by Walter Scott
CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.
One was a female, who had grievous ill Wrought in revenge, and she enjoy'd it still; Sullen she was, and threatening; in her eye Glared the stern triumph that she dared to die. Crabbe.
The summons of preparation arrived after Jeanie Deans had resided in themetropolis about three weeks.
On the morning appointed she took a grateful farewell of Mrs. Glass, asthat good woman's attention to her particularly required, placed herselfand her movable goods, which purchases and presents had greatlyincreased, in a hackney-coach, and joined her travelling companions inthe housekeeper's apartment at Argyle House. While the carriage wasgetting ready, she was informed that the Duke wished to speak with her;and being ushered into a splendid saloon, she was surprised to find thathe wished to present her to his lady and daughters.
"I bring you my little countrywoman, Duchess," these were the words ofthe introduction. "With an army of young fellows, as gallant and steadyas she is, and, a good cause, I would not fear two to one."
"Ah, papa!" said a lively young lady, about twelve years old, "rememberyou were full one to two at Sheriffmuir, and yet" (singing the well-knownballad)--
"Some say that we wan, and some say that they wan,And some say that nane wan at a', manBut of ae thing I'm sure, that on Sheriff-muirA battle there was that I saw, man."
"What, little Mary turned Tory on my hands?--This will be fine news forour countrywoman to carry down to Scotland!"
"We may all turn Tories for the thanks we have got for remaining Whigs,"said the second young lady.
"Well, hold your peace, you discontented monkeys, and go dress yourbabies; and as for the Bob of Dunblane,
'If it wasna weel bobbit, weel bobbit, weel bobbit, If it wasna weel bobbit, we'll bob it again.'"
"Papa's wit is running low," said Lady Mary: "the poor gentleman isrepeating himself--he sang that on the field of battle, when he was toldthe Highlanders had cut his left wing to pieces with their claymores."
A pull by the hair was the repartee to this sally.
"Ah! brave Highlanders and bright claymores," said the Duke, "well do Iwish them, 'for a' the ill they've done me yet,' as the song goes.--Butcome, madcaps, say a civil word to your countrywoman--I wish ye had halfher canny hamely sense; I think you may be as leal and true-hearted."
The Duchess advanced, and, in a few words, in which there was as muchkindness as civility, assured Jeanie of the respect which she had for acharacter so affectionate, and yet so firm, and added, "When you gethome, you will perhaps hear from me."
"And from me." "And from me." "And from me, Jeanie," added the youngladies one after the other, "for you are a credit to the land we love sowell."
Jeanie, overpowered by these unexpected compliments, and not aware thatthe Duke's investigation had made him acquainted with her behaviour onher sister's trial, could only answer by blushing, and courtesying roundand round, and uttering at intervals, "Mony thanks! mony thanks!"
"Jeanie," said the Duke, "you must have _doch an' dorroch,_ or you willbe unable to travel."
There was a salver with cake and wine on the table. He took up a glass,drank "to all true hearts that lo'ed Scotland," and offered a glass tohis guest.
Jeanie, however, declined it, saying, "that she had never tasted wine inher life."
"How comes that, Jeanie?" said the Duke,--"wine maketh glad the heart,you know."
"Ay, sir, but my father is like Jonadab the son of Rechab, who chargedhis children that they should drink no wine."
"I thought your father would have had more sense," said the Duke, "unlessindeed he prefers brandy. But, however, Jeanie, if you will not drink,you must eat, to save the character of my house."
He thrust upon her a large piece of cake, nor would he permit her tobreak off a fragment, and lay the rest on a salver.
"Put it in your pouch, Jeanie," said he; "you will be glad of it beforeyou see St. Giles's steeple. I wish to Heaven I were to see it as soon asyou! and so my best service to all my friends at and about Auld Reekie,and a blithe journey to you."
And, mixing the frankness of a soldier with his natural affability, heshook hands with his prote'ge'e, and committed her to the charge ofArchibald, satisfied that he had provided sufficiently for her beingattended to by his domestics, from the unusual attention with which hehad himself treated her.
Accordingly, in the course of her journey, she found both her companionsdisposed to pay her every possible civility, so that her return, in pointof comfort and safety, formed a strong contrast to her journey to London.
