The Heart of Mid-Lothian, Complete

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER TWELFTH.

  I'll warrant that fellow from drowning, were the ship no stronger than a nut-shell.

  The Tempest.

  Butler felt neither fatigue nor want of refreshment, although, from themode in which he had spent the night, he might well have been overcomewith either. But in the earnestness with which he hastened to theassistance of the sister of Jeanie Deans, he forgot both.

  In his first progress he walked with so rapid a pace as almost approachedto running, when he was surprised to hear behind him a call upon hisname, contending with an asthmatic cough, and half-drowned amid theresounding trot of a Highland pony. He looked behind, and saw the Lairdof Dumbiedikes making after him with what speed he might, for ithappened, fortunately for the Laird's purpose of conversing with Butler,that his own road homeward was for about two hundred yards the same withthat which led by the nearest way to the city. Butler stopped when heheard himself thus summoned, internally wishing no good to the pantingequestrian who thus retarded his journey.

  "Uh! uh! uh!" ejaculated Dumbiedikes, as he checked the hobbling pace ofthe pony by our friend Butler. "Uh! uh! it's a hard-set willyard beastthis o' mine." He had in fact just overtaken the object of his chase atthe very point beyond which it would have been absolutely impossible forhim to have continued the pursuit, since there Butler's road parted fromthat leading to Dumbiedikes, and no means of influence or compulsionwhich the rider could possibly have used towards his Bucephalus couldhave induced the Celtic obstinacy of Rory Bean (such was the pony's name)to have diverged a yard from the path that conducted him to his ownpaddock.

  Even when he had recovered from the shortness of breath occasioned by atrot much more rapid than Rory or he were accustomed to, the high purposeof Dumbiedikes seemed to stick as it were in his throat, and impede hisutterance, so that Butler stood for nearly three minutes ere he couldutter a syllable; and when he did find voice, it was only to say, afterone or two efforts, "Uh! uh! uhm! I say, Mr.--Mr. Butler, it's a braw dayfor the har'st."

  "Fine day, indeed," said Butler. "I wish you good morning, sir."

  "Stay--stay a bit," rejoined Dumbiedikes; "that was no what I had gottento say."

  "Then, pray be quick, and let me have your commands," rejoined Butler; "Icrave your pardon, but I am in haste, and _Tempus nemini_--you know theproverb."

  Dumbiedikes did not know the proverb, nor did he even take the trouble toendeavour to look as if he did, as others in his place might have done.He was concentrating all his intellects for one grand proposition, andcould not afford any detachment to defend outposts. "I say, Mr. Butler,"said he, "ken ye if Mr. Saddletree's a great lawyer?"

  "I have no person's word for it but his own," answered Butler, drily;"but undoubtedly he best understands his own qualities."

  "Umph!" replied the taciturn Dumbiedikes, in a tone which seemed to say,"Mr. Butler, I take your meaning." "In that case," he pursued, "I'llemploy my ain man o' business, Nichil Novit (auld Nichil's son, andamaist as gleg as his father), to agent Effie's plea."

  And having thus displayed more sagacity than Butler expected from him, hecourteously touched his gold-laced cocked hat, and by a punch on theribs, conveyed to Rory Bean, it was his rider's pleasure that he shouldforthwith proceed homewards; a hint which the quadruped obeyed with thatdegree of alacrity with which men and animals interpret and obeysuggestions that entirely correspond with their own inclinations.

  Butler resumed his pace, not without a momentary revival of that jealousywhich the honest Laird's attention to the family of Deans had atdifferent times excited in his bosom. But he was too generous long tonurse any feeling which was allied to selfishness. "He is," said Butlerto himself, "rich in what I want; why should I feel vexed that he has theheart to dedicate some of his pelf to render them services, which I canonly form the empty wish of executing? In God's name, let us each do whatwe can. May she be but happy!--saved from the misery and disgrace thatseems impending--Let me but find the means of preventing the fearfulexperiment of this evening, and farewell to other thoughts, though myheart-strings break in parting with them!"

  He redoubled his pace, and soon stood before the door of the Tolbooth, orrather before the entrance where the door had formerly been placed. Hisinterview with the mysterious stranger, the message to Jeanie, hisagitating conversation with her on the subject of breaking off theirmutual engagements, and the interesting scene with old Deans, had soentirely occupied his mind as to drown even recollection of the tragicalevent which he had witnessed the preceding evening. His attention was notrecalled to it by the groups who stood scattered on the street inconversation, which they hushed when strangers approached, or by thebustling search of the agents of the city police, supported by smallparties of the military, or by the appearance of the Guard-House, beforewhich were treble sentinels, or, finally, by the subdued and intimidatedlooks of the lower orders of society, who, conscious that they wereliable to suspicion, if they were not guilty of accession to a riotlikely to be strictly inquired into, glided about with an humble anddismayed aspect, like men whose spirits being exhausted in the revel andthe dangers of a desperate debauch over-night, are nerve-shaken,timorous, and unenterprising on the succeeding day.

  None of these symptoms of alarm and trepidation struck Butler, whose mindwas occupied with a different, and to him still more interesting subject,until he stood before the entrance to the prison, and saw it defended bya double file of grenadiers, instead of bolts and bars. Their "Stand,stand!" the blackened appearance of the doorless gateway, and the windingstaircase and apartments of the Tolbooth, now open to the public eye,recalled the whole proceedings of the eventful night. Upon his requestingto speak with Effie Deans, the same tall, thin, silver-haired turnkey,whom he had seen on the preceding evening, made his appearance,

  "I think," he replied to Butler's request of admission, with trueScottish indirectness, "ye will be the same lad that was for in to seeher yestreen?"

  Butler admitted he was the same person.

  "And I am thinking," pursued the turnkey, "that ye speered at me when welocked up, and if we locked up earlier on account of Porteous?"

  "Very likely I might make some such observation," said Butler; "but thequestion now is, can I see Effie Deans?"

  "I dinna ken--gang in by, and up the turnpike stair, and turn till theward on the left hand."

  The old man followed close behind him, with his keys in his hand, notforgetting even that huge one which had once opened and shut the outwardgate of his dominions, though at present it was but an idle and uselessburden. No sooner had Butler entered the room to which he was directed,than the experienced hand of the warder selected the proper key, andlocked it on the outside. At first Butler conceived this manoeuvre wasonly an effect of the man's habitual and official caution and jealousy.But when he heard the hoarse command, "Turn out the guard!" andimmediately afterwards heard the clash of a sentinel's arms, as he wasposted at the door of his apartment, he again called out to the turnkey,"My good friend, I have business of some consequence with Effie Deans,and I beg to see her as soon as possible." No answer was returned. "If itbe against your rules to admit me," repeated Butler, in a still loudertone, "to see the prisoner, I beg you will tell me so, and let me goabout my business.--_Fugit irrevocabile tempus!_" muttered he to himself.

  "If ye had business to do, ye suld hae dune it before ye cam here,"replied the man of keys from the outside; "yell find it's easier wunninin than wunnin out here--there's sma' likelihood o' another Porteous mobcoming to rabble us again--the law will haud her ain now, neighbour, andthat yell find to your cost."

  "What do you mean by that, sir?" retorted Butler. "You must mistake mefor some other person. My name is Reuben Butler, preacher of the gospel."

  "I ken that weel eneugh," said the turnkey.

  "Well, then, if you know me, I have a right to know from you in return,what warrant you have for detaining me; that, I know, is the right ofevery
British subject."

  "Warrant!" said the jailor,--"the warrant's awa to Libberton wi' twasheriff officers seeking ye. If ye had staid at hame, as honest menshould do, ye wad hae seen the warrant; but if ye come to be incarceratedof your ain accord, wha can help it, my jo?"

