by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XIV.
We'll keep our customs--what is law itself, But old establish'd custom? What religion, (I mean, with one-half of the men that use it,) Save the good use and wont that carries them To worship how and where their fathers worshipp'd? All things resolve in custom--we'll keep ours.
_Old Play._
We left the company of Magnus Troil engaged in high wassail and revelry.Mordaunt, who, like his father, shunned the festive cup, did not partakein the cheerfulness which the ship diffused among the guests as theyunloaded it, and the pinnace, as it circumnavigated the table. But, inlow spirits as he seemed, he was the more meet prey for thestory-telling Halcro, who had fixed upon him, as in a favourable stateto play the part of listener, with something of the same instinct thatdirects the hooded crow to the sick sheep among the flock, which willmost patiently suffer itself to be made a prey of. Joyfully did the poetavail himself of the advantages afforded by Mordaunt's absence of mind,and unwillingness to exert himself in measures of active defence. Withthe unfailing dexterity peculiar to prosers, he contrived to dribble outhis tale to double its usual length, by the exercise of the privilege ofunlimited digressions; so that the story, like a horse on the _grandpas_, seemed to be advancing with rapidity, while, in reality, it scarcewas progressive at the rate of a yard in the quarter of an hour. Atlength, however, he had discussed, in all its various bearings andrelations, the history of his friendly landlord, the master fashioner inRussel Street, including a short sketch of five of his relations, andanecdotes of three of his principal rivals, together with some generalobservations upon the dress and fashion of the period; and havingmarched thus far through the environs and outworks of his story, hearrived at the body of the place, for so the Wits' Coffeehouse might betermed. He paused on the threshold, however, to explain the nature ofhis landlord's right occasionally to intrude himself into thiswell-known temple of the Muses.
"It consisted," said Halcro, "in the two principal points, of bearingand forbearing; for my friend Thimblethwaite was a person of withimself, and never quarrelled with any jest which the wags whofrequented that house were flinging about, like squibs and crackers on arejoicing night; and then, though some of the wits--ay, and I daresaythe greater number, might have had some dealings with him in the way oftrade, he never was the person to put any man of genius in unpleasantremembrance of such trifles. And though, my dear young Master Mordaunt,you may think this is but ordinary civility, because in this country ithappens seldom that there is either much borrowing or lending, andbecause, praised be Heaven, there are neither bailiffs norsheriff-officers to take a poor fellow by the neck, and because thereare no prisons to put him into when they have done so, yet, let me tellyou, that such a lamblike forbearance as that of my poor, dear, deceasedlandlord, Thimblethwaite, is truly uncommon within the London bills ofmortality. I could tell you of such things that have happened even tomyself, as well as others, with these cursed London tradesmen, as wouldmake your hair stand on end.--But what the devil has put old Magnus intosuch note? he shouts as if he were trying his voice against a north-westgale of wind."
Loud indeed was the roar of the old Udaller, as, worn out of patience bythe schemes of improvement which the factor was now undauntedly pressingupon his consideration, he answered him, (to use an Ossianic phrase,)like a wave upon a rock,
"Trees, Sir Factor--talk not to me of trees! I care not though therenever be one on the island, tall enough to hang a coxcomb upon. We willhave no trees but those that rise in our havens--the good trees thathave yards for boughs, and standing-rigging for leaves."
"But touching the draining of the lake of Braebaster, whereof I spoke toyou, Master Magnus Troil," said the persevering agriculturist, "whilk Iopine would be of so much consequence, there are two ways--down theLinklater glen, or by the Scalmester burn. Now, having taken the levelof both"----
"There is a third way, Master Yellowley," answered the landlord.
"I profess I can see none," replied Triptolemus, with as much good faithas a joker could desire in the subject of his wit, "in respect that thehill called Braebaster on the south, and ane high bank on the north, ofwhilk I cannot carry the name rightly in my head"----
"Do not tell us of hills and banks, Master Yellowley--there is a thirdway of draining the loch, and it is the only way that shall be tried inmy day. You say my Lord Chamberlain and I are the joint proprietors--sobe it--let each of us start an equal proportion of brandy, lime-juice,and sugar, into the loch--a ship's cargo or two will do the job--let usassemble all the jolly Udallers of the country, and in twenty-four hoursyou shall see dry ground where the loch of Braebaster now is."
A loud laugh of applause, which for a time actually silencedTriptolemus, attended a jest so very well suited to time and place--ajolly toast was given--a merry song was sung--the ship unloaded hersweets--the pinnace made its genial rounds--the duet betwixt Magnus andTriptolemus, which had attracted the attention of the whole company fromits superior vehemence, now once more sunk, and merged into the generalhum of the convivial table, and the poet Halcro again resumed hisusurped possession of the ear of Mordaunt Mertoun.
