n e at the exchan ge o f the tim ber m erchants at L e ith , the p o rt o f E d in b u rg h . (R o b e rtso n ) 1 0 8 .1 5– 1 6 fra e h a m e aw ay fro m hom e. 108.18 taks the tou t takes huff. 1 0 8 .2 2 – 23 sae she sh o u ld , to set u p fo r so she should be to have as her

object. 10 8 .2 6

w h a t like w h at sort o f person . H o u t a w a n o n sen se! 10 8 .3 9 C a u ld b e m y c a st m ay m y fate b e u np leasant. 10 8 .4 1– 42 a p e n n y . . . tw al p en n ie s one penny Stirling (0 .4 p ), worth

108.31

twelve pen nies Sco ts. 10 8 footnote M o n e tæ S c o tic æ scilice t L a tin in Sco ttish m oney, that is to say. 1 0 9 .1 6 toss h im in a b lan k et F io n a R o b ertso n su ggests an allu sion to the treatm en t o f Sa n c h o Pan za fo r his m aster’s n o n -p aym en t o f an inn b ill ( C e r ­ van tes, D o n Q u ixo te, P a rt 1 ( 1 6 0 5 ) , C h . 1 7 ) . 10 9 m o tto see Jo h n F le tc h e r, W it W ithou t M o n ey (p u b lish ed 1 6 3 9 ) , 1 . 1 . 1 6 8 – 70. 1 1 0.4 co u n cil the lin k in g w ith the p arish kirk sessio n suggests that bu rgh co u n cil rath er than P rivy C o u n c il is intend ed. 1 10 .4 th at I su ld sa y sae alas that I sh ou ld say it. 1 1 o.1 3 w e a r y on h im a plagu e on him . 1 1 o.1 6 H o u t tout n o n sen se ! 1 1 0 . 1 6 – 1 7 it’ s co m e to m u c k le ... n e ith e r p ro verb ial: ‘ S p o k e n w h en w e rejec t the P ro ffe r o f a m ean S e rv ic e , M a tc h , o r B u sin e ss, w e are not com e so low as that y e t’ ( K e lly , 2 0 7 ) . S e e also R a m say, 92 and O D E P , 1 3 5 . 1 1 0 . 1 8 – 1 9 h an d s a f f is fa ir p la y p ro verb ial : a fight is all righ t pro vid ed it does not b eco m e p h ysical (se e O D E P , 3 4 8 ) . 1 1 1 .2 – 3 in so m e so rt to som e extent. 1 1 1 .7 w h a t fo r w hy. 1 1 1 .30 tu rn sh o rt o f f u p o n ch an ge directio n ab ru p tly to attack. 1 1 1 .3 3 – 3 4 m y su b sta n ce d isp o n ed u p o n m y good s han d ed over. 1 1 1 .36 e v e ry tw a w o rd s every other w ord. 1 1 1 .36 g a r y o u as gu d e p ay yo u b ack in yo u r ow n coin. 1 1 2 .1 2 – 13 h ills an d h ag s, an d c a v e s o f the earth see H eb re w s 1 1 . 3 8 . 1 12 .18 A rg y le A rc h ib a ld C am p b ell ( 1 6 2 9 – 85 ), ninth E a r l o f A rgy ll, took

36ο

EXPLANATORY NOTES

arm s to oppose the accessio n o f the R o m a n C ath o lic Ja m e s V II and II in 16 8 5 . 1 1 2 .2 2 – 23 T h e seed o f the righ teou s . . . b re a d see P salm 3 7 .2 5 . 1 1 2 .2 4 y o u r fu lln ess yo u r abu nd an ce. T h e r e is pro b ab ly an allu sion to the m argin al (i.e. alternative) tran slation o f E x o d u s 2 2 .2 9 : ‘T h o u shalt not d elay to o ffe r thy fu ln ess’ . 1 1 2 .3 0 h an d an d glove w i’ p ro verbial : R a y , 2 7 1 ; O D E P , 3 4 6 . 1 1 2 .3 2 – 33 w a d g a r y e t r o w . . . c h e e s e pro verb ial : see R a y, 2 0 3 ; O D E P , 542. 1 1 2 .3 4 c a t an d dog, h are an d h o u n d pro verb ial : see R a y, 1 7 4 and O D E P , 7 ( ‘T o agree like cats and d o g s’ ). 1 1 3. 1 d riv in g o w e r p a ssin g the tim e. 1 1 3 .2 o w e r b y y o n d e r o ver yon der. 1 1 3 .4 tro th is he ’sayh w g tin u p 13.6 he is ind eed. 13. far aff far away from 1 1 3 .2 3 a ffo rd eth m a tte r provides a cau se. 1 1 3 .2 4 N e v e r fa sh y o u r b e ard p ay no heed . 1 1 3 . 2 5 – 26 I ken b e st h o w to tu rn m y ain cak e C h ev io t ( 1 3 8 ) reco gn ises this as pro verbial. 1 1 3 .4 3 b id e a w e e stay a little. 1 14 .2 – 3 fa ce d his co m p an io n s d o w n m ain tained to his com p an io n s’ faces. 1 1 4 . 5 – 6 b e n t u p his w h o le soul as a bo w i s ‘b en t u p ’ , strun g read y fo r u se. 1 1 4 . 7 – 8 m ig h t se e m b o th sp e a r an d sh ield see M ilto n , P a ra d ise L o st, 4 .9 9 0 (d e scrib in g S a ta n ). 1 1 4 .1 7 – 23 I h ave h eard . . . sh u ffle a sarab an d the sou rce o f this an ec ­ dote has not b een disco vered . 1 1 4 .3 0 – 3 1 m a k it b e tte r to m ake it m ore w orthw hile to. 1 14 .3 5 – 36 th at o f all great m en . . . abo u t it L o u is X I V (fo r w h om see note to 8 8.8– 1 o ) is said to have resp o n d ed to all req u ests b y sayin g ‘J e v e rra i’ ( ‘ I w ill see about it’ ). 1 1 4 .4 1 – 4 2 m ak e d ay an d n igh t o f it probably m ake a day and night o f it, b eh ave riotously. 1 1 5 m o tto not iden tified : p ro b ab ly b y Sco tt. 1 1 5 . 2 5 – 2 6 the sw a y o f its B a ro n s . . . n eig h b o u rh o o d in S c o ts law , a baron is the o w n er o f an estate created b y d irect grant fro m the crow n . A grant o f b aro n y carried w ith it both crim inal and civil ju risd iction : the b aro n cou rt w as com peten t to try all crim es excep t the m ost serio u s (m u rd er, robbery, rape and fire -ra isin g ), and had p o w e r to settle dispu tes betw een feu d al su p erio r and vassal, lan d o w n er and tenant, etc. A s feu d al su p erio r, the b aro n cou ld grant exclu sive p o ssessio n and u se o f a heritable p ro p erty to a vassal in retu rn fo r p aym en t o f a feu duty w h ich cou ld be m o netary or in kind or in service, or in any com bin ation o f the th ree; as lan d lord the b aro n cou ld sp ecify rents in m oney, kind or service, or in any com bination. 1 1 6 .7 p u t th em m a d an c e once m ad e th em m ad. 1 1 6 .1 1 u p b y e th ere up th ere. 116 .13 s i c a la n g h ead as he h as sin ce he has so m u ch sh rew d in telligen ce. 1 1 7 . 3 9 – 40 to rch es o f w a x . . . ta llo w -c a n d le s i.e. can d elab ra o f w ax can d les as distinct fro m sin gle can d les m ad e o f anim al fat. 1 1 8 .5 as stro n g as S a m p so n Sa m so n , w h ose story is told in Ju d g e s C h s 1 4 – 1 6 , is pro verb ial fo r strength. T h e fo rm u latio n h ere also seem s to d raw on S a m s o n ’s rid d le about the sw arm o f b ees and h o n ey in the carcase o f a lion (Ju d g e s 1 4 . 8 – 1 4 ) . 1 1 8.8 in so m e so rt to a certain extent; in an un certain or u n d efin ed way. 1 1 8 .2 7 e x c u se y o u r w a itin g excu se yo u fro m w aiting.

EXPLANATORY NOTES

361

1 1 8 .3 3 – 34 the Christian law . . . upon your anger see E p h esian s 4 .2 6 : ‘let not the sun go dow n u pon yo u r w rath ’ . 1 19 .39 your spirit goes before your wit com pare the pro verb ‘yo u r ton gue run s b efo re yo u r w it’ (R a y , 2 1 3 ; O D E P , 8 3 0 ) . 1 2 1 motto P h ilip M a ssin g e r, A N ew Way to P a y O ld D ebts (p u b lish ed 1 6 3 3 ), 3 . 3 .5 0 – 5 6 : to be ‘in a w ay to ’ is to be lik ely to do, to have a good ch an ce o f doing. 1 2 1 . 2 1 – 24 the versatile old Earl o f W iltshire . . . not o f the oak S ir W illiam P a u let ( 1 4 8 5 ?– 1 5 7 2 ) , first E a rl o f W iltsh ire, is cred ited with this rem ark in R o b e rt N a u n to n ’ s Fragm enta R ega lia, w h ich S c o tt edited : M em oirs o f Robert C ary E a rl o f M onm outh. . . an d Fragm enta R e g a lia . . . by S ir Robert N a u n ton (E d in b u rg h , 1 8 0 8 ) , 1 9 5 – 9 6 : C L 4, 2 3 1 . 1 22. 1 the Scottish cabinet the S co ttish P rivy C o u n cil. 1 2 2.2 2 out o f court co n clu d ed , w ithout the p o ssibility o f b e in g re-o p en ed .

1 2 2 .2 7 – 3 1 liable to be reviewed . . . rem eid in law . . . regularity o f such a procedure in the C la im o f R ig h t ( 1 1 A p ril 1 6 8 9 ) the Sco ttish C o n ­ ven tio n o f E sta tes laid dow n the constitutional and legal prin cip les b y w h ich it w ish ed W illiam an d M a r y to govern , in clu d in g the righ t o f every su b ject ‘to p ro test fo r rem eed o f law to the K in g and P arliam en t again st Se n te n ce s p ro ­ n o u n ced b y the lo rd s o f S e s s io n e ’ . H o w ev er, w h ile in the p erio d b efo re the U n io n o f 1 7 0 7 it w as not d ispu ted that a ‘protestation fo r rem eid o f la w ’ w as a com peten t m ethod o f ap p ealin g to P arliam ent, th ere w as disagreem en t about the extent o f the righ t o f ap peal fro m the C o u rt o f S e ssio n . S e e also note to 1 9 . 8 – 9, and the text at 1 2 5 . 1 6 – 2 5 .

1 22.43 – 1 2 3 ·1 Scott o f Scotstarvet’s ‘Staggering State o f Scots States­ m en’ the exp osu re o f the w iles and m isfo rtu n es o f statecraft, The Staggering Sta te o f the Scots Statesm en fo r O ne H u n dred Years, viz. from 15 5 0 to / 6 5 0 , by S ir Jo h n S c o t o f Sco tstarv et ( 1 5 8 5 – 1 6 7 0 ) , w as circu lated in m an u scrip t u ntil it w as eventually p u b lish ed in E d in b u rg h in 1 7 5 4 ( C L A , 1 7 ) . (R o b e rtso n ) 12 3 .6 – 7 Fordun had quoted . . . in terra L a tin n eith er a rich m an n or a stron g one, n ay not even a w ise S c o t, shall last lo n g on earth w h en envy prevails. T h e sou rce o f this quotation has not b een fou nd . It do es not ap p ear in the Scotichronicon b y Jo h n o f F o rd u n (d . 1 3 8 4 ? ) an d W alter B o w e r (d . 1 4 4 9 ) , bu t pro verb ial sayings w e re o ften thus attributed. 1 2 3 . 1 0 com es in is elected. 1 2 3 .1 2 – 13 fifth in descent from the K night o f Tillibardine i.e. L a d y R a ven sw o o d and the M a rq u is o f A — — share a g reat–great grand father. T h e g re at-g reat gran d fath er o f the h istorical M a rq u is o f A th o ll, and fro m 1 7 0 3 first D u k e , w as S ir Jo h n M u rra y o f T u llib a rd in e , E a rl o f T u llib a rd in e fro m 16 0 6 , d. 1 6 1 3 . 1 2 3 . 1 7 – 1 8 those unarm ed and unable M ephebosheths in 2 S a m u el M ep h e b o sh e th is co n sp icu ou s fo r his extrem e lam en ess (4 .4 and 19 .2 6 ) . S c o tt is p ro b ab ly reca llin g D r y d e n ’s re feren c e to ‘lam e M ep h ib o sh eth the W isa rd ’s S o n ’ in his con tribu tion to N a h u m T a t e ’ s The Second P a rt o f A bsalom and A ch itophel ( 1 6 8 2 ) , line 4 0 5 . (R o b e rtso n ) 1 2 3 . 1 9 called over the coals p ro verbial ph rase, m ean in g called to acco u n t (O D E P , 3 5 8 ) . 1 2 3 .2 0– 2 1 have a crow to pluck with you pro verb ial p h ra se , m ean in g have fault to find w ith yo u ( R a y , 1 8 4 ; O D E P , 1 5 7 ) . 1 2 4 .1 6 Sarah, D uchess o f M arlborough S a ra h C h u rch ill ( 16 6 0 – 1 7 4 4 ), w ife o f the first D u k e o f M arlb o ro u g h , and the fo rm idable favou rite o f Q u een A n n e, had W h ig sym pathies. 12 4 .3 0 he had it in direction he had instructions. 12 4 .4 2 fill him drunk m ake him drunk. 1 2 5 . 1 6 – 25 Since the C laim o f R ig h t . . . strict law see notes to 1 2 2 . 2 7 – 3 1 and 1 9 . 8 – 9.

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EXPLANATORY NOTES

12 6 .5 the M a s te r m ig h t be rep o n ed again st the attain d er i.e. his title, lost w h en his fath er w as attainted o f treaso n (se e note to 1 5 . 2 1 – 2 3 ), m igh t be restored , no rm ally b y A c t o f P arliam en t, th ou gh until 1 7 0 7 a royal p ard o n w o u ld have su fficed . 1 2 6 .3 8 – 3 9 d riv en on m a tte rs too h a rd ly p ro secu ted m atters too rig o r­ o u sly : A lic e said ‘Y o u have driven m atters h ard on w ith the h o u se o f R a v e n s – w ood’ ( 3 5 .1) . 1 2 7 m o tto F ra n c is B eau m o n t and Jo h n F le tc h e r, A K in g a n d N o K in g (acted 1 6 1 1 , p u b lish ed 1 6 1 9 ) , 3 . 2 .4 3 – 6. 1 2 8 .8 – 1 1 actio n s o f c o m p t an d r e c k o n in g . . . e x p iry o f the leg al Scots la w b y an ‘ action o f com pt and reck o n in g’ a cred ito r can fo rce the d ebto r to give an acco u n t o f tran sactions b etw een them and p a y an y balan ce du e. A m u ltiple– po in din g is an action initiated b y a debto r to settle the com petin g claim s o f several cred ito rs to his m o n ey and property. A n adjudication is an action b y w h ich the h eritable estate o f a d ebto r is tran sferred to the cred ito r as secu rity fo r and satisfaction o f the debt, the debtor b e in g able to red eem it b y p a yin g the debt w ith in a certain tim e. A wadset co rresp o n d s rou gh ly to an E n g lish m o rtgage, b y w h ich lan d is tran sferred as secu rity fo r a loan , to b e red eem ed on repaym ent. W ad sets m ay b e either proper, in w h ich case the cred ito r h old s the lan d as a p ro p rietor, entitled to the rents and pro fits fro m the lan d until the lo an is rep aid ; or im proper, in w h ich case the cred ito r m ay take the rents bu t m u st acco u n t to the b o rro w er fo r an excess o f rents o ver agreed interest. B y ‘p o in d in g o f the g ro u n d ’ m o veables b elo n gin g to tenants o ccu p yin g the lan d can b e taken b y the cred ito r, bu t only to the extent o f th eir rent. A declarator is an action bro u gh t b y an in terested party to have som e legal righ t or status d eclared , b u t w ithou t claim on any p erso n called as d e fen d er to do anything. T h e legal is the p erio d (5 or 1 0 yea rs ) w ithin w h ich the d ebtor has a righ t to red eem lan d s taken b y the cred ito r, by payin g o f f the debt. I f the debt is not p aid , the cred ito r can claim an abso lu te righ t o ver the p ro p erty b y o btainin g a d ecree d ec la rin g the exp iry o f the legal, (fro m R o b e rtso n ) 1 2 8 .2 5 d e b itu m fu n d i Scots law a debt that attaches to land. T h e b o n d in qu estio n w as p resu m ab ly a heritable one, creatin g a righ t o ver land that, as a debitum fu n d i, cou ld b e m ad e effectu al b y p o in d in g o f the grou n d (se e note ab o ve). 12 9 .2 – 3 a n n u a l–r e n t . . . p rin c ip a l in terest accu m u lated w ith the p rin ­ cip al debt, ever in c rea sin g the su m due. 1 2 9 .3– 4 no n ook o r co ign o f leg al ad van tag e see M acbeth, 1.6 .6 – 7 : ‘no . . . coign o f v an tage’ , i.e. no p ro jectin g tu rret as lookou t position. 1 2 9 .2 3 b e lted lo rd s ‘b e lte d ’ re fe rs to a distinctive acco u trem en t o f nobility, although p ro p erly only earls are belted. 1 2 9 .2 9 as m o th s into ra im e n t reca llin g the S e rm o n on the M o u n t : M atth ew 6 . 1 9 – 2 0 , 2 5 , and 2 8 ; L u k e 1 2 .2 3 and 3 3 . 1 3 0 . 2 3 – 2 4 the re liq u e s o f the s u p p e r . . . m o rn in g m eal e c h o in g Ham– le t, 1 . 2 . 1 8 0 – 8 1 : ‘ T h e fu n eral b ak ’d –m e a ts/ D id cold ly fu rn ish forth the m a r­ riage ta b les’ . 1 3 0 .2 8 sta n d in g c u p cup w ith a b ase. 1 3 0 .4 0 – 4 1 a m e sse n g e r co m e to a rre st m e fo r d eb t a m e sse n g e r–at– arm s execu ted su m m o n ses fo r the C o u rt o f S e ssio n . A rre st fo r deb t w as only po ssib le on ce the d ebto r h ad failed to resp on d to a sum m ons fro m the C o u rt req u irin g the repaym en t o f the d e b t; failu re to do so resu lted in outlaw ry and im prisonm ent. F o r a m o re exten d ed treatm en t, see The A n tiqu a ry, E E W N 3 , 3 0 6 .3 7 – 3 0 8 .1 8 and notes. 1 3 1 .1 o– 1 1 the v e r y m o r a l . . . S ta n d , to a tru e m a n i.e. like a h igh w ay­ m an. S e e I H enry IV , 1 . 2 . 1 0 5 – 6 ( F a ls t a ff re fe rrin g to P o in s). 1 3 2 . 1 2 is in d e p e n d e n c e Scots la w aw aits settlem ent.

EXPLANATORY NOTES

363

13 3 .10 – 1 1 w o o d ie w ritte n on his v e r y v iso n o m y gallow s w ritten on his fa c e : see note to 5 3 . 8 – 9. 13 3 .11 tw a an d a p la ck a con sid erab le sum o f m oney, tw ice m y w o rld y w ealth. 13 3 m o tto not id en tified; p ro b ab ly b y Sco tt. Jo n a h , a m in o r prophet, w as h eld b y fello w sailors to b e resp on sib le fo r a storm , w as th row n o verbo ard, and w as sw allo w ed b y a ‘ great fish ’: see Jo n a h 1 . 1 – 1 7 . 1 3 4 .2 3 C o o lie C o n d id d le coolie is a con tem ptu ous nam e fo r a m an; con­ d idd le m ean s ‘ filc h ’ or ‘ destro y b y w a stag e’ . 13 4 .2 4 – 25 th eft u n d e r t r u s t . . . h o n este r folk s Scots law th eft in b reach o f a tru st rep o sed in the th ie f w as an aggravation o f the crim e, con stitu ting a capital o ffen ce . P resu m ab ly C o n d id d le w o u ld have b een a b aro n and w o u ld thus have b een able to act as ju d ge in his b aro n ’s c o u rt: see note to 1 1 5 . 2 5 – 26. 1 3 5 . 3 3 – 34 ‘ S u u m c u iq u e trib u ito ’ . . . Ju stin ia n Rom an law give to each his ow n. T h is is one o f the th ree fu n dam en tal legal p recep ts en un ciated b y the R o m a n ju rist U lp ia n (d . 2 2 8 a d ) an d cod ified on the instru ctions o f the E m p e ro r Ju stin ia n in 5 2 9 –5 3 3 a d . T h e other two p recep ts w e re ‘to live h o n o u r­ ab ly’ and ‘not to h arm an other p e rso n ’ . 13 6 .3 1 “ o v e r -c r o w e d ,” to u se a p h ra se o f S p e n c e r The F a erie Q ueene , 1 .9 .5 0 ; The Shepheardes C alender, ‘F e b ru a ry ’ , line 1 4 2 . 1 3 7 .2 1 the P re te n d e r Ja m e s F ra n c is E d w a rd S tu a rt ( 1 6 8 8 – 1 7 6 6 ) , w ho after the d eath o f his fath er Ja m e s V II and II in 1 7 0 1 w as the pretender (claim an t) to the B ritish th rone. 1 3 7 .2 8 In im ic u s a m ic issim u s L a tin a very frien d ly enem y. 13 7 .3 4 fid u s A c h a te s L a tin faith fu l A ch ates. S e e note to 9 0 .1 3 – 14 . 1 3 8 . 1 – 2 S ix h eirs p o rtio n e rs . . . ric h in S c o ts law , the heritable p ro p ­ erty le ft b y a p erso n w h o dies w ithou t m ale h eirs w as divid ed eq u ally either betw een the in d ivid u al’s d augh ters, or b etw een other fem ale relatives o f the sam e d eg ree o f relatio n sh ip to the d eceased . L a d y G im in g to n ’s w ealth has in crea sed as the n u m b er o f c o -h e irs sh arin g it has d im inished. (R o b e rtso n ) 13 8 .2 – 3 m a r c h w ith adjoin. 138 m o tto not iden tified ; p ro b ab ly b y Sco tt. 1 3 8 .2 5 fu rn ish fo rth the M a s te r ’ s table see H am let, 1 . 2 . 1 8 0 – 8 1 : ‘the fu n eral b ak ’d -m e a ts/ D id cold ly fu rn ish forth the m arriage tab les’ . 1 3 8 . 2 6 – 2 7 c o u ld h a v e e a t e n a h o r s e b e h in d th e s a d d le p ro verbial: R a y, I 97. 1 3 0 .4 1 m in d to n ae seen rem em b er seein g. 1 3 9 .7 c o m e to te rm s com e to an agreem en t. 1 3 9 .1 0 k eep y o u r ain state behave in a d ign ified m an ner. 1 3 9 .17 T h o m a s the R h y m e r T h o m a s L e a rm o n t o f E rc e ld o u n e , a 1 3 t h cen tu ry p o et fro m the S c o ttish B o rd e rs , w as cred ited w ith rh ym in g p ro p h ecies o f a glo o m y turn, fre q u e n d y p u b lish ed as chapbooks. C a le b ’s utteran ce is in T h o m a s ’s style, b u t it d o es not allu de to an y p articu lar pro ph ecy. 13 9 .1 7 w h o se ton gu e co u ld n a lie see the b allad ‘T h o m a s the R h y m e r’ ( C h ild 3 7 C ) , stanza 1 7 : M instrelsy, 4 .8 9 . T h e ‘T h o m a s ’ o f the ballad, and the rom an ce, w as id en tified w ith T h o m a s o f E rc e ld o u n e in the 1 5 th century. 13 9 .2 6 c o m in g ro u n d com in g to pass w ith the revolution o f events. 1 3 9 .2 7 T r u c e w ith en ou gh o f ; have done with. 1 3 9 .3 3 K e lp ie w a ter-d em o n , u su ally in the fo rm o f a h o rse, w h ich is said to hau n t rivers, fo rd s, etc., and lu re the u n w ary to th eir deaths. 1 4 0 . 8 - 1 0 w h a t h ad th e y a d o ... a d ra p b ra n d y see H isto ric al N o te, 3 3 4 . 1 4 0 .3 3 - 3 5 the lan gu age o f the D u k e . . . an o th er fa th e r see A s You L ik e

It, 1.2.206–09. 1 4 1 . 5 – 6 u p -b y e y o n d e r up th ere (in d icatin g a p lace som e w ay o ff). 1 4 1 . 1 9 b ro a d p ie c e n am e ap p lied after the in tro du ction o f the gu in ea

364

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( £ 1 .05 ) in 1 6 6 3 to the m u ch b ro a d er and th in ner tw enty sh illin g p iece ( £ 1 . 0 0 ) o f previo u s reign s. 1 4 1 .2 1 p u t u p pu t aw ay, pu t in yo u r pocket. 1 4 1 . 2 7 – 2 8 a w ilfu l m an . . . m a u n to C u p a r two syn on ym ous pro verb s w h ich w e re o ften linked (R a m sa y , 86; O D E P , 89 0, 1 6 1 ). C o m p a re 4 7 .1 0 . 1 4 1 . 2 8 – 2 9 p ity o f y o u r life yo u r life m ay b e at risk. 1 4 1 . 3 6 – 3 7 W ise ly saith the h o ly m a n . . . a ll m e n 1 E s d ra s 4 .2 2 in the A p ocryph a. 1 4 2 . 4 1 – 4 2 n ot feelin g q u ite e a s y . . . feelin gs see M acbeth, 1 . 3 . 1 4 4 –46 : ‘N e w h o n o u rs com e u po n h im ,/ L ik e o ur strange garm en ts, cleave not to th eir m o u ld / B u t w ith the aid o f u se ’ (B a n q u o o f M a c b e th ). 1 4 3 .8 k n o w s . . . on w h ic h sid e h is b re a d is b u ttered p ro verb ial : O D EP, 438. 1 4 3 . 1 7 d o ch an d o rro ch G a elic ‘ d eo ch an d o rm s’ , stirrup cup , partin g glass. 1 4 3 . 3 1– 3 2 as b la ck as m o u rn in g w e e d [ L a d y E liza b eth W ard la w ], H a rd yk n u te:A Fragm ent ( 1 7 1 9 ) , lin e 2 3 1 : ‘H is to w ’r that u s ’ d w ith to rch es lig h t/ T o shin e sae far at n ig h t,/ S e e m ’d n ow as b la ck as m o u rn in g w e e d ,/ N a e m arvel sair h e sig h ’d ’ . (C o r s o n ) 1 4 4 .5 – 6 w ith –d ra w in g ro o m draw in g room . 1 4 4 .1 7 S ir T h o m a s H o p e an d L o r d S ta ir S ir T h o m a s H o p e o f C raig h a ll ( ? 1 5 8 0 – 16 4 6 ) , L o r d A d vo cate fro m 16 2 6 ; fo r L o r d S ta ir see H isto ric al N o te,

