by Walter Scott
CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD.
Law, take thy victim--May she find the mercy In yon mild heaven, which this hard world denies her!
It was an hour ere the jurors returned, and as they traversed the crowdwith slow steps, as men about to discharge themselves of a heavy andpainful responsibility, the audience was hushed into profound, earnest,and awful silence.
"Have you agreed on your chancellor, gentlemen?" was the first questionof the Judge.
The foreman, called in Scotland the chancellor of the jury, usually theman of best rank and estimation among the assizers, stepped forward, andwith a low reverence, delivered to the Court a sealed paper, containingthe verdict, which, until of late years, that verbal returns are in someinstances permitted, was always couched in writing. The jury remainedstanding while the Judge broke the seals, and having perused the paper,handed it with an air of mournful gravity down to the clerk of Court, whoproceeded to engross in the record the yet unknown verdict, of which,however, all omened the tragical contents. A form still remained,trifling and unimportant in itself, but to which imagination adds a sortof solemnity, from the awful occasion upon which it is used. A lightedcandle was placed on the table, the original paper containing the verdictwas enclosed in a sheet of paper, and, sealed with the Judge's ownsignet, was transmitted to the Crown Office, to be preserved among otherrecords of the same kind. As all this is transacted in profound silence,the producing and extinguishing the candle seems a type of the humanspark which is shortly afterwards doomed to be quenched, and excites inthe spectators something of the same effect which in England is obtainedby the Judge assuming the fatal cap of judgment. When these preliminaryforms had been gone through, the Judge required Euphemia Deans to attendto the verdict to be read.
After the usual words of style, the verdict set forth, that the Juryhaving made choice of John Kirk, Esq., to be their chancellor, and ThomasMoore, merchant, to be their clerk, did, by a plurality of voices, findthe said Euphemia Deans Guilty of the crime libelled; but, inconsideration of her extreme youth, and the cruel circumstances of hercase, did earnestly entreat that the Judge would recommend her to themercy of the Crown.
"Gentlemen," said the Judge, "you have done your duty--and a painful oneit must have been to men of humanity like you. I will undoubtedlytransmit your recommendation to the throne. But it is my duty to tell allwho now hear me, but especially to inform that unhappy young woman, inorder that her mind may be settled accordingly, that I have not the leasthope of a pardon being granted in the present case. You know the crimehas been increasing in this land, and I know farther, that this has beenascribed to the lenity in which the laws have been exercised, and thatthere is therefore no hope whatever of obtaining a remission for thisoffence." The jury bowed again, and, released from their painful office,dispersed themselves among the mass of bystanders.
The Court then asked Mr. Fairbrother whether he had anything to say, whyjudgment should not follow on the verdict? The counsel had spent sometime in persuing and reperusing the verdict, counting the letters in eachjuror's name, and weighing every phrase, nay, every syllable, in thenicest scales of legal criticism. But the clerk of the jury hadunderstood his business too well. No flaw was to be found, andFairbrother mournfully intimated, that he had nothing to say in arrest ofjudgment.
The presiding Judge then addressed the unhappy prisoner:--"EuphemiaDeans, attend to the sentence of the Court now to be pronounced againstyou."
She rose from her seat, and with a composure far greater than could havebeen augured from her demeanour during some parts of the trial, abode theconclusion of the awful scene. So nearly does the mental portion of ourfeelings resemble those which are corporeal, that the first severe blowswhich we receive bring with them a stunning apathy, which renders usindifferent to those that follow them. Thus said Mandrin, when he wasundergoing the punishment of the wheel; and so have all felt, upon whomsuccessive inflictions have descended with continuous and reiteratedviolence.*
* [The notorious Mandrin was known as the Captain-General of French &smugglers. See a Tract on his exploits, printed 1753.]