"Whereabouts was I?" he said, with a tone which expressed to his wearylistener more plainly than words could, how much of his desultory taleyet remained to be told. "O, I remember--we were just at the door of theWits' Coffeehouse--it was set up by one"----
"Nay, but, my dear Master Halcro," said his hearer, somewhatimpatiently, "I am desirous to hear of your meeting with Dryden."
"What, with glorious John?--true--ay--where was I? At the Wits'Coffeehouse--Well, in at the door we got--the waiters, and so forth,staring at me; for as to Thimblethwaite, honest fellow, his was awell-known face.--I can tell you a story about that"----
"Nay, but John Dryden?" said Mordaunt, in a tone which deprecatedfurther digression.
"Ay, ay, glorious John--where was I?--Well, as we stood close by thebar, where one fellow sat grinding of coffee, and another putting uptobacco into penny parcels--a pipe and a dish cost just a penny--thenand there it was that I had the first peep of him. One Dennis sat nearhim, who"----
"Nay, but John Dryden--what like was he?" demanded Mordaunt.
"Like a little fat old man, with his own grey hair, and in afull-trimmed black suit, that sat close as a glove. HonestThimblethwaite let no one but himself shape for glorious John, and hehad a slashing hand at a sleeve, I promise you--But there is no gettinga mouthful of common sense spoken here--d----n that Scotchman, he andold Magnus are at it again!"
It was very true; and although the interruption did not resemble athunder-clap, to which the former stentorian exclamation of the Udallermight have been likened, it was a close and clamorous dispute,maintained by question, answer, retort, and repartee, as closely huddledupon each other as the sounds which announce from a distance a close andsustained fire of musketry.
"Hear reason, sir?" said the Udaller; "we will hear reason, and speakreason too; and if reason fall short, you shall have rhyme to boot.--Ha,my little friend Halcro!"
Though cut off in the middle of his best story, (if that could be saidto have a middle, which had neither beginning nor end,) the bardbristled up at the summons, like a corps of light infantry when orderedup to the support of the grenadiers, looked smart, slapped the tablewith his hand, and denoted his becoming readiness to back his hospitablelandlord, as becomes a well-entertained guest. Triptolemus was a littledaunted at this reinforcement of his adversary; he paused, like acautious general, in the sweeping attack which he had commenced on thepeculiar usages of Zetland, and spoke not again until the Udaller pokedhim with the insulting query, "Where is your reason now, MasterYellowley, that you were deafening me with a moment since?"
"Be but patient, worthy sir," replied the agriculturist; "what on earthcan you or any other man say in defence of that thing you call a plough,in this blinded country? Why, even the savage Highlandmen, in Caithnessand Sutherland, can make more work, and better, with thei
r gascromh, orwhatever they call it."
"But what ails you at it, sir?" said the Udaller; "let me hear yourobjections to it. It tills our land, and what would ye more?"
"It hath but one handle or stilt," replied Triptolemus.
"And who the devil," said the poet, aiming at something smart, "wouldwish to need a pair of stilts, if he can manage to walk with a singleone?"
"Or tell me," said Magnus Troil, "how it were possible for Neil ofLupness, that lost one arm by his fall from the crag of Nekbreckan, tomanage a plough with two handles?"
"The harness is of raw seal-skin," said Triptolemus.
"It will save dressed leather," answered Magnus Troil.
"It is drawn by four wretched bullocks," said the agriculturist, "thatare yoked breast-fashion and two women must follow this unhappyinstrument, and complete the furrows with a couple of shovels."
"Drink about, Master Yellowley," said the Udaller; "and, as you say inScotland, 'never fash your thumb.' Our cattle are too high-spirited tolet one go before the other; our men are too gentle and well-nurtured totake the working-field without the women's company; our ploughs till ourland--our land bears us barley; we brew our ale, eat our bread, and makestrangers welcome to their share of it. Here's to you, MasterYellowley."
This was said in a tone meant to be decisive of the question and,accordingly, Halcro whispered to Mordaunt, "That has settled the matter,and now we will get on with glorious John.--There he sat in his suit offull-trimmed black; two years due was the bill, as mine honest landlordafterwards told me,--and such an eye in his head!--none of your burning,blighting, falcon eyes, which we poets are apt to make a routabout,--but a soft, full, thoughtful, yet penetrating glance--never sawthe like of it in my life, unless it were little Stephen Kleancogg's,the fiddler, at Papastow, who"----
"Nay, but John Dryden?" said Mordaunt, who, for want of betteramusement, had begun to take a sort of pleasure in keeping the oldgentleman to his narrative, as men herd in a restiff sheep, when theywish to catch him. He returned to his theme, with his usual phrase of"Ay, true--glorious John--Well, sir, he cast his eye, such as I havedescribed it, on mine landlord, and 'Honest Tim,' said he, 'what hastthou got here?' and all the wits, and lords, and gentlemen, that used tocrowd round him, like the wenches round a pedlar at a fair, they madeway for us, and up we came to the fireside, where he had his ownestablished chair,--I have heard it was carried to the balcony insummer, but it was by the fireside when I saw it,--so up came TimThimblethwaite, through the midst of them, as bold as a lion, and Ifollowed with a small parcel under my arm, which I had taken up partlyto oblige my landlord, as the shop porter was not in the way, and partlythat I might be thought to have something to do there, for you are tothink there was no admittance at the Wits' for strangers who had nobusiness there.--I have heard that Sir Charles Sedley said a good thingabout that"----
"Nay, but you forget glorious John," said Mordaunt.