333·

1 4 4 .2 1 a b la ck silk G e n e v a co w l the fo rm o f sk u ll–cap ad op ted fro m m inisters o f the refo rm ed C h u rc h in G e n e v a b y S co ttish Presb yterian s. 1 4 4 .3 1 O sta d e an d T e n ie r s A d ria e n van O stad e ( 1 6 1 0 – 8 5 ) an d D a v id T e n ie r s the Y o u n g e r ( 1 6 1 0 – 9 0 ) sp ecialised in gen re pictu res o f lo w life. 1 4 4 .3 8 – 3 9 aw fu l ru le an d rig h t s u p r e m a c y The Tam ing o f the S h rew , 5 .2 .1 0 9 . 1 4 4 .4 2 – 4 3 d o u b le c h im n ie s w id e firep laces. 1 4 5 .3 5 ce d a n t a rm a togæ L a tin let arm s yield to the gow n; let m ilitary p o w er yield to the civil au th o rity: C ic e ro , D e O fficiis (4 4 BC ), 1 .2 2 .7 7 . 1 4 6 .1 T h in k o f ju st im agine. 1 46 .3 the M u ll o f G a llo w a y the sou th ern m o st po in t o f the w e stern p e n in ­ sula o f G allo w ay , and thus o f all S c o tland, n oted fo r its sm all, tou gh G a llo w a y h o rses. 14 6 .6 c la w u p both y o u r m itten s troun ce yo u both. 1 4 6 .1 1 – 1 4 “ T h e r e w a s a h ag g is . . . F a l de ra l,” & c see [ C h a rle s K ir k ­ p atrick S h a rp e ,] A B a lla d Book [E d in b u rg h , 1 8 1 8 ] , 69, no. 2 6 : C L A , 1 6 1 . T h e bo ok w as d ed icated to Sco tt. 1 4 6 .1 5 M r C o r d e r y the sch o o lm aster’s nam e d erives fro m M a th u rin C o rd ie r or C o rd e riu s ( 1 4 7 8 or 1 4 8 4 – 1 5 6 4 ) , w h ose C olloquia Scholastica, first p u b lish ed in 1 5 6 4 and fre q u e n tly reprin ted , w as w id ely u sed as a sch o o l text­ bo o k : S c o tt’s p u b lish er A rc h ib a ld C o n sta b le w as involved in the pu b licatio n o f an edition in 18 0 7 . 14 6 .2 6 w e st a w a y in the w est. 1 4 7 .5 – 6 as c a u tio u sly as i f he h ad b e en tre a d in g u p o n eg g s p ro v e r­ b ia l: O D E P , 2 1 8 . 1 4 8 m o tto see R o b e rt T a ilo r, The H ogge hath L o st his P ea rle ( L o n d o n , 1 6 1 3 ), 1 . 1 . T h e speak er, C a rra c u s, is about to ab d u ct the dau gh ter o f old L o r d W ealthy, not kno w in g that his treach ero u s frien d A lb e rt has ju st sed u ce d h er at night p reten d in g to be C a rra c u s. S c o tt in clu d ed the p lay in his revisio n o f D o d s le y ’s collection A n cien t B ritish D ram a, 3 vols (L o n d o n , 1 8 1 0 ) , 3 . 4 7 – 7 0 : C L A , 43. 1 4 8 .3 7 in co u rse in due cou rse. 1500 .33– 3 4 the w a y s o f H e a v e n . . . b e yo n d o u r fa th o m in g com pare

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Isaiah 5 5 .8 : ‘ F o r m y thoughts are not yo u r thoughts, n eith er are yo u r w ays m y w ays, saith the L o r d ’ . 1 5 1 . 1 3 – 14 a w itc h . . . th em th at su ffe re d at H a d d in g to n betw een 1 6 49 and 1 6 7 7 several alleged w itch es w ere tried at H ad d in gto n , a tow n 2 7 km E o f E d in b u rg h , and som e w e re execu ted . 1 5 1 .2 1– 2 2 the u s u r e r . . . an cien t la n d –m a rk s allu sions to O ld T e s t a – m en t tran sg ressio n s : see p articu larly Isaiah 3 . 1 5 ( ‘W h at m ean ye that ye beat m y p eo p le to p iec es, and grin d the faces o f the p o o r? ’ ), and P ro verb s 2 2 .2 8 , 2 3 . 1 0 ( ‘ R em o v e not the an cien t landm ark, w h ich thy fathers have s e t . . . R em o v e not the old la n d m ark ; and en ter not into the fields o f the fa th erless’ ). 15 1.3 0 – 33 i f yo u k n o w o f an y h are . . . a silv e r b u llet re a d y fo r h e r Sco ttish w itch es w e re o ften alleged to have tu rn ed th em selves into h ares; a silver b u llet w as b elieved n e cessary to shoot anyone p ro tected b y the D evil. 1 5 2 .3 the eyes o f old A lic e ’ s u n d e rsta n d in g see E p h esian s 1 . 1 8 . 1 54 m o tto see W ord sw orth , ‘ P o em s on the N a m in g o f P la c e s ’ , 4 .3 7 – 4 0 ( 18 0 0 ) . 1 5 8 .3 5 – 38 an e m b le m a tic c e r e m o n y . . . re fu se d to receive fro m R a v e n sw o o d the division o f a p iec e o f gold or silver betw een lovers w as accep ted as a token o f a con tract o f m arriage. 1 5 9 .2 9 the stab death b y stabbing. 16 0 .9 b e sid e the m a rk clo se to the m ark; clo se to the bone. 1 6 0 .1 0 – 1 1 n e ’e r p u t fin gers in y o u r eye ab o u t it d o n ’t w eep about it. 1 6 1 . 2 6 – 2 7 the an cien t F r e n c h ad age . . . v a se re n d re a castle w h ich parleys and a w o m an w h o listen s are both read y to su rren d er. 1 6 2 m o tto see P h ilip M a ssin g e r, A N ew Way to P a y O ld D ebts (p u b lish ed 1 6 3 3 ) , 3 . 2 . 1 5 4 – 5 8 . S c o tt om its the w o rd s ‘ or thou art lost. E x it M a r g a r e t .’ after ‘ com m an d ’ . M a rg a re t is the exploited daugh ter o f the extortioner S ir G ile s O v e rre a ch ; M a rra ll is his protégé. 1 6 3 .1 6 – 17 R elig io n . . . d isco rd com pare 1 C o rin th ian s 1 4 . 3 3 : ‘ F o r G o d is not the author o f con fu sio n , bu t o f p ea ce, as in all ch u rch es o f the sain ts’ . 1 6 4 .6 – 1 5 H is feelin gs . . . su ch sw eet gen tlen ess see Jo a n n a B aillie, Constantine Paleologus; or, The L a st o f the C aesars: A Tragedy, 2 .2 .5 4 – 60, in M iscellaneous P la ys (L o n d o n , 1 8 0 4 ) , 3 2 2 . 1 6 5 ·3 3 – 3 4 L a w ’ s sc h e m e in 1 7 1 7 , the yea r after fo u n d in g the B a n q u e G é n é ra le in P a ris, Jo h n L a w ( 1 6 7 1 – 1 7 2 9 ) o f L a u risto n had set up the C o m ­ p agn ie d ’O ccid en t (W estern C o m p a n y ) to develop the reso u rces o f F re n c h L o u isia n a . A fte r fev erish specu latio n the com pan y collap sed in 1 7 2 0 . A s L a w w as a know n Ja c o b ite the sch em e w as dou bly risky fo r a B ritish investor. 1 6 5 .4 3 m a k in g a go o d h an d o f m aking a p ro fit out of. 16 6 .5 W h o w o u ld take . . . “ th e b it a n d th e b u f f e t ” litera lly take ‘ fo o d and b lo w s’ : p ro verb ial. K e lly ( 3 1 1 ) glo sses it ‘ B e a r som e ill U sa g e o f them b y w h om you get A d va n tag e’ ; see also R a m say, 10 9 and O D E P y 6 1 . 1 6 6 .1 5 – 17 this evil c o m m u n ica tio n . . . in the p atro n see 1 C o r in ­ thians 1 5 . 3 3 : ‘ evil com m u nication s corru p t good m an n ers’ . 1 6 6 .4 2 – 1 6 7 .1 M o n sie u r S a g o o n . . . S e ig n o r P o c o . . . M e in h e rr D u r c h – sto ssen im agin ary fe n cin g –m asters (m aîtres d ’a rm e s), w h ose nam es m ean M e ss r s F ilth y P ig, L ittle , and T h r u s t–through. 1 6 7 .9 – 10 sin gle r a p i e r . . . c ase o f fau lch io n s a ra pier is a sw ord w ith a lo n g slen d er b lad e d esign ed fo r th ru stin g as w ell as cutting; single m eans ‘w ith ­ out d a g g er’ . A back–sw ord has only one cutting ed ge. A broad–sw ord is a cutting sw o rd w ith a b road blad e. A fa lch io n is a broad sw ord m ore or less cu rved w ith the ed ge on the con vex sid e; a case is a pair. 1 6 7 .1 3 – 14 sm all sw o rd light sw o rd w ith a trian gular blad e and a sim ple hilt, d esign ed fo r th ru stin g rath er th an cutting.

3 66

EXPLANATORY NOTES

1 6 7 . 1 5 – 16 the C h e v a lie r de C h a p o n the nam e m eans ‘ cap o n ’ , ‘ castrated co c k ’ . 1 6 7 .1 6 b its o f an exp ressio n in d icatin g d ep reciatio n. 1 6 7 .2 6 S k io c h d o ch n a skiaill G a e lic p ro verb , ‘ S g ith ich id h d eo ch an sg e u l’ ( ‘T h e drink w ill w e ary the ta le’ ). 1 67.27– 2 8 S ir E v a n D h u . . . 16 8 9 S ir E w e n or E v a n C a m e ro n o f L o c h ie l ( 1 6 2 9 – 1 7 1 9 ) , c h ie f o f the C a m e ro n s and n ick n am ed ‘the B la c k ’ ( ‘ D h u ’ ), led h is clan in su p p o rt o f D u n d e e ’s rising. 1 6 7 .3 6 – 3 7 to u ch in g the h i l t . . . o ve r the w a te r the tradition al toast to the exiled Ja m e s , acco m p an ied b y a gestu re im plyin g a p led ge to m ilitary action. 1 6 7 .4 0 – 4 1 lan d s an d ten e m en ts Scots lam ‘ten em en ts’ is alm ost syn on ym ­ ous w ith ‘la n d s’ : it m ean s righ ts in h eritable pro perty, typically land. 1 6 7 fo o tn o t e b o o n c o m p a n io n s , d o n ’t p r e a c h o v e r y o u r li q u o r T ille y ( L 3 3 2 ) gives several varian ts o f this pro verb. 16 8 .4 the statu to ry p en altie s, ‘in th at c ase, m a d e an d p ro v id e d ’ the p en alties fo r treason cou ld in clu d e death, the fo rfeitu re o f pro perty, an d attain­ der. A s B u c k la w is not a p e e r only death and fo rfeitu re apply. N o specific so u rce fo r the legal p h rase has b e e n located . 16 8 .9 I’ll pledge y o u . . . b o tto m see 2 H enry I V , 5 .3 .5 4 ( S ile n c e sin g s). 16 8 .2 4 L a m m e r la w an d T r a p r a in hills c. 1 2 .5 km S and 6 .5 km E o f H ad d in gto n , E a s t L o th ian . 1 6 8 .2 8 son o f a S p a n ia r d R a ven sw o o d has a dark com plexio n : see 1 7 1 . 1 3 (an d n o te) w h ere he is d escrib ed as b ein g ‘b la ck as the cro o k ’ . 16 9 .3 ” 4 w h e re fo re d ro o p s th y m ig h ty s p i r i t . . . so p ale com p are e.g. Jo h n M ilto n , Sam son A gonistes (p u b lish ed 1 6 7 1 ), lin e 5 9 4 ( ‘ S o m u ch I fe e l m y gen ial spirits d ro o p ’ ), and A M idsum m er N ig h t ’s D ream , 1 . 1 . 1 2 8 – 29 ( ‘W h y is yo u r ch eek so p ale r/ H o w ch an ce the ro ses th ere do fad e so fast ?’ ). ( R o b e rtso n ) 16 9 .9 le a d in g strin g s rein s to assist and restrain ch ild ren lea rn in g to w alk. 1 6 9 .1 7 C a s t le –C u d d y cuddy m eans ‘ a ss’ . 1 6 9 .1 7 w e w e re h an d an d glo ve p ro verb ial : see note to 0 0 .1 4 – 1 5 . 1 6 9 .2 4 K a tie G le g g the su rn am e m ean s ‘ sh arp –w itted ’ a n a recalls ‘ c le g ’ , a nam e fo r the h o rse o r g a d –fly. 1 6 9 .3 7 – 3 8 the lig h t o f w h o se co u n te n an ce O ld T e sta m e n t p h rase in ­ d icatin g G o d ’s fa v o u r: P salm s 4 .6 , 4 4 .3 , 8 9 .1 5 , 9 0 .8. 17 0 .3 the P re te n d e r see note to 1 3 7 . 2 1 . 1 7 0 .5 the d ead p a lsy p alsy p ro d u cin g com plete in sen sibility o r im m obility o f the p art affected . 1 7 0 .9 – 1 4 D u c h e s s S a r a h . . . the D u c h e ss o f M a rlb o ro u g h fo r S a ra h C h u rch ill, éeJe n n in g s , see note to 1 2 4 . 1 6 . n 1 7 0 .1 8 the W a n sb e c k river in N o rth u m b erlan d . 1 7 0 .2 1 p u t on the tap is p lace on the tablecloth, i.e. b rin g u n d er d iscu ssio n o r con sid eration . 1 7 1 .7 D ista n c e m e blo w m e ! T h e exp ressio n d erives fro m h o rse –racin g : any h o rse w h ich had not arrived at a certain po in t w h en the w in n er c ro ssed the fin ish in g lin e w as ‘ d istan ced ’ , or elim inated in that heat. 1 7 1 .1 0 c u t in card p la yin g jo in in a gam e o f w h ist b y takin g the p lace o f a p layer ‘ cutting o u t’ (cu ttin g an u n favo u rab le c a rd ). 1 7 1 .1 3 as b la ck as the cro o k p ro verb ial : O E D . A crook is a h o ok in a firep lace fo r h an gin g pots on. 17 1.1 8 k e p t no te rm s had no dealings. 1 7 1 . 2 0 – 2 1 p o i n t . . . ca p o t h im the term s re fe r to piqu et, a card gam e played b y tw o p erso n s, in w h ich points are sco red on v ario u s grou ps o r co m b in a­ tions o f card s and on tricks '.point is the nu m b er o f card s o f the m ost n u m ero u s suit in o n e ’ s han d after d isca rd in g; qu in t is a seq u en ce o f five c ard s o f the sam e suit, w h ich cou n t as 1 5 points; quatorze is a set o f fo u r sim ilar card s h eld b y one

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p layer, w h ich cou n t as 1 4 points; to p iq u e is to w in 3 o points; to repique is to w in 3 0 points on card s alone b efo re b egin n in g p la y ; to capot is to w in all the tricks. 1 7 1 .2 4 te rm s o f jo in tu re in S c o ts law jo in tu re is a con tractu al pro visio n fo r a w id ow o f an an nu al paym en t o f m o n ey d u rin g h er life , or a liferen t a ssig n ­ m en t o f the rents o f lands. 1 7 1 .2 6 co m e s d o w n i.e. fro m E n g lan d . 17 1.2 6 tak es . . . in h e r o w n h an d h e r s e lf takes ch arge of. 1 7 1 . 2 9 – 3 0 the v e r y gates o f Je r ic h o p ro verbial fo r a distant p lace ( c o m ­ p a re 2 S a m u e l 1 0 . 5 ) : O D E P , 4 1 0 . 1 7 1 .3 0 the ju d g m e n t–seat o f P r e s te r Jo h n in fable, a p o w e rfu l p rie st– k in g o f early m ed ieval tim es. H e ap pears as S en ap o , K in g o f E th io p ia, in L o d o – vico A rio sto ’ s O rlando fu rioso ( 1 5 1 6 – 3 2 ) , 3 3 .1 0 6 . 1 7 1 . 3 4 d r o p o u t let fall. 17 1 .3 8 m a k e u p arran ge. 1 7 1 .40 sta rtin g fo r the p late horse racing b egin n in g to ru n a race w ith a silver o r gold cup as the prize. 1 7 2 .3 I w o u ld m ak e his gu ts g a rte r his sto ckin gs pro verb ial : see O D EP, 297. 17 2 .16 – 17 y o u r bo o ts an d d o u b le t . . . as the m a n say s in the p la y see S ir T o b y B e lc h in Tw elfth N igh t, 1 . 3 . 1 o – 1 1 . 1 7 2 .2 3 h o rse an d a w a y see note to 1 9 7 . 1 0 – 1 1 . 1 7 2 .2 5 to b o o t into the bargain. 1 7 2 .3 0 w in d . . . fin ger p ro v e rb ia l: see O D E P , 8 4 7. 1 7 2 .3 2 old S a ll o f M a rlb o ro u g h see note to 1 2 4 . 1 6 . 1 7 2 . 3 4 – 3 5 Jo h n C h u r c h i ll. . . D u n d e e or the D u k e o f B e r w ic k Jo h n C h u rc h ill ( 1 6 5 0 – 1 7 2 2 ) , first D u k e o f M arlb o ro u g h , w as the celeb rated so ld ier an d W h ig statesm an w h o served C h a rle s II, Ja m e s V II and II, W illiam an d M a ry , and A n n e in tu rn; he is b est know n fo r his victo ries over the F ren ch fro m 1 7 0 2 in the W ar o f the S p a n ish S u c ce ssio n . Jo h n G ra h a m o f C la verh o u se ( 1 6 4 8 – 8 9 ), V isco u n t D u n d e e , w as killed at K illie c ra n k ie fightin g to restore Ja m e s V II an d II. Ja m e s F it z –Ja m e s ( 1 6 7 0 – 1 7 3 4 ) , D u k e o f B erw ic k , illegitim ­ ate son o f Ja m e s V II and II and M a rlb o ro u g h ’s neph ew , fo u gh t fo r the F re n c h fo rces again st B rita in in F la n d e rs and S p ain . 173 m o tto see the b allad ‘ D u k e u pon D u k e ’ ( 1 7 2 0 ) , largely b y A lexan d er P o p e, lines 1 1 5 – 16 . 173–35–40 I t so ch a n ce d . . . the B ritish P a rlia m e n t L a d y A sh ton , as a W h ig, is not ju st an ticipating bu t p rep a rin g fo r the im plem entation o f the U n io n in 1 7 0 7 w h en S c o tla n d elected 3 0 cou nty and 1 5 b u rg h m em b ers o f the B ritish P arliam en t. B u c k la w has acq u ired con trol over ‘ a little separate in terest’ , i.e. a n u m b er o f votes w h ich he can b y custo m con trol as laird. 1 7 4 .6 se ttin g u p fo r th e co u n ty pu tting h im s e lf fo rw ard ( fo r electio n as M e m b e r o f P a rliam en t) fo r the county. 1 7 4 .6 – 7 c a r r y the h e a t . . . w a lk the co u rse horse racin g w in the h e a t . . . w in the race easily. 1 7 4 .8 h o llo w v o tes votes that cou ld be easily w on . T h e term hollow is u sed in h o rse racin g to ind icate victo ry again st feeb le opposition. 1 7 4 .3 3 m is p r is io n . . . o f tre aso n E nglish law the o ffen ce o f co n cealin g k n o w led ge o f a treaso n able plot fro m con stitu ted au thorities, h ere ap plied m eta­ ph o rically to m arriage. 1 7 5 .7 – 8 like D o n G a y fe r o s . . . fa ir an d tru e see C erv an tes, D on Q uixote, P a rt 2 ( 1 6 1 5 ) , C h . 2 6 ; tran s. M o tteu x, revised O zell, 4 vols ( E d in ­ b u rgh , 1 7 6 6 ), 3 . 2 8 1 . A figu re fro m S p a n ish rom an ce, D o n G a y fe ro s, is re p re s ­ en ted in the first scen e o f a p u p p et–sh ow as playin g at drau ghts instead o f resc u in g his w ife M e lisa n d ra fro m M o o rish captivity. A b allad is qu o ted by the p u p p eteer’s b o y : ‘N o w G a y fe ro s the liv e–lo n g d a y,/ O h arran t sham e at

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EXPLANATORY NOTES

drau ghts does p la y ;/ A n d , as at cou rt m ost h u sban d s d o ,/ F o rg e ts his lad y fair and tru e / 17 5 .2 5 a m iddle resem blance a resem b lan ce partly to one th in g and partly to another. 1 7 6 .4 – 5 and footnote M iddleton’s M ad W orld m y M asters S c o tt in clu d ed T h o m a s M id d le to n ’ s A M a d W orld, M y M asters ( 1 6 0 8 ) in the seco n d volum e o f his revisio n o f R o b e rt D o d s le y ’s collection A n cien t B ritish D ram a, 3 vols (L o n d o n , 1 8 1 0 ) : C L A , 4 3 . T h e g reetin g is fro m 2 . 1 . 7 – 8 ( 2 .2 6 4 ) . 1 76.8 the A venger o f Blood in the O ld T e sta m e n t, the m an w h o had the righ t to avenge the m u rd er o f a k in sm an : see Jo s h u a 2 0 .3 , 5 and D eu tero n o m y 19 .6 , 1 2 . 1 7 6 .1 9 – 20 change a leg the in sid e p a ssen g ers in a coach sitting opposite each oth er w e re so clo se to geth er that th ey cou ld not ch an ge the po sitio n o f th eir legs w ithou t the con sen t o f the p erso n fa cin g them . 17 6 footnote the um quhile Jo h n . . . that now is in 1 8 1 9 the ‘p re se n t’ earl w as Jo h n (n o t C h a rle s) H o p e ( 1 7 6 5 – 1 8 2 3 ), 4th E a r l o f H o p eto u n , w ho had su c c eed ed to the tid e on the death w ithou t m ale issu e o f an o ld er h a lf– bro th er Ja m e s in 1 8 1 6. H e w as the son o f Jo h n ( 1 7 0 4 – 8 1 ), 2n d E a r l o f H o p e ­ toun fro m 1 7 4 2 , b y his seco n d w ife. T h e erro r m ay be d eliberate, fo r the 4th E a r l w as a d istin gu ish ed gen eral in the P e n in su lar W ar, and, as S ir Jo h n H o p e, w e ll–k now n; bu t a m istake is m ore likely, fo r the L o r d P resid en t o f the C o u rt o f S e ssio n , u n d er w h om S c o tt m u st o ften have sat, w as C h a rle s H o p e. A lso , the 4th E a rl had a yo u n ger h a lf–b ro th er called C h a rle s ( 1 7 6 8 – 1 8 2 8 ) . 176 footnote M ars standing b y . . . laurel M atth ew P rio r, ‘ T h e L a d le ’ ( 1 7 0 4 ) , lin es 3 5 – 3 6 . 1 7 7 .3 – 4 H e turned his eyes . . . vision see A lexan d er P o p e ’s tran slation o f The Odyssey ( 1 7 2 5 – 2 6 , w ith W illiam B ro o m e and E lija h F e n to n ), 1 1 . 7 3 3 – 3 4 : ‘ I tu rn ’d m y eye, and as I tu rn ’d su rv ey’ d / A m o u rn fu l v isio n ’ . (C orson ) 1 77.9– 1 0 the green and blue ch ario ts. . . Constantinople in the circu ses o f R o m e and C o n stan tin op le fo u r factions w e re rep rese n ted b y chariots d istin ­ gu ish ed b y red , w h ite, b lu e, an d g reen colou rs. T h e rivalry o f the b lu e an d the green team s grew p articu larly viru len t in R o m e in the 1 st cen tu ry a d , an d in C o n stan tin op le d u rin g the reign o f Ju s tin ia n ( 5 2 7 – 6 5 ) ‘the sportive distinction o f two colou rs p ro d u ced stron g and irreco n cilea b le factions, w h ich sh oo k the fo u n d atio n s o f a feeb le go vern m en t’ (E d w a rd G ib b o n , The D eclin e a n d F a ll o f the Rom an E m pire ( 1 7 7 6 – 8 8 ), C h . 4 0 ). 1 7 7 .1 6– 1 8 M on D ieu ! . . . Il y en est deux! French M y G o d ! th ere are two o f th em ! T h is story exists in m o re than one version . It ap pears as one o f the Ingoldsby Legends b y T h o m a s In go ld sb y, ‘ T h e B la c k M o u sq u e ta ire : A L e g e n d o f F r a n c e ’ , first p u b lish ed in B en tley's M iscellan y, 8 ( 1 8 4 0 ) , 2 6 2 – 68, 3 6 5 – 76 . A n o th er versio n , b y G . L e n o tre (L o u is L é o n T h é o d o re G o sse lin , 1 8 5 7 – 1 9 3 5 ), en titled ‘L a V isio n du cap itain e’ m a y b e fo u n d in his S u iv a n t l'E m pereu r : croquis de l épopée (P a ris, 1 9 4 7 ) , 1 7 3 . S c o tt’s sou rce fo r the story has not b een traced. 1 7 7 .2 5 in the m anner in the act. 1 7 8 .3 9 m ending his pace travellin g faster. 179 .3– 4 Put on to a hand gallop u rge th eir h o rses to an easy gallop. 17 9 .1 9 pas d’avance French lead , p rec ed en ce. 180 .23 cavaliere servente Ita lia n a m an w h o devotes h im s e lf w h olly to atten dan ce on a lady. 18 2 .3 2 to the boot into the bargain . 1 8 2 .3 9 – 40 scared by a dun c o w . . . G u y o f W arw ick after m an y h ero ic ad ven tu res S ir G u y o f W arw ick ‘ sle w e / A m o n stro u s w yld and c ru ell b e a st,/ C a lld the D u n –cow o f D u n sm o re h e a t h ;/ W h ich m an ye p eo p le h ad o p p rest’ ( ‘ T h e L e g e n d o f S ir G u y ’ , lines 9 7 – 10 0 , in P ercy, 3 . 1 0 3 – 1 1 ).