"Young woman," said the Judge, "it is my painful duty to tell you, thatyour life is forfeited under a law, which, if it may seem in some degreesevere, is yet wisely so, to render those of your unhappy situation awarewhat risk they run, by concealing, out of pride or false shame, theirlapse from virtue, and making no preparation to save the lives of theunfortunate infants whom they are to bring into the world. When youconcealed your situation from your mistress, your sister, and otherworthy and compassionate persons of your own sex, in whose favour yourformer conduct had given you a fair place, you seem to me to have had inyour contemplation, at least, the death of the helpless creature, forwhose life you neglected to provide. How the child was disposedof--whether it was dealt upon by another, or by yourself--whether theextraordinary story you have told is partly false, or altogether so, isbetween God and your own conscience. I will not aggravate your distressby pressing on that topic, but I do most solemnly adjure you to employthe remaining space of your time in making your peace with God, for whichpurpose such reverend clergymen, as you yourself may name, shall haveaccess to you. Notwithstanding the humane recommendation of the jury, Icannot afford to you, in the present circumstances of the country, theslightest hope that your life will be prolonged beyond the periodassigned for the execution of your sentence. Forsaking, therefore, thethoughts of this world, let your mind be prepared by repentance for thoseof more awful moments--for death, judgment, and eternity.--Doomster, readthe sentence."*
* Note N. Doomster, or Dempster, of Court.
When the Doomster showed himself, a tall haggard figure, arrayed in afantastic garment of black and grey, passmented with silver lace, allfell back with a sort of instinctive horror, and made wide way for him toapproach the foot of the table. As this office was held by the commonexecutioner, men shouldered each other backward to avoid even the touchof his garment, and some were seen to brush their own clothes, which hadaccidentally become subject to such contamination. A sound went throughthe Court, produced by each person drawing in their breath hard, as mendo when they expect or witness what is frightful, and at the same timeaffecting. The caitiff villain yet seemed, amid his hardened brutality,to have some sense of his being the object of public detestation, whichmade him impatient of being in public, as birds of evil omen are anxiousto escape from daylight, and from pure air.
Repeating after the Clerk of Court, he gabbled over the words of thesentence, which condemned Euphemia Deans to be conducted back to theTolbooth of Edinburgh, and detained there until Wednesday the day of ---;and upon that day, betwixt the hours of two and four o'clock afternoon,to be conveyed to the common place of execution, and there hanged by theneck upon a gibbet. "And this," said the Doomster, aggravating his harshvoice, "I pronounce for _doom._"
He vanished when he had spoken the last emphatic word, like a foul fiendafter the purpose of his visitation had been accomplished; but theimpression of horror excited by his presence and his errand, remainedupon the crowd of spectators.
The unfortunate criminal,--for so she must now be termed,--with moresusceptibility, and more irritable feelings than her father and sister,was found, in this emergence, to possess a considerable share of theircourage. She had remained standing motionless at the bar while thesentence was pronounced, and was observed to shut her eyes when theDoomster appeared. But she was the first to break silence when that evilform had left his place.
"God forgive ye, my Lords," she said, "and dinna be angry wi' me forwishing it--we a' need forgiveness.--As for myself, I canna blame ye, forye act up to your lights; and if I havena killed my poor infant, ye maywitness a' that hae seen it this day, that I hae been the means ofkilling my greyheaded father--I deserve the warst frae man, and frae Godtoo--But God is mair mercifu' to us than we are to each other."
With these words the trial concluded. The crowd rushed, bearing forwardand shouldering each other, out of the C
ourt, in the same tumultuary modein which they had entered; and, in excitation of animal motion and animalspirits, soon forgot whatever they had felt as impressive in the scenewhich they had witnessed. The professional spectators, whom habit andtheory had rendered as callous to the distress of the scene as medicalmen are to those of a surgical operation, walked homeward in groups,discussing the general principle of the statute under which the youngwoman was condemned, the nature of the evidence, and the arguments of thecounsel, without considering even that of the Judge as exempt from theircriticism.
The female spectators, more compassionate, were loud in exclamationagainst that part of the Judge's speech which seemed to cut off the hopeof pardon.
"Set him up, indeed," said Mrs. Howden, "to tell us that the poor lassiebehoved to die, when Mr. John Kirk, as civil a gentleman as is within theports of the town, took the pains to prigg for her himsell."