  "'So I cannot see Effie Deans, then," said Butler; "and you aredetermined not to let me out?"

  "Troth will I no, neighbour," answered the old man, doggedly; "as forEffie Deans, ye'll hae eneuch ado to mind your ain business, and let hermind hers; and for letting you out, that maun be as the magistrate willdetermine. And fare ye weel for a bit, for I maun see Deacon Sawyers puton ane or twa o' the doors that your quiet folk broke down yesternight,Mr. Butler."

  There was something in this exquisitely provoking, but there was alsosomething darkly alarming. To be imprisoned, even on a false accusation,has something in it disagreeable and menacing even to men of moreconstitutional courage than Butler had to boast; for although he had muchof that resolution which arises from a sense of duty and an honourabledesire to discharge it, yet, as his imagination was lively, and his frameof body delicate, he was far from possessing that cool insensibility todanger which is the happy portion of men of stronger health, more firmnerves, and less acute sensibility. An indistinct idea of peril, which hecould neither understand nor ward off, seemed to float before his eyes.He tried to think over the events of the preceding night, in hopes ofdiscovering some means of explaining or vindicating his conduct forappearing among the mob, since it immediately occurred to him that hisdetention must be founded on that circumstance. And it was with anxietythat he found he could not recollect to have been under the observationof any disinterested witness in the attempts that he made from time totime to expostulate with the rioters, and to prevail on them to releasehim. The distress of Deans's family, the dangerous rendezvous whichJeanie had formed, and which he could not now hope to interrupt, had alsotheir share in his unpleasant reflections. Yet, impatient as he was toreceive an _e'claircissement_ upon the cause of his confinement, and ifpossible to obtain his liberty, he was affected with a trepidation whichseemed no good omen; when, after remaining an hour in this solitaryapartment, he received a summons to attend the sitting magistrate. He wasconducted from prison strongly guarded by a party of soldiers, with aparade of precaution, that, however ill-timed and unnecessary, isgenerally displayed _after_ an event, which such precaution, if used intime, might have prevented.

  He was introduced into the Council Chamber, as the place is called wherethe magistrates hold their sittings, and which was then at a littledistance from the prison. One or two of the senators of the city werepresent, and seemed about to engage in the examination of an individualwho was brought forward to the foot of the long green-covered table roundwhich the council usually assembled. "Is that the preacher?" said one ofthe magistrates, as the city officer in attendance introduced Butler. Theman answered in the affirmative. "Let him sit down there for an instant;we will finish this man's business very briefly."

  "Shall we remove Mr. Butler?" queried the assistant.

  "It is not necessary--Let him remain where he is."

  Butler accordingly sate down on a bench at the bottom of the apartment,attended by one of his keepers.

  It was a large room, partially and imperfectly lighted; but by chance, orthe skill of the architect, who might happen to remember the advantagewhich might occasionally be derived from such an arrangement, one windowwas so placed as to throw a strong light at the foot of the table atwhich prisoners were usually posted for examination, while the upper end,where the examinants sate, was thrown into shadow. Butler's eyes wereinstantly fixed on the person whose examination was at presentproceeding, in the idea that he might recognise some one of theconspirators of the former night. But though the features of this manwere sufficiently marked and striking, he could not recollect that he hadever seen them before.

  The complexion of this person was dark, and his age somewhat advanced. Hewore his own hair, combed smooth down, and cut very short. It was jetblack, slightly curled by nature, and already mottled with grey. Theman's face expressed rather knavery than vice, and a disposition tosharpness, cunning, and roguery, more than the traces of stormy andindulged passions. His sharp quick black eyes, acute features, readysardonic smile, promptitude and effrontery, gave him altogether what iscalled among the vulgar a _knowing_ look, which generally implies atendency to knavery. At a fair or market, you could not for a moment havedoubted that he was a horse-jockey, intimate with all the tricks of histrade; yet, had you met him on a moor, you would not have apprehended anyviolence from him. His dress was also that of a horse-dealer--aclose-buttoned jockey-coat, or wrap-rascal, as it was then termed, withhuge metal buttons, coarse blue upper stockings, called boot-hose becausesupplying the place of boots, and a slouched hat. He only wanted a loadedwhip under his arm and a spur upon one heel, to complete the dress of thecharacter he seemed to represent.

  "Your name is James Ratcliffe?" said the magistrate.

  "Ay--always wi' your honour's leave."

  "That is to say, you could find me another name if I did not like thatone?"

  "Twenty to pick and choose upon, always with your honour's leave,"resumed the respondent.

  "But James Ratcliffe is your present name?--what is your trade?"

  "I canna just say, distinctly, that I have what ye wad ca' preceesely atrade."

  "But," repeated the magistrate, "what are your means of living--youroccupation?"

  "Hout tout--your honour, wi' your leave, kens that as weel as I do,"replied the examined.

  "No matter, I want to hear you describe it," said the examinant.

  "Me describe!--and to your honour!--far be it from Jemmie Ratcliffe,"responded the prisoner.

  "Come, sir, no trifling--I insist on an answer."

  "Weel, sir," replied the declarant, "I maun make a clean breast, for yesee, wi' your leave, I am looking for favour--Describe my occupation,quo' ye?--troth it will be ill to do that, in a feasible way, in a placelike this--but what is't again that the aught command says?"

  "Thou shalt not steal," answered the magistrate.

  "Are you sure o' that?" replied the accused.--"Troth, then, myoccupation, and that command, are sair at odds, for I read it, thou_shalt_ steal; and that makes an unco difference, though there's but awee bit word left out."

  "To cut the matter short, Ratcliffe, you have been a most notoriousthief," said the examinant.

  "I believe Highlands and Lowlands ken that, sir, forby England andHolland," replied Ratcliffe, with the greatest composure and effrontery.

  "And what d'ye think the end of your calling will be?" said themagistrate.

  "I could have gien a braw guess yesterday--but I dinna ken sae weel theday," answered the prisoner.

  "And what would you have said would have been your end, had you beenasked the question yesterday?"

  "Just the gallows," replied Ratcliffe, with the same composure.

  "You are a daring rascal, sir," said the magistrate; "and how dare youhope times are mended with you to-day?"

  "Dear, your honour," answered Ratcliffe, "there's muckle differencebetween lying in prison under sentence of death, and staying there ofane's ain proper accord, when it would have cost a man naething to get upand rin awa--what was to hinder me from stepping out quietly, when therabble walked awa wi' Jock Porteous yestreen?--and does your honourreally think I staid on purpose to be hanged?"

  "I do not know what you may have proposed to yourself; but I know," saidthe magistrate, "what the law proposes for you, and that is, to hang younext Wednesday eight days."

  "Na, na, your honour," said Ratcliffe firmly, "craving your honour'spardon, I'll ne'er believe that till I see it. I have kend the law thismony a year, and mony a thrawart job I hae had wi' her first and last;but the auld jaud is no sae ill as that comes to--I aye fand her barkwaur than her bite."

  "And if you do not expect the gallows, to which you are condemned (forthe fourth time to my knowledge), may I beg t
he favour to know," said themagistrate, "what it is you _do_ expect, in consideration of your nothaving taken your flight with the rest of the jail-birds, which I willadmit was a line of conduct little to have been expected?"

  "I would never have thought for a moment of staying in that auld goustytoom house," answered Ratcliffe, "but that use and wont had just gien mea fancy to the place, and I'm just expecting a bit post in't."

  "A post!" exclaimed the magistrate; "a whipping-post, I suppose, youmean?"

  "Na, na, sir, I had nae thoughts o' a whuppin-post. After having beenfour times doomed to hang by the neck till I was dead, I think I am farbeyond being whuppit."