EXPLANATO RY NOTES

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18 4 .4 2 fu ll d re ss elaborate dress ap propriate fo r a p u b lic cerem on y or fo rm al m eal. 1 8 5 .4 0 – 4 2 y o u n g e r b ra n ch o f the h o u se o f A n g u s . . . th rice in te r­ m a rrie d see note to 6 7 .7 – 8 and the text at 1 4 . 4 1 . 18 6 m o tto the lines are not b y E d m u n d W aller ( 1 6 0 6 – 8 7 ) ; th ey are p ro b ­ ably a S c o tt pastiche. 1 8 7 .7 S c o ttish m iles the S co ttish m ile w as 1 .8 km , or nearly o n e–eighth lo n g er than the E n g lish m ile. 1 9 0 .1 3 as in T h e s s a ly o f old as exp lain ed at 1 9 2 . 1 2 – 1 3 , a co rp se had to b e g u ard ed ‘least w itch es o r fien ds m ight p lay th eir sport w ith it’ . T h e s sa ly , in N G r e e c e , w as fro m early tim es reg ard ed as the esp ecial h om e o f w itches. 1 9 1 .2 2 – 23 the m e e tin g b e tw ix t M a c b e th an d the w itc h e s . . . F o rr e s M acbeth, 1 . 3 , esp ecially line 7 7 . 19 1.3 3 fin d o u t d isco ver b y search in g. 1 9 1 .33 M o rtsh e u g h the nam e is gen erated fro m either m ort ( ‘ d eath ’ ) and sheugh ( ‘b u ry ’ ) ; or morts and heugh ( ‘ cliff, ravin e’ ). 1 9 1 .43 as lig h t as a lark p ro verb ial. C o m p a re O D E P , 5 2 7 : ‘A s m erry ( gay, h ap py) as a la rk .’ 1 9 2 .1 8 ligh t d o u n in the K in g o f F r a n c e ’s ce lla r to ligh t doun is to ‘la n d ’ . T h e allu sion is to a story ‘ co n cern in g one o f the L o r d D u ffu s (in the S h ire o f M u rra y ), his P red ic esso rs, o f w h om it is repo rted , T h a t u pon a tim e, w h en he w as w alk in g abroad in the F ie ld s n e ar to his ow n H o u se , he w as su d d en ly carried aw ay, and fo u n d the next day at P a ris in the French K in g ’s C e lla r w ith a S ilv e r C u p in his H a n d ’ (Jo h n A u b rey, M iscellan ies, 2n d edn (L o n d o n , 1 7 2 1 ) , 1 5 8 : C L A , 1 4 9 ) . 1 9 2 . 2 1 – 2 6 T h e y p ric k u s . . . am e n d s 0 ’ th em . . . b u m m e until 1 7 3 6 , w h en w itch craft w as ab o lish ed as a crim inal o ffen ce in S co tla n d , those accu sed o f w itch craft w e re investigated b y C h u rc h cou rts as w e ll as b y the C o u rt o f Ju s tic a ry or sp ecial com m issio n s. T h o s e su sp ected o f w itch craft w e re prick ed w ith n e ed les to test fo r d ev il’s m arks, believed to be im m u ne to pain , and w ere to rtu red to extract co n fessio n s b y m eans of ‘p in n yw in k les’ or ‘p illiew in k is’ , vices w h ich sq u eezed the fin gers. T o say a p rayer, esp ecially the L o r d ’s P ray er, back w ard s w as to invoke the D e v il. In S c o d a n d , those fo u n d guilty o f w itch craft w e re stran gled at the stake and th en b u rn t (the last death sentence fo r w itch craft w as in 1 7 2 2 ) . T h e ph rase p it us on m eans ‘ su b ject us to’ , and g i’e me am ends 0 ’ them m eans ‘ give m e the u p p er hand o ver th em ’ . 19 2 .2 4 the fou l th ie f the D ev il. 1 9 2 .2 8 – 2 9 a d rap b ra n d y to b u r n . . . su g a r a g lassfu l o f b ran d y w o u ld be b u rn ed in a sau cer w ith h a lf a tab lesp o on fu l o f w h ite su gar to rem ove part o f the spirit and m ake a delicate tipple. 1 9 2 .3 4 A n n ie W in n ie see H isto ric al N o te, 3 3 7 , note 5. 1 9 2 .3 7 w ritten on his b ro w see note to 5 3 . 8 – 9. 1 9 2 .3 9 – 40 m ak e yo u y o u r m a rk e t o f th at probably you can b et on it. 19 2 .4 0 a su re h an d a reliab le sou rce. 19 2 .4 3 m o n y an e m an y a one. 1 9 3 .5 F a sh n a y o u r th u m b d o n ’t b o th er yo u rself. 1 9 3. 1 o b e fo re the sark gae d o w e r his h ead i.e. at or b efo re his birth. 1 9 3 . 2 5 – 2 6 co n fessio n s . . . seven tee n th c e n tu ry see S c o tt’s Letters on Dem onology an d W itchcrafl ( 1 8 3 0 ) , L e tte r 9. 1 9 3 .4 1 T h e ric h A b b e y o f C o ld in g h a m e C o ld in g h am in N E B e rw ic k ­ shire w as the seat o f a B en ed ic tin e p rio ry fo u n d ed in 10 9 8 b y E d g a r, K in g o f S c o ts. 1 9 4 .1 0 h o u se leeks h erb w ith pin k flow ers fo rm erly often fo u n d grow ing on h o u ses.

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EXPLANATORY NOTES

1 9 4 .1 5 – 1 6 the h o u se o f m o u rn in g an d the h o u se o f fe a stin g see E c clesiaste s 7 .2 . 1 9 4 .2 1 to give the m e e tin g to to m eet. 19 4 m o tto see H am let, 5 . 1 . 6 5 – 7 0 . 1 9 4 .3 5 w h e n “ the m in d is fre e . . . d e lica te ” see L e a r ’s sp eech to K e n t b efo re the hovel on the h eath : K in g L e a r, 3 . 4 . 1 1 – 1 2 . 19 5 .13 ken . . . b y h e a d –m a rk reco g n isin g [p e o p le ] b y th eir ind ivid u al facial ch aracteristics; the term head–m ark w as o rigin ally u sed o f sheep. S e e also note to 5 3 .8 – 9. 1 9 5 . 4 2 – 43 sax tee n p u n d S c o ts £ 1 .3 3 . B y the en d o f the 1 7 t h cen tu ry the valu e o f the S c o ts p o u n d had declin ed to a tw elfth o f that o f the p o u n d sterling. It w as o fficially ab o lish ed b y the A c t o f U n io n . 19 6 .5 bite on the b rid le exp erien ce fru stratin g restra in t; en d u re h a rd ­ ship : p ro verb ial (R a y , 1 7 8 ; O D E P , 6 2 ). T h e r e is also p ro b ab ly an allu sio n to the p ractice o f p u n ish in g sco ld s b y fitting th em w ith b rid les to restrain th eir ton gues. 1 9 6 .1 7 – 18 p le n ish in g the earth see G e n e sis 1 .2 8 and 9 .1 : ‘B e fru itfu l, an d m ultiply, and rep len ish the earth ’ . 1 0 6 .1 9 – 20 h arp , sa c kb u t, an d p sa lte ry th ree o f the instru m ents em ­ ployed as a sign al to w o rsh ip N eb u ch a d n e zzar’s go ld en c a lf (D a n ie l 3 .7 ) . ‘ S a c k ­ b u t’ is the old nam e fo r a trom bone; the ‘p saltery’ , a zith er–like instru m ent, w as p o p u la r in b iblical and m ed ieval tim es. 1 9 6 .2 9 – 3 0 d e ’il lift th em m ay the devil be o f f w ith them . 1 9 7 .2 d e ’il an e to m e n d o th er all eq u ally bad. 1 9 7 .8 – 9 this tru m p e te r M a rin e . . . L o r d s o f the C ir c u it in 1 7 1 0 F ra n c is M a rin e , S e n ., is reco rd ed as one o f Q u een A n n e ’s T ru m p e te rs fo r S c o tla n d , w h ose duty it w as to an n o u n ce royal pro clam atio n s an d attend the C irc u it C o u rts; in 1 7 1 6 he w as jo in ed as fifth tru m p eter b y F ra n c is M a rin e , Ju n . ‘ L o r d s o f the C irc u it’ are the ju d g es o f S c o tla n d ’ s h igh est crim in al cou rt, the H ig h C o u rt o f Ju s tic ia ry w h ich sits in E d in b u rg h . A t sp ecified tim es th ey go on circu it to h ear trials elsew h ere. 1 9 7 .1 0– 1 1 ‘ B o o t an d S a d d le ,’ o r ‘H o rse an d a w a y ,’ o r ‘ G a lla n ts, co m e tro t’ versio n s o f th ree o f the five p rin cip al m ilitary calls, ‘B o u te –s e lle ’ , ‘À c h eva l’ an d ‘ L e m arc h e’ . S ig n a ls w e re given b y tru m pet and dru m in the S c o t­ tish arm y fro m 1 6 4 1 . 19 7 .13 w h a t is all this to w h at has all this to do with. 1 9 7 .1 9 o th er w h ile s at oth er tim es. 1 9 7 .2 1 B o th w e ll B r ig g the b rid ge over the C ly d e w h ere the C o ve n an ters w e re rou ted b y R o ya list fo rces on 2 2 Ju n e 16 7 9 . S e e The T ale o f O ld M o rta lity, E E W N 4b, 2 4 9 – 59. 1 9 7 .2 2 I b e h u v e d . . . to I m ust need s. 19 7 .2 9 d e ’il a n o t a. 1 9 7 . 3 1 – 33 tw e n ty –fo u rth o f Ju n e . . . o f a ’ d a y s o f the m o n th an d y e a r the sexton is p ro b ab ly reca llin g the S co ttish victo ry o ver the E n g lish at B a n n o c k ­ b u rn on 2 4 J u n e 1 3 1 4 , lea d in g him to r e –date B o th w ell B rid g e , w h ich actu ally took p lace on 22 Ju n e . 197.33– 3 4 H a c k sto u n o f R a th ille t D av id H ack sto n o f R a th illet in F ife (d . 1 6 8 0 ) , a p ro m in en t C o ve n an ter, and one o f the lea d ers o f the party w h o assassin ated A rch b ish o p S h a rp , n e ar S t A n d rew s, in 16 7 9 . 1 9 7 .3 6 let abe let alone. 1 9 7 .3 8 A n d r e a F e r r a r a h ig h –qu ality Sco ttish b ro a d –s w o rd . ‘A n d re w F e r ­ rara w as a N o rth Italian sw ord sm ith o f the late 1 6th century. H is nam e b ecam e a m ark o f qu ality fo r S c o tsm e n in the 1 7 t h and 18 th cen tu ries, and m an y S c o ts sw o rd s b e a r his nam e, bu t it is d ou bted w h eth er an y o f th em are in fact his w o rk ’ (W averley, ed. C la ire L a m o n t (O x fo rd , 1 9 8 1 ) , 4 5 2 ) .

EXPLANATORY NOTES

37I

1 9 7 .4 1 G o g an d M a g o g lea d ers o f the heathen nations : R ev ela tio n 2 0.8. 19 8 .4 p o in ts o f w a r m ilitary instru m ental signals. 1 9 8 . 7 – 8 c u t s h o r t . . . as sc rip tu re says com pare 1 S a m u e l 2 .3 3 and P salm 1 0 3 . 1 5 . 19 8 .9 w e b e h o ved a ’ to w e all m u st needs. 19 8 .12 – 13 taen the gru n d reach ed dry land. 19 8 .2 3 m y sa rtie certainly. 1 9 8 . 2 3 – 2 4 w o u l d I n o u ld I w h eth er I w anted to or not. 1 9 8 .2 8 – 2 9 I co u ld n a p laid w h e w u p o n a d r y h u m lo ck I co u ld n ’t have played an ythin g on a d ried h em lock stalk. 1 9 8 .3 9 bite an d so u p a little to eat and drink. 19 9 .3 g u id in g u s the gate treatin g us in the w ay. 19 9 .4 life–re n t tack s o f o u r b its 0 ’ h o u ses an d y a rd s w ritten lea ses fo r life o f o u r little h o u ses and garden s. 19 9 .6 – 7 m y d ain ty b it m a ilin g m y han dsom e p iece o f arable grou n d held on lease. 1 9 9 .1 7 S a r r a a b it never a bit. 1 9 9 .1 7 – 18 L e t h e r alan e . . . d ra w s n ear h e r trust h er to m ake things u n p leasan t fo r everything that com es n e ar her. 1 9 9 .1 9 gate o ’t path in resp ect o f it. 1 9 9 .2 2 – 2 3 C e rv a n te s a c u te ly re m a rk s . . . m a d m a n see D on Q uixote, P a rt 2 ( 1 6 1 5 ) , C h . 18 . 19 9 .2 7 the great, as w e ll as the sm all v u lg a r see H o ra c e , Odes, 3 . 1 . 1 – 2, tran slated b y A b rah a m C o w le y in his essay O f G re a tn e s s ’ (n o . 6 o f ‘ S e v e ra l D isc o u rse s b y w a y o f E ssa y s, in V erse and P ro se ’ , printed in the final section o f The Works o f M r A braham C ow ley (L o n d o n , 16 6 8 ) , 1 2 5 : ‘ H e n c e ye p ro fa n e ; I hate ye all; / B o th the G re a t, V u lgar, and the sm all’ ). T h e seco n d line is q uoted b y B e lin d a in W illiam C o n g re v e ’ s play The O ld Batchelour ( 16 9 3 ), 4 .3 .1 4 4 – 4 5 . 2 0 0 .12 sh o rt c h e e r in ad equ ate entertainm ent. 2 0 0 . 1 5 – 1 7 I can p l a y . . . P a t i e B im ie P a tr ic k ,‘ P a tie’ or P e te r B ir n ie ( b . c. 1 6 3 5 , and d. c. 1 7 2 1 ) w as a fam ou s fid d ler from K in g h o rn , F ife . Ό w iltu , w iltu d o ’t a g a in !’ w as a tune he p layed on all occasio n s. T h e w o rd s an d tune o f ‘T h e A u ld M a n ’s M a r e ’s D e a d ’ are attributed to him , although the w o rd s m ay have b een b y an o th er; the w o rd s w e re r e –w o rk ed b y B u rn s (fo r w o rd s, tune and com m en tary see The Poem s an d Songs o f R obert B u m s, ed. Ja m e s K in sle y , 3 vols (O x fo rd , 1 9 6 8 ) , no. 5 8 5 and no te). 2 0 0 .2 2 ‘L ig g e r a m C o s h ,’ an d ‘M u llin D h u ,’ an d ‘the C u m m e r s o f A th o le ’ ‘ L ig g e ra m C o s h ’ ( G a e l ic gliogram –chois, ‘lo n g –lim b ed p erso n ’ ), also know n as ‘M e rrily D a n c e the Q u a k e r’ or ‘ T h e Q u a k e r’s W ife ’ , w as p rin ted in R o b e rt B re m n e r, A Collection o f Scots R eels or Country D ances ( L o n d o n , [ 1 7 6 6 ] ) , 5 3 : the tune later ap p eared , w ith w o rd s b y B u m s ( ‘ B lyth e hae I b een on yon h ill’ ), in A Select Collection o f O rigin al Scotish A irs fo r the Voice, [ed . G e o rg e T h o m s o n ], 5 vols (L o n d o n , 1 7 9 3 – 1 8 1 8 ) , 3 ( 1 7 9 9 ) , N o . 5 8 . ‘M u llin D h u ’ is S c o tt’s spellin g o f the reel ‘M u ile a n n D u b h ’ ( G a elic T h e B la c k M ill’ ) : it can be fo u n d in Ja m e s S te w a rt–R o b ertso n , The A th ole Collection o f the D ance M u sic o f Scotlan d ( E d in b u rg h and L o n d o n , 1 9 6 1 ) , 44. T h e sam e volum e in clu d es ( 2 5 2 ) ‘A th o le C u m m e rs’ , w h ich had b een p rin ted in A lexan d er M ‘ G la sh a n , A ollec­ C tion o f Strathspey R eels [ 1 7 8 0 ] , 10 . 2 0 0 .2 5 a th o u gh t h o n est som eth in g o f a Ja c o b ite : see 8 9 .3 7 – 3 9 (text). 2 0 0 .26 ‘K illie cra n k ie ,’ an d ‘the K in g sh all h ae his ain ,’ an d ‘the A u ld S tu a rts b a ck again ,’ th ree p o p u lar Ja c o b ite son gs in clu d ed in The Ja co b ite R elics o f Scotland, ed. Ja m e s H o g g , 2 vols (E d in b u rg h , 1 8 1 9 – 2 1 ) , 1 . 3 2 – 3 3 , 1 – 3 , and 1 2 2 – 2 3 . T h e tune ‘ K illie k ra n k ie ’ w as m en tio ned in 16 9 2 and w as p rin ted in N e il G o w , Collection o f Strathspey R eels [ 1 7 8 4 ] , 26 ; that o f ‘T h e K in g S h a ll H ae H is A in ’ ap p eared in Ja m e s O sw ald , The C aledonian Pocket

372

EXPLANATORY NOTES

Com panion, B o o k 2 [c. 1 7 4 6 ] , 2 0 ; and that of ‘T h e A u ld S tu a rt’s B a c k A g a in ’ ap peared as a reel in A Com plete Repository o f O ld an d N ew Scotch Strathspeys , R eels & Jig s A d apted fo r the G erm an F lu te [c. 1 8 1 o ], 3 6 . 20 0 .3 7 m y b r e a d –w in n e r see A llan R a m s a y ’s ‘T h e L ife and A cts o f, o r A n E le g y on P atie B im ie ’ ( 1 7 2 1 ), line 1 7 , w h ere B im ie ’s fidd le is re fe rre d to as ‘ his B r e a d –w in n er’ (R o b e rtso n ). 201 m o tto the sou rce has not b een iden tified. 2 0 1 .4 1 o r so or som eth in g o f that sort. 2 0 2 .7 – 8 in the p re se n t v ie w o f a ch an ge in the event, w h ich n o w seem s likely, o f a ch an ge in adm inistration. 2 0 2 . 1 o ton gu e o f the tru m p the lea d in g p erso n ( litera lly the v ib ratin g fork in the J e w ’s h arp ). 2 0 2 .2 8 in d iffe re n t good n o o n in g quite a good m idd ay m eal. 2 0 2 .3 2 sp re a d . . . a table in the w ild e rn e ss see P salm 7 8 .19 . 2 0 3 .1 4 w e n t on con tinu ed fu rther. 2 0 3 .1 7 – 18 the D a rie n m a tte r len t h im a lift the D a rie n S c h e m e w as initiated in 16 9 5 to establish a Sco ttish trad in g colon y on the Isthm u s o f P a n ­ am a; its d isastrou s failu re in 16 9 9 w as taken as a sign o f S c o tla n d ’s com m ercial w e ak n ess and h elp ed to secu re the A c t o f U n io n in 1 7 0 7 . T h is sch em e len t S ir W illiam a lift, i.e. gave him a h elp in g han d : he had good inform ation ( ‘ good in telligen ce’ ) and sen sible ju d gm en t ( ‘ sou n d v iew s’ ), and thus sold his shares b efo re the failu re. 2 0 3 .2 2 o u tsit his m a rk e t d elay m ak in g term s u ntil the opportunity is lost. 2 0 3 .2 7 to bell the cat w ith h im in the S c o ts P a rlia m e n t p ro verb ial : see K e lly , 1 8 0 ; O D EPy 44. A s w ell as the gen eral allu sio n to the fam iliar fable o f the m ice p ro p o sin g to p u t a b ell rou n d the cat’s n eck to ap prise th em o f h er ap proach , th ere is p ro b ab ly a reco llectio n o f A rch ib a ld D o u g la s, fifth E a r l o f A n g u s (c. 1 44 9 – 1 5 1 4 ) , nick n am ed ‘ B e ll the C a t’ fo r lea d in g the c o n sp iracy as a resu lt o f w h ich Ja m e s I I I ’s favou rites w e re h an ged in 14 8 2 : see Tales o f a G randfath er, i s t S e rie s ( 1 8 2 7 ) , in Prose W orks, 2 2 .3 2 0 – 2 3 . 2 0 5 .1 the fatal battle o f F lo d d e n see note to 4 0 .14 . 2 0 5 .2 5 sh o u ld b e en shou ld be. 2 0 5 .3 0 – 3 6 the p rin cip le o f the S p a n ish ge n erals . . . in the d a y o f b attle the referen c e has not b een traced. 2 0 6 .2 1 p e a se strae stalks and fo liage o f p ea plan t u sed as ch eap fo d d er and b ed d in g fo r anim als. 20 6 .40 lo ss o f w a r ld ’ s ge ar loss o f w o rld ly good s and p ro p erty : R o b e rt B u m s , ‘P o o r M a ilie ’ s E le g y ’ ( 1 7 8 6 ) , line 7 . (C o r s o n ) 2 0 7 .14 – 15 in the y e a r th at h im th ey c a ’ d K in g W illie d ied 17 0 2 . 2 0 7 .2 0 A y e d id th ey, m o n y ane o f th em certain ly th ey th e, m an y o f them . 2 0 7 .2 6 m ad e fa st on u s gain ed rapidly on us. 2 0 7 .3 2 look ab o u t attend to. 2 0 7 .3 8 as I live b y b re a d com pare L u k e 4.4. 2 0 8 .3 5 – 3 7 the G u t o f G ib r a lt a r . . . A lg e rin e the Straits o f G ib ra lta r . . . A lg erian . 2 0 9 .2 7 – 2 8 look a w e e stran ge u p o n it behave in a sligh tly distant or a lo o f m an ner. 2 0 9 .2 9 r in g tru e i.e. sh ow you are o f the p ro p er stu ff, like a coin ‘ru n g ’ on the cou n ter to test that it is really gold. 2 0 9 .4 0 – 4 1 the C o u n c il w ith the Q u e e n see H isto rical N o te, 3 3 4 , 3 3 7 0 . 9 . 2 0 9 .4 2 – 2 1 0 . 1 a sc e n d in g to the to p –g a lla n t . . . ro p es as C o rso n points out, S c o tt is allu d in g to T o m B o w lin g ’ s la d d er o f p referm en t in C h . 4 1 o f T o b ia s S m o lle tt’s novel R oderick Random ( 1 7 4 8 ) . H e b len d s this w ith the im age o f the to p –gallant, or h igh est pitch o f aspiration , in Rom eo an d Ju lie t , 2 .4 .1 8 4 . 2 1 0 .9 fa t the N o rth –east S c o ts p ro n u n ciatio n of ‘w h at’ .

EXPLANATO RY NOTES

373

2 1 0 . 1 0 —1 1 the d a y . . . the m orn today . . . tom orrow . 2 10 .15 R a v e n sw e e d not a m isn o m er bu t the N E p ronu nciation o f a dou ble ‘o ’ . 2 1 0 .23– 2 4 o u t b y y o n d e r out there. 2 1 0 .2 4 the B a s s see note to 6 2 .2 2 . 2 10 .2 4 – 25 the L o r d H ig h C o m m issio n e r to the E sta te s o ’ P a rlia m e n t the so v ereig n ’ s represen tative at the Sco ttish P arliam en t w ith its th ree E states. 2 1 0 .33– 3 4 w h ilk it is m u ck le to b e d o u b ted th at he n e v e r w ill w h ich it’s m u ch to b e dou bted he ever w ill. 2 1 1 m otto T h o m a s C am p b ell, ‘ L o c h ie l’ s W arn in g ’ ( 1 8 0 2 ) , lines 3 1 – 3 4 . T h e W izard p red icts the e ffect o f the 1 7 4 5 – 46 Ja c o b ite rising. 2 1 1 . 1 7 S e lk irk b an n o ck s rich fru it loaves fro m the cou nty tow n o f S e lk irk ­ shire. 2 1 1 .33 no w a y s by no m eans. 2 1 2 .8 v a ssa ls . . . m e n b o u n d . . . b y la w in the feu d al system the baron, having received a direct grant o f lan d s fro m the m o narch, w o u ld be b o u n d to p ro d u ce a sp ecified n u m b er o f arm ed m en to serve in tim e o f w a r; the b aro n in tu rn w o u ld req u ire those to w h om he feu ed the land to p ro d u ce so m an y m en fo r m ilitary service. 2 1 2 . 1 4 – 18 W h a t do y e w an t, y e d o g ? . . . a n e w m a ste r com pare the exch an ge b etw een O liver and A d am in A s You L ik e It, 1 . 1 . 7 3 – 7 6 : ‘ G e t you with him , you old d o g ./ Is “ old d o g ” m y rew ard ? M o s t true, I have lost m y teeth in yo u r service. G o d be w ith m y old m aster ! H e w o u ld not have spoke such a w o rd ’ . 2 1 2 . 1 7 – 18 o w e r au ld a d o g to learn n e w trick s pro verb ial : see R a y, 99, 1 4 2 and O D E P , 8 0 5. 2 1 2 .4 3 d o w n b y e dow n there. 2 1 3 .3 – 4 hail an d fe a r in p e rfe c t condition. 2 13 .10 H o u t aw a! get aw ay w ith yo u ! 2 1 3 . 1 1 – 1 2 L it tle ’s the l i g h t . . . a m irk n igh t p ro verb ial, th ough this instan ce is the only one reco rd ed in O D E P , 4 7 0 . 2 1 3 .2 2 in the so rt in that w ay. 2 1 3 .3 0 m y certie! exclam ation o f su rprise. 2 1 4 .5 a g ra in ’s d am ag e the slightest harm . 2 1 4 .2 0 clo sin g in to d raw in g n e ar to. 2 1 4 . 2 1 train u p w e a n s . . . in the w a y th ey sh o u ld go see P ro verb s 2 2 .6 . 2 1 4 . 2 7 – 2 8 S o m e gaed e a s t . . . c r a w ’s n est see The O xford D ictionary o f N ursery Rhym es, ed. Ion a and P eter O pie (O x fo rd , 1 9 5 1 ) , no. 1 5 0 , 1 5 7 – 5 8 , w h ere the earliest Sco ttish versio n is : ‘ H ic k ery, pickery, p ea se s c o n ,/ W h e re w ill this y o u n g m an gan g ?/ H e ’ll go east, h e ’ll go w e st,/ H e ’ll go to the c ro w ’s n est’ . 2 1 4 .3 3 w h a t ch ee re th the so ul o f m an see P salm 1 0 4 .1 5 : ‘w in e that m aketh glad the h eart o f m an ’ . 2 1 4 . 3 9 – 40 u p b y e y o n d e r up th ere. 2 15 .2 3 in so m e so rt to som e extent. 2 1 6 .9 said it w a s L a tin fo r a t a s s o ’ b r a n d y a traditional exp ressio n u sed as an ap ology fo r d rin k in g a dram after the fo o d in q u estio n : see S w ift's P o lite C onversation, ed. E r ic P artrid g e (L o n d o n , 1 9 6 3 ) , 14 4 . 2 1 6 .1 5 th at gate in that way. 2 1 6 .2 7 ch a m b e r o f d ais b est bedro o m . 2 16 .3 7 L o w D u tc h L o w G e rm a n , spoken in N G e rm a n y and H ollan d . 2 1 7 .3 – 5 th at w h ic h T e n ie r s . . . c o u n try village fo r T e n ie r s see note to 6 .2 7 – 28. F o r po ssib le s e lf–po rtraitu re in p easan t su rrou n d in gs, and fo r the fo rm o f glass re fe rre d to, see J a n e P . D av id so n , D a v id Teniers the Younger (L o n d o n , 19 8 0 ) , 1 2 , and P lates 1 4 and 1 5 . 2 17 .7 d o u b le ale b e e r o f tw ice the o rd in ary strength. 2 1 7 .8 a S c o tc h p in t fo u r im p erial pints ( 3 .4 litres).

374

EXPLANATORY NOTES

in fine in short. 2 1 9. 1 a whiles a w h ile’ s, a short space of. 2 1 9 motto pro b ab ly b y Sco tt, allu d in g to the p ro verb ‘take O ccasio n ( T im e ) 2 1 7 .4 0

b y the fo relo ck , fo r she is b ald b eh in d ’ ( O D E P , 8 2 2 –2 3 ). S e e also S a in t R onan 's Well, E E W N 1 6 , 2 4 5 .2 7 , and note. 2 19 .3 8 – 3 9 the T o ry party obtained . . . a short–lived ascendency see H isto ric al N o te, 3 3 4 . 2 2 0 .1 9 what Crom w ell called waiters upon providence O liver C r o m ­ w e ll is not know n to have u sed this p h rase in an iro n ic sense. 2 2 0 .2 5 restoring him in blood . . . attainder w h en a p erso n w as attainted, they an d th eir h eirs su ffe re d ‘corru p tion o f b lo o d ’ ; ‘ restoratio n in b lo o d ’ involved read m issio n to the fo rfeited p rivileges o f birth and rank. 2 2 0 .3 8 the Canongate the fo rm er b u rgh ad join in g H o lyro o d P alace in E d in b u rg h . 2 2 1 .1 9 pize upon it! dam n it ! 2 2 2 .2 7 in beh alf o f fo r the b en efit of. 2 2 2 .2 9 – 3 0 their hand has been . . . the im m unities o f G o d ’s kirk th ey have con sisten tly sup po rted the cro w n ’ s o pp ressio n o f the in d ivid u al and the P resb yterian ch u rch in the coven an tin g tro ubles, and o ppo sed the R e v o lu ­ tion settlem en t giving p o w ers to P arliam en t, and the C h u rc h o f S c o tla n d ’ s freed o m fro m extern al po litical control. 2 2 2 .3 2 – 3 5 it has been m y l o t . . . knew them no m ore see P salm 3 7 .3 6 (P ra y e r B o o k v ersio n ) : ‘ I m y se lf have seen the u n go d ly [A u th o rised V e rsio n : “ w ic k e d ” ] in great po w er, and flo u rish in g [A u th o rised V e rsio n : “ sp read in g h im s e lf” ] like a green b a y –tre e ’; and P salm 1 0 3 . 1 6 : ‘ F o r the w in d p asseth over it, and it is gone; an d the p lace th e re o f shall know it no m o re ’ . 2 2 3 .13 in foro contentioso L a tin in an action con tested in the law cou rts, w h ere the p arties have b een fu lly h eard and a d ecree (fin al ju d gm en t) m ad e. 2 2 3 . 3 5 inter m inores L a tin b etw een m inors. T h e K e e p e r fu ses two issu es. U n d e r S c o ts law , an y con tract c o n cern in g p ro p erty ( a betrothal betw een p erso n s o f this rank w o u ld n o rm ally have involved a con tract as regard s p ro p ­ erty) m ad e b y a p erso n u n d er 2 1 w ithou t the con sen t o f paren ts ( ‘ natu ral c u rato rs’ ) or gu ardian s cou ld b e d ecla red nu ll; bu t a m in o r cou ld m arry w ithout paren tal con sen t.

2 2 3 .4 2 – 43

T im e, the great physician, he hoped would m end all

com b in in g tw o p ro verb ial sayings : ‘N a tu re , tim e, and patience are the th ree great p h y sicia n s’ ; ‘T im e cu res all th in gs’ ( O D E P , 5 5 6 , 8 2 3 ) . 2 2 4 .2 2 – 2 3 which side o f the hedge the sun had got to p ro verb ial : see O D E P , 7 3 2 , ‘T o b e on the righ t (b etter, sa fe ) or w ro n g sid e o f the h e d g e ’ , and 7 8 6 , ‘T h e su n do es not shin e on both sid es o f the h ed ge at o n c e’ . 224 .30 keep her threep m aintain h er stron gly–h eld position , stick to h er gu ns. 2 2 5 motto R ich a rd I I I , 1 .2 .2 2 7 – 29. 2 2 5 .2 2 to boot to the good. 2 25.26 devil’s tattoo idle d ru m m in g or tapping, as a sign o f im patience. 2 2 5 .2 8 double distanced see note to 1 7 1 . 7 . 2 2 5 .3 0 C u t m e out o f feather take m y b rillian ce away. 2 2 6 .7 – 8 as sulky as a bear that’s lost its whelps pro verb ial : see T ille y , S292. 2 2 6 .12 playing the back–gam e with a witness playin g b ack gam m o n and no m istake. In b ack gam m o n the p iec es are o bliged u n d er certain circu m stan ces to go back w ards. 2 2 6 .16 Lothian see note to 1 5 .6 . 2 2 6 .2 8 – 2 9 lies with . . . policy is in acco rd an ce w ith . . . po litical cu n n in g or p o litical objective.

EXPLANATO RY NOTES

375

2 2 7 .2 3 a ‘ fa m o u s w itn e ss’ Scots law an ad m issible w itness o f resp ectab le ch aracter, w h o had not b een d eclared ‘ in fa m o u s’ b y a sen ten ce o f the C o u rt o f S e s s io n or H ig h C o u rt o f Ju stic ia ry . 2 2 7 .3 8 C a p o te m e im precatio n derived fro m card gam e o f p icq u et : see note to 1 7 1 . 2 0 – 2 2 . 2 2 8 .2 to bo o t into the bargain. 2 2 8 .6 – 7 n ig h t–c o w l . . . c o n sid e rin g c a p s nightcap (the article o f dress an d a d r i n k ) . . . th in kin g caps. 228 m o tto see The Com edy o f E rro rs, 5 . 1 . 6 2 – 66. 2 2 8 .1 5 his faith fu l A c h a te s see note to 9 0 .1 3 – 1 4 . 2 2 8 .2 4 w a it u p o n com e resp ectfu lly to talk to. 2 2 9 .4 1 in b ro ad S c o tc h i.e. exp ressed in a p la in –sp eak in g m an n er befitting a S co t. 2 3 0 .2 the th ree L o th ia n s see note to 15 .6 . 2 3 0 .3 the C a n o n g a te see note to 2 2 0 .3 8 . 2 3 0 .8 e x c e p t again st object to . 2 3 o. 1 o ou t u p o n yo u exp ressio n o f reproach . 2 3 o. 1 4 u p o n a p a r either eq u al to each other or average. 2 3 0 .3 0 R a tisb o n R e g e n sb u rg , in B avaria. 2 3 0 .3 5 – 3 7 the old s o n g . . . the n e w ‘ It’ s gu de to be m erry and w is e ,/ I t ’s gu de to b e h o n est and tru e; / It’ s b est to be o f f w i’ the au ld lo v e / B e fo re ye are on w i’ the n e w .’ S e e ‘ It’ s gu d e to be m erry and w is e ’, lines 3 – 4, in The Songs o f Scotland, A n cien t a n d M odem , ed. A lla n C u n n in gh am , 4 vols (L o n d o n , 1 8 2 5 ) , 2 .3 5 2 : C L A , 16 5 . 2 3 1 . 2 4 – 26 y o u r P a c o l e t . . . this m a tte r in the early F re n c h rom an ce Valentine an d Orson P a co let is a d w a rf servan t w ith a m agic flyin g w o o d en h orse. 2 3 2 .6 the c a stin g o f a fo r e –shoe the loss o f a fro n t h o rsesh o e. 2 3 2 .7 the 20 th d a y fro m this is S t J u d e ’ s S t J u d e ’s D a y is 28 O ctober. 2 3 2 .8 C a v e rto n E d g e in the p arish o f E c k fo rd , R o xb u rg h sh ire, 6 km S o f K e lso . A n n u al h o rse races took p lace h ere, fro m the p erio d o f the n o vel’s action until S c o tt’ s tim e, at dates betw een late J u ly and late O ctober. 2 3 2 .9 K ittle g irth kittle is u sed o f a h o rse that is d ifficu lt to control, and girth su ggests ‘ sad d legirth ’ . 2 3 2 .2 5 to sign an d seal sin ce 1 5 8 4 sealin g had gen erally b een u n n ecessary in S co tla n d , bu t the w o rd s im ply finality an d solem nity. (N o rm a n d ) 2 3 2 .2 7 to do an d die varian t o f the pro verb ial ‘ to do or d ie’ ( O D E P , 1 9 2 ) . 2 3 2 .4 0 – 4 1 P o sso , in M a n n o r W a te r P o sso C ra ig s is a hill overlookin g M a n o r W ater 8 km S W o f P ee b les, P ee b lessh ire. 233 m o tto The Com edy o f E rrors, 5 . 1 . 7 8 – 8 2 . 2 3 3 .3 2 the revolu tio n the F re n c h R ev o lu tio n o f 17 8 9 . 2 3 3 .3 4 – 3 5 b o th in la w an d f a c t . . . th eir p are n ts actually, in fact rather than in la w : see note to 2 2 3 .3 5 . 2 3 3 .4 0 – 4 1 he m a d e his ch o ice . . . the ca sk e t in The M erchant o f Venice, 3 .2 P o rtia’ s suitors ch oo se b etw een gold, silver, and lead caskets to decid e who w ill m arry her. 2 3 4 .2 0 – 2 3 A s this m e a su re . . . tyran n ical the righ t o f appeal to the Sco ttish P arliam en t w as establish ed in 16 8 9 , bu t extent o f the righ t o f ap peal h ad not b een d eterm in ed (se e note to 1 2 2 . 2 7 – 3 1 ) . T h e politics o f this p a rtic u ­ lar ap peal m ight w ell m ake it seem ‘ arb itrary’ and ‘tyran n ical’ in the c irc u m ­ stan ces. 2 3 5 .2 _ 3 the w o rst m e a su re s . . . the w o rst S tu a rts i.e the m easu res o f C h a rle s I and Ja m e s V II and II, substitutin g go vern m en t b y d ecrees w h ich w ere, in the w o rd s o f the C la im o f R ig h t, ‘utterly and d irectly con trary to the know n la w s’ o f the kingdom . 235· 1 3–14 the civ il. the m u n icip a l, an d the can o n la w R o m a n law as

376

EXPLANATORY NOTES

received in m o d ern tim es; the law o f a p articu lar state; an d ecclesiastical law. T h e s e th ree law s had d ifferin g ap p roach es to the validity o f con tracts. 2 3 5 . 1 4 – 1 5 p a tria p o testas L a tin in civil law , the p o w er w h ich a fath er cou ld exercise over the m em b ers o f his fam ily. A lth o u gh this p o w er w as n ever as extensive in Sc o ts law as in R o m a n law , fath ers had co n sid erab le righ ts over the custod y, edu cation, and p ro p erty o f th eir ch ildren . (N o rm a n d ) 23 5.3 7 the last co n se q u e n ce the greatest im portance. 2 3 6 .3 3 la y in g o u t o f v ie w ignorin g. 2 3 7 .4 – 5 a w illo w b ra n ch w illow w as w o rn to lam ent a lost lo ver : th ere is p ro b ab ly an allu sion to D e sd e m o n a in O thello, 4 .3 .2 6 – 58. 2 3 7 .2 4 – 25 p a ir o f co lo u rs com m issio n o f an en sign, fo rm erly the low est com m issio n ed o ffic er grad e in the infantry. 2 3 8 .1 3 firm o f p u rp o se L a d y M a c b e th reb u k es h er h u sban d fo r b e in g ‘ in firm o f p u rp o se ’ : M acbeth, 2 .2 .5 2 . 2 3 8 m o tto The F a erie Q ueene, 3 .7 .6 . 2 3 8 .3 4 – 3 5 the W ise W o m a n o f B o w d e n a ‘w ise w o m a n ’ is a w itch, u su ally b en evo len t; B o w d e n is a v illage 4 km S o f M e lro s e , R o xb u rg h sh ire. 2 3 8 .40 – 4 1 h e rb s sele cted in p la n e ta ry h o u rs plan etary h o u rs w e re o n e – tw elfth o f the natural day o r night, an d thus v aried in len gth acco rd in g to the season . E a c h h o u r w as b elieved to be ru led b y a planet, and each h erb had particu lar virtu e w h en p lu ck ed d u rin g the p lan etary h o u r ap prop riate to it. 2 3 9 .1 5 the stak e an d ta r –b a rre l b arrels o f tar w e re u sed in b u rn in g w itch es at the stake, u su ally after garotting. 2 3 9 .1 5 like C a lib a n ’s see The Tem pest, 4 . 1 . 1 9 6 – 98. 2 3 9 .1 8 m a tch e s i.e. lo v e–m atch es. 2 3 9 .1 9 B e e lz e b u b the D ev il. 2 3 9 .3 5 “ an d m e d icin e r” p ro b ab ly rath er a ‘ qu o tation’ fro m p o p u la r sp eech than literature. 2 3 9 .3 7 – 3 8 the g reat e n e m y o f m an k in d the D ev il. 2 4 0 .1 3 “ len d an atten tive e a r ” p ro b ab ly rath er a ‘ qu o tation’ fro m p o p u lar sp eech than literature. 2 4 0 .1 5 – 18 O f fa ys . . . c ap tiv e th ralls not iden tified. S c o tt also u ses it as a qu otation in M instrelsy, 2 .3 4 9 . 2 4 0 .2 2 – 2 3 b lu e –ey ed h a g The Tem pest, 1 .2 .2 6 9 (C a lib a n ’s m oth er, the w itch S y c o ra x ). 2 4 1 .9 – 1 2 articles o f d it t a y . . . P r iv y C o u n c il the P rivy C o u n c il w o u ld appoint a com m issio n o f lo cal gen tlem en , w h o au th o rised the s h e r iff to arran ge fo r the selection o f a ju ry. T h e ‘articles o f dittay’ w e re the specific fo u nd atio ns o f a crim in al p ro secu tion set out in an indictm ent. 2 4 1 . 1 1 N o r t h –B e r w ic k –L a w see note to 6 2 .2 2 . 2 4 1.13 – 17 she h ad . . . an o th er la d y see H isto rical N o te , 3 3 3 . 2 4 1 .2 9 r a n k lin g . . . w o u n d e d d e e r com pare A s You L ik e It, 2 . 1 . 3 3 – 6 3 . 2 4 2 .2 3 – 2 5 I ’ll h ave a p r i e s t . . . b ro k en W illiam C o n g re v e , The M ou rn in g B rid e ( 1 6 9 7 ) , 1 . 1 . 3 5 4 – 5 6 : M a n u e l, K in g o f G re n a d a , is fru strated b y his secretly–m arried d au gh ter’ s relu ctan ce to m arry the son o f his favourite. 2 4 2 .3 3 the u n io n . . . Z io n see E z ra 9 . 1 – 2, w h ere in term arriage b etw een Je w s and n eigh b o u rin g race s is con d em n ed . 2 4 3 .8 no in h eritan ce in Je s s e see 2 S a m u e l 2 0 .1 , 1 K in g s 1 2 . 1 6 , and 2 C h ro n icle s 1 0 . 1 6 , w h ere to have no ‘in h eritan ce in the son o f J e s s e ’ ( D a v id ) is to b e a dissen tien t am o n g the Israelites. 2 4 3 .9 – 1 1 w e are c o m m a n d e d . . . b ro th erh o o d w ith u s the lan gu age and sentim ents are b iblical, bu t th ere is no sp ecific sou rce. 2 4 3 .2 5 M o o n sh in e sm u ggled spirits. 2 4 3 .2 7 a slid in g b o w sp rit a ru n n in g bow sprit, w h ich w as slid in to fu rl the jib.

EXPLANATORY NOTES 243.2 8

377

C am pvere

(n o w V e e r e ), on the island o f W alch ero n , H o llan d , w h ere the S c o ts h ad a p rivileged trad in g p o st fro m 14 4 4 until 1 7 9 5 . 244 motto see G e o rg e C ra b b e , The P arish R egister ( L o n d o n , 18 0 7 ), 2 .2 8 4 – 9. 244.20 the articles the term s o f the an te–nuptial con tract regu latin g the pro p erty pro visio n s on a m arriage. 2 4 4 .3 3 – 3 4 the deeds m ust be signed . . . happy on this b e lie f th ere ap pears to b e no oth er d o cum en ted evid en ce, bu t it m ay b e related to the old req u irem en t that m arriages b e celeb rated w ithin can o n ical hou rs. 2 4 5 .16 point d’espagne S p an ish lace m ade w ith gold and silver th read. 2 4 5 .1 9 – 20 sum pter m ules m u les u sed fo r carryin g b aggage. 245.30 the C op p er Captain a sham captain : M ic h a e l P erez is so called in the dram atis p erson ae o f Jo h n F le tc h e r, R u le a W ife an d H a ve a W ife (p erfo rm ed 16 2 4 ). 2 4 6 .1 – 3 as she had proved h e rs e lf... land here see E x o d u s 2 0 .1 2 ( the fou rth com m an d m en t) and P ro verb s 3 . 1 – 2. 2 4 6 .4 a better country H eav en ( H eb re w s 1 1 . 1 6 ) . 2 46 .6 – 9 the path o f knowledge . . . causeth to err P ro verb s 1 9 .2 7 : ‘ C e a s e , m y son, to h ear the instru ction that cau seth to err fro m the w o rd s o f k n o w led ge’ . 2 4 7 motto see Rom eo an d Ju lie t , 1 . 5 . 5 2 – 5 3 , 5 0 ~ 5 7 ( T y b a lt , o f R o m e o ). 2 4 7 .25 Spanish mantle cloak w ith a hood attached. 2 4 7 .2 7 slouched hat see note to 8 2 .2 0 . 2 4 8 .2 2 – 23 H im who brought peace on earth . . . mankind Je s u s . S e e L u k e 2 .1 4 . 2 4 8 .2 4 – 25 G od hateth the blood–thirsty m an see P salm 5 .6 : ‘the L o r d w ill abh o r the b lo o d y and deceitfu l m an ’ . B u t the p h raseo lo gy ow es som eth in g to P ro verb s 2 9 .1 0 : ‘ T h e b lo o d –thirsty hate the u p righ t’ . 2 48.25 he who strik e th . . . perish with the sword see M atth ew 2 6 .5 2 and R ev ela tio n 1 3 . 1 0 . 2 4 9 .2 1 – 22 the decisive in te rv ie w . . . to dem and w h atever the m oral position , R a ven sw o o d had no legal righ t to such an interview . 2 49 .32 depart in peace L u k e 2 .2 9 . 249 .33 the ancient A d am u n regen erate hum anity, as o ppo sed to J e s u s the n ew A d am . S e e 1 C o rin th ian s 1 5 .2 2 , 4 5 . 249 .35 i n t h e gall o f bitterness and bond o f iniquity see A cts 8 .2 3 . 2 5 0 .5 – 6 add not fuel to firebrands pro verb ial or q u a si–pro verb ial : c o m ­ p are the varian ts o f ‘P u t not fire to flax’ ( O D E P , 2 6 0 ). 2 50 .8 – 9 peradventure m y grey hairs m ay turn aw ay wrath varyin g ‘A so ft an sw er tu rneth aw ay w rath ’ ( P ro verb s 1 5 . 1 ) and ‘w ise m en tu rn aw ay w rath ’ (P ro v erb s 2 9 .8 ). 250 .28 T o –m orrow, sir— to–m orrow— to–m orrow se e M acbeth, 5.5.19 (M a c b e th on his w ife ’ s death ). 2 5 1 .2 0 – 29 I f a wom an . . . disallowed her see N u m b e rs 3 0 . 3 – 5. 2 5 2 .1 3 under her own hand in h er ow n h an d w ritin g; it is thus a h olograph docum ent, m ak in g it legally b in d in g in Sco tlan d . 2 5 3 .7 a w orld’s wonder an o b ject o f astonishm en t to the w h ole w orld . 2 54 motto R o b e rt S o u th ey , Thalaba the D estroyer (L o n d o n , 1 8 0 1 ), 7 4 3 0 – 3 1·

2 5 4 .16

the disease w as on the spirits

i.e. h er sick n ess w as m ental rather

than physical.

2 5 5 .4 0 – 4 1 S ir W illiam W allace see note to 7 .4 . T h e size o f W a lla ce ’s sw o rd an d the strength o f his blo w s have q u asi–p ro verb ial status : com pare note to The A n tiqu a ry, E E W N 3 , 2 0 4 .4 0 – 4 1 . 2 56 .22 auld lang syne old tim es, old friend ship.

378 2 5 6 .2 2 2 5 6 .2 6

256 .26

EXPLANATORY NOTES for as braw as h o w ever splen did. tenony hough strin gy cut fro m a h in d le g o f b eef. m a ir b y token the m ore so (i.e . all the m ore strin gy b y con trast w ith

y o u rs).

2 5 6 –3 5 as i f they served us for true love and likeing as i f they gave u s a dole b ec au se th ey tru ly lik ed us. 2 5 7 .1 dead dole dole distribu ted on the o ccasio n o f a fu n eral. 2 5 7·3– 4 M y l o a f . . . ne’er the worse see R e g in a ld S c o t, The D iscoverie o f W itchcraft (L o n d o n , 1 5 8 4 ) , 2 4 5 : com pare C L A , 1 2 3 . 2 5 7 .5 – 6 G od send us a green Yule and a fat kirk–yard allu d in g to the p ro verb ‘A green Y u le m akes a fat K ir k –y a rd ’ , i.e. a m ild w in ter lead s to m any deaths (R a y , 3 6 ; O D E P , 3 3 7 ) . 2 5 7 . 1 7 – 18

her w inding s h e e t. . . is up as high as her throat already

the sup erstition, w h ich in gen eral term s dates b ack to H o m e ric tim es ( Odyssey , 2 0 . 3 5 1 – 2 ), is lo cated in the H e b rid e s, w ith details sim ilar to those in the text, b y M a rtin M artin in h is A D escription o f the Western Isles o f Scotlan d (L o n d o n , 1 7 0 3 ) , 302 · (R o b e rtso n ) 2 5 7 . 1 8 – 19 H er sand . . . w eel shaken the im age is o f an h o u r–glass, in w h ich the siftin g o f sand fro m one com partm en t to the o ther m arks the p a ssage o f tim e. 2 5 7 .2 1 the fairy rings circles o f dark g reen grass b elieved to b e p ro d u ced b y fairies d ancin g, bu t actu ally d u e to the grow th o f fu n gi b elo w the su rfa ce. 2 5 7 .2 5 – 2 6 a bonnie red g o w n . . . a stake, a chain, and a tar–barrel see note to 2 3 9 .1 5. W itch es w e re stran gled, th en b u rn ed , som etim es in a tar b arrel. To the boot o ' that m eans ‘b esid es that’ . T h e red gow n is p ro b ab ly m etaphorical. 2 5 7 .2 7 up early and doun late see The M erry W ives o f W indsor, 1.4 .9 3 (M is tre ss Q u ickly). 2 5 7 . 3 1 n a e canny body u nn atu ral, d ealin g in the sup ern atural. 2 5 7 .3 4 – 36 a’ the Scotch witches . . . N o rth –B erw ick L a w fo r N o rth B e rw ic k L a w see note to 6 2 .2 2 . T h e district w as associated w ith w itch es b ecau se o f the 1 5 9 0 – 9 2 trials fo r alleged satanic rituals in N o rth B e rw ic k kirkyard (in clu d in g flying th rou gh the a ir), and the trials at H ad d in gto n 1 6 4 9 – 7 7 . F o r a d escriptio n o f Sco ttish p ractices, see L e tte rs 5 and 9 o f S c o tt’ s Letters on D e­ monology an d W itchcraft (L o n d o n , 1 8 3 0 ) .

2 57 .4 3

screw ing up

tuning.

2 5 0 .1 the night tonight. 2 5 8 .2 i f the pins haud i f the tu n in g p eg s rem ain in place. 2 5 8 .6 Presbytery and Synod p resb yteries are the C h u rc h o f S c o tla n d cou rts su p erio r to kirk session s. U n til th ey w e re d isco n tin u ed at the en d o f 19 9 2 syn od s w e re regio n al cou rts ran k in g b etw een p resb yteries and the sup rem e cou rt, the G e n e ra l A ssem b ly. 2 5 8 .2 3 l’Am phitrion où l’on dîne see M o liè r e ’ s co m ed y A m phitryon ( 1 6 6 8 ) , lines 1 7 0 3 – 0 4 : ‘L e véritable A m p h itryo n / E s t l ’A m ph itryo n , où l ’on d isn e ’; i.e. the p erso n pro vid in g the fea st is the tru e host. 2 5 9 .4 1 – 43 the key o f the bridal–c h a m b e r. . . entrusted b o istero u s gu ests w e re thus exclu d ed fro m the b ed ro o m , an d a relu ctan t b rid e or groom cou ld not leave it. 2 6 1.4 at all rates at an y cost, b y an y m eans. 2 6 1 .2 4 T h e provincial judge o f the district the local sh eriff, o r his d ep u te or substitute, w ho w e re resp on sib le fo r investigating crim es as w e ll as co n d u ctin g trials. 2 6 2 .6 the D uke’s W alk S c o tt exp lains in a M a g n u m note ( 1 4 . 3 5 6 ) : ‘A w alk in the vicinity o f H o ly ro o d –ho u se, so called , b ecau se o ften freq u en ted b y the D u k e o fY o r k , afterw ard s Ja m e s II., d u rin g his resid e n ce in S co tla n d . It w as fo r a lo n g tim e the u su al p lace o f ren d ezvou s fo r settling affairs o f h o n o u r.’ T h e w alk

EXPLANATORY NOTES

379

w as situated b elo w S t A n th o n y’ s C h a p el. 2 6 2 .9 – 10 a sa d d e r an d a w is e r m a n at the en d o f C o le rid g e ’ s T h e R im e o f the A n cien t M a r in e r ’ ( 1 7 9 8 ), it is said o f the w e d d in g gu est that after h earin g the m arin er’s story ‘A sad d er and a w iser m an / H e rose the m o rro w m o rn ’ . 2 6 2 .2 1 – 22 an o w e r tru e tale pro verb ial exp ressio n (C h e v io t, 3 9 ) , m ea n ­ in g som eth in g ‘ only too tru e’ . 2 6 2 m o tto fro m a p o em com po sed by A le x a n d e r G a rd e n on the d eath o f S ir Ja m e s L a w so n o f H u m b ie in 1 6 1 2 , in A le x a n d e r N isb et, A System o f H eraldry Specu lative an d P ractical, 2 vols (L o n d o n , 1 7 2 2 ) , V ol. 2 , A p p e n d ix : com pare CLA, 1 1 . 2 6 3 .17 the d ay today. 2 6 3 .1 8 as b la ck as the cro o k see note to 1 7 1 . 1 3 . 2 6 3 .2 8 u p h a u d it fo r w arran t that it w as. 2 6 3 .3 2 led o u t the b ra w l op en ed the dancin g. 2 6 3 .3 4 – 3 5 p rid e w o u ld ge t a fa ’ pro verb ial : see R a y , 1 4 8 and O D E P , 6 4 7 . 2 6 3 .3 8 W h a t sh o u ld ail u s to see them ? w h at shou ld stop us seein g them ? 2 6 3 .4 3 – 2 6 4 .2 th e re ’ s a th irteen th . . . no be la n g fo r this w o rld a w id esp rea d sup erstitio n (d e riv ed fro m the L a s t S u p p e r) that w h en th ere are th irteen in a com pan y one o f th em w ill shortly die. 2 6 4 .4 2 – 4 3 D o n o t . . . u rge . . . d e sp erate ech oes R o m e o to P aris at J u lie t ’s tom b : ‘tem pt not a d e sp ’rate m an ’ (Rom eo a n d Ju lie t , 5 .3 .5 9 ) . 2 6 8 .2 7 life h ad lo st to h im its salt an d its sa vo u r com pare M atth ew 5 . 1 3 and L u k e 1 4 . 3 4 : ‘i f the salt have lo st his savour, w h erew ith shall it be salted ?’

G LO SSA RY

This selective glossary defines single words; phrases are treated in the Explanatory Notes. It covers Scottish words, archaic and technical terms, and occurrences of familiar words in senses that are likely to be strange to the modern reader. For each word (or clearly distinguishable sense) glossed, up to four occurrences are noted; when a word occurs more than four times in the text, only the first instance is given, followed by ‘etc.’ . Orthographical variants of single words are listed together, usually with the most common use first; in these cases separate refer­ ences, divided by a semicolon, are normally given for each form. Often the most economical and effective way of defining a word is to refer the reader to the appropriate explanatory note. a in 5 0 . 2 3 ,7 5 .3 a ’, a all, every title–p a ge etc.; 9 6 .2 9 ; fo r 6 1 .8 see note a b ack b ack 1 1 0 . 1 8 abe see note to 19 7 .3 6 a –b le e ze , ab le eze ablaze 8 8 .2 9 ; 19 8 .12 ab o u t in atten dan ce on 1 0 5 . 2 1 ab ro a ch a–foot 1 6 5 .3 4 ab ro ad out in the o pen air 2 4 .3 6 ,7 6 .3 , 1 4 5 . 1 9 , 1 7 8 .2 9 ab u n e, aboon above, in good ch eer 1 1 0 .3 , 19 6 .2 8 , 1 9 8 .2 0 ; 6 8 .4 0 , 8 6 .2 4 , 2 1 4 .2 2 a c cep tatio n favo u rable recep tion 8 1.18 acc e ssio n assent, ad h eren ce 5 0 .3 5 , 5 0 .3 7 a cco m m o d a tio n s accom m od ation 9 4 .2 4 , 9 9 .4 , 1 1 7 . 1 8 a c c o m p t acco u nt 1 6 6 .3 4 a c c o rd see note to 1 0 2 .3 6 a c re s lan d ed estates 1 6 5 . 3 0 , 1 6 8 . 3 1 a d d re ss b earin g in con versation, skill, ad ro itn ess, cou rteo u s beh aviou r 1 7 .3 9 etc. a d ju d ic a t io n fo r 1 2 8 .9 an d 1 2 9 . 1 see note to 1 2 8 . 8 – 1 1 ad o to do 14 0 .9 ad va n ce distan ce in fro n t 1 7 5 .4 3 a d ve rse h o ld in g an opposite position

16.39 a d vice s com m u nication fro m a d is­ tance 4 6 .4 2 a d vised ju d ged 1 2 8 .3 8

ae one, a sin gle 6 8 .2 4 etc. æ th er air 1 1 5 . 1 2 a f f o f f 6 5 .2 e tc .; fo r 1 1 3 . 1 3 see note affian ced engaged 2 4 9 .2 1 , 2 5 0 .1 a f o r e b efo re, in fro nt o f 6 8 .1 6 , 1 0 8 . 2 9 , 1 4 1 . 3 , 19 7 .9 again again st 6 4 .4 2 again st b y the tim e o f 2 3 2 .2 4 agé act fo r an other as a law agen t or solicito r 1 0 2 .3 6 agitated set in m otion 1 5 8 .3 5 ah in t b eh in d 6 1 .2 4 , 2 6 3 .2 6 aid see note to 10 2 .8 aid in g h elp fu l 2 4 3 . 1 1 ail see note to 2 6 3 .3 8 aill ale 1 9 2 . 2 8 , 1 9 5 . 4 1 ain ow n 6 1 .7 etc. airt d irect 1 1 4 . 3 0 , 2 1 0 . 1 2 aits oats 6 2 .1 6 a iv e r carth o rse, old h o rse 19 8 .2 6 alan e alone 1 9 9 . 1 7 alim e n ta ry p ro vid in g m ain ten ance

3 5 .3 2

a llen arly only, exclu sively 2 1 3 . 1 6 allo w d ed u ct fro m the am ou nt due

7 7 .32 ally co n fed erates 2 4 5 .1 4 a m a n g am o n g title–p age etc. a m a te u r p erso n w ith a taste fo r a p a r ­ ticular su b ject 1 2 .3 9 a m b i–d e x te r p ractisin g on both sid es 4 6 .2 am e n d s see note to 1 9 2 . 2 1 – 26 an, a n ’ 1 i f 6 8 .3 9 e tc .; 1 0 5 .2 3 , 2 0 1 .2 , 2 1 0 .2 4

380

GLOSSARY an, a n ’2 and 1 1 3 . 5 ; 1 9 2 .3 4 , 2 1 0 . 1 3 an c e once 9 0 .3 8 etc. an ch o ret h erm it 3 9 .3 3 an cie n tly fo rm erly 3 6 .3 7 , 8 2 .4 a n e 1 one 6 1 .2 2 e tc .; fo r 1 9 2 .4 3 and 2 0 7 .2 1 see notes an e2 a 7 5 . 1 1 , 1 1 4 . 1 4 , 2 0 1 . 3 , 2 2 0 .3 3 an eath b en eath 6 4 . 1 1 an en t con cern in g, about 7 2 .3 7 , 2 19 .2 1 an eu gh en ou gh 7 7 .9 etc. an glice L a tin in E n g lish 1 1 1 . 2 8 , 2 0 9 .4 3 a n ith er an other 7 7 .2 7 etc. an k er m easu re 1 1 4 . 1 4 an n u al Scots la w an nu al paym en t fro m lan d or p ro p erty 8 9 .4 3 an tiq u e v en erab le 1 0 3 . 1 4 a p p le –w o m a n w o m an w h o k eep s a stall fo r sale o f ap ples 7 3 .3 7 ap p ro p ria te d ap prop riate 1 2 . 1 7 are n a aren ’ t 2 0 8 .2 8 , 2 1 4 .3 8 aro in t see note to 6 0 .1 9 ass ash es 9 7 .2 1 a’th egith er alto gether 8 5 .3 5 attain d er fo rfeitu re o f righ ts on c o n ­ viction o f treaso n 1 2 6 .5 , 2 2 0 .2 5 atw e en b etw een 2 0 6 .4 3 au ld old 4 7 .6 etc. a u ld –w a rld o ld –w o rld 19 6 .2 0 a v a at all 1 1 2 . 1 6 a v an t–c o u rie r m essen g er sent on in advance 1 4 3 .3 6 , 2 0 5 .5 a w all 6 4 .3 3 a w a ’ aw ay 8 6 .1 5 etc. aw e ow e 7 7 .3 2 aw eel w ell 10 8 .9 etc. aw fu l, a w fu ’ aw fu l, d read fu l, te r­ rible, sublim ely m ajestic, com m an d­ in g resp ect or fea r 6 6 .3 9 e tc .; 6 5 .1 9 , 2 1 3 .4 0 aw so m e d read fu l 2 0 8 .1 aye alw ays 4 7 .3 0 etc. b a c k –g am e see note to 2 2 6 .1 2 b a c k –se y (sir)lo in 2 5 6 .2 7 b a c k –sw o rd see note to 1 6 7 . 9 – 1 0 b a c k –w y n d b ack lan e 6 .3 5 baillie m agistrate 90 .8 b a irn child 10 6 .4 2 etc. b aith both 1 0 5 .2 3 etc. b all bu llet, c an n o n –ball 5 0 .2 4 ,1 9 2 .4 2 ,

198.17 b a n d –strin g strin g fo r fasten in g c o l­ lar or r u f f 14 7 .2 4 b a n d y ban d together 2 3 .3 4

381

b an e bone 6 5 .5 , 2 1 6 .7 , 2 5 6 .2 8 b an n o ck rou n d flat cake m ad e o f m eal and cooked on a grid d le 6 4 .3 2 , 1 1 2 . 1 1 ; fo r 2 1 1 . 1 7 see note b a r n –d o o r reared at the b a rn –door 2 11.15 b artizan battlem ented p arap et 6 9 .2 4 , 1 4 0 .1 2 , 1 7 5 .2 3 b ato on (strik e w ith ) a stick 1 3 2 .3 6 b a w b e e cop p er coin origin ally w orth 6 p en ce S c o ts, one h alfp en n y sterlin g ( 0 .2 p ) 1 9 7 . 1 0 be b y 1 0 8 . 1 8 b e a v e r hat o f b eaver fu r 9 2 .4 b e ck silent sign al 2 1 1 . 3 0 b e d e sm a n h u m ble servan t 1 9 7 .3 0 b e d ize n e d d resse d in a gau d y or v u l­ gar fash io n 2 4 5 .2 9 b e d ra l b ead le 1 9 7 .2 9 , 2 5 8 .7 b e e tle –b ro w e d h avin g pro m in en t eyebro w s 1 4 3 . 1 0 b e fa ’ b efa ll 9 5 .3 7 b e flu m b efo o l b y cajo lin g langu age 2 1 0 .2 6 , 2 1 0 .2 7 b e gu iled m istaken 2 5 7 .2 3 b e h in t beh in d 8 5 .3 6 b e h o o f b e h a lf 1 3 1 . 3 6 b e h o ve, b eh o ove, b e h u v e be p ro p er 1 3 0 .2 8 , 2 0 5 .2 7 ; n eed 5 6 .3 1 ; fo r 1 9 7 .2 2 and 19 8 .9 see notes b e ld a m e hag, w itch 2 3 9 .3 9 , 2 4 1 .2 b e ll–siller fee fo r rin gin g b ell 1 9 5 .4 0 b e ll–m a n tow n–crier 1 0 .3 2 b e lly –go d glutton 1 3 8 .2 6 b e n in n er room , b est roo m 10 6 .9 b e n d –leath er leath er fo r shoe soles 6 4.6 b e n d ed cock ed 19 7 .4 3 b e n t d eg ree o f en d u ran ce 9 1 .6 b e se e m b efit 2 1 5 . 3 b ick e r d rin k in g–cu p , b eak er, bow l 4 8 .2 3 ,8 1 .15 , 1 2 2 .4 2 ,2 1 7 .8 b ick e rin g flick erin g 1 0 5 .3 3 , 1 0 6 . 3 b id d in g en treaty 6 8 .1 6 b id e aw ait 2 4 .1 6 etc.; stay, w ait 6 4 .1 7 etc.; dw ell 1 0 5 .2 2 ; en d u re, b ear 2 0 9 .7 biggo n ets linen cap 1 1 0 . 2 4 b ille t1 letter 1 8 4 . 1 etc. b illet2 p iece o f firew o o d 1 7 . 1 9 b in k w allrack or s h e lf fo r dishes

105.37

b in n a be not 1 9 3 . 1 5 b irk ie 1 sm art yo u n g fello w 1 4 5 .2 4 , 16 7 .17

382

GLOSSARY

b irk ie 2 the card gam e b e g g a r–m y– n eigh b o u r 1 7 4 . 1 2 b irlin g c aro u sin g 1 9 1 . 3 6 b it goes w ith fo llo w in g w ord in d icatin g sm alln ess, fam iliarity, or con tem pt 1 0 6 .3 4 e tc .; fo r 4 7 . 3 0 , 9 5 . 1 0 , 1 0 7 . 1 8 , 1 6 6 . 5 , 1 6 7 . 1 6 , an d 19 9 .4 see notes b la ck a v ise d d a rk –com plexio n ed 19 8 .13 b la c k –c o ck m ale o f the b la ck grou se 9 6 .2 7 b la c k ja c k leath er b e e r –ju g 6 3 .6 b la d e –b o n e sh o u ld er–blad e joint 7 4 .3 2

b la w b lo w 5 4 .1 6 etc. b le e ze blaze 2 0 6 .2 0 , 2 1 4 . 1 8 b lin k b r ie f b righ t gleam 2 2 2 . 3 1 b lo w n out o f breath 7 8 .3 1 b lu id blo o d 1 9 2 . 1 , 2 2 0 .2 9 b lu id y blo o d y 1 9 7 .2 8 b ly th , b lyth e glad 6 4 .4 1; 4 3 .4 1 etc. b o a rd table laid fo r m eal 6 6 .1 3 etc. b o d y p erso n 1 0 7 .4 3 etc. b o gle goblin, terrifyin g su p ern atu ral creatu re 6 4 .1 2 b o n n ie pretty, lovely, fine, dear 1 0 5 . 1 8 etc. b o n n ie –like iron ical fine sort o f 1 1 3 .1 8 bo o n convivial 1 6 7 .4 2 b o o t see notes to 9 . 2 1 , 4 9 .8 , 6 8 .1 3 , 1 7 2 . 2 5 , 1 8 2 . 3 2 , 2 2 5 . 2 1 , 2 2 8 .2 , and 2 5 7 . 2 5 – 26 b o sk y b u sh y 3 1 . 1 5 b o ttle–h o ld e r seco n d to a b o xer, su p ­ p o rter 1 6 5 .2 6 b o tto m establish, b ase 6 .4 b o u k , b o w k b u lk 1 9 2 .2 ; 19 8 .2 0 b o u l h an dle 9 4 .3 8 b o u rn e stream 3 1 . 1 5 b o u ro c k m o u n d 19 6 .2 7 b o w e l disem b o w el 5 2 .2 b o w e r sh ad y recess, arb o u r 2 4 .4 2 , 2 5 . 3 5 ; ch am b er 6 6 .1 3 , 2 0 6 .1 8 b r a c h h o u nd hu n tin g b y scen t 2 8 .4 3 b ra e h illsid e, slope 2 9 . 2 7 ,1 9 7 . 2 8 b ra k e fern , b rack en 2 3 3 .7 b ra n c h an d er 2 9 . 8 ,1 4 6 .2 4 b r a n d e r noun g rid iro n 6 4 .2 7 b ra n d e r verb grill 1 3 8 . 2 9 , 1 3 8 . 3 0 b rattle m ake a c o n fu se d and harsh sou n d 2 0 3 .1 6 b ra v a d in g defiant 1 9 .4 1 b ra v e w orthy, excellen t 8 2 .2 8 , 9 5 .4 3 ,

1 0 7 .2 6 , 2 2 0 .2 8 ; fin ely–d resse d , h an dso m e 2 5 7 .3 4 b r a v e r y sp len d o u r 2 6 3 .1 0 b r a w ,b r a ’ fine 1 9 7 . 3 1 e tc .; 2 5 7 .4 1 b ra w l (F r e n c h ) dan ce 2 6 3 .3 2 b r a w ly v e ry w e ll 7 7 . 2 9 , 1 0 5 . 2 6 , 10 8 .2 7 b re a th in g in flu en ce, inspiration 6 6 .2 9 b re n t u n w rin k led 1 9 5 . 1 7 b re w is broth, stock m ade fro m m eat and vegetab les 10 6 .4 b r e w ste r fo r 1 0 5 .8 see note b rid a l–sh o t d isch arge o f firearm s in celeb ratio n o f a w e d d in g 2 5 8 .1 6 b r id e ’s –m a n bestm an 2 4 5 . 1 3 , 2 5 9 .4 2 b r ig tw o –m asted v essel 5 0 .1 9 , 2 1 6 . 1 1 , 2 4 3 .2 6 b r ig g b rid ge 1 9 7 . 2 1 , 1 9 7 .3 4 b r im m e r brim m in g cup 16 7 .2 4 , 16 8 .12 b risk e t (jo in t o f m eat fro m ) b reast 2 9 .1,8 1.3 4 b rith e r b ro th er title–page b ro a d p ie c e , b r o a d –p ie c e la rge, thin o n e –p o u n d sterlin g gold coin 1 4 1 . 1 9 , 2 1 8 . 1 5 – 1 6 ; 1 5 8 .3 7 b ro a d sw o rd , b r o a d –sw o rd cutting sw o rd w ith b road b lade 1 9 8 . 1 8 , 2 1 3 . 3 9 ; 16 7 .9 b ro c h e roastin g spit 10 8 .4 0 , 10 9 .2 , 1 1 0 .4 ,1 1 3 .1 1 b ro id e re d em b ro id ere d 7 7 . 1 7 , 2 1 5 .2 1 .2 2 0 .3 5 b ro o d –h en b re e d in g –h en 6 1 .2 3 , 6 4 . 5 , 6 4 .1 0 b ru ta l an im al 3 8 .3 , 1 3 5 . 3 7 b ru ta lly in anim al m an n er 2 4 8 .2 7 b u m p e r cup or glass filled to the brim , esp ecia lly fo r a toast 1 7 2 . 2 7 , 2 0 4 . 3 1 , 2 2 8 .5 b u m p e r –d eep w ith d eep d rin k in g 9 1 .9 b u n d b o u n d 1 9 7 .3 0 b u rth e n refrain , ch oru s 7 4 . 1 2 b u sk p rep a re, ad orn 1 0 8 .1 b u t kitchen or outer roo m 1 0 5 . 3 1 b y –p a st that have p a ssed 4 7 .3 9 b y e fo r 4 7 .3 0 see note b y e –p la y action ap art fro m the m ain action, as in d u m b –sh ow 6 4 .2 0 c a ’ call 1 1 2 . 2 7 , 1 9 5 .4 2 , 2 0 7 .1 5 , 2 5 6 .3 5 ca b a g e cut o f f h ead o f a d ee r clo se beh in d h o rn s 8 1 . 1 2

GLOSSARY c a d g y c h eerfu l 1 0 6 .3 3 cake oatcake 1 1 3 . 2 6 , 1 3 8 .2 8 call w h istle 3 2 .4 3 callan t lad 2 1 4 . 1 7 , 2 5 7 . 1 2 c a m p a ig n –clo ak cloak u sed on a m il­ itary cam paign 9 9 .1 7 c a n a ry light sw eet w in e fro m the C a n a ry Islan d s 1 1 6 . 2 1 , 1 1 8 . 1 , 1 1 8 .2 , 18 1.3 6 c an k ered v en o m o u s, ill–natu red 1 can n d rin k in g v essel 1 1 . 4 ca n n a can ’t 6 2 .2 0 etc. ca n n o n –b it sm ooth rou n d bit 2 2 7 .5 c a n n y p leasan t, u se fu l 10 6 .2 , 2 1 0 . 1 4 ; fo r 2 5 7 . 3 1 see note ca n t w o rd or p h rase u sed habitually and u nthinkingly, jargo n 7 3 .3 8 , 17 1.2 2 c a n tin g w h in in g, u sin g religio u s la n ­ gu age affected ly, hypocritical 90 .9 can traip spell 2 5 7 .3 8 c a n ty lively, ch eerfu l, pleasan t 1 0 5 .3 9 c a p o n castrated cock 6 4 .2 7 etc. cap o t, cap o te fo r 1 7 0 .2 9 and 1 7 1 . 2 1 see note to 1 7 1 . 2 0 – 2 1 ; fo r 2 2 7 .3 8 see notes to 2 2 7 .3 8 and 1 7 1 . 2 0 – 2 1 c a r ch ario t 1 6 0 .1 9 carab in e carbin e, gun h a lf–w ay b e ­ tw een pistol and m u sket 1 9 7 .3 4 ca rb o n a d e d sco red acro ss and b roiled or grilled 1 1 5 . 2 1 c a r –cak e sm all cake 2 1 1 . 1 7 c a re e r gallop, ch arge 3 8 .3 etc. c a re fu l sorrow fu l, an xiou s 2 0 6 .3 8 ca re n a d o n ’t care 1 4 1 . 2 0 carle ch u rlish fello w 1 0 5 . 1 7 etc. carlin e (o ld ) w om an 7 7 .3 2 , 1 0 5 .3 9 c a r r y con du ct, esco rt, take 5 0 .2 2 etc.; w in , com e first in 1 7 4 .6 ; w in in an electio n 1 7 4 .9 , 2 2 6 .2 4 ; fo r 3 .8 and 5 5 . 1 5 see notes c a st ap pearan ce, cast o f featu res 2 5 . 2 4 , 3 2 . 2 0 , 4 8 . 1 7 ; type, kind 1 9 5 . 1 3 ; fo r 7 7 .2 9 an d 1 0 8 .3 9 see notes c a sto r hat o f b e a v e r’s or rabbit’s fu r 2 0 8 .3 2 cattle h o rses 6 2 .6 c au k see note to 3 .5 cau ld cold 5 4 .1 6 etc. c a u se w a y street or pavem en t laid w ith c o b b le–stones 9 0 .8 , 10 4 .5 c a u se w a y e d paved w ith cobbles or p eb b les 2 0 8 .3 4

3 3 –3 2

383

ca ve sso n restrain in g n o seban d fitted to h o rse ’s nostrils 2 2 7 .6 certie see note to 2 1 3 .3 0 ch allen ge d em and , call fo r 2 3 4 .3 1 ch a m p io n one w h o fights on b e h a lf o f an other 5 5 . 1 2 , 1 0 3 .8 c h a n g e –h o u se inn 6 .3 4 etc. ch ap chop 1 4 1 . 3 2 ch a p p in S c o ts h a lf–pint (0 .8 5 litres)

125.9

c h a p p it struck 8 5 .3 6 ch ase, ch a ce u n en clo sed land r e ­ served fo r b reed in g and hu ntin g w ild anim als 2 7 .3 2 , 3 6 .3 4 ; 3 7 .1 9 c h a u m e r ch am b er 6 6 .6 , 6 6.9 c h a u n ce ch an ce, hap p en 10 8 .2 5 c h eap see note to 1 0 5 .2 6 ch ee k sid e 5 4 .1 3 ch ican e, c h ic a n e ry legal trickery 1 5 2 . 2 8 ; 2 3 6 .3 2 ch iel, ch ield fello w [ 1 ] , 1 3 1 . 3 c h im la y –n u ik c h im n ey–corn er, hearth 9 5 .1 ch im la y ch im n ey 9 5 .2 3 , 2 6 3 .2 5 c h im n e y –n ook ch im n ey–corn er, h earth 5 4 .1 3 c h u r c h –ju d ic a to ry ecclesiastical cou rt 19 .4 0 c irc u m sta n ce ap pen d age, detail 6.9, 17 6 .2 4 claith s clothes 7 6 .4 3 cla v e rin g pratin g, talking fo o lish ly 112 .3 2 c la v e rs gossip, n o n sen se 1 1 1 . 3 6 cle rk sch o lar, one able to read and w rite 7 2 .3 c lo c k in –h en b ro o d h en 19 8 .4 c lo g im ped e 2 0 .1 3 clo se adjective shut up ind oors 2 8 .1 3 ; co n cealed 4 9 .15 ; c lo se –fitting 14 4 .2 0 clo se noun cou rtyard 3 5 .3 5 c lo u gh n arro w go rge 2 2 .1 4 co at heraldry c o at–o f–arm s 1 9 .2 3 c o c k e m o n y w o m a n ’s cap w ith starch ed crow n , gath erin g o f h air in a ban d 10 5 .4 2 , 1 0 8 .1 c o g g in g w h eed lin g 90 .6 co ign see note to 1 2 9 . 3 – 4 co m e cam e 9 5 .2 2 co m fit sw eetm eat, su g a r–p lu m 9 6 .2 9 co m m o d ity o ccasio n 7 2 .3 7 c o m m o n ty see note to 1 0 1 .1 – 6 c o m m u n ica tio n p erson al in ter­ co u rse 1 6 6 . 1 5

384

GLOSSARY

c o m p a c t adjective firm 2 3 8 .1 3 c o m p a c t noun agreem en t, con tract

2 3 9 .13

c o m p a ss obtain 1 9 6 .2 1 co m p a ssio n a te pity, com m iserate 1 4 3 .2 2 co m p la c e n c e p leasu re, delight 4 4 .1 3 ,

co w l c lo se –fitting cap, u su ally o f w ool 14 4 .2 1 c o x c o m b sim pleton 49 .8 c ra c k con versatio n 2 1 9 .2 2 c r a ft skill, dexterity 6 5 .3 5 ; cun n in g

147.43

c r a ig n eck, throat 1 3 3 .8 c ra v e d em an d 7 2 .3 3 , 1 3 2 . 1 2 6 3 .3 2 co m p la c e n t pleasin g, d eligh tfu l 6 6 .3 9 cra v e n cow ard 4 8 .3 3 c r a w cro w 1 9 7 .2 9 , 2 1 4 .2 8 co m p la isa n ce o b ligin gn ess 7 8 . 3 1 , c rim p to d eco y or trap m en to act as 1 7 5 .36, 1 7 5 .37 co m p le e n com plain 19 8 .8 sold iers or sailors 1 7 0 .2 co m p o sitio n com prom ise, a g re e ­ cro o k poth ook 1 7 1 . 1 3 , 2 6 3 .1 8 m en t 1 2 0 .1 2; settlin g o f a claim b y c r o p –eared see note to 7 3 . 3 2 – 3 3 m u tu al agreem en t, com p o u n d in g cro ss given to o pposition 2 2 6 .3 4 ; u n ­ 2 0 3 .2 9 favo u rab le, u n p leasin g 2 3 4 .2 6 ; fo r 4 7 . 1 5 see note c o m p ro m ise com e to term s about 2 2 4 .2 4 c r o w d y oatm eal and w ater m ixed and co m p ro m ise d exp osed to risk 1 6 .3 6 eaten raw 1 2 2 . 4 1 c ro w n coin w orth 55. ( 2 5 p ) 7 . 1 2 c o m p t see note to 1 2 8 . 8 – 1 1 co n fid en ce tru stw orthiness 1 1 3 . 4 , cu ck o o fool 49 .8 cu llio n rascal 9 0 .4 0 2 0 5 .1 5 c u lve rin a lo n g can n on 1 4 0 . 1 1 c o n fo rm see note to 6 1 . 1 4 co n fo u n d co n fu se, m ix up, fail to d is ­ c u m b e r trouble 2 4 9 .3 3 c u m m e r, k im m e r fem ale frien d tin guish , o verpo w er 1 1 . 1 8 , 1 1 . 3 4 , 1 0 5 .4 0 e tc .; 2 1 9 .2 2 , 2 5 6 .2 2 9 4 .3 1,2 2 9 .4 c o n sid e rate th ou ghtfu l 7 4 .2 0 ; c a re ­ c u ra to r p erso n legally resp on sib le fo r m an agin g the affairs o f a m in o r fu l 1 0 0 .1 9 c o n stan t firm , p ersisten t 2 4 . 1 9 ; u n – 2 2 3 .3 6 v ary in g 2 2 2 .3 1 c u rio u sly elaborately, exq uisitely, cu n n in g ly 4 8 .4 1 co n su m m a tio n en d, death 1 3 3 . 1 4 , c u tty see note to 1 0 6 . 1 5 154.35 c o n te m n (e r ) d e s p is e (r), s c o rn (e r) c u tty –p ip e short (cla y ) p ip e 2 1 3 . 7 2 7 .2 3 , 1 0 3 .3 6 , 1 6 3 .3 4 d a ffin g fu n 1 0 5 .2 2 ; n o n sen se co n tra ir con trary 8 8 .2 2 10 8 .3 1 co n v en ien t fitting, p ro p er 7 5 .6 d ain ty fine, h an dso m e 19 9 .7 co ok ie p lain b u n 2 1 1 . 1 7 d a m m e oath dam n m e ! 1 7 2 .6 c o p a rtm e n t com partm en t 1 4 4 . 1 1 d an d illy o ver–orn am en ted , fancy, co rb eille architecture carved re p re s­ p a m p ered 2 5 7 . 1 0 entation o f a b ask et 2 4 .1 5 d e a d –d eal b o ard on w h ich co rp se is c o rse co rp se 1 9 0 .1 6 , 1 9 6 . 1 0 laid 1 9 2 . 3 9 c o u ld n a c o u ld n ’t 7 7 . 1 0 etc. d e a d –fo u n d ered dead tired 6 1 .4 0 co u n cil cou n sel 1 1 9 . 3 8 d e ca d e n t d eclin in g 5 .3 0 d e cla ra n t Scots law accu sed p erso n co u n te n an ce patron age, favou r, m ak in g a statem ent b efo re th eir ap p earan ce o f favo u r 5 3 .3 9 , 7 3 .1 9 , com m ittal 1 1 0 . 2 142.43 c o u p e –go rge French c u t–throat d e c la ra to r see note to 1 2 8 . 8 – 1 1 1 3 2 .3 2 d eclen sio n d eclin e, deterioration 4.34,15.26 c o u rse verb h u nt 1 0 9 . 1 5 , 1 4 8 . 3 4 co u rse noun regu lar (p o stal) p ro cess d e co re d ad orn ed 7 7 . 1 7 , 1 0 6 . 1 2 , 2 4 3 .1 8 115 .2 0 , 117 .2 9 c o u rse r ch arger, stallion 6 .1 4 d e c o re m e n t d ecoration , orn am en t c o u sin –g e rm a n first cou sin 1 7 4 .7 2 0 6 .2 0 , 2 1 5 . 2 0 co u teau large knife w o rn as a w eap o n d e c re e t ju dgm en t, d ecree 2 2 3 .1 3 2 9 .1 3 d e c re e t–a rb itral d ecree given b y

GLOSSARY arbiters 3 5 . 3 1 d eevil devil 9 5 .2 , 9 5 .2 0 d e e v ilry devilry 2 5 7 .3 3 d e fo rm e d ren d ered u n sigh tly 5 .6 d e ’il devil 8 6 .1 5 etc. d elib erate stu d ied 2 4 7 .2 3 d ém êlé e con ten tion , q u arrel 1 7 5 . 1 4 d e m isa k e r sm all can n on 1 4 0 . 1 1 d e m u rra g e paym en t fo r delay to v e s ­ sel cau sed b y the h ire r 5 3 . 1 8 , 5 3 .2 5 d e n n e r d in n er 7 7 .2 6 , 9 5 .1 6 d en tier m ore h an dso m e (an d large or p lu m p ) 1 1 2 . 8 d ep o n e testify 6.6 d eran g e th row into con fu sio n , d isa r­ range 1 7 7 .3 0 , 2 4 7 .2 6 d e ra n g e m e n t d isp lacem en t 14 5 .4 0 d ero gate fall aw ay in ch aracter o r c o n ­ du ct 4 . 3 1 d esig n intend 3 5 .3 3 etc. d esig n e d b o u n d fo r 9 4 .2 2 d esu etu d e d isu se 9 9 . 3 1 , 1 1 5 . 3 6 d eterm in atio n decisio n 2 4 9 .1 5 ,

2 5 1–3 4

d eterm in ed defin ite, fixed 2 3 7 .4 0 d evelo p disen tan gle, o pen out o f e n ­ fo ld in g co verin g 3 1 . 2 1 d e v ice em blem atic figu re or d esign 1 9 .2 3 d evio u s p u rsu in g an erratic cou rse

5 3

5 4

1 1 –1 , 1 1 –1 d ev o ir duty 1 1 5 . 3 4 d evo ted doom ed 2 4 0 .2 5 d ie t–lo a f sp o n g e–cake 2 1 7 . 1 1 d ig est en d u re, stom ach 5 4 . 1 1 , 8 8 .3 4 d ig h t prepared 6 6 .13 dike w all 5 4 .2 2 d iligen ce sp eed , dispatch 1 7 3 .6 d in g drive 2 1 4 .3 4 d in gle deep w o o d ed ho llo w 3 1 . 1 4 ,

385

d isp o n e fo r 4 7 .2 8 and 1 1 1 . 3 4 see notes d iste m p e ra tu re ailm en t 2 3 3 .2 3 d ittay see note to 2 4 1 .9 – 1 2 d o g g e r tw o–m asted fish in g v essel 2 0 6 .4 1 , 2 1 7 . 3 0 d o ited fo o lish , silly 9 5 .2 0 , 1 1 2 . 3 2 dole distribution o f charity 2 5 6 . 1 3 , 2 5 6 .2 0 , 2 5 6 .4 2 , 2 5 7 .1 d o llar fo u r–m erk silver p iece w orth 45. 5 s. ( 2 2 p ) sterling, first issu ed in 1 6 7 6 2 8 .1 9 etc. d o n ative donation, gift 2 1 8 .2 6 d o n jo n –v a u lt vau lt o f great to w er o f a castle, inm ost k eep 8 7 .3 8 d o n n a it stupid 2 1 9 .2 3 doo dove 6 8 .3 7 d o o –co t d o ve–cot 6 8 .3 7 d o u b le duplicate 2 3 1 . 1 6 ; fo r 2 1 7 . 7 and 2 2 5 .2 8 see notes d o u b le t(–b u tto n s) (buttons o f) c lo se –fitting b o d y garm en t 7 6 .2 9 ,

81.30,151.34,172.16 d o u b t fea r 5 0 . 2 3 , 6 1 . 1 2 , 6 8 . 1 2 , 2 1 0 . 3 3 d o u b tin g ly fearfu lly, ap preh en sively

57 5

1 –1 d o u n dow n 2 8 . 1 1 etc. d o w n co m e fall, hum iliation 1 9 5 .2 6 d o w n rig h t direct, blu n t 2 0 9 .9 d ra p drop 6 8 .3 6 etc. d r a p –d e –b e rr y w o o llen cloth from B e rr y in F ra n c e 7 6 .3 6 , 7 6 .4 2 d ra w d isem bo w el 6 4 .1 5 d rieg h d reary 2 6 3 .1 7 d rin k –m o n e y gratuity, in th eory to be spen t on drink 2 1 8 .2 4 d ro lle ry com ic pictu re, caricatu re

144–31

191–14; 19541

d ro u g h t thirst 4 7 .4 3 , 8 8 .3 3 d ro u th y thirsty 4 7 .4 1 d ru ck e n dru n k en 1 1 1 . 3 4 ; drunk 2 0 0 .2 8 d u ctile p liable, yield in g read ily to p e r ­ suasion or instru ction 16 4 .2 4 d u n verb p ress fo r m o n ey o w ed 1 0 . 1 3 d u n adjective o f a du ll brow n colou r

9 4 –2 3

d u n e done 1 9 2 .4 2 , 19 8 .2 9 d u n g past participle o f din g throw n, d ash ed 9 5 . 1 0 ; k n o cked 1 9 8 .2 4 ; driven 2 1 9 .2 3 d u n sh in n u d gin g 2 1 6 . 1 5 d u ra n c e im priso n m en t 9 0 .2 d u ty exp ressio n o f d eferen ce 2 0 5 .2 5 d u ty –eg gs eggs paid as p art o f ren t to

3 1 ·21

d in k neat, trim , dainty 10 8 .6 d in n a d o n ’t 6 2 .1 0 etc. d irg ie , d r ig ie fu n eral feast 5 9 . 1 1 , d isallo w refu se p erm issio n to, fo rbid 2 5 1 .2 6 , 2 5 1 .2 9 d isco n so late dism al, ch eerless, gloom y 5 9 .3 0 , 6 3 .2 5 , 8 6 .5 , 9 1 . 2 1 d is g a m is n e d strip ped 9 1 . 2 1 d isn a d o esn ’t 6 8 .1 3 , 7 7 . 1 3 , 2 0 0 .1 4 , 2 5 6 .2 4 d isp len ish ed d ep rived o f fu rnitu re

182.39

386

GLOSSARY

feu d al su p erio r 9 8 .1 1 d w in in g sickly, pin in g 2 5 7 .2 8 e a sy m o derate, not b u rd en so m e 4 .1 eat ate 8 7 .2 6 eat eaten 7 1 . 2 9 , 1 6 5 . 3 8 eatch e adze, carp en ter’s tool fo r sli­ c in g su rfa ce o f w o o d 2 0 9 .2 eb b sh allow 1 9 5 .3 4 ebullitio n b o ilin g o r b u b b lin g o ver o f sentim ent 2 1 .2 7 é c la irc isse m e n t m utual explan ation 1 6 2 .1 1 ee, e ’e, een , e ’en eye, eyes 1 9 8 . 1 4 ; 1 0 8 .2 8 ; 1 0 6 .3 2 , 2 1 4 . 1 9 ; 1 1 6 . 1 6 e ’en adverb ju st, sim ply 1 0 5 .2 6 etc.; even 1 3 9 . 8 ; really 1 9 5 .2 7 e ’en noun even in g 1 0 7 . 1 5 , 2 1 4 .6 e g a d interjection a soften ed oath 2 9 .9 , 5 1 . 2 3 , 1 6 9 . 2 1 , 1 7 2 .4 0 e ld e r noun ru lin g eld er, p erso n elected to take p art in the govern m ent o f a P resb yterian C h u rc h alon g w ith m inisters 2 4 3 .2 6 e ld e r adjective o ld er 2 5 8 .1 8 , 2 5 9 .2 6 ; an cient, earlier, fo rm er 1 5 2 .2 0 E liz a b e th –c h a m b e r roo m in E liz a ­ b eth an style 1 3 . 2 7 , 1 4 . 1 1 em b attled fu rn ish ed w ith battle – m en ts, cren ellated 5 9 .2 7 e m b ra su re w in d o w o p en in g w ith slan tin g sid es 2 2 9 .1 0 e m e rg e n ce em ergen cy, p ressin g n eed

7 .3 8

en d p a rt 1 1 1 . 1 7 e n eu g h en ou gh 6 2 . 1 1 etc. en gin e m ean s 1 5 .3 8 e q u ip a g e outfit fo r a jo u rn ey 1 7 3 .5 eq u itab le fo r 1 2 5 .2 3 see note to

19.8– 9 e v e r b y an y ch an ce, in any d eg ree

9 5 .1 8

ev e rm o e everm ore 1 3 9 .3 4 e x c ise m a n custom s o ffic e r 1 4 0 .1 5 exie s h ysterics 9 7 .2 2 e x p e d e sen d 2 4 3 . 1 7 e x ten u ated em aciated 2 3 2 .2 8 e y e ss eyas, yo u n g haw k u n d er trainin g

50.3

fa ’ fall 1 9 8 .1 0 , 2 6 3 .3 5 fa ’ an fallen 9 5 .4 1 fa ce ap p earan ce 8 .1 2 , 5 1 . 1 8 , 6 4 .4 fa cto r estate m an ager 1 7 4 .8 fa cu lty ability, reso u rc es fo r d o in g som eth in g 2 0 6 .6 failzie fail 2 1 0 . 1 1

fain o bliged 8 2 .9 , 1 2 2 . 4 1 fa llo w –d e e r sm all yello w d ee r 2 7 .3 8 fa r adjective long, a lo n g 1 9 6 .4 1 , 2 6 3 .12 fa r adverb greatly 2 5 7 .2 3 fa sh trouble, b o th er 1 1 3 . 2 4 , 2 0 9 .7 , 2 0 9 .8 fash io n m ere form 4 7 .2 5 fa sh n a see note to 1 9 3 .5 fat w h at 2 1 0 .9 fa y fairy 2 4 0 .1 5 fe a r verb frigh ten 1 9 3 . 1 5 fe a r adjective see note to 2 1 3 . 3 – 4 fe a re d frigh ten ed , afraid 6 4 . 1 1 , 1 4 0 .1 2 fe c k le ss w eak , h elp less 2 1 0 . 1 0 fell noun see note to 7 9 .8 fell a d je d ive fierce, strong, en ergetic 1 9 8 .1 8 felo n cru el, w ick ed 8 .3 4 fe u –c h a rte r do cu m en t layin g out the agreem en t betw een su p erio r and vassal as to the o w n ersh ip o f real pro p erty 1 0 2 .3 3 , 1 0 3 . 1 8 fe u –rig h ts see note to 1 0 1 . 1 – 6 fe u a r som eb od y h o ld in g lan d on feu 7 . 1 0 etc. fe w m ish e s an im al’s droppin gs, tracks 1 5 9 .2 4 first–h ead see note to 29 .8 fit noun foot 10 6 .4 0 fit verb fit up 1 4 5 .3 5 flam b baste 1 1 1 . 2 8 flan k ard s knots in the flank o f d ee r

8 1 –3 4

flee fly 1 9 2 . 1 7 fligh terin g flick erin g, fitful, tran si­ ent 2 2 2 .3 0 flin g m ove rapidly 9 8 .1 7 , 19 9 .2 6 flisk w h im 2 2 7 .3 floren tin e pie 9 6 .2 6 , 9 7 .2 3 flo u r flow er 19 8 .7 flou rish sw agger, talk b ig 19 7 .4 0 , 2 2 3 .1 8 flo w m o rass 1 3 9 . 3 3 , 1 3 9 –3 5 , 2 6 7 .3 8 flu m m e ry oatm eal jelly 2 1 8 .9 flu n k e y livery servant, footm an, m ean crin g e r 8 6 .3 6 flytin g sco ld in g 1 1 0 . 1 9 fo g m o ss, lich en 1 9 4 .1 0 fo o t–p o st m essen g er travellin g on foot 1 6 1 . 1 8, 2 0 4 .2 fo rb e a r refrain fro m (p re ssin g ) 2 3 1 .3 0 , 2 4 8 .2 4 fo rb y e b esid es 9 6 .3 0 etc.

GLOSSARY fo reb o d e pro h ibitio n 2 2 .1 2 fo re sp e a k cast an evil spell over, esp ecially b y p raisin g u n d u ly 2 5 8 .4 fo r m 1 b eh aviou r a cco rd in g to p r e ­ scrib ed or cu sto m ary ru les 2 5 5 .3 2 fo r m 2 h a re ’s la ir 2 6 0 .2 6 fortalice sm all fo rt 5 9 .1 7 fou firlot, i.e. 1 .2 5 b u sh els ( 5 3 litres) 6 2 .1 6 fo u n d depend 1 1 1 . 4 3 fo y farewell meal 8.5 fra c k bold, active, forward 7 7 .1 5 frae from title–page etc. fra n k generous, liberal 1 9 2 .3 3 fra n k ly generously 1 6 1 . 3 2 fra u g h t ominously attended 8 4 .2 1 fre a k whim 2 5 9 .2 0 fre e –fo re stry see note to 7 6 . 1 3 – 14 fre e –h an d ed liberal, generous

192.33

fre ets, fre its (superstitious) beliefs 2 6 4 .1; 1 1 6 . 1 7 fre m , fre m d strange 1 4 1 . 3 ; 2 1 3 . 1 6 frie n d verb befriend 12 5 .4 0 fro g ornamented toggle fastenings on a coat 14 4 .4 0 fu ’ full 9 7 .1 5 fu d g e turn out 2 0 1.4 0 fu g ita d o n Scots law sentence on a fugitive from justice, involving out­ lawry and confiscation o f goods fule fool 1 99.8 fu lln e ss see note to 1 1 2 . 2 4 fu r for 6 5 .2 1 fu rb e irs forbears 19 2 .4 2 gab mouth 10 6 .2 0 gab erlu n zie beggar, tinker 3.8 gae go 2 9 .2 9 etc. gae d , g a e 'tpasttensew ent 1 9 1 .4 2 etc.;

387

g a r m ake 9 5 .3 etc. gar n e r –d o or gran ary do o r 1 1 5 . 1 2 g a rn ish fu rn ish , em bellish 2 1 6 . 3 3 , 2 1 6 .3 5 gate m an ner, w ay, path 10 6 .4 3 e tc .; fo r 6 4 . 1 1 see note g a u g e r custom s o ffic er 7 .9 , 2 1 6 . 1 0 g a u n ch w o u n d fro m a b o a r’s tusk 8 1 .6 g aw sie han dsom e 10 7 .2 0 g e a r m oney, pro p erty in gen eral 4 7 . 1 7 , 1 0 8 .4 ,1 9 9 .8 , 2 0 6 .4 0 g e ize n ’ d crack ed , leaky 2 0 9 .12 gen iu s gu ardian spirit 9 3 .4 0 gentl e noun p erso n o f gentle birth or rank 2 8 . 1 1 , 9 5 .4 , 9 7 . 5 , 2 1 3 . 1 6 g e n tle adjective noble, excellen t 3 .7 , 4 .3 1., 2 7 .2 7 g e o rg iu s gold coin w ith S t G e o rg e on the obverse w orth 6s. 8d. ( 3 3 .3 p ) sterlin g 1 0 5 .2 3 gett b rat 1 1 0 . 1 gh aist ghost 6 0 .19 gie, g i’e give 1 1 1 . 1 4 e tc .; 10 9 .2 etc. g if if 2 10 .12 gill qu arter o f a pint, or o n e–eighth o f a litre 4 8 .4 0 , 2 1 8 .2 4 g in g e –b re a d gin gerb read 10 9 .2 girn grin, grim ace 1 9 3 . 1 5 girth b arrel hoop 2 0 9 .16 glazen glazed 19 9 .7 gle d ge squint, cast a sid elo n g glance 2 1 3 .17 glee squin t, cast a sid elo n g glance 2 13 .1 7 gleed glim m er 2 1 3 .6 glen t gleam , glint, sparkle 7 7 .4 g lo w e r stare, gaze intently 10 8 .2 4 glu ve glove 2 1 0 . 1 3 go o d sire, g u d e –sire gran d fath er

138.41; 197.5

go ssip w ise w om an, fem ale frien d g a ’ en pastpartidple gone 9 5 .1 3 3 0 .5 , 1 0 5 . 4 1 , 1 1 7 . 3 1 gallan t (having the characteristics of, g o u rd plan t w ith a large flesh y fru it 2 7 .1 5 like) a fine gentleman or gentlemen go w d , go u d gold 6 8 .1 0 , 1 4 1 . 5 , 2 1 0 .1 3 , 2 6 3 .18 ; 2 5 7 .1 1 29 .6 etc. gallan tly in a manner r25.17 becoming a fine go w k fo o l 4 9 .4 , 8 6 .36 o a tlm n e g 3 6 2.5,8 s14 ie d la s d w v h b ie o p try ln a g graith fu rn ish in gs, clothing 2 0 6 .19 g r a m e r c y m ercy on us ! 8 7 .4 ladies 1 4 2 . 5 , 1 8 6 . 2 3 , 2 2 8 .3 1 g ran d e e no blem an o f the h igh est rank ga llo w a y small strong horse originally 2454 from Galloway 7 9 .1 1 g ra te fu ’ g ratefu l 2 0 9 .1, 2 5 6 .3 5 gan e pastparticiple o f gae gone 6 2 .3 etc. gratificatio n rew ard in g, (givin g o f g a n g go 9 7 .2 1 etc. a) gratuity 2 1 8 . 1 6 , 2 1 8 .2 0 g a n g –b y e go–by, action o f passing g ra v a m in o u s grievo us, annoying, without notice 2 1 0 .2 8 d istressin g 9 7 .9

197.31

GLOSSARY

388

gree get on w ith each other 1 1 2 . 3 5 g re e n –g aislin g g reen go slin g, sim ­ pleton 2 1 0 .2 3 g re e t cry, w eep 9 5 . 1 , 1 0 8 .3 2 , 16 0 .8 g r e y –b e ard ju g, pitch er 2 1 1 . 1 9 grit great 1 9 2 .2 0 , 2 5 6 .2 9 g ro g ra m coarse cloth o f silk and m o h air 1 0 5 .4 1 g ro u n d –m a il duty p aid fo r the right o f having a corp se in terred in a ch u rch yard 1 9 5 .3 9 gro u n d s d regs 6 5 .3 2 g ru d g e com plain 2 6 3 .1 9 g ru n d estate 9 8 .1 9 ; fo r 1 9 8 . 1 3 see note gu d e good 2 8 .1 4 etc. g u d e m a n , go o d m an , g u d e –m an h u sb an d , h ead o f h o u seh o ld 1 0 6 .3 2 e tc .; 2 0 2 .2 5 , 2 0 8 .2 7 , 2 1 7 . 2 4 ;

107.35

g u d e w ife , go o d w ife w ife, m istress o f a h o u seh o ld 5 6 .2 9 e tc .; 1 4 . 1 3 , 2 17 .2 4 g u d e –w ill go od w ill 2 0 9 .10 , 2 0 9 . 1 1 g u d e ly go od ly 2 1 3 .3 9 g u d e m o th e r m o th er–in –law 2 1 9 . 1 9 gu erd o n reco m p en se, rew ard 14 0 .2 9 gu id e v erb m an age, treat 1 0 8 .1 0 , 1 9 9 . 8 , 2 1 5 . 1 6 , 2 1 5 .2 2 ; m an age e c o ­ n o m ically 1 0 8 .4 gu id e noun m an ager 1 9 6 .3 5 g u in ea 21s. ( £ 1 . 0 5 ) 7 . 1 g u n p o u th e r gu n p ow d er 2 0 7 .2 8 , 2 1 3 .3 2 gu se go ose 1 1 2 . 7 , 2 0 9 .10 , 2 1 6 .9 g u st fill the m outh w ith tasty fo o d or d rin k 1 0 6 .1 9 h a ’ hall 9 5 .4 etc. h ab it (rid in g –)costu m e 1 0 7 . 3 1 , 2 6 5 .2 6 h a c k n e y h o rse o f m id d lin g size and qu ality u sed fo r o rd in ary rid in g 5 1.2 0 .5 1 .4 3 .5 4 .2 4 h a d n a h ad n ’t 2 1 6 . 1 1 hae have 4 7 .6 etc. h a g 1 w itch, repu lsive old w o m an 2 4 0 .7 etc. h a g 2 soft m arsh y h o llo w in m oor 112 .12 h ail, haill, h ale a d jective a n d noun w h ole, u n d am aged 5 4 .1 4 , 1 9 9 . 1 3 ; fo r 9 7 .3 0 and 2 1 3 . 3 sec notes h a ir–clo th tow el m ad e o f h air 6 9 .1 3 h a lf–c ro w n coin w o rth 2 5 . d. ( 1 2 . 5 p )

713

6

h a lf–p a y on red u ce d p ay b ecau se tem p o rarily laid o f f or p erm an en tly retired 2 0 2 .1 7 h a ll–n oo k co rn er o f a hall 1 1 6 . 1 9 h allan partition betw een do o r and firep lace 1 0 5 .3 0 h am e hom e 2 8 .1 2 etc. h an d v erb lead b y the han d 9 1 . 2 7 h an d noun sou rce o f inform ation

192.40,193.6,193.9 h a n d k e r c h ie f n e c k e rc h ie f 1 5 8 .4 0 h a n g e r loop or strap on sw o rd –b elt fro m w h ich sw ord is h u n g 1 6 7 .3 7 , 16 8 .6 h ap fortu ne, lu ck 1 0 5 . 1 6 h a rb o u r noun en tertainm ent 6 3 .1 h a rb o u r verb entertain, p ro vid e a lo d g in g fo r 2 0 4 .3 0 h a rp give voice to 3 5 .2 8 h a sn a h a sn ’t 2 8 .2 1 , 4 7 . 1 7 h a tch d evelo p, p ro d u ce 1 1 1 . 3 1 h atted see note to 9 5 . 1 1 – 1 2 h au d ho ld 2 8 .2 2 etc. h av en h arb o u r 1 0 0 .3 7 , 2 1 5 . 7 h ead noun h e a d –p iece, decorative e n ­ gravin g at b egin n in g o f ch ap ter in a bo ok 10 .2 8 h ead v erb h eed 1 1 0 . 1 9 h e a d –m a rk particu lar ch aracteristics o f h ead an d face 1 9 5 . 1 3 h e a th e r–c o w tu ft o f h eath er 2 3 3 .1 h e a v e n –b orn iron ic o f celestial o rigin 5 –3 2

h e b d o m a d a l w e e k –old 8 6 .1 3 h e e z y dru bbin g, som eth in g u nsettling 2 0 8 .3 h e g h go od n ess ! gracio u s ! 4 7 .2 0 h ellicat g o o d –fo r–nothin g 8 6 .3 2 ,

256.4 3

h e rse ll h e r s e lf 2 5 7 . 1 4 h e t hot 1 9 9 .1 8 H ie la n d m a n H ig h lan d er 1 6 7 .2 5 H ie la n d s H igh lan d s 1 0 3 .2 9 H ig h –D u tc h m a n G e rm a n 1 5 5 . 1 2 h igh ly, h igh pro u d ly, ind ign antly

6.41,57.18 h ig h –sp irited h ig h –m in d ed 4 6 .1 8 h im sel, h im sell h im s e lf 8 8 .3 1 etc.;

95.18 h in d e r hind , rear 6 5 .3 ho ld noun fo rtress 6 0.9 h old v erb u se (lan g u a g e) con stan tly 1 5 1 .7 h o n est fo r 6 1 . 1 9 , 8 9 .3 5 , 8 9 .3 8 , and 2 0 0 .2 5 see 8 9 .3 7 – 3 9 (text)

GLOSSARY h o n o u rs distinctive featu re, ad o rn ­ m en t 3 7 .4 h o o p –w illo w kind o f w illow u sed fo r m ak in g h o op s 1 1 4 . 3 3 h o rse h o rses 7 7 .4 2 h o stler m an w h o attends to h o rses at an inn 7 .6 , 5 4 .3 1 h o stle r–w ife w o m an w h o k eep s inn or tavern 88.5 h o u gh see note to 2 5 6 .2 6 h o u se w ife sk a p h o u sek eep in g 1 0 7 .13 h o u t interjectio n dism issive o f an other p e rso n ’s opinion 1 0 7 .8 ; fo r 1 0 7 .3 4 , 1 0 8 . 3 1 , 1 1 0 . 1 6 , and 2 1 3 . 1 0 see notes h o w ho llo w 1 9 2 . 1 7 h o w b eit although 6 4 .3 3 h u m m ake an inarticulate m u rm u r 2 0 .1 2 h u m lo ck see note to 1 9 8 .2 8 – 29 h u rd le sled g e 3 5 .4 2 h u rle –b u r le –sw ire see note to

54.15 – 16

h u z, h u s us 1 9 8 . 3 7 , 1 9 9 . 2 ; 1 9 7 .3 8 h yk e see note to 7 9 .2 0 h y p o c ritic hypocrite 14 4 .2 5 id eo t idiot 1 1 2 . 3 2 , 1 4 7 . 1 8 ilk a every 10 8 .6 , 1 0 8 . 1 0 ill see note to 6 1 .2 7 ill–clack it m isbegotten 10 9 .4 0 ill–d e e d y m isch ievou s, w ick ed 1 1 0 . 1 ill–w ilie r en em y 7 2 . 1 8 im p re sse d en listed 1 1 7 . 3 3 im p ro v e tu rn to good acco u n t 9 6 .1 4 ; u se to o n e’ s advantage 2 5 5 .7 im p u g n contest, call into qu estion 2 3 . 2 0 , 3 5 . 6 , 1 2 8 .3 7 in –d w e lle r resid en t 8 7 .3 2 in an itio n exhaustion resu ltin g fro m lack o f food 7 .3 1 in cu m b e n t o verh an gin g 3 1 . 3 9 in d en tu red ap pren ticed 4 .3 9 in d ite w rite 7 2 .3 7 in d u lge iron ic favo u r 8 7 .3 9 in ep t law void, o f no effe ct 2 2 3 .3 6 in fe r im ply 2 4 .7 in flu e n ce exercise o f p erso n al p o w er (co n ceived o f in an astrological im age) 2 5 .3 7 in fo rm atio n Scots law a fo rm al w rit­ ten accu sation 1 3 4 . 4 0 , 1 3 7 . 3 4 in gan onion 2 1 2 .6 in lake shortage, red u ction 2 9 .1 0 in m ate inhabitant, one o f fam ily