Her heart also was disburdened of the weight of grief, shame,apprehension, and fear, which had loaded her before her interview withthe Queen at Richmond. But the human mind is so strangely capricious,that, when freed from the pressure of real misery, it becomes open andsensitive to the apprehension of ideal calamities. She was now muchdisturbed in mind, that she had heard nothing from Reuben Butler, to whomthe operation of writing was so much more familiar than it was toherself.
"It would have cost him sae little fash," she said to herself; "for I haeseen his pen gan as fast ower the paper, as ever it did ower the waterwhen it was in the grey goose's wing. Wae's me! maybe he may bebadly--but then my father wad likely hae said somethin about it--Ormaybe he may hae taen the rue, and kensna how to let me wot of hischange of mind. He needna be at muckle fash about it,"--she went on,drawing herself up, though the tear of honest pride and injuredaffection gathered in her eye, as she entertained the suspicion,--"Jeanie Deans is no the lass to pu' him by the sleeve, or put him inmind of what he wishes to forget. I shall wish him weel and happy a' thesame; and if he has the luck to get a kirk in our country, I sall gangand hear him just the very same, to show that I bear nae malice." And asshe imagined the scene, the tear stole over her eye.
In these melancholy reveries, Jeanie had full time to indulge herself;for her travelling companions, servants in a distinguished andfashionable family, had, of course, many topics of conversation, in whichit was absolutely impossible she could have either pleasure or portion.She had, therefore, abundant leisure for reflection, and even forself-tormenting, during the several days which, indulging the younghorses the Duke was sending down to the North with sufficient ease andshort stages, they occupied in reaching the neighbourhood of Carlisle.
In approaching the vicinity of that ancient city, they discerned aconsiderable crowd upon an eminence at a little distance from the highroad, and learned from some passengers who were gathering towards thatbusy scene from the southward, that the cause of the concourse was, thelaudable public desire "to see a doomed Scotch witch and thief get halfof her due upo' Haribeebroo' yonder, for she was only to be hanged; sheshould hae been boorned aloive, an' cheap on't."
"Dear Mr. Archibald," said the dame of the dairy elect, "I never seed awoman hanged in a' my life, and only four men, as made a goodlyspectacle."
Mr. Archibald, however, was a Scotchman, and promised himself noexuberant pleasure in seeing his countrywoman undergo "the terriblebehests of law." Moreover, he was a man of sense and delicacy in his way,and the late circumstances of Jeanie's family, with the cause of herexpedition to London, were not unknown to him; so that he answered drily,it was impossible to stop, as he must be early at Carlisle on somebusiness of the Duke's, and he accordingly bid the postilions get on.
The road at that time passed at about a quarter of a mile's distance fromthe eminence, called Haribee or Harabee-brow, which, though it is verymoderate in size and height, is nevertheless seen from a great distancearound, owing to the flatness of the country through which the Edenflows. Here many an outlaw, and border-rider of both kingdoms, hadwavered in the wind during the wars, and scarce less hostile truces,between the two countries. Upon Harabee, in latter days, other executionshad taken place with as little ceremony as compassion; for these frontierprovinces remained long unsettled, and, even at the time of which wewrite,
were ruder than those in the centre of England.
The postilions drove on, wheeling as the Penrith road led them, round theverge of the rising ground. Yet still the eyes of Mrs. Dolly Dutton,which, with the head and substantial person to which they belonged, wereall turned towards the scene of action, could discern plainly the outlineof the gallows-tree, relieved against the clear sky, the dark shadeformed by the persons of the executioner and the criminal upon the lightrounds of the tall aerial ladder, until one of the objects, launched intothe air, gave unequivocal signs of mortal agony, though appearing in thedistance not larger than a spider dependent at the extremity of hisinvisible thread, while the remaining form descended from its elevatedsituation, and regained with all speed an undistinguished place among thecrowd. This termination of the tragic scene drew forth of course a squallfrom Mrs. Dutton, and Jeanie, with instinctive curiosity, turned her headin the same direction.
The sight of a female culprit in the act of undergoing the fatalpunishment from which her beloved sister had been so recently rescued,was too much, not perhaps for her nerves, but for her mind and feelings.She turned her head to the other side of the carriage, with a sensationof sickness, of loathing, and of fainting. Her female companionoverwhelmed her with questions, with proffers of assistance, withrequests that the carriage might be stopped--that a doctor might befetched--that drops might be gotten--that burnt feathers and asafoetida,fair water, and hartshorn, might be procured, all at once, and withoutone instant's delay. Archibald, more calm and considerate, only desiredthe carriage to push forward; and it was not till they had got beyondsight of the fatal spectacle, that, seeing the deadly paleness ofJeanie's countenance, he stopped the carriage, and jumping out himself,went in search of the most obvious and most easily procured of Mrs.Dutton's pharmacopoeia--a draught, namely, of fair water.
While Archibald was absent on this good-natured piece of service, damningthe ditches which produced nothing but mud, and thinking upon thethousand bubbling springlets of his own mountains, the attendants on theexecution began to pass the stationary vehicle in their way back toCarlisle.
From their half-heard and half-understood words, Jeanie, whose attentionwas involuntarily rivetted by them, as that of children is by ghoststories, though they know the pain with which they will afterwardsremember them, Jeanie, I say, could discern that the present victim ofthe law had died game, as it is termed by those unfortunates; that is,sullen, reckless, and impenitent, neither fearing God nor regarding man.
"A sture woife, and a dour," said one Cumbrian peasant, as he clatteredby in his wooden brogues, with a noise like the trampling of adray-horse.
"She has gone to ho master, with ho's name in her mouth," said another;"Shame the country should be harried wi' Scotch witches and Scotchbitches this gate--but I say hang and drown."
"Ay, ay, Gaffer Tramp, take awa yealdon, take awa low--hang the witch,and there will be less scathe amang us; mine owsen hae been reckan thistowmont."
"And mine bairns hae been crining too, mon," replied his neighbour.
"Silence wi' your fule tongues, ye churls," said an old woman, whohobbled past them, as they stood talking near the carriage; "this was naewitch, but a bluidy-fingered thief and murderess."
"Ay? was it e'en sae, Dame Hinchup?" said one in a civil tone, andstepping out of his place to let the old woman pass along thefootpath--"Nay, you know best, sure--but at ony rate, we hae buttint a Scot of her, and that's a thing better lost than found."
The old woman passed on without making any answer.
"Ay, ay, neighbour," said Gaffer Tramp, "seest thou how one witch willspeak for t'other--Scots or English, the same to them."
His companion shook his head, and replied in the same subdued tone, "Ay,ay, when a Sark-foot wife gets on her broomstick, the dames of Allonbyare ready to mount, just as sure as the by-word gangs o' the hills,--
If Skiddaw hath a cap, Criffel, wots full weel of that."
"But," continued Gager Tramp, "thinkest thou the daughter o' yon hangitbody isna as rank a witch as ho?"
"I kenna clearly," returned the fellow, "but the folk are speaking o'swimming her i' the Eden." And they passed on their several roads, afterwishing each other good-morning.
Just as the clowns left the place, and as Mr. Archibald returned withsome fair water, a crowd of boys and girls, and some of the lower rabbleof more mature age, came up from the place of execution, groupingthemselves with many a yell of delight around a tall female fantasticallydressed, who was dancing, leaping, and bounding in the midst of them. Ahorrible recollection pressed on Jeanie as she looked on this unfortunatecreature; and the reminiscence was mutual, for by a sudden exertion ofgreat strength and agility, Madge Wildfire broke out of the noisy circleof tormentors who surrounded her, and clinging fast to the door of thecalash, uttered, in a sound betwixt laughter and screaming, "Eh, d'yeken, Jeanie Deans, they hae hangit our mother?" Then suddenly changingher tone to that of the most piteous entreaty, she added, "O gar them letme gang to cut her down!--let me but cut her down!--she is my mother, ifshe was waur than the deil, and she'll be nae mair kenspeckle thanhalf-hangit Maggie Dickson,* that cried saut mony a day after she hadbeen hangit; her voice was roupit and hoarse, and her neck was a weeagee, or ye wad hae kend nae odds on her frae ony other saut-wife."
* Note Q. Half-hanged Maggie Dickson.
Mr. Archibald, embarrassed by the madwoman's clinging to the carriage,and detaining around them her noisy and mischievous attendants, was allthis while looking out for a constable or beadle, to whom he might committhe unfortunate creature. But seeing no such person of authority, heendeavoured to loosen her hold from the carriage, that they might escapefrom her by driving on. This, however, could hardly be achieved withoutsome degree of violence; Madge held fast, and renewed her franticentreaties to be permitted to cut down her mother. "It was but a tenpennytow lost," she said, "and what was that to a woman's life?" There cameup, however, a parcel of savage-looking fellows, butchers and grazierschiefly, among whose cattle there had been of late a very general andfatal distemper, which their wisdom imputed to witchcraft. They laidviolent hands on Madge, and tore her from the carriage, exclaiming--"What, doest stop folk o' king's high-way? Hast no done mischief enowalready, wi' thy murders and thy witcherings?"
"Oh, Jeanie Deans--Jeanie Deans!" exclaimed the poor maniac, "save mymother, and I will take ye to the Interpreter's house again,--and I willteach ye a' my bonny sangs,--and I will tell ye what came o' the." Therest of her entreaties were drowned in the shouts of the rabble.
"Save her, for God's sake!--save her from those people!" exclaimed Jeanieto Archibald.
"She is mad, but quite innocent; she is mad, gentlemen," said Archibald;"do not use her ill, take her before the Mayor."
"Ay, ay, we'se hae care enow on her," answered one of the fellows; "gangthou thy gate, man, and mind thine own matters."
"He's a Scot by his tongue," said another; "and an he will come out o'his whirligig there, I'se gie him his tartan plaid fu' o' broken banes."
It was clear nothing could be done to rescue Madge; and Archibald, whowas a man of humanity, could only bid the postilions hurry on toCarlisle, that he might obtain some assistance to the unfortunate woman.As they drove off, they heard the hoarse roar with which the mob prefaceacts of riot or cruelty, yet even above that deep and dire note, theycould discern the screams of the unfortunate victim. They were soon outof hearing of the cries, but had no sooner entered the streets ofCarlisle, than Archibald, at Jeanie's earnest and urgent entreaty, wentto a magistrate, to state the cruelty which was likely to be exercised onthis unhappy creature.
In about an hour and a half he returned, and reported to Jeanie, that themagistrate had very readily gone in person, with some assistance, to therescue of the unfortunate woman, and that he had himself accompanied him;that when they came to the muddy pool, in which the mob were ducking her,according to their favourite mode of punishment, the magistrate succeededin rescuing her from
their hands, but in a state of insensibility, owingto the cruel treatment which she had received. He added, that he had seenher carried to the workhouse, and understood that she had been brought toherself, and was expected to do well.
This last averment was a slight alteration in point of fact, for MadgeWildfire was not expected to survive the treatment she had received; butJeanie seemed so much agitated, that Mr. Archibald did not think itprudent to tell her the worst at once. Indeed, she appeared so flutteredand disordered by this alarming accident, that, although it had beentheir intention to proceed to Longtown that evening, her companionsjudged it most advisable to pass the night at Carlisle.
This was particularly agreeable to Jeanie, who resolved, if possible, toprocure an interview with Madge Wildfire. Connecting some of her wildflights with the narrative of George Staunton, she was unwilling to omitthe opportunity of extracting from her, if possible, some informationconcerning the fate of that unfortunate infant which had cost her sisterso dear. Her acquaintance with the disordered state of poor Madge's minddid not permit her to cherish much hope that she could acquire from herany useful intelligence; but then, since Madge's mother had suffered herdeserts, and was silent for ever, it was her only chance of obtaining anykind of information, and she was loath to lose the opportunity.
She coloured her wish to Mr. Archibald by saying that she had seen Madgeformerly, and wished to know, as a matter of humanity, how she wasattended to under her present misfortunes. That complaisant personimmediately went to the workhouse, or hospital, in which he had seen thesufferer lodged, and brought back for reply, that the medical attendantspositively forbade her seeing any one. When the application foradmittance was repeated next day, Mr. Archibald was informed that she hadbeen very quiet and composed, insomuch that the clergyman who acted aschaplain to the establishment thought it expedient to read prayers besideher bed, but that her wandering fit of mind had returned soon after hisdeparture; however, her countrywoman might see her if she chose it. Shewas not expected to live above an hour or two.