  "Then, in Heaven's name, what _did_ you expect?"

  "Just the post of under-turnkey, for I understand there's a vacancy,"said the prisoner; "I wadna think of asking the lockman's* place ower hishead; it wadna suit me sae weel as ither folk, for I never could put abeast out o' the way, much less deal wi' a man."

  * Note H. Hangman, or Lockman.

  "That's something in your favour," said the magistrate, making exactlythe inference to which Ratcliffe was desirous to lead him, though hemantled his art with an affectation of oddity.

  "But," continued the magistrate, "how do you think you can be trustedwith a charge in the prison, when you have broken at your own hand halfthe jails in Scotland?"

  "Wi' your honour's leave," said Ratcliffe, "if I kend sae weel how to wunout mysell, it's like I wad be a' the better a hand to keep other folkin. I think they wad ken their business weel that held me in when Iwanted to be out, or wan out when I wanted to hand them in."

  The remark seemed to strike the magistrate, but he made no furtherimmediate observation, only desired Ratcliffe to be removed.

  When this daring and yet sly freebooter was out of hearing, themagistrate asked the city clerk, "what he thought of the fellow'sassurance?"

  "It's no for me to say, sir," replied the clerk; "but if James Ratcliffebe inclined to turn to good, there is not a man e'er came within theports of the burgh could be of sae muckle use to the Good Town in thethief and lock-up line of business. I'll speak to Mr. Sharpitlaw abouthim."

  Upon Ratcliffe's retreat, Butler was placed at the table for examination.The magistrate conducted his inquiry civilly, but yet in a manner whichgave him to understand that he laboured under strong suspicion. With afrankness which at once became his calling and character, Butler avowedhis involuntary presence at the murder of Porteous, and, at the requestof the magistrate, entered into a minute detail of the circumstanceswhich attended that unhappy affair. All the particulars, such as we havenarrated, were taken minutely down by the clerk from Butler's dictation.

  When the narrative was concluded, the cross-examination commenced, whichit is a painful task even for the most candid witness to undergo, since astory, especially if connected with agitating and alarming incidents, canscarce be so clearly and distinctly told, but that some ambiguity anddoubt may be thrown upon it by a string of successive and minuteinterrogatories.

  The magistrate commenced by observing, that Butler had said his objectwas to return to the village of Libberton, but that he was interrupted bythe mob at the West Port. "Is the West Port your usual way of leavingtown when you go to Libberton?" said the magistrate, with a sneer.

  "No, certainly," answered Butler, with the haste of a man anxious tovindicate the accuracy of his evidence; "but I chanced to be nearer thatport than any other, and the hour of shutting the gates was on the pointof striking."

  "That was unlucky," said the magistrate, drily. "Pray, being, as you say,under coercion and fear of the lawless multitude, and compelled toaccompany them through scenes disagreeable to all men of humanity, andmore especially irreconcilable to the profession of a minister, did younot attempt to struggle, resist, or escape from their violence?"

  Butler replied, "that their numbers prevented him from attemptingresistance, and their vigilance from effecting his escape."

  "That was unlucky," again repeated the magistrate, in the same dryinacquiescent tone of voice and manner. He proceeded with decency andpoliteness, but with a stiffness which argued his continued suspicion, toask many questions concerning the behaviour of the mob, the manners anddress of the ringleaders; and when he conceived that the caution ofButler, if he was deceiving him, must be lulled asleep, the magistratesuddenly and artfully returned to former parts of his declaration, andrequired a new recapitulation of the circumstances, to the minutest andmost trivial point, which attended each part of the melancholy scene. Noconfusion or contradiction, however, occurred, that could countenance thesuspicion which he seemed to have adopted against Butler. At length thetrain of his interrogatories reached Madge Wildfire, at whose name themagistrate and town-clerk exchanged significant glances. If the fate ofthe Good Town had depended on her careful magistrate's knowing thefeatures and dress of this personage, his inquiries could not have beenmore particular. But Butler could say almost nothing of this person'sfeatures, which were disguised apparently with red paint and soot, likean Indian going to battle, besides the projecting shade of a curch, orcoif, which muffled the hair of the supposed female. He declared that hethought he could not know this Madge Wildfire, if placed before him in adifferent dress, but that he believed he might recognise her voice.