"Ay, but, neighbour," said Miss Damahoy, drawing up her thin maidenlyform to its full height of prim dignity--"I really think this unnaturalbusiness of having bastard-bairns should be putten a stop to.--There isnaa hussy now on this side of thirty that you can bring within your doors,but there will be chields--writer-lads, prentice-lads, and whatnot--coming traiking after them for their destruction, and discreditingane's honest house into the bargain--I hae nae patience wi' them."
"Hout, neighbour," said Mrs. Howden, "we suld live and let live--we haebeen young oursells, and we are no aye to judge the warst when lads andlasses forgather."
"Young oursells! and judge the warst!" said Miss Damahoy. "I am no saeauld as that comes to, Mrs. Howden; and as for what ye ca' the warst, Iken neither good nor bad about the matter, I thank my stars!"
"Ye are thankfu' for sma' mercies, then," said Mrs. Howden with a toss ofher head; "and as for you and young--I trow ye were doing for yoursell atthe last riding of the Scots Parliament, and that was in the graciousyear seven, sae ye can be nae sic chicken at ony rate."
Plumdamas, who acted as squire of the body to the two contending dames,instantly saw the hazard of entering into such delicate points ofchronology, and being a lover of peace and good neighbourhood, lost notime in bringing back the conversation to its original subject.
"The Judge didna tell us a' he could hae tell'd us, if he had liked,about the application for pardon, neighbours," said he "there is aye awimple in a lawyer's clew; but it's a wee bit of a secret."
"And what is't--what is't, neighbour Plumdamas?" said Mrs. Howden andMiss Damahoy at once, the acid fermentation of their dispute being atonce neutralised by the powerful alkali implied in the word secret.
"Here's Mr. Saddletree can tell ye that better than me, for it was himthat tauld me," said Plumdamas as Saddletree came up, with his wifehanging on his arm, and looking very disconsolate.
When the question was put to Saddletree, he looked very scornful. "Theyspeak about stopping the frequency of child-murder," said he, in acontemptuous tone; "do ye think our auld enemies of England, as Glendookaye ca's them in his printed Statute-book, care a boddle whether we didnakill ane anither, skin and birn, horse and foot, man, woman, and bairns,all and sindry, _omnes et singulos,_ as Mr. Crossmyloof says? Na, na,it's no _that_ hinders them frae pardoning the bit lassie. But here isthe pinch of the plea. The king and queen are sae ill pleased wi' thatmistak about Porteous, that deil a kindly Scot will they pardon again,either by reprieve or remission, if the haill town o' Edinburgh should bea' hanged on ae tow."
"Deil that they were back at their German kale-yard then, as my neighbourMacCroskie ca's it," said Mrs. Howden, "an that's the way they're gaun toguide us!"
"They say for certain," said Miss Damahoy, "that King George flang hisperiwig in the fire when he heard o' the Porteous mob."
"He has done that, they say," replied Saddletree, "for less thing."
"Aweel," said Miss Damahoy, "he might keep mair wit in his anger--butit's a' the better for his wigmaker, I'se warrant."
"The queen tore her biggonets for perfect anger,--ye'll hae heard o' thattoo?" said Plumdamas. "And the king, they say, kickit Sir Robert Walpolefor no keeping down the mob of Edinburgh; but I dinna believe he wadbehave sae ungenteel."
"It's dooms truth, though," said Saddletree; "and he was for kickin' theDuke of Argyle* too."
* Note O. John Duke of Argyle and Greenwich.
"Kickin' the Duke of Argyle!" exclaimed the hearers at once, in all thevarious combined keys of utter astonishment.
"Ay, but MacCallummore's blood wadna sit down wi' that; there was risk ofAndro Ferrara coming in thirdsman."
"The duke is a real Scotsman--a true friend to the country," answeredSaddletree's hearers.
"Ay, troth is he, to king and country baith, as ye sall hear," continuedthe orator, "if ye will come in bye to our house, for it's safestspeaking of sic things _inter parietes._"
When they entered his shop, he thrust his prentice boy out of it, and,unlocking his desk, took out, with an air of grave and complacentimportance, a dirty and crumpled piece of printed paper; he observed,"This is new corn--it's no every body could show you the like o' this.It's the duke's speech about the Porteous mob, just promulgated by thehawkers. Ye shall hear what Ian Roy Cean* says for himsell.