389

o ccu pyin g a h o u se 3 1 . 2 9 etc.; lo d g er, gu est 1 3 1 . 3 9 in sid iou s crafty 8 7 .3 5 in telligen ce u n d erstan d in g, c o m p re­ h en sio n 6 4 .4 0 in terest p erso n al in fluen ce 16 .2 5 etc.; righ t or title to pro p erty 1 0 1 . 1 9 , 1 2 9 .4 in u tility u selessn ess, u n p ro fitab le­ n ess 2 5 0 .2 7 is as 10 4 .3 6 I ’se I shall, I ’ll 6 4 .3 9 etc. isn a isn ’t 9 7 .2 8 , 13 9 .6 , 19 6 .3 0 ith er other 8 7 . 2 3 , 1 0 8 .2 , 1 9 3 .3 , 19 8 .1 1 Ja c o b ite su p po rter o f the exiled S t u ­ arts 4 9 .2 3 etc. jaco b u s b ro a d –p iece, gold coin from reign o f Ja m e s V I and I, w o rth £ 1 sterlin g 5 1 . 4 2 , 1 0 5 .2 3 , 1 5 5 .9 ja d d w o m an 1 1 1 . 3 3 jealo u s su sp icio u sly w atch fu l 18 .2 9 ,

135.4

je e st jest 9 7 .7 je ss falcon ry h aw k ’s le g –strap 2 3 2 .3 8 , 2 3 3 .1 0 jib b ack out 2 2 6 .3 5 joe sw eetheart, d ear 1 6 0 . 1 0 , 2 0 9 .2 5 jo in tu re see note to 1 7 1 . 2 4 j o w peal, stroke 1 9 5 .2 4 ju g g le ry trickery, deception 2 4 1 .7 , 2 4 1.2 1 ju st really, truly 6 5 .1 8 , 1 0 7 .4 kail cabbage 1 0 4 .3 2 , 1 0 5 .5 , 1 0 5 .6 k ail–y a rd k itch en –gard en 1 0 1 . 2 , 1 9 9 .2 1 kain paym en t in kind, esp ecially o f poultry, m ad e b y a tenant o f land as part o f th eir ren t 6 8 .39 k e b b u ck a w h ole ch eese 6 5.6 k eek p eep 1 0 6 .3 7 keel see note to 3 .5 k eep it kept 1 9 7 . 3 4 , 1 9 8 . 3 0 , 214– 345 stayed insid e 1 0 4 .1 2 k e ise r em p ero r 2 1 6 . 1 9 kelpie fo r 1 3 9 .3 3 etc·see note to

1 3 9 .3 3

ken know 5 4 .1 5 etc. k e n n ’ d past participle ( adjective) know n 2 0 1 .6 , 2 0 8 .3 9 , 2 1 4 .3 6 k e n n a d o n ’t know 9 7 .2 9 k en sp eck le con sp icu ou s 1 4 1 . 9 k im m e r see c u m m e r k in d ly fo r 1 0 2 .8 and 2 1 0 . 1 4 see note to 10 2 .8

390

GLOSSARY

k ip p age state o f excitem en t or an ger 2 1 2 .4 2 k irk –sessio n the lo w est p resbyterian ch u rch cou rt (at p a rish lev el) 1 1 0 . 4 k irk –y a rd ch u rch yard 1 9 7 .2 7 , 2 5 7 .6 ,

, 257.33,257.38 k ist co ffin 19 5 .4 0 k itch e n –lu m m kitchen ch im n ey

9 5 .4 2

kitt see note to 9 5 . 1 1 – 1 2 kittle verb tickle 1 1 1 . 3 5 kittle adjective tricky 2 0 1 . 3 , 2 1 3 .4 2 k n o w –h ead hilltop 2 1 2 . 4 1 la c q u e y footm an, valet 7 6 .4 , 8 8 .1 2 ,

170.39

laird lo rd 7 .8 etc. la m m e r am b er 1 0 5 .4 1 la n d w a rd fro m the cou n try as o ppo sed to the tow n 1 0 7 . 1 6 , 1 0 7 . 1 7 la n g long, fo r lo n g 6 6 .1 0 etc. large len gth y 6 1 .3 0 la te –w a k e v igil kept o ver a co rp se until b u rial 2 5 6 .1 8 latest last 8 3 .2 1 latitu d e freed o m o f action 1 1 4 . 2 7 latitu d in arian lib eral in religio n 1 6 3 .2 6 latter later, su b seq u en t 1 9 3 . 4 1 la u c h lau gh 1 0 8 . 1 1 la w in g reck o n in g, (tav ern – )bill 7 7 . 3 1 , 8 9 .1 0 lead act as lea d in g co u n sel 2 0 3 .1 6 le a g u e re d b e sieg ed 2 3 5 .4 0 le a st lest 1 1 3 . 2 2 , 1 9 2 . 1 3 le d d y lad y 7 7 .1 etc. le d d y sh ip ladyship 1 9 9 . 1 6 le e lie, falseh oo d 6 5 .3 , 2 1 3 .2 0 , 2 1 5 . 2 ,

2 1 5 .9

le e ch do cto r 8 1 .9 leveret, lev erit y o u n g hare 9 5 .2 4 ; 9 6 .2 6 life –re n t see note to 19 9 .4 lift verb take aw ay 19 6 .2 9 lift1 noun see note to 2 0 3 . 1 7 – 1 8 lif t 2noun sky 2 1 2 .6 like adverb lik ely 4 6 .1 2 etc. like verb p lease 6 8 .39 lim b agen t 3 9 .3 1 lin k s stretch o f san d y grou n d n ear s e a –shore 2 6 4 .4 0 , 2 6 5 .1 8 , 2 6 7 .3 9 lip p e n in g ch an ce, acciden tal, u n p re ­ m ed itated 1 0 8 .1 9 list p lease, care 2 5 7 . 1 8

lith join t 6 0 .2 0 loon, lo u n fello w , rascal 6 2 .3 0 etc.; 2 13 .14 loot past tense let 19 8 .3 6 lo se past tense lost 19 8 .2 8 lo u p e n past participle leapt 1 4 7 .2 0 lo v e –kn ot intricate knot u sed as a love token 2 0 1 .9 lo w –b ro w e d having a low en trance, gloom y 1 9 .2 5 , 6 0 . 1 1 lo w e flam e 6 1 . 1 2 l u g ear 1 0 8 . 1 2 , 1 1 1 .3 5 , 1 9 8 .1 6 , 2 0 0 .3 8 lu g g e r sm all sailin g v e sse l 2 1 4 . 3 1 lu n g ies loins 1 9 2 .3 5 lu rd an e ru ffian 1 9 8 .1 9 lu ve love 2 0 6 .3 9 m ail travellin g bag, trunk 1 3 4 .3 0 m a il–b o x portable b o x fo r letters and o th er do cum ents 1 3 4 .3 8 m a ilin g see note to 1 9 9 .6 – 7 m a in a th row at dice 2 2 6 .2 7 m a ir m o re 6 1 .2 8 etc. m a ist m ost 6 1 .2 9 etc. m a iste r m aster 1 0 8 .2 , 1 1 2 . 4 2 , 1 1 3 . 3 ,

1 1 3.1 2 m a jo r –d o m o h ead servan t, b u tler

9 4 .3 5

m a k make 6 1 . 1 2 etc. m alig n an t d isaffected , m alcon ten t 1 8 .3 ; ap plied b y C o ve n an ters to th eir religio u s oppon ents 2 4 3 .8 m a n a g e d con tro lled 2 5 6 .2 m a n se m in ister’ s h o u se 2 1 1 . 2 6 m an tle su ffu se ch eek s w ith a b lu sh

9 3 .1 3

m a rk see m e r k m a rk s hunting footprints 1 5 9 .2 4 m a rsh a l see note to 6 2 .2 3 m a rtin g a l strap arran ged to k eep h o rse ’s h ead dow n 2 2 7 .5 M a r tin m a s fo r 8 9 .4 2 and 2 5 7 .2 0 see note to 8 9 .4 2 m atto ck tool fo r lo o sen in g h ard grou n d 1 9 4 . 1 1 m a u n m u st 4 7 . 1 0 etc. m a u t m alt 6 5 .1 9 m e a l–m o n g e r d ealer in oatm eal 2 3 2 .9 m e a l–p ok e b ag fo r h o ld in g oatm eal 4 7 .2 9 m e a r m are 2 0 0 .1 6 m e a t fo o d 9 9 .3 0 , 2 6 3 . 1 1 m e c h a n ic h an d icraftsm an 1 2 9 .2 6 m e d icin e r ph ysician 2 3 9 .3 5

GLOSSARY m e lte r m ale fish, esp ecially in sp aw n ­ in g tim e 7 5 . 1 4 m e rk , m a rk silver coin w orth tw o – th irds o f a p o u n d S c o ts, by the late 1 7 t h cen tu ry ju st o ver 1 s. sterlin g ( 5 p ) 2 9 . 1 6 ; 1 2 8 .2 2 M e r s e B erw ic k sh ire, or that p art o f it lyin g betw een the L am m erm u irs and the T w e e d 1 5 . 5 , 1 4 2 .2 8 m e ssa n cu r, m o n g rel 14 3 .9 m e ta ll’d spirited 1 6 7 .2 8 m e z z o –term in e com prom ise m ea s­ u re 1 8 3 . 2 1 m ick le m u ch 6 4 .4 2 etc. m ill s n u ff–b o x 1 0 9 .1 m in d rem em b er 1 3 8 . 4 1 etc. m in iste r fu rn ish 1 1 3 . 2 2 m irk dark, glo o m y 2 1 3 . 1 2 ; fo r 8 5 .3 9 see note m irth joy 7 2 .3 9 m isc h ie v e in ju re 2 5 7 .3 9 m isg i’ e fail, go w ro n g 2 0 9 .6 m isg iv e su gg est doubt o r fea r to som eon e 1 7 7 .2 0 m isp risio n see note to 1 7 4 .3 3 m ista k m istake 6 4 .7 m ith e r m oth er 1 0 5 .2 2 , 10 8 .2 9 m o n y m an y 8 6 .3 7 etc. m o ra l cou nterpart, lik en ess 1 3 1 . 1 0 m o rt note sou n d ed on h o rn at death o f d ee r 8 0 .3 m o rtb le u French oath con fo u n d it !

54.8

391

n a p e ry h o u seh o ld linen, esp. table lin en 1 0 6 . 1 2 , 2 1 5 . 2 1 n a r n ever 1 0 6 .3 3 n ath e less n everth eless 6 1 . 1 5 etc. n atu ral h a lf–w it 1 4 7 . 1 7 n a u g h ty w ick ed 2 4 3 .2 1 n earh an d n e ar at han d 8 7 .2 7 n e e d fu ’ n e ed fu l 1 0 4 .3 5 , 1 9 3 . 1 4 n e e d le –w a rk n e e d le –w o rk 2 0 6 .19 n e e d n a n e e d n ’t 2 1 6 . 1 5 , 2 6 3 .2 7 n eest n earest 1 0 7 . 1 9 n ice fastid io u s, difficu lt to p lease 6 4 .3 9 , 9 1 · 1 ; d iscrim in atin g 2 2 9 .1 n ig h t–co w l nightcap 2 2 8 .6 n o not 6 1 . 1 3 etc. n ob le gold coin w orth h a lf a m ark (6 s. 8d . S c o ts, or b y the late 17 t h cen tury a little o ver 6d. ( 2 .5p ) sterlin g 2 1 0 . 1 3 n o m b les in n ard s o f d eer u sed as food

81.33

n on sen se n o n sen sical 9 6 .2 8 , 2 1 9 . 2 1 n ook c o m e r 4 7 .3 0 n o o n in g m id –day m eal 2 0 2 .2 8 n o rth –c o u n try fro m the H igh lan d s 2 0 0 .2 0 n o u ld see note to 1 9 8 . 2 3 – 2 4 n o u ric e –sh ip post as a n u rse 3 0 .1 8 n o w t cattle 1 5 5 . 1 0 0 ’ o f title–p age etc. o b eisan ce curtsy 1 8 1 . 3 o b sc u rity d im n ess, d arkn ess 6 7 .1 9 ,

9 1 .2 5

o b se rv a n ce d eferen c e, du tiful service

m o ss m arsh, m o o rland 10 6 .3 6 m o u n ta in –m an see note to

107.38– 39 m u ck le m u ch, a lot, g reat(ly ) 8 7 .2 1 etc. m u ltip le p o in d in g see note to 12 8 .8 – 1 1 m u n t m ou nt 1 9 7 .2 2 m u rg e o n grim ace, con tortion 2 5 6 .4 3 m u sq u eto o n , m u sk etto o n short, la rg e –bo red m u sk et 3 8 .2 9 ; 2 5 8 .1 5 m y se ll, m y se l, m y s e l’ m y se lf 6 2 .6 ,

7 , 2 0 7 .3 9 4 7 3 1,

139 –25, 1987– ; · 2 1 2 . 3 7 ; 2 5 8 .7 n a no 9 5 .4 1 etc. n a not 19 6 .3 4 , 1 9 7 . 1 2 , 1 9 8 .1 n ae no 4 3 .3 7 etc. n a e b o d y n o bo dy 6 8 .1 7 , 2 1 6 . 1 6 n aeth in g n othin g 9 6 .2 etc. n aiad river nym ph 3 9 .3 0 , 4 0 .14 ,

40.33,154.18 n an e non e 1 9 7 .2 2 , 2 6 4 .4

7.5

o ccasio n cerem on y 5 9 .8 O d G od 1 12 .3 8 o ’ erseen m istaken, actin g im pru den tly 14 8 .1 1 o ffco m e excu se 2 1 5 . 2 5 offic es b u ild in gs fo r h o u seh o ld w o rk

59.25

on o f 4 9 .3 3 etc. o n –co m e sharp attack o f illn ess 2 3 8 .3 9 o n y any 6 1 . 1 2 etc. opin io n ative opinion ated 2 1 7 . 3 1 o r b efo re 2 1 3 .2 2 o rd in an ce sacram en t 10 6 .3 5 o rd in ar ord in ary 1 9 5 .3 2 o ’t o f it 6 2 .1 2 etc. o th e rw a y s otherw ise 8 9 .4 1 ou, o w exclam ation oh ! 6 4 .1 0 etc.; 6 2 .1 5 o u rse lls ou rselves 2 5 7 .4 3 , 2 6 3 .1 7 o u t interjection exp ressio n o f indign ant rep ro ach 2 6 3 .1 4

392

GLOSSARY

o u t–rid e r, o u trid e r m ou nted attendant rid in g in fro nt o f or behind carriage 7 6 .3 3 ; 1 9 4 .1 7 o v e r excessive 2 4 9 .2 9 o v e r–c ro w e d trium phed o ver 1 3 6 . 3 1 o w e r too 6 7 .4 1 etc. o w erlo o k take no notice of, n eglect 10 6 .4 2 o w ertak e overtake 1 1 3 . 1 5 o x te r arm pit, u n d er p art o f the u p p er arm 1 9 9 . 1 6 p a lfr e y sa d d le–h o rse fo r o rd in ary rid ­ in g 6 9 .1 2 etc. p a n d s b e d –curtain s 2 1 5 . 2 1 p a rc e l collection 1 0 4 .2 8 p a rish –c le rk see note to title–page p a rk –p ale see note to 5 8 . 1 1 p aro ch in e p arish 1 0 7 . 1 9 p artial favo u rin g one sid e rath er than an other 3 6 .8 p a rts abilities, talents 4 9 .4 2 , 1 4 3 .5 p a ss p a ssage 8 7 . 3 8 , 1 7 9 . 1 8 p a t p a st tense o f p it p u t 9 7 .6 , 9 7 .2 7 p atten c lo g 5 2 . 1 6 p e a rlin g s clothes trim m ed w ith lace

105.35

p e a se see note to 2 0 6 .2 1 p e a s e –b an n o ck s rou n d flat cake m ad e o f m eal p ro d u ced b y grin d in g p ea s, coo k ed on a grid dle 1 6 5 .3 8 p e a ts term o f opprobrium m en 2 2 7 .3 6 p e c u lia r private interest, sp ecial c o n ­ ce rn 2 2 0 .3 2 p e d lin g feck less 1 0 6 .1 8 p e g h pan t 19 8 .2 6 p e n –fe a th e r qu ill feath er o f a b ird ’s w in g 2 2 1 . 1 9 p e ril risk 7 2 .3 3 p e rso n b o d ily figu re 6 0 .3 9 etc. p e rso n a g e figu re 1 9 2 .3 4 p e ttic o a t–tails trian gu lar shortbread b iscu its 2 1 1 . 1 7 p ettish n e ss p etu lan ce 2 5 4 . 1 3 p e tty –fo g g in g contemptuous c o n ­ c ern ed w ith m in o r lega l issu es, with su ggestio n s o f qu ib b lin g or c h i­ can ery 2 0 3 .1 5 p h iltre m agic p otion 2 3 9 .1 7 p ic k –m a w b la ck –h ead ed gu ll 2 1 0 .2 3 p ick le sm all am ou nt ( o f) 6 8 .1 0 , 1 9 2 .2 9 , 2 1 6 . 1 9 p ie c e gold coin 1 7 0 .4 etc. p ig s cro ck ery 9 5 .1 0 p in ch difficu lty, hard sh ip 6 4 .4 2 ; fo r 9 9 .1 9 see note

p in ch e d h ard up 6 4 .4 3 . pu t into d iffi­ cu lties, p u zzled 1 9 1 . 3 3 p in e hurt, torture 4 7 .1 8 , 1 9 2 . 2 1 p in n a ce boat u su ally w ith eigh t oars

65.27

p in n e rs (cap w ith ) lo n g flaps on eith er side 14 4 .2 0 p in n y –w in k les in stru m en t o f torture fo r sq u eezin g the fin gers 1 9 2 . 2 1 p in t–sto u p tankard con tain in g a S c o ts pint ( 4 im p erial pints, or 2 .2 5 litres) 9 4 .3 8 p iq u e t fo r 1 6 8 .3 2 see note to 1 7 1 . 2 0 p irn bo bbin , reel see note to 4 7 . 1 2 p it pu t 1 0 2 . 2 1 etc. p it–m irk p itc h –d ark 6 4 .1 3 p iz e see note to 2 2 1 . 1 9 p la ca b le capable o f b ein g placated , fo rgiv in g 1 5 8 .3 3 p la ck see note to 1 3 3 . 1 1 p lagu e trouble 2 3 2 .3 9 p la id e n m ad e o f tw illed w o o llen cloth, u su ally tartan 1 5 5 .3 0 p la iste r p laster 5 .1 9 , 2 1 6 .2 9 p lan tain h erb w ith b road flat leaves

3 3 .14

p la n te r colon ist 2 0 2 .1 9 p le d g e toast 6 3 .9 etc. p le n ish in g fu rn itu re, eq u ip m en t 2 0 6 .1 8 p le n ty abu nd an t 8 6 .3 4 p lisk ie trick 1 1 0 . 1 2 p lo y trick, p iece o f fu n 2 6 3 .3 5 p lu m d a m a s p ru n e 9 6 .2 8 p o c k –p u d d in g jo c u la r steam ed p u d ­ din g, E n g lish m an 1 0 7 .6 , 1 0 7 .8 p o in d in g see note to 1 2 8 . 8 – 1 1 p o in t see note to 19 8 .4 p o lic y diplom acy, political cu n n in g 2 2 .3 8 etc. p o litician som eb od y keen ly in te re s­ ted in politics 7 1 . 1 4 , 7 3 .3 7 p o lity civil o rd er 1 2 9 . 1 6 p oltro o n cow ard 19 8 .2 p o ly g ra p h ic p rec isely duplicate 17 7 .17 p o n iard d a gger 2 6 1 .3 0 p o o r–m a n –o f–m u tto n d ish m ad e fro m rem ain s o f a sh o u ld er–bo n e o f m utton 14 8 .2 6 p o rtio n e r see note to 1 3 8 . 1 – 2 p o st m ake haste 9 5 .2 7 p o t m u g 5 .2 5 p o u th e r, p o w th e r p o w d er 2 1 3 . 2 7 etc.; 2 0 6 .4 0

GLOSSARY

393

q u e an yo u n g w om an 1 0 5 . 1 8 , 1 1 0 . 1 6 , 1 1 2 . 1 6 , 2 1 5 .9 q u ick livin g 19 9 .6 q u o ’ quoth 1 0 7 .2 5 , 2 0 9 .19 , 2 5 6 .2 8 q u o th a in d eed ! fo rso o th ! 2 1 5 . 1 4 r a c y excellen t in taste 1 8 1 . 3 6 rad e pa st tense rod e 1 1 2 . 1 7 rae ro e –d eer 2 9 .2 7 railly w o m a n ’s sh o rt–sleeved front or o ver–b o d ice, w o rn on dress o cc a ­ sions 1 0 7 .3 2 ra t drat 1 7 1 . 4 0 ra v e n –b o n es gristle on the b risk et– b o n es 8 1 . 3 4 realize show or em bo dy the truth o f 7 1 .2 8 re a v in g p lu n d erin g 1 1 2 . 1 7 re c e ip t p rescrip tio n 5 4 .3 1 receive accep t 1 3 4 .2 2 reck o n give an acco u n t o f o n e’s c o n ­ duct 3 5 . 2 1 , 3 5 . 2 3 reck o n in g b ill 8 8 .6 ; fo r 1 2 8 .9 see note re c o v e r p u ll b ack (a h o rse ) on to its feet 1 3 2 .4 0 re d adverb see note to 8 6 .1 4 – 1 5 re d adjective old 2 5 7 .2 3 r e d –co at so ld ier 1 0 3 .3 2 re d d tidied 2 1 9 . 1 8 red e advise title–page reek rise 3 1 . 4 ; sm oke 2 0 2 .3 0 reested cu red b y sm okin g 2 1 1 . 1 6 refectio n m eal 8 6 .1 9 re fe r postpon e 1 2 0 .4 re m e id red ress, rem ed y 7 2 .2 3 , 1 2 2 .2 9 , 1 2 5 .2 2 r e m e m b e r call to rem em b ran ce 4 0 .39 rep o n e restore to rights p revio u sly h eld, reinstate 12 6 .5 re se n t show that one is disp leased by som ething 2 0 .4 , 6 9 .4 1 re sp e c t regard 2 5 6 .3 3 105.35 p u ir, p u irly p o o r(ly ) 6 1 . 1 3 etc. re v e r e n c e 1 fo r 9 6 .2 5 and 9 7 .2 3 see note to 9 6 .2 5 p u n d p o u n d s 19 5 .4 3 p u t 1 m ake 1 1 6 . 7 re v e re n c e 2 bo w 1 1 8 . 2 3 , 1 1 8 . 2 8 , p u t2 im pose 2 0 6 .2 14 0 .2 4 , 14 4 .2 p yk in g p ickin g 2 1 6 .6 re v ie w see again 1 5 3 . 2 2 q u aigh , q u e g h sh allow b o w l–sh aped r ev isa l revisio n 2 4 4 .1 5 drin k in g–c up 4 8 .2 3 , 4 8 .3 0 ; 2 1 7 . 8 rh em atise, rh e u m a tics rheu m atism q u ality (p eo p le o f) h igh rank o r birth, 1 9 9 .6 ; 1 0 7 .3 7 go od social position 5 5 .2 0 etc.; skill rifler falcon ry haw k w h ich fails to take 9 .1 p ro p er ho ld o f its p rey 2 3 2 .4 1 , 2 3 3 . 5 q u a rte r qu arter o f a yard (9 in ch es, 23 rig s land 7 4 .6 rin run 2 5 7 .1 c m ) 1 9 8 . 1 6 ; q u arter o f a yea r 2 5 7 .2 2 r in g –w a lk rou n d w alk m ad e by

p o u th ered salted, cu red 2 1 6 .8 p rate chatter 16 0 .2 p re ce e se sp ecial, p articu lar, n o te­ w o rth y 1 0 7 . 1 p re cio u s u sed b y P u ritan s o f som eon e o f h igh spiritu al w orth or stan din g 1 0 7 .3 6 p re la d c a l episco palian 1 6 3 .2 7 p re la tist episco palian 2 4 2 .3 0 p re lectio n lectu re 2 3 5 . 1 4 p re m ie r c h ie f o ffic e r 6 8 .3 0 p re m ise d taken as stated 7 2 . 1 0 p re m iu m fee 7 .2 p re m o n itio n notification in ad van ce 1 2 8 .3 6 p re n t print title –p age p re sen tatio n see note to 1 0 5 . 7 – 8 p re ss affect, w eigh dow n 8 2 . 1 1 p r e s s –m o n e y m o n ey p aid to a sold ier o r sailor on en listm ent 9 0 .3 3 p re te n d e r claim an t 2 3 9 .2 0 p re tty, p re ttie r fine 5 7 . 3 9 , 1 6 7 .2 9 , 2 0 3 . 1 5 ; b ra v e (r), (m o re ) gallant 5 5 .2 7 , 1 7 1 . 1 2 p ric k rid e 1 1 3 . 3 0 p rim o L a tin firstly 1 7 6 .2 8 p rin c ip a l adjective excellent, p ro m in ­ ent 6 1 .2 8 p rin c ip a l noun com batan t in a du el 2 5 3 .2 2 p ro fe ssin g m ak in g o pen p ro fessio n o f religio u s b eliefs 2 4 2 .2 9 p ro fe sso r see note to 1 1 . 7 – 8 p ro ficie n ce p ro ficien cy 6 . 1 7 p ro ficie n t exp ert 1 7 3 .2 5 p ro p in e a p resen t, a tip 2 5 7 .2 6 p sa lte ry an cient strin ged instru m ent 19 6 .2 0 p u ’ p lu ck 6 4 .1 5 p u d d in g –slee ves large b u lgin g sleeves d raw n in at the w rist o r above