"Ay, glorious you may well call him. They talk of their Blackmore, andShadwell, and such like,--not fit to tie the latchets of John'sshoes--'Well,' he said to my landlord, 'what have you got there?' andhe, bowing, I warrant, lower than he would to a duke, said he had madebold to come and show him the stuff which Lady Elizabeth had chose forher nightgown.--'And which of your geese is that, Tim, who has got ittucked under his wing?'--'He is an Orkney goose, if it please you, Mr.Dryden,' said Tim, who had wit at will, 'and he hath brought you a copyof verses for your honour to look at.'--'Is he amphibious?' saidglorious John, taking the paper,--and methought I could rather havefaced a battery of cannon than the crackle it gave as it opened, thoughhe did not speak in a way to dash one neither;--and then he looked atthe verses, and he was pleased to say, in a very encouraging way indeed,with a sort of good-humoured smile on his face, and certainly for a fatelderly gentleman,--for I would not compare it to Minna's smile, orBrenda's,--he had the pleasantest smile I ever saw,--'Why, Tim,' hesaid, 'this goose of yours will prove a swan on your hands.' With thathe smiled a little, and they all laughed, and none louder than those whostood too far off to hear the jest; for every one knew when he smiledthere was something worth laughing at, and so took it upon trust; andthe word passed through among the young Templars, and the wits, and thesmarts, and there was nothing but question on question who we were; andone French fellow was trying to tell them it was only Monsieur TimThimblethwaite; but he made such work with his Dumbletate andTimbletate, that I thought his explanation would have lasted"----
"As long as your own story," thought Mordaunt; but the narrative was atlength finally cut short, by the strong and decided voice of theUdaller.
"I will hear no more on it, Mr. Factor!" he exclaimed.
"At least let me say something about the breed of horses," saidYellowley, in rather a cry-mercy tone of voice. "Your horses, my dearsir, resemble cats in size, and tigers in devilry!"
"For their size," said Magnus, "they are the easier for us to get offand on them--[as Triptolemus experienced this morning, thought Mordauntto himself]--and, as for their devilry, let no one mount them thatcannot manage them."
A twinge of self-conviction, on the part of the agriculturist, preventedhim from reply. He darted a deprecatory glance at Mordaunt, as if forthe purpose of imploring secrecy respecting his tumble; and the Udaller,who saw his advantage, although he was not aware of the cause, pursuedit with the high and stern tone proper to one who had all his life beenunaccustomed to meet with, and unapt to endure, opposition.
"By the blood of Saint Magnus the Martyr," he said, "but you are a finefellow, Master Factor Yellowley! You come to us from a strange land,understanding neither our laws, nor our manners, nor our language, andyou propose to become governor of the country, and that we should all beyour slaves!"
"My pupils, worthy sir, my pupils!" said Yellowley, "and that only foryour own proper advantage."
"We are too old to go to school," said the Zetlander. "I tell you oncemore, we will sow and reap our grain as our fathers did--we will eatwhat God sends us, with our doors open to the stranger, even as theirswere open. If there is aught imperfect in our practice, we will amend itin time and season but the blessed Baptist's holyday was made for lighthearts and quick heels. He that speaks a word more of reason, as youcall it, or any thing that looks like it, shall swallow a pint ofsea-water--he shall, by this hand!--and so fill up the good ship, theJolly Mariner of Canton, once more, for the benefit of those that willstick by her; and let the rest have a fling with the fiddlers, who havebeen summoning us this hour. I will warrant every wench is on tiptoe bythis time. Come, Mr. Yellowley, no unkindness, man--why, man, thoufeelest the rolling of the Jolly Mariner still"--(for, in truth, honestTriptolemus showed a little unsteadiness of motion, as he rose to attendhis host)--"but never mind, we shall have thee find thy land-legs toreel it with yonder bonny belles. Come along, Triptolemus--let megrapple thee fast, lest thou _trip_, old Triptolemus--ha, ha, ha!"
So saying, the portly though weatherbeaten hulk of the Udaller sailedoff like a man-of-war that had braved a hundred gales, having his guestin tow like a recent prize. The greater part of the revellers followedtheir leader with loud jubilee, although there were several stanchtopers, who, taking the option left them by the Udaller, remained behindto relieve the Jolly Mariner of a fresh cargo, amidst many a pledge tothe health of their absent landlord, and to the prosperity of hisroