Вальтер Скотт
St. Ronan's Well
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Note I., p. 14. – Building-Feus in Scotland
In Scotland a village is erected upon a species of landright, very different from the copyhold so frequent in England. Every alienation or sale of landed property must be made in the shape of a feudal conveyance, and the party who acquires it holds thereby an absolute and perfect right of property in the fief, while he discharges the stipulations of the vassal, and, above all, pays the feu-duties. The vassal or tenant of the site of the smallest cottage holds his possession as absolutely as the proprietor, of whose large estate it is perhaps scarce a perceptible portion. By dint of excellent laws, the sasines, or deeds of delivery of such fiefs, are placed on record in such order, that every burden affecting the property can be seen for payment of a very moderate fee; so that a person proposing to lend money upon it, knows exactly the nature and extent of his security.
From the nature of these landrights being so explicit and secure, the Scottish people have been led to entertain a jealousy of building-leases, of however long duration. Not long ago, a great landed proprietor took the latter mode of disposing of some ground near a thriving town in the west country. The number of years in the lease was settled at nine hundred and ninety-nine. All was agreed to, and the deeds were ordered to be drawn. But the tenant, as he walked down the avenue, began to reflect that the lease, though so very long as to be almost perpetual, nevertheless had a termination; and that after the lapse of a thousand years, lacking one, the connexion of his family and representatives with the estate would cease. He took a qualm at the thought of the loss to be sustained by his posterity a thousand years hence; and going back to the house of the gentleman who feued the ground, he demanded, and readily obtained, the additional term of fifty years to be added to the lease.
Note II., p. 90. – Dark Ladye
The Dark Ladye is one of those tantalizing fragments, in which Mr. Coleridge has shown us what exquisite powers of poetry he has suffered to remain uncultivated. Let us be thankful for what we have received, however. The unfashioned ore, drawn from so rich a mine, is worth all to which art can add its highest decorations, when drawn from less abundant sources. The verses beginning the poem which are published separately, are said to have soothed the last hours of Mr. Fox. They are the stanzas entitled Love.
Note III., p. 252. – Mago-Pico
This satire, very popular even in Scotland, at least with one party, was composed at the expense of a reverend presbyterian divine, of whom many stories are preserved, being Mr. Pyet, the Mago-Pico of the Tale, minister of Dunbar. The work is now little known in Scotland, and not at all in England, though written with much strong and coarse humour, resembling the style of Arbuthnot. It was composed by Mr. Haliburton, a military chaplain. The distresses attending Mago-Pico's bachelor life, are thus stated: —
“At the same time I desire you will only figure out to yourself his situation during his celibacy in the ministerial charge – a house lying all heaps upon heaps; his bed ill-made, swarming with fleas, and very cold on the winter nights; his sheep's-head not to be eaten for wool and hair, his broth singed, his bread mouldy, his lamb and pig all scouthered, his house neither washed nor plastered; his black stockings darned with white worsted above the shoes; his butter made into cat's harns; his cheese one heap of mites and maggots, and full of large avenues for rats and mice to play at hide-and-seek and make their nests in. Frequent were the admonitions he had given his maid-servants on this score, and every now and then he was turning them off; but still the last was the worst, and in the meanwhile the poor man was the sufferer. At any rate, therefore, matrimony must turn to his account, though his wife should prove to be nothing but a creature of the feminine gender, with a tongue in her head, and ten fingers on her hands, to clear out the papers of the housemaid, not to mention the convenience of a man's having it in his power lawfully to beget sons and daughters in his own house.” —Memoirs of Mago-Pico. Second edition. Edinburgh, 1761, p. 19.
GLOSSARY
A', all
“A. B. Memorial,” a legal statement which does not give the names of the parties concerned.
Abee, alone.
Ae, one.
Aff, off.
Afterhend, afterwards.
Ain, own.
Airn, iron.
Ajee, awry.
Amaist, almost.
Andrew Ferrara, a sword.
Ane, one.
Assoilzie, to acquit.
Asteer, astir.
Atween, between.
Aught, possession; to own, to possess.
Auld, old. “Auld lang syne,” the days of long ago.
Aw, all.
Awa, away.
Awing, owing, or bill.
Awmry, a cupboard.
Bairn, a child.
Baith, both.
Ballant, a ballad.
Bane, a bone.
Bangster, a victor
Bawbee, a halfpenny.
Bee – “to hae a bee in one's bonnet,” to be harebrained.
Beltane, a festival on the first of May, hence Whitsuntide.
“Bent, to take the,” to provide for one's safety, to flee country.
Bide, to stay, to remain; to bear, to endure.
Bigg, to build.
Bind, one's ability or power.
Bink, a plate-rack.
Birl, to turn, to toss.
“Blaw in my lug,” a flatterer.
Blude, bluid, blood.
Bodle, a small copper coin.
Bogle, a scarecrow.
Bombazine, the silk and worsted stuff of which a lawyer's gown was made.
Bonnet-laird, a small proprietor or freeholder who farms his own land.
“Bow Street runners,” London detectives.
Braw, brave, fine.
Bruick, possessed.
“By ordinar,” out of the common run.
Ca', to call. Ca'd, called.
Callant, a lad.
Caller, fresh.
Canna, cannot.
Cantle, the crown of the head.
Canty, lively, cheerful.
Capillaire, a syrup made from maidenhair fern.
Cappie, a kind of beer.
Carle, a fellow.
Carline, a witch.
Carvy, carraway.
Cauld, cold.
Cheek-haffit, side of the cheek.
Chucky, a pebble.
Claithes, clothes.
Claver, gossip.
Claw, to beat.
Cleck, clack or hatch.
Cleeket, cleiket, caught, ensnared, taken.
Clink, to chime, to rhyme.
Clouted, patched, and so strengthened.
Cock-a-leeky, cockie-leekie, soup made of a cock boiled with leeks.
Cock-bree, cock-broth.
Cockernonnie, a top-knot.
Cogue, a wooden measure.
Condiddling, appropriating.
Courie, cowry, a shell used as money in parts of Southern Asia and Africa.
Coventry. To send one to Coventry is to refuse to have anything to do with him socially, not even to speak to him.
Cowt, a colt.
Craig, a rock.
Crap, a wig of rough short hair.
Craw, a crow.
Cuitle, to wheedle.
Cumbers, drawbacks, vexations.
Cutty, a jade.
Daffing, frolicking.
Daft, crazy.
Daur, to dare.
“Day, the,” to-day.
Decerniture, a decree of the court.
Deil, the devil. “Deil's buckie,” devil's imp.
Deleerit, distracted.
Diet-loaf, a kind of spongecake.
Dinna, don't.
Doited, dotard.
Donnart, stupid.
Dookit, ducked.
Douce, quiet, sensible.
Dought, was able.
Doun, down.
Dowcot, a dovecot.
Drap, a drop.
Drappie, a drop of spirits.
Dree'd, endured.
Drogs, drugs.
Dung, knocked, beaten.
Ee, the eye
Een, eyes.
Eneugh, enough.
Fa'an, fallen.
Fash, trouble.
Fashious, troublesome.
Faut, fault.
Feck, part, the greater part.
Feckless, spiritless.
Fend, defence.
Fern-seed. Certain kinds were supposed to render invisible those who carried it on their person.
Feuar, one who holds lands in feu —i. e., on lease.
File, foul.
Flee, a fly.
Fleeching, flattering.
Flesher, a butcher.
Flichtering, fluttering, fussing.
Flight – “hail flight,” the whole lot.
Flyting, scolding.
Follies, ornaments, laces, &c.
Forbears, ancestors.
Forby, besides.
Fou, full.
Fouest, fullest.
Frae, from.
Fu', full.
Fule, a fool.
Gaed, went.
Gaen, gone.
Galliard, sprightly.
Gane, gone.
Gang, go.
Ganging, going.
Gar, to force, to make.
Gate, way, direction.
Gaun, going.
Geisen'd, leaking.
Gie, give.
Gill-flirt, a giddy flirt.
Girning, crabbed, ill-tempered.
Gled, a kite.
Gnostic, knowing, sharp.
Gomeril, an ass, a fool.
Goupin, a double handful.
Gowd, gold.
Gowk, a fool.
Gree, to agree.
Grosert, a gooseberry.
Gude, good.
Gudes, possessions, property.
Gully, a large knife.
Ha', a hall.
Hae, have.
Hail, haill, whole.
Harns, brains.
Haud, hold. “Neither to haud nor to bind,” a proverbial phrase expressive of violent excitement.
Haugh, low-lying flat ground, properly on the border of a river, and such as is sometimes overflowed.
Haverils, foolish chatterers.
Heather-tap, a tuft or bunch of heather.
Hellicate, giddy, wild.
Hempie, roguish, romping.
Het, hot.
Holm, the level low ground on the banks of a river.
Hooly, softly, slowly.
Hotch, to jerk oneself along in a sitting posture.
Hottle, an hotel.
“Hout fie! hout awa!” expressions of dissatisfaction.
Howff, a favourite resort.
Howk, to dig.
Hurley-hacket, a badly hung carriage.
Huzzie, a jade.
Ilk, ilka, each, every.
I'se, I shall.
Jaugs, saddle bags.
Jer-falcon, a species of hawk.
Jirbling, emptying liquids from vessel to vessel.
Kale, broth.
Ken, to know.
Ken'd, knew.
Kitchen-fee, dripping.
Kittle, to tickle, to manage.
Kittled, were born.
Knap, to break in two; also, to speak after the manner of the English.
Kouscousou, a Moorish dish of various compounds.
Laird, a squire, lord of the manor.
Lamer, amber.
Landlouper, a charlatan, an adventurer.
Lang, long.
Lave, the remainder.
Lawing, a tavern reckoning.
Lea-rig, unploughed land or hill-side.
Lee, a lie.
Leeving, living.
“Let abee,” let alone.
Lick, to beat, to overcome.
Linking, walking arm in arm.
Linkit, linked.
“Link out,” to pay down smartly.
Lippen, to trust.
Loon, a fellow, a person.
Loot, allowed.
Loup, leap.
Lug, the ear.
Mailing, a farm.
Mair, more.
Maist, most.
Mansworn, perjured.
Mask, to brew.
Maun, must. Maunna, must not.
Mawkin, a hare.
Mazareen, mazarin, a deep blue colour.
Meith, a mark.
Mell, to maul, to meddle with.
“Minced collops,” meat cut up very fine.
Mind, to remember.
Muckle, much.
Muir, a moor.
Multiplepoinding, a method of settling rival claims to the same fund.
Multure, the miller's fee for grinding grain.
Murgeons, mouths, distorted gestures.
Mutch, a woman's cap.
Mutchkin, a measure equal to an English pint.
Na, nae, no, not.
Naig, a nag.
Neist, next.
Odd-come-shortlies, chance times not far off.
Ony, any.
Or, before. “Or they wan hame,” before they get home.
Ower, over.
Owerta'en, overtaken.
Palinode, in Scotch libel cases a formal recantation exacted in addition to damages.
Parritch, porridge.
Pat, put.
Pawky, shrewd.
Pice, an Indian coin.
Plack, a small copper coin = ⅓d.
Pock, a poke, a bag.
Poney, £25.
Pootry, poultry.
Pow, the head.
Pownie, a pony.
Prieve, proof, legal probation.
Puir, poor.
Pyot, a magpie.
Quaigh, a whisky measure.
Raff, a worthless fellow, a nobody.
Rattan, a cane or walking-stick.
Rax, to stretch.
Redd, to tidy. “An ill-red-up house,” an untidy house.
Reekie, smoky.
Reise-sac, a travelling-bag.
Rin, run.
Rouleau, a roll of coined money.
Row, roll.
Sae, so.
Sair, sore.
“Salam alicum!” The usual Mohammedan greeting, meaning, Peace be with you!
Sall, shall.
Sasine, a mode of investiture in lands, according to ancient Scottish law.
Saumon, salmon.
Sax, six.
Scart, scratch.
Scate-rumple, skate-tail.
“Scauff and raff,” tag-rag and bobtail.
Sclate, slate.
Scouthered, slightly toasted or singed.
Seeven, seven.
Shave, a slice.
Shool, a shovel.
Shouther, the shoulder.
Sib, related by blood.