* Red John the warrior, a name personal and proper in the Highlands toJohn Duke of Argyle and Greenwich, as MacCummin was that of his race ordignity.
My correspondent bought it in the Palace-yard, that's like just under theking's nose--I think he claws up their mittans!--It came in a letterabout a foolish bill of exchange that the man wanted me to renew for him.I wish ye wad see about it, Mrs. Saddletree."
Honest Mrs. Saddletree had hitherto been so sincerely distressed aboutthe situation of her unfortunate prote'ge'e, that she had suffered herhusband to proceed in his own way, without attending to what he wassaying. The words bills and renew had, however, an awakening sound inthem; and she snatched the letter which her husband held towards her, andwiping her eyes, and putting on her spectacles, endeavoured, as fast asthe dew which collected on her glasses would permit, to get at themeaning of the needful part of the epistle; while her husband, withpompous elevation, read an extract from the speech.
"I am no minister, I never was a minister, and I never will be one"
"I didna ken his Grace was ever designed for the ministry," interruptedMrs. Howden.
"He disna mean a minister of the gospel, Mrs. Howden, but a minister ofstate," said Saddletree, with condescending goodness, and then proceeded:"The time was when I might have been a piece of a minister, but I was toosensible of my own incapacity to engage in any state affair. And I thankGod that I had always too great a value for those few abilities whichNature has given me, to employ them in doing any drudgery, or any job ofwhat kind soever. I have, ever since I set out in the world (and Ibelieve few have set out more early), served my prince with my tongue; Ihave served him with any little interest I had, and I have served himwith my sword, and in my profession of arms. I have held employmentswhich I have lost, and were I to be to-morrow deprived of those whichstill remain to me, and which I have endeavoured honestly to deserve, Iwould still serve him to the last acre of my inheritance, and to the lastdrop of my blood--"
Mrs. Saddletree here broke in upon the orator:--"Mr. Saddletree, what_is_ the meaning of a' this? Here are ye clavering about the Duke ofArgyle, and this man Martingale gaun to break on our hands, and lose usgude sixty pounds--I wonder what duke will pay that, quotha--I wish theDuke of Argyle would pay his ain accounts--He is in a thousand pundsScots on thae very books when he was last at Roystoun--I'm no saying buthe's a just nobleman, and that it's gude siller--but it wad drive anedaft to be confused wi' deukes and drakes, and thae distressed folkup-stairs, that's Jeanie Deans and her father. And then, putting the verycallant that was sewing the curpel out o' the shop, to play wi'blackguards in the close--Sit still, neighbours, it's no that I mean todisturb _you;_ but what between courts o' law and courts o' state, andupper and under parliaments, and parliament houses, here and in London,t
he gudeman's gane clean gyte, I think."
The gossips understood civility, and the rule of doing as they would bedone by, too well, to tarry upon the slight invitation implied in theconclusion of this speech, and therefore made their farewells anddeparture as fast as possible, Saddletree whispering to Plundamas that hewould "meet him at MacCroskie's" (the low-browed shop in theLuckenbooths, already mentioned), "in the hour of cause, and putMacCallummore's speech in his pocket, for a' the gudewife's din."
When Mrs. Saddletree saw the house freed of her importunate visitors, andthe little boy reclaimed from the pastimes of the wynd to the exercise ofthe awl, she went to visit her unhappy relative, David Deans, and hiselder daughter, who had found in her house the nearest place of friendlyrefuge.
End of Vol. 1.
THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN, Volume 2
By Walter Scott
TALES OF MY LANDLORD
COLLECTED AND ARRANGED
BY JEDEDIAH CLEISHBOTHAM,
SCHOOLMASTER AND PARISH CLERK
OF GANDERCLEUGH.
SECOND SERIES.
Titlepage]
THE HEART OF MID-LOTHIAN.