  The magistrate requested him again to state by what gate he left thecity.

  "By the Cowgate Port," replied Butler.

  "Was that the nearest road to Libberton?"

  "No," answered Butler, with embarrassment; "but it was the nearest way toextricate myself from the mob."

  The clerk and magistrate again exchanged glances.

  "Is the Cowgate Port a nearer way to Libberton from the Grassmarket thanBristo Port?"

  "No," replied Butler; "but I had to visit a friend."

  "Indeed!" said the interrogator--"You were in a hurry to tell the sightyou had witnessed, I suppose?"

  "Indeed I was not," replied Butler; "nor did I speak on the subject thewhole time I was at St. Leonard's Crags."

  "Which road did you take to St. Leonard's Crags?"

  "By the foot of Salisbury Crags," was the reply.

  "Indeed? you seem partial to circuitous routes," again said themagistrate. "Whom did you see after you left the city?"

  One by one he obtained a description of every one of the groups who hadpassed Butler, as already noticed, their number, demeanour, andappearance; and, at length, came to the circumstance of the mysteriousstranger in the King's Park. On this subject Butler would fain haveremained silent, But the magistrate had no sooner got a slight hintconcerning the incident, than he seemed bent to possess himself of themost minute particulars.

  "Look ye, Mr. Butler," said he, "you are a young man, and bear anexcellent character; so much I will myself testify in your favour. But weare aware there has been, at times, a sort of bastard and fiery zeal insome of your order, and those, men irreproachable in other points, whichhas led them into doing and countenancing great irregularities, by whichthe peace of the country is liable to be shaken.--I will deal plainlywith you. I am not at all satisfied with this story, of your setting outagain and again to seek your dwelling by two several roads, which wereboth circuitous. And, to be frank, no one whom we have examined on thisunhappy affair could trace in your appearance any thing like your actingunder compulsion. Moreover, the waiters at the Cowgate Port observedsomething like the trepidation of guilt in your conduct, and declare thatyou were the first to command them to open the gate, in a tone ofauthority, as if still presiding over the guards and out-posts of therabble, who had besieged them the whole night."

  "God forgive them!" said Butler; "I only asked free passage for myself;they must have much misunderstood, if they did not wilfully misrepresentme."

  "Well, Mr. Butler," resumed the magistrate, "I am inclined to judge thebest and hope the best, as I am sure I wish the best; but you must befrank with me, if you wish to secure my good opinion, and lessen the riskof inconvenience to yourself. You have allowed you saw anothe
r individualin your passage through the King's Park to Saint Leonard's Crags--I mustknow every word which passed betwixt you."

  Thus closely pressed, Butler, who had no reason for concealing whatpassed at that meeting, unless because Jeanie Deans was concerned in it,thought it best to tell the whole truth from beginning to end.

  "Do you suppose," said the magistrate, pausing, "that the young womanwill accept an invitation so mysterious?"

  "I fear she will," replied Butler.

  "Why do you use the word _fear_ it?" said the magistrate.

  "Because I am apprehensive for her safety, in meeting at such a time andplace, one who had something of the manner of a desperado, and whosemessage was of a character so inexplicable."

  "Her safety shall be cared for," said the magistrate. "Mr. Butler, I amconcerned I cannot immediately discharge you from confinement, but I hopeyou will not be long detained.--Remove Mr. Butler, and let him beprovided with decent accommodation in all respects."

  He was conducted back to the prison accordingly; but, in the food offeredto him, as well as in the apartment in which he was lodged, therecommendation of the magistrate was strictly attended to.