Sic, such.
Siller, money.
Skeely, skilful.
Skylarked, tricked.
Slaister, a mess.
Sloan, a rebuff.
Smoor, to smother.
Snap, a small biscuit.
Sneck-drawing, crafty.
Snooded, bound up with a snood or fillet for the hair.
Sorn, to spunge, to live upon.
Sort, to arrange, to manage.
Sough, a sigh. “To keep a calm sough,” to keep a quiet tongue.
Speer, to inquire.
Steer, stir.
Steered, disturbed.
Streekit, stretched (applied to a corpse).
Suld, should.
Syllabub, a curd made of wins or cider with milk or cream.
Synd, to rinse.
Syne, since, ago.
Tailzie, a bond of entail.
Tane, the one.
Tappet-hen, a large measure of claret holding three magnums or Scots pints.
Tauld, told.
Taupie, tawpie, an awkward girl, a tomboy.
Thae, these, those.
Thrawn, thwarted or twisted.
Threepit, averred, persisted.
Till't, to it.
Tither, the other.
Toom, empty.
Topping, excellent.
Trankums, flimsy ornaments, laces, &c.
Trewed, believed.
Twa, two.
Twal, twelve.
Unco, very, particular, uncommon.
Vilipend, to slight, to undervalue.
Wad, would.
Wadna, would not.
Wae, woful, sad.
Walth, wealth.
Wame-fou, bellyful.
“Wan to,” reached.
Warld, world.
Waur, worse.
Weel, well.
Weird, destiny.
Wha, who.
“What for no?” why not?
Wheen, a few.
Whiles, sometimes.
Whilk, which.
Whully-whaing, flattery.
Wi', with.
Winna, will not.
Wud, mad. “Ance wud and aye waur,” increasing in insanity – applied to one who, being in a passion, still waxes more furious.
Wull, will.
Wuss, wish.
Yanking, smart, active.
Yont, beyond.
ST. RONAN'S WELL
A merry place, 'tis said, in days of yore;
But something ails it now, – the place is cursed.
Wordsworth.
CHAPTER I.
THEATRICALS
– The play's the thing.
Hamlet.
The important day had now arrived, the arrangement for which had for some time occupied all the conversation and thoughts of the good company at the Well of St. Ronan's. To give it, at the same time, a degree of novelty and consequence, Lady Penelope Penfeather had long since suggested to Mr. Mowbray, that the more gifted and accomplished part of the guests might contribute to furnish out entertainment for the rest, by acting a few scenes of some popular drama; an accomplishment in which her self-conceit assured her that she was peculiarly qualified to excel. Mr. Mowbray, who seemed on this occasion to have thrown the reins entirely into her ladyship's hands, made no objection to the plan which she proposed, excepting that the old-fashioned hedges and walks of the garden at Shaws-Castle must necessarily serve for stage and scenery, as there was no time to fit up the old hall for the exhibition of the proposed theatricals.30 But upon enquiry among the company, this plan was wrecked upon the ordinary shelve, to wit, the difficulty of finding performers who would consent to assume the lower characters of the drama. For the first parts there were candidates more than enough; but most of these were greatly too high-spirited to play the fool, except they were permitted to top the part. Then amongst the few unambitious underlings, who could be coaxed or cajoled to undertake subordinate characters, there were so many bad memories, and short memories, and treacherous memories, that at length the plan was resigned in despair.
A substitute, proposed by Lady Penelope, was next considered. It was proposed to act what the Italians call a Comedy of Character; that is, not an exact drama, in which the actors deliver what is set down for them by the author; but one, in which the plot having been previously fixed upon, and a few striking scenes adjusted, the actors are expected to supply the dialogue extempore, or, as Petruchio says, from their mother wit. This is an amusement which affords much entertainment in Italy, particularly in the state of Venice, where the characters of their drama have been long since all previously fixed, and are handed down by tradition; and this species of drama, though rather belonging to the mask than the theatre, is distinguished by the name of Commedia dell' Arte.31 But the shamefaced character of Britons is still more alien from a species of display, where there is a constant and extemporaneous demand for wit, or the sort of ready small-talk which supplies its place, than from the regular exhibitions of the drama, where the author, standing responsible for language and sentiment, leaves to the personators of the scenes only the trouble of finding enunciation and action.