394

GLOSSARY

h u n ters 1 5 5 .8 , 1 5 9 .2 2 rip e ly w ith m ature ju d gm en t and c o n ­ sid eration 1 2 8 .3 8 ro m a n tic fantastic 2 6 2 .1 6 ro se m a ry fragran t evergreen shru b ro u n d noun a dan ce in a rin g 1 1 5 . 1 1 ro u n d verb w h isp er 9 6 . 1 6 , 1 0 8 . 1 1 ro u n d e la y short sim ple son g w ith r e ­ frain 2 9 .2 0 ro u n d ly sm artly 2 9 . 1 1 , 8 0 .3 7 ro u p sale b y p u b lic auction 2 2 0 .3 8 ru d a s h ag 1 1 1 . 1 8 ru e stron g–scen ted evergreen shru b 19 2 .10 r u m m e r large d rin k in g glass 2 2 5 .2 1 ru n let, ru n d le t cask 6 8 .3 6 , 2 0 4 .1 8 , 2 0 9 .11 ; 1 14 .14 sa c k gen eral nam e fo r a class o f w hite w in es fro m S p a in and the C a n a rie s 4 9 .2 3 etc. sa ck b u t early fo rm o f trom bone 1 9 6 .1 9 sa c rife e se sacrifice 7 6 .2 6 , 7 6 .2 8 sa d –co lo u red d ark or so b e r–colou red

76.41 sae so 2 8 .1 3 etc. sa ft soft 19 2 .2 9 sain t true b eliev er 2 4 2 .3 2 sa ir sore 1 0 6 .3 2 sall shall 6 1 . 1 9 etc. salu te greet with a kiss 9 3 .8 etc. sa m y n sam e 1 7 6 .3 0 sa n g so n g 6 8 .1 3 san t saint, true b eliev er 1 1 2 . 1 6 sa ra b a n d slo w and stately dance 114 .2 2 sa rk shirt 1 9 3 . 1 0 sa r ra see note to 1 9 9 . 1 7 sartie see note to 19 8 .2 3 sau l sou l 2 8 .4 (se e n o te) etc. sau m o n salm on 1 2 5 . 1 1 sau t salt 7 5 . 1 4 , 1 2 5 . 1 1 s a w p ro verb ial sayin g 4 7 .3 2 , 5 5 . 1 5 , 1 5 3 . 2 7 , 1 8 7 .3 0 saw n sow n 2 0 8 .4 3 sa x six 19 6 .2 8 , 2 0 0 .1 6 , 2 5 6 .2 3 sa x p e n n y s sixp en ce, a Sco ttish silver coin eq u ivalen t to a h alfp en n y ( 0 .2 p ) sterlin g 2 5 6 .2 4 sax tee n sixteen 1 9 5 . 4 2 , 1 9 7 . 3 2 sa y try 7 6 .4 2 ’sb lo o d oath, short fo r G o d ’s b lo o d 17 1.2 0 sc a p e escap e 2 1 9 .3 0

s c a p e –g ra c e in corrigib le scam p 5 7 .2 0 , 14 6 .2 2 , 1 4 7 . 1 8 scattergo o d spen d th rift 4 7 .2 7 sc a u d e d scald ed 2 0 7 .2 8 sclate d slated 1 9 7 . 1 sc la te r slater 6 2 .3 0 sco n ce can d lestick, w a ll–b rack et c a n ­ dlestick 1 4 4 .4 3 , 1 4 5 ·2 2 ,2 5 9 ·1 6,

2 5 9 .4 1

sco re see note to 1 0 5 .9 s c o u r go in haste 1 0 8 .3 4 s c ra m b lin g u n m eth o dical 6 9 .4 sc ra u g h screec h 19 8 .4 sc r e e c h –o w l b a rn –ow l 1 9 2 .3 2 sc re e n h e a d –s c a r f 3 7 .2 5 sc re ig h scream , screec h 2 1 4 .6 scru to ire (p o rtab le) w ritin g d esk

134.38 s c u r v y –g ra ss plan t b elieved to have m ed icin al pro p erties again st scu rvy 1 3 0 .2 7 scu tch e o n sh ie ld –sh ap ed su rfa ce, or fu n eral hatchm ent, w ith arm o rial bearin gs 9 3 .1 9 s e a –m e w seagu ll 2 2 .5 , 6 9 .2 6 seat m an n er o f sitting 1 0 8 .2 3 se ’e n ty –n in e seven ty–nin e 1 9 7 .3 2 sell s e lf 2 1 5 . 3 se n e sch a l stew ard 6 0 .3 6 etc. sen io r seign ior, designation o f Italian o r F re n ch m a n 1 1 4 . 2 3 sen sib le acu tely felt, p ain fu l 1 2 3 . 4 1 sen te n ce ju dgm en t, d ecisio n 2 2 1 . 2 4 se p arate b elo n gin g to o n e s e lf 1 7 3 . 3 7 sere w ith ered 1 5 9 .6 se rv ito r m an servan t 1 3 8 .2 2 , 1 9 7 .2 6 set past tense sat 8 8 .4 s e w e r o fficer su p erin ten d in g service at table 2 4 .2 7 sh alo o n clo sely–w o ven w o o llen m aterial 2 1 7 . 2 7 sh a m e fu ’ sh am efu l 10 7 .5 sh au gh led sh u ffled out o f shape 2 2 7 .3 2 s h a w sm all w o o d, thicket 2 9 .2 8 s h e r iff(– )c le rk clerk to the s h e r iff cou rt, p resid ed o ver b y the c h ie f o ffic er o f a cou nty 2 1 0 .8 , 2 1 0 .2 9 sh ift verb em p loy evasio n or su b ter­ fu ge 4 7 .4 sh ift noun fo r 6 8 .3 9 an d 7 7 –3 1 see notes sh iv e r fragm en t 10 0 .4 shool shovel 1 9 5 . 1 9 , 1 9 8 . 1 5 sh o p b o ard a table o r raised p latform

GLOSSARY on w h ich tailors sit w h en sew in g 5 .4 sh o t–hole sm all hole in fo rtified w all th ro u gh w h ich to shoot 8 7 .4 0 sh o u ld n a sh o u ld n ’t 4 7 .4 0 , 1 9 5 .3 4 sh o u th e r sh ou ld er 1 9 2 .3 4 sh o ve l–b o a rd gam e w h ich involves d rivin g a coin alon g a p o lish ed s u r ­ face 6 9 . 1 1 sic su ch 4 7 .4 1 etc. sic c a n su ch 6 5 .1 9 , 9 9 .2 7 sig n ify avail 6 5 .3 sille r silver 6 2 .2 5 , 1 4 1 . 5 , 2 0 0 .3 0 s im m e r su m m er 1 9 7 . 3 1 sim p lic ity plain n ess, straigh tfo r­ w ard n ess 2 4 5 .4 0 sin sin ce 2 6 3 .3 0 sin gle falcon ry m idd le or outer claw 2 3 2 .4 2 six p e n ce coin w orth 2 .5 p en ce 5 6 .3 3 sk art p e n –m ark, scrib b le 4 7 .3 5 sk e ld e r beg, esp ecially p o sin g as a d is­ abled so ld ier 4 9 .2 0 skirl shriek, screec h 9 5 .2 etc. sk irt lo w er p art or tail o f coat 14 6 .3 5 , 1 5 6 .2 6 sk reigh m ake peo p le m ove b y u ttering a sh rill sou n d on an instru m ent 1 9 7 .2 8 slid d e ry slip p ery 7 2 .3 2 ; u n certain 1 2 3 .2 7 slo ken q u en ch 8 8 .3 3 slo u ch ed w o rn w ith the b rim o ver­ h an gin g the face 8 2 .2 0 , 2 4 7 .2 7 s m a ’ sm all 1 1 4 . 1 4 etc. sn ap gin gerb read biscu it 10 9 .3 sn e c k –d ra w e r crafty, d eceitfu l p erso n 112 .3 2 sn e c k –d ra w in g crafty, d eceitfu l 16 8 .13 sn ish in g, sn e esh in g, sn eesh in s n u ff 1 0 9 . 1 ; 2 1 2 . 1 7 ; 2 1 6 . 1 9 sn o o d h a ir–ribbo n 1 5 5 . 3 1 so i–d isan t se lf–styled 5 3 .2 8 so lan –goose gan net 2 1 0 .2 3 so ld an sultan 5 .2 2 so licit petition 1 3 4 .3 so m b ro u s som bre, m elan ch o ly 5 9 .3 1 so o th fast reliable 1 7 5 .9 so pite settle, ad ju st 1 2 6 . 3 , 1 4 2 . 2 1 so rt noun con sid erab le n u m b er 2 9 .6 ; fo r 4 6 .2 4 , 1 1 1 . 3 , an d 1 1 8 . 8 see notes so rt verb feed an d litter 6 2 .2 3 ; pro vide fo r 2 1 4 .3 9 so u g h verb sin g softly 1 3 9 .2 5

395

so u gh noun ru m o u r 2 5 7 .3 0 so up noun sm all am ou nt 9 5 . 1 1 ; fo r 19 8 .3 9 see note so u p le stout stick 2 5 7 .4 0 so u se heavily, w ith a thud 1 5 9 . 1 6 so u th e rn –w o o d arom atic decid u o u s shru b or plan t 1 9 2 . 1 0 S o u th ro n E n g lish 10 7 .8 , 14 0 .8 so w en s oat and m eal dish eaten like po rrid g e 14 8 .2 5 so w p sip, sw ig 6 8 .3 4 sp ae p red ict 1 9 3 . 9 , 2 3 9 .1 6 sp e e r invite 7 7 .2 6 ; in q u ire 1 3 9 .3 8 , 19 6 .2 7 sp ik en ard see note to 5 2 . 1 – 5 sp u le –ban e sh o u ld er–b o n e 1 3 8 .2 9 sp u n k spark, p o o r m iserab le fire

213.7,214 .16 stab death b y stabbin g 1 5 9 .2 9 station position 1 5 8 .2 5 stau n ch elled w ith stan ch ions or u p ­ righ t b ars 5 9 .3 8 sta y aw ait 1 0 8 . 1 7 ste er disturb, p ester 1 1 5 . 1 stick stab 1 9 1 . 4 1 stir b e active 1 2 2 . 3 3 , 2 5 8 .6 stirrin g active 7 1 . 2 3 , 1 2 3 . 1 5 stirru p –c u p p artin g glass 1 4 3 . 1 7 sto u p tankard, decan ter 4 8 .2 1 , 6 3 .6 , 2 2 5 .2 1 s to u th rie f see note to 1 0 3 . 2 6 – 2 7 strae see note to 2 0 6 .2 1 stra n g e ly strongly, greatly 4 6 .4 1 , 7 0 .2 8 , 1 7 7 .2 0 strau gh t lay out 1 9 2 .3 9 , 1 9 3 . 1 5 stre ak in g laying out 1 9 2 .3 6 streek it laid out 2 5 7 .8 stre igh t straighten 1 9 1 . 1 6 stre n gth stron ghold 6 1 .2 5 stu d e past pa rticiple o f stand stood 6 1 .7 su b o rn e r p ro cu rer, su bverter o f lo y­ alty 2 3 9 .2 6 su b sid y con tribution exacted b y a feu d al lord 1 0 2 .8 , 1 0 5 . 1 5 su b stan ce good s 1 1 1 . 3 3 su b u rb su b u rb an 1 0 9 . 1 2 su d d e n ly w ithout delay 9 .1 9 su ld shou ld 6 1 .7 etc. su m som e 1 9 5 .4 1 su m b o d y som ebod y 2 1 0 . 1 1 su m p h sullen fello w 1 0 5 .2 5 su m p te r carryin g baggage 2 4 5 .1 9 su m p te r –clo ath cloth coverin g a p a ck –ho rse 7 7 . 1 7 su n e soon 6 1 .8 , 1 1 6 . 1 2 , 2 0 7 .2 8

396

GLOSSARY

su p p ly com pensate fo r 1 4 0 .2 1 ,

2 5 9 .2 5

su rb ate d fo o t–sore 8 1 . 1 2 su te soot 9 5 .4 1 , 9 6 .2 7 , 9 7 .2 0 sw a n k in g sm art 19 7 .6 sw a rv e sw erve 1 9 8 .1 6 sw a u k su d d en h eavy b lo w 1 9 8 .1 8 sw e e p it sw ep t 9 7 .2 6 syb il pro p h etess, fo rtu n e–teller, w itch 1 2 2 . 1 2 etc. syb o sp rin g onion 1 4 1 . 3 2 sy n d e rin se 4 7 .4 0 syn e ago, afterw ards 6 5 .2 6 etc. tab let w o o d en p an el fo r pain tin g

1 1 .31

tack lease 5 7 .3 2 tack see note to 19 9 .4 tae one ( o f tw o) 1 9 8 . 1 7 taed toad 2 6 3 .2 0 ta ’en, taen past participle taken 5 6 .3 0 e tc .; 1 9 8 . 1 2 tait b u n d le, w isp 6 2 .1 6 tak take 6 4.8 etc. tap tu ft 8 8 .2 9 ; top 19 8 .2 4 tap is see note to 1 7 0 . 2 1 tarp au lin sailo r’s 2 0 8 .3 6 ta rr y stay fo r 1 1 4 . 1 3 , 1 8 6 . 1 0 tass sm all drau ght or go blet fo r spirits 8 1 . 1 5 , 2 1 6 .9 tau ld told 1 3 9 . 1 6 ta u rid o r to reado r, b u ll–fighter 1 3 6 . 1 telled , tell ’d told 1 0 8 . 1 8 ; 1 9 3 .3 te m p e r habitu al disposition 2 6 .3 etc.; calm n ess 1 2 8 .3 0 te n –tyn ed see note to 29 .8 te n e m e n t bu ild in g 3 1 . 3 5 , 10 8 .3 5 ; fo r 1 6 7 . 4 1 see note ten o n y see note to 2 5 6 .2 6 ten o r co u rse 2 7 .1 9 ; Scots law exact w o rd in g, p u rp o rt 7 2 .7 , 1 3 7 . 3 7 ten t attend to title–page te rm lim it 2 4 3 .4 1 , 2 4 4 .9 terrific terrifyin g 5 .2 2 , 4 4 .4 , 18 8 .2 8 testo r b e d –canopy 2 1 5 . 2 1 teu gh tou gh 6 4.5 th ae those 1 1 6 . 6 , 1 3 9 . 2 5 , 1 9 7 . 2 1 ,

263.35 th an th en 4 7 . 4 0 , 1 3 8 . 2 8 , 1 9 2 . 4 1 ,

200.1 4 th an k give thanks fo r 1 3 5 . 3 1 th eg ith er to geth er 9 7 .3 0 , 1 0 5 .2 6 th e m se lls th em selves 19 6 .8 th ick sets tro u sers o f stout cotton 8 .2 5 th o u g h t see note to 2 0 0 .2 5 th o w le ss dissolu te 1 1 1 . 3 3

th rall slave, p riso n e r 2 4 0 .1 8 th ra w turn, twist, distort 1 9 3 . 1 5 , 19 9 .17 th reep see note to 2 2 4 .3 0 th ro u g h –stan e horizontal graveston e on, at, or above grou n d level 1 9 6 .2 7 , 2 5 6 .1 9 , 2 6 3.6 th u n n er th u n d er 6 5 .1 9 etc. tid e –se rv in g o b seq u io u sn ess 2 1 0 . 3 1 tien d s p arish land tax p aid as p art o f the m in ister’s stipen d 1 0 5 .8 tigh t v igo rou s, severe, lively, stout 5 0 .1 6 , 1 7 1 . 1 4 till1 w h ile 9 9 .3 0 till2 to 1 0 7 . 1 9 till ’ t to it 1 9 6 .4 1 , 1 9 7 . 3 1 tim m e r tim ber 1 0 8 . 1 3 , 2 0 7 .2 7 tin t colou r, esp ecially slightly or with delicate sh ades 1 1 . 2 8 tip p en ce tw opence S c o ts ( 0 .1 4 p ) 2 6 3 .11 tith er other ( o f tw o) 1 9 8 . 1 7 to ch e r dow ry 2 2 6 .1 5 , 2 2 6 .1 8 to c h e r–good p ro p erty given b y w ay o f do w ry 2 0 3 .2 6 tod fo x 4 8 .1 2 etc. toilette d ressin g table 2 1 6 .4 3 toils n e t(s), tra p (s) 1 6 . 1 5 , 2 4 .1 4 ,

3 9 .2 7

to k ay sw eet H u n g arian w in e 8 6 .2 0 , 8 6 .2 5 tolbooth tow n hall, con tain in g the jail 6 8 .2 5 told reck o n ed 2 3 0 .3 9 tone tune 1 9 7 . 1 2 ton gu e see note to 2 0 2 .1 0 took struck 1 9 8 . 1 8 to p –gallan t h igh est p o in t (literally, o f a m ast) 2 0 9 .4 2 tou n tow n 1 0 3 .2 4 tou t see notes to 1 0 7 .3 4 , 1 0 8 . 1 8 , and 1 10 .16 to w un w ork ed flax fibre 8 8 .2 9 to w n –en d en d o f m ain street, ed ge o f tow n 1 0 5 . 1 7 tra d u c e r betrayer 2 5 0 .4 2 tra ffic b u sin ess, in terco u rse 2 4 1 .2 3 train line o f com bustible m aterial to fire a ch arge 1 7 4 .4 2 tred ille card gam e fo r th ree players 17 3 .2 4 tre n c h e r plate 1 0 6 . 1 5 etc. tre p an n e d inveigled 2 2 8 .2 6 , 2 5 2 . 1 3 trim adapt, ad ju st 4 7 .4 T r o ja n see note to 29 .8

GLOSSARY troth truth, tru ly 1 0 8 .2 2 , 1 1 6 . 9 , 1 9 5 . 1 6 , 1 9 8 . 3 6 ; fo r 1 1 3 . 4 see note tro u b le distress 2 4 4 .3 9 tro u b lo u s d istu rbed, unsettled 6 1 .2 7 tro w believe 8 6 .3 5 etc. tru ce fo r 8 6 .2 1 and 1 3 9 .2 7 see notes tru c k barter aw ay 1 3 3 . 3 1 tru m p see note to 2 0 2 .1 0 tru st sup ply good s on cred it (fo r) 6 8 . 3 3 , 10 5.9 tu p ram 4 7 .7 tu rn p iece or spell o f w o rk 1 1 6 . 4 tw a two 4 7 .3 5 etc. tw a –lo fted th ree–sto ried 1 9 7 . 1 tw al, tw a l' tw elve 8 5 .3 6 , 10 8 .4 2 ; 2 6 3 .3 6 tw iligh t im p erfect 7 2 .4 2 tw ilt quilt 2 1 5 . 2 1 tyn e each o f the pointed b ran ch es o f a d e e r’s ho rn 14 6 .2 5 , 14 6 .2 7 typ ical sym bolical, em blem atic 1 6 8 .4 1 u m q u h ile fo rm er, som etim e 17 6 .4 0 u n c a se flay 2 0 3 .2 8 u n ce oun ce 2 5 6 .2 5 u n cerem o n io u s in fo rm al 1 6 1 . 3 3 u n co terrible 2 0 8 .3 u n d e r –h an d secretly 1 6 1 . 2 0 u n e q u a l u neven 10 4 .4 2 ; variable 2 4 1 .2 4 u n h a rb o u r d islo dge fro m shelter 5 0 .3 u n p ro v id e d u n fu rn ish ed 1 1 7 . 1 3 u p h a u d see note to 2 6 3 .2 8 u p p e r su p erio r in authority 14 4 .4 u rg e p ress (u p on the atten tion ), im ­ po rtu ne, p u sh 2 4 .7 etc. u se habit 1 8 3 . 1 8 v a ca n t free o f activity 2 5 . 1 1 v ag u e vagrant, sh iftin g 1 1 5 . 1 1 , 1 1 5 . 1 4 vaik fall vacant 2 0 2 .8 v a n fro n t p art o f a p ro cessio n 1 9 .3 2 v a p o u r boast, sw agg er 16 8 .5 v a rio u s go in g in d iffere n t direction s 115 .11 v a ssa l ( fe u d a l) subordinate 1 8 .2 0 etc. v aticin atio n p ro p h ecy 1 9 3 . 1 8 v a u ’t vau lt 2 0 6 .4 1 v elve tee n s v elveteen tro u sers 8 .2 4 v e r a v ery 6 2 .2 9 v e stm e n ts clo th in g 5 .6 v ic e g e re n t ru ler exercisin g dep u ted p o w er 1 7 . 1 v ie w p lan 1 8 .2 8 etc. v ie w le ss invisible 2 3 5 .4 3 vign ette printed em b ellish m en t or

397

illustration u n en clo sed in a b o rd er 10 .2 8 virgin als a sort o f spinet 1 4 3 . 1 1 v isie look, survey 1 3 0 .3 7 v isio n a ry u n real, fantastic 2 4 1 .2 3 v isn o m y p hysiognom y, face 1 3 3 . 1 1 v iv e rs food, victu als 9 7 .2 2 , 10 4 .3 4 v iz a rd m ask 8 1 . 1 v u lg a r com m on peo p le 4 0 . 2 1 , 1 5 8 .3 6 , 1 9 9 .2 7 w a d w o u ld 4 3 .3 7 etc. w a d n a w o u ld n ’t 4 3 . 3 1 etc. w a d s e t(te r ) fo r 4 9 .1 5 and 12 8 .9 see note to 1 2 8 . 8 – 1 1 w a e adjective sad 6 1 .6 w a e noun w oe 6 5 .2 6 , 2 0 6 .2 3 w a g e w a ger 1 3 3 . 1 1 w a it aw ait 1 5 4 .4 1 w ak e party 18 6 .2 5 w alk ride slow ly (ro u n d ) 1 7 4 .7 ,

253.4 0 w a lth plenty 6 4 .2 6 w a m e b elly 9 7 .8 w a n d stick or sw itch fo r u rgin g on a ho rse 1 1 1 . 2 5 w a n t lack, go w ithout 7 7 . 1 1 etc.; be lack in g 2 3 9 .7 w an to n overjo y 7 4 .9 w a p blo w 2 0 6 .4 3 w a rd ro p e w ard ro b e 7 6 .3 5 w a re d exp en d ed 2 2 6 .2 1 w a rk w o rk 4 7 .4 1 etc. w a rra n d w arran t 7 7 .2 9 , 19 6 .3 w a rst w o rst 98 .9 , 1 9 7 .2 7 , 1 9 9 .1 8 , 2 1 3 .3 w a ssa il riotous festivity 5 8 .1 0 w a s tlan d fro m the w est o f Sco tla n d 1 9 7 .2 2 w a t w et 1 1 2 . 8 w a te r –p u rp ie b rooklim e, sp ecies o f sp eed w ell fo u n d on the edge o f ditches 1 3 8 .2 7 w a u r w o rse 6 5 .2 etc. w e a n child 1 0 6 .3 4 , 2 1 2 .4 2 , 2 1 4 . 2 1 w e a r y yearn 9 9 .3 3 ; fo r 1 1 0 . 1 3 see note w e e little (b it) 6 8.9 etc. w e e d , w e e d s g arm en t(s), apparel

143.32; 238.25

w e e l w ell 4 3 .4 0 etc. w e e l–favo u re d g o o d –lookin g 1 0 7 .3 0 , 10 8 .2 2 w e e l–p o u th ered w e ll–p o w d ered

2 5 7 .4 2

w eid fever 1 0 8 .3 3

398

GLOSSARY

w e ll–a –d a y alas ! 13 9 .2 5 w e re n a w e re n ’t 7 7 .9 w e ’se w e ’ll 1 9 2 .3 0 w e stla n d fro m the w e st o f Sco tla n d

198.13 w e th e r castrated ram 10 6 .3 5 w h a w h o 3 .6 etc. w h a m p le stroke, b lo w 2 0 9 .2 w h a n w h en 1 1 6 . 6 w h a re w h ere 1 0 7 .3 5 w h e e n few 14 0 .9 etc. w h e w see note to 1 9 8 .2 8 – 29 w h if f sm oke 1 0 5 .4 2 w h ig 1 7 t h –cen tu ry Sco ttish P re sb y ­ te ria n ; su p po rter o f the 1 6 8 8 – 89 R evo lu tio n settlem en t 6 1 . 2 1 etc. w h ig a m o re 1 7 t h –c en tu ry S co ttish P resb yterian 1 6 8 . 1 3 w h ig m a le e rie d ecorative or fa n cifu l object, k n ick –k nack 3 .6 w h ile s som etim es, from tim e to tim e 6 8 . 1 6 , 2 1 4 .3 6 ;f o r 1 9 7 . 1 9 a n d 2 1 9 .1 see notes w h ilk w h ich 3 .7 etc. w h im –w h a m fa n cifu l objects 9 7 .2 4 w h in –b u sh g o rse –b u sh 2 3 3 . 1 , 2 3 3 .7 w h in –stan e, w h in stan e w h in stone, h ard rock 1 9 2 .2 0 ; 2 5 6 .3 3 w h in g e r w h in yard, sh ort–sw ord 5 3 .3 2 , 1 9 1 . 4 1 w h ish t q u iet! s h ! 6 2 .9 etc. w h ite –h ass oatm eal p u d d in g cooked in sh e e p ’s gu llet 1 0 7 . 1 0 w h o m lin g kn o ckin g dow n 19 8 .2 4 w h o w in terjectio n exp ressin g asto n ­ ish m en t and resign atio n 2 5 7 . 1 5 w i’ w ith 2 8 .1 3 etc. w ife w o m an 5 4 . 1 5 , 2 0 0 .2 7 , 2 1 4 . 1 6 , 2 16 .19

w ig h t p erso n 3 1 . 6 w ild –d e u ck s, w ild –d eu k es w ild – du cks 1 1 2 . 8 ; 2 0 9 .10 w ile obtain 6 4 .1 8 w in d in g sh ro u d in g 1 9 2 .3 6 w in n a w o n ’t 6 7 .4 1 etc. w ith ie gallow s rop e 5 7 .2 w ith o u t outside 16 6 .6 w o ld w o u ld 7 7 .3 2 w o n n e dw ell 3 1 . 6 w o o d –c r a ft fo rest skills 2 8 .2 3 w o o d –fee paym en t to a hu ntsm an

28.38 w o o d ie gallow s rop e 1 3 3 . 1 0 w o t know 9 0 .3 w ra ith a spectral ap p earan ce o f a liv­ in g p erso n 6 0 .1 9 w r a n g adjective w ro n g 6 2 .5 , 1 9 1 . 4 2 , 2 1 3 .1 8 w r a n g past tense w ru n g 19 9 .2 0 w r a n g –h ead e d w ro n g –h ead ed 1 9 7 . 2 1 w rite sign 7 3 .2 ; fo r 4 .2 9 see note w rite r law yer, solicitor 1 0 2 .2 0 etc. w ro u g h t d eco rated w ith n eed lew o rk

7 4 . 15

w u d m ad 8 6 .1 5 , 9 5 .1 3 w u ll noun a n d verb w ill, w ish 2 8 .4 , 1 0 2 . 1 9 , 1 1 2 . 3 8 ; fo r 9 5 .3 7 see note w y te blam e 6 8 .2 3 , 2 6 4 .3 y a rd gard en 19 9 .4 , 2 1 8 .3 8 y ate gate 6 1 .7 , 8 7 .2 2 , 8 8 .2 1 y e a rth earth 2 2 0 .3 1 y e ’re yo u r 2 5 7 .3 8 y e stre e n last night 8 7 .2 2 yill ale 10 4 .3 8 y o u rse ll, y o u rse l y o u rs e lf 7 7 .2 8 etc.; 6 4 .9 , 2 1 2 .4 2 y o u rse lls yo u rselves 5 6 .2 9 , 2 1 9 .2 2 Y u le C h ristm as 2 5 7 .6