Jeanie had no sooner received this information than she hastened to thehospital, her companions attending her. They found the dying person in alarge ward, where there were ten beds, of which the patient's was theonly one occupied.
Madge was singing when they entered--singing her own wild snatches ofsongs and obsolete airs, with a voice no longer overstrained by falsespirits, but softened, saddened, and subdued by bodily exhaustion. Shewas still insane, but was no longer able to express her wandering ideasin the wild notes of her former state of exalted imagination. There wasdeath in the plaintive tones of her voice, which yet, in this moderatedand melancholy mood, had something of the lulling sound with which amother sings her infant asleep. As Jeanie entered she heard first theair, and then a part of the chorus and words, of what had been, perhaps,the song of a jolly harvest-home.
"Our work is over--over now, The goodman wipes his weary brow, The last long wain wends slow away, And we are free to sport and play.
"The night comes on when sets the sun, And labour ends when day is done. When Autumn's gone and Winter's come, We hold our jovial harvest-home."
Jeanie advanced to the bedside when the strain was finished, andaddressed Madge by her name. But it produced no symptoms of recollection.On the contrary, the patient, like one provoked by interruption, changedher posture, and called out with an impatient tone, "Nurse--nurse, turnmy face to the wa', that I may never answer to that name ony mair, andnever see mair of a wicked world."
The attendant on the hospital arranged her in her bed as she desired,with her face to the wall and her back to the light. So soon as she wasquiet in this new position, she began again to sing in the same low andmodulated strains, as if she was recovering the state of abstractionwhich the interruption of her visitants had disturbed. The strain,however, was different, and rather resembled the music of the Methodisthymns, though the measure of the song was similar to that of the former:
"When the fight of grace is fought-- When the marriage vest is wrought-- When Faith hath chased cold Doubt away, And Hope but sickens at delay--
"When Charity, imprisoned here, Longs for a more expanded sphere, Doff thy robes of sin and clay; Christian, rise, and come away."
The strain was solemn and affecting, sustained as it was by the patheticwarble of a voice which had naturally been a fine one, and whichweakness, if it diminished its power, had improved in softness.Archibald, though a follower of the court, and a pococurante byprofession, was confused, if not affected; the dairy-maid blubbered; andJeanie felt the tears rise spontaneously to her eyes. Even the nurse,accustomed to all modes in which the spirit can pass, seemed considerablymoved.
The patient was evidently growing weaker, as was intimated by an apparentdifficulty of breathing, which seized her from time to time, and by theutterance of low listless moans, intimating that nature was succumbing inthe last conflict. But the spirit of melody, which must originally haveso strongly possessed this unfortunate young woman, seemed, at everyinterval of ease, to triumph over her pain and weakness. And it wasremarkable that there could always be traced in her songs somethingappropriate, though perhaps only obliquely or collaterally so, to herpresent situation. Her next seemed the fragment of some old ballad:
"Cauld is my bed, Lord Archibald, And sad my sleep of sorrow; But thine sall be as sad and cauld, My fause true-love! to-morrow.
"And weep ye not, my maidens free, Though death your mistress borrow; For he for whom I die to-day Shall die for me to-morrow."
Again she changed the tune to one wilder, less monotonous, and lessregular. But of the words, only a fragment or two could be collected bythose who listened to this singular scene:
"Proud Maisie is in the wood, Walking so early; Sweet Robin sits on the bush, Singing so rarely.
"'Tell me, thou bonny bird. When shall I marry me?' 'When six braw gentlemen Kirkward shall carry ye.'
"'Who makes the bridal bed, Birdie, say truly?'-- 'The grey-headed sexton, That delves the grave duly.
"The glow-worm o'er grave and stone Shall light thee steady; The owl from the steeple sing, 'Welcome, proud lady.'"
Her voice died away with the last notes, and she fell into a slumber,from which the experienced attendant assured them that she never wouldawake at all, or only in the death agony.
The nurse's prophecy proved true. The poor maniac parted with existence,without again uttering a sound of any kind. But our travellers did notwitness this catastrophe. They left the hospital as soon as Jeanie hadsatisfied herself that no elucidation of her sister's misfortunes was tobe hoped from the dying person.*
* Note R. Madge Wildfire.