But the ardent and active spirit of Lady Penelope, still athirst after novelty, though baffled in her two first projects, brought forward a third, in which she was more successful. This was the proposal to combine a certain number, at least, of the guests, properly dressed for the occasion, as representing some well-known historical or dramatic characters, in a group, having reference to history, or to a scene of the drama. In this representation, which may be called playing a picture, action, even pantomimical action, was not expected; and all that was required of the performers, was to throw themselves into such a group as might express a marked and striking point of an easily remembered scene, but where the actors are at a pause, and without either speech or motion. In this species of representation there was no tax, either on the invention or memory of those who might undertake parts; and, what recommended it still farther to the good company, there was no marked difference betwixt the hero and heroine of the group, and the less distinguished characters by whom they were attended on the stage; and every one who had confidence in a handsome shape and a becoming dress, might hope, though standing in not quite so broad and favourable a light as the principal personages, to draw, nevertheless, a considerable portion of attention and applause. This motion, therefore, that the company, or such of them as might choose to appear properly dressed for the occasion, should form themselves into one or more groups, which might be renewed and varied as often as they pleased, was hailed and accepted as a bright idea, which assigned to every one a share of the importance attached to its probable success.
Mowbray, on his side, promised to contrive some arrangement which should separate the actors in this mute drama from the spectators, and enable the former to vary the amusement, by withdrawing themselves from the scene, and again appearing upon it under a different and new combination. This plan of exhibition, where fine clothes and affected attitudes supplied all draughts upon fancy or talent, was highly agreeable to most of the ladies present; and even Lady Binks, whose discontent seemed proof against every effort that could be proposed to soothe it, acquiesced in the project, with perfect indifference indeed, but with something less of sullenness than usual.
It now only remained to rummage the circulating library, for some piece of sufficient celebrity to command attention, and which should be at the same time suited to the execution of their project. Bell's British Theatre, Miller's Modern and Ancient Drama, and about twenty odd volumes, in which stray tragedies and comedies were associated, like the passengers in a mail-coach, without the least attempt at selection or arrangement, were all examined in the course of their researches. But Lady Penelope declared loftily and decidedly for Shakspeare, as the author whose immortal works were fresh in every one's recollection. Shakspeare was therefore chosen, and from his works the Midsummer Night's Dream was selected, as the play which afforded the greatest variety of characters, and most scope of course for the intended representation. An active competition presently occurred among the greater part of the company, for such copies of the Midsummer Night's Dream, or the volume of Shakspeare containing it, as could be got in the neighbourhood; for, notwithstanding Lady Penelope's declaration, that every one who could read had Shakspeare's plays by heart, it appeared that such of his dramas as have not kept possession of the stage, were very little known at St. Ronan's, save among those people who are emphatically called readers.
The adjustment of the parts was the first subject of consideration, so soon as those who intended to assume characters had refreshed their recollection on the subject of the piece. Theseus was unanimously assigned to Mowbray, the giver of the entertainment, and therefore justly entitled to represent the Duke of Athens. The costume of an Amazonian crest and plume, a tucked-up vest, and a tight buskin of sky-blue silk, buckled with diamonds, reconciled Lady Binks to the part of Hippolyta. The superior stature of Miss Mowbray to Lady Penelope, made it necessary that the former should perform the part of Helena, and her ladyship rest contented with the shrewish character of Hermia. It was resolved to compliment the young Earl of Etherington with the part of Lysander, which, however, his lordship declined, and, preferring comedy to tragedy, refused to appear in any other character than that of the magnanimous Bottom; and he gave them such a humorous specimen of his quality in that part, that all were delighted at once with his condescension in assuming, and his skill in performing, the presenter of Pyramus.
The part of Egeus was voted to Captain MacTurk, whose obstinacy in refusing to appear in any other than the full Highland garb, had nearly disconcerted the whole affair. At length this obstacle was got over, on the authority of Childe Harold, who remarks the similarity betwixt the Highland and Grecian costume,32 and the company, dispensing with the difference of colour, voted the Captain's variegated kilt, of the MacTurk tartan, to be the kirtle of a Grecian mountaineer, – Egeus to be an Arnout, and the Captain to be Egeus. Chatterly and the painter, walking gentlemen by profession, agreed to walk through the parts of Demetrius and Lysander, the two Athenian lovers; and Mr. Winterblossom, loath and lazy, after many excuses, was bribed by Lady Penelope with an antique, or supposed antique cameo, to play the part of Philostratus, master of the revels, provided his gout would permit him to remain so long upon the turf, which was to be their stage.
Muslin trowsers, adorned with spangles, a voluminous turban of silver gauze, and wings of the same, together with an embroidered slipper, converted at once Miss Digges into Oberon, the King of Shadows, whose sovereign gravity, however, was somewhat indifferently represented by the silly gaiety of Miss in her Teens, and the uncontrolled delight which she felt in her fine clothes. A younger sister represented Titania; and two or three subordinate elves were selected, among families attending the salutiferous fountain, who were easily persuaded to let their children figure in fine clothes at so juvenile an age, though they shook their head at Miss Digges and her pantaloons, and no less at the liberal display of Lady Binks's right leg, with which the Amazonian garb gratified the public of St. Ronan's.
Dr. Quackleben was applied to to play Wall, by the assistance of such a wooden horse, or screen, as clothes are usually dried upon; the old Attorney stood for Lion; and the other characters of Bottom's drama were easily found among the unnamed frequenters of the Spring. Dressed rehearsals, and so forth, went merrily on – all voted there was a play fitted.
But even the Doctor's eloquence could not press Mrs. Blower into the scheme, although she was particularly wanted to represent Thisbe.
“Truth is,” she replied, “I dinna greatly like stage-plays. John Blower, honest man, as sailors are aye for some spree or another, wad take me ance to see ane Mrs. Siddons – I thought we should hae been crushed to death before we gat in – a' my things riven aff my back, forby the four lily-white shillings that it cost us – and then in came three frightsome carlines wi' besoms, and they wad bewitch a sailor's wife – I was lang eneugh there – and out I wad be, and out John Blower gat me, but wi' nae sma' fight and fend. – My Lady Penelope Penfitter, and the great folk, may just take it as they like; but in my mind, Dr. Cacklehen, it's a mere blasphemy for folk to gar themselves look otherwise than their Maker made them; and then the changing the name which was given them at baptism, is, I think, an awful falling away from our vows; and though Thisby, which I take to be Greek for Tibbie, may be a very good name, yet Margaret was I christened, and Margaret will I die.”
“You mistake the matter entirely, my dear Mrs. Blower,” said the Doctor; “there is nothing serious intended – a mere placebo– just a divertisement to cheer the spirits, and assist the effect of the waters – cheerfulness is a great promoter of health.”
“Dinna tell me o' health, Dr. Kittlepin! – Can it be for the puir body M'Durk's health to major about in the tartans like a tobacconist's sign in a frosty morning, wi' his poor wizzened houghs as blue as a blawort? – weel I wot he is a humbling spectacle. Or can it gie ony body health or pleasure either to see your ainsell, Doctor, ganging about wi' a claise screen tied to your back, covered wi' paper, and painted like a stane and lime wa'? – I'll gang to see nane o' their vanities, Dr. Kittlehen; and if there is nae other decent body to take care o' me, as I dinna like to sit a haill afternoon by mysell, I'll e'en gae doun to Mr. Sowerbrowst the maltster's – he is a pleasant, sensible man, and a sponsible man in the world, and his sister's a very decent woman.”
“Confound Sowerbrowst,” thought the Doctor; “if I had guessed he was to come across me thus, he should not have got the better of his dyspepsy so early. – My dear Mrs. Blower,” he continued, but aloud, “it is a foolish affair enough, I must confess; but every person of style and fashion at the Well has settled to attend this exhibition; there has been nothing else talked of for this month through the whole country, and it will be a year before it is forgotten. And I would have you consider how ill it will look, my dear Mrs. Blower, to stay away – nobody will believe you had a card – no, not though you were to hang it round your neck like a label round a vial of tincture, Mrs. Blower.”
“If ye thought that, Doctor Kickherben,” said the widow, alarmed at the idea of losing caste, “I wad e'en gang to the show, like other folk; sinful and shameful if it be, let them that make the sin bear the shame. But then I will put on nane of their Popish disguises – me that has lived in North Leith, baith wife and lass, for I shanna say how mony years, and has a character to keep up baith with saint and sinner. – And then, wha's to take care of me, since you are gaun to make a lime-and-stane wa' of yoursell, Dr. Kickinben?”
“My dear Mrs. Blower, if such is your determination, I will not make a wall of myself. Her ladyship must consider my profession – she must understand it is my function to look after my patients, in preference to all the stage-plays in this world – and to attend on a case like yours, Mrs. Blower, it is my duty to sacrifice, were it called for, the whole drama from Shakspeare to O'Keefe.”
On hearing this magnanimous resolution, the widow's heart was greatly cheered; for, in fact, she might probably have considered the Doctor's perseverance in the plan, of which she had expressed such high disapprobation, as little less than a symptom of absolute defection from his allegiance. By an accommodation, therefore, which suited both parties, it was settled that the Doctor should attend his loving widow to Shaws-Castle, without mask or mantle; and that the painted screen should be transferred from Quackleben's back to the broad shoulders of a briefless barrister, well qualified for the part of Wall, since the composition of his skull might have rivalled in solidity the mortar and stone of the most approved builder.
We must not pause to dilate upon the various labours of body and spirit which preceded the intervening space, betwixt the settlement of this gay scheme, and the time appointed to carry it into execution. We will not attempt to describe how the wealthy, by letter and by commissioners, urged their researches through the stores of the Gallery of Fashion for specimens of Oriental finery – how they that were scant of diamonds supplied their place with paste and Bristol stones – how the country dealers were driven out of patience by the demand for goods of which they had never before heard the name – and, lastly, how the busy fingers of the more economical damsels twisted handkerchiefs into turbans, and converted petticoats into pantaloons, shaped and sewed, cut and clipped, and spoiled many a decent gown and petticoat, to produce something like a Grecian habit. Who can describe the wonders wrought by active needles and scissors, aided by thimbles and thread, upon silver gauze, and sprigged muslin? or who can show how, if the fair nymphs of the Spring did not entirely succeed in attaining the desired resemblance to heathen Greeks, they at least contrived to get rid of all similitude to sober Christians?
Neither is it necessary to dwell upon the various schemes of conveyance which were resorted to, in order to transfer the beau monde of the Spa to the scene of revelry at Shaws-Castle. These were as various as the fortunes and pretensions of the owners; from the lordly curricle, with its outriders, to the humble taxed cart, nay, untaxed cart, which conveyed the personages of lesser rank. For the latter, indeed, the two post-chaises at the Inn seemed converted into hourly stages, so often did they come and go between the Hotel and the Castle – a glad day for the postilions, and a day of martyrdom for the poor post-horses; so seldom is it that every department of any society, however constituted, can be injured or benefited by the same occurrence.
Such, indeed, was the penury of vehicular conveyance, that applications were made in manner most humble, even to Meg Dods herself, entreating she would permit her old whiskey to ply (for such might have been the phrase) at St. Ronan's Well, for that day only, and that upon good cause shown. But not for sordid lucre would the undaunted spirit of Meg compound her feud with her neighbours of the detested Well. “Her carriage,” she briefly replied, “was engaged for her ain guest and the minister, and deil anither body's fit should gang intill't. Let every herring hing by its ain head.” And, accordingly, at the duly appointed hour, creaked forth, the leathern convenience, in which, carefully screened by the curtain from the gaze of the fry of the village, sat Nabob Touchwood, in the costume of an Indian merchant, or Shroff, as they are termed. The clergyman would not, perhaps, have been so punctual, had not a set of notes and messages from his friend at the Cleikum, ever following each other as thick as the papers which decorate the tail of a schoolboy's kite, kept him so continually on the alert from daybreak till noon, that Mr. Touchwood found him completely dressed; and the whiskey was only delayed for about ten minutes before the door of the manse, a space employed by Mr. Cargill in searching for the spectacles, which at last were happily discovered upon his own nose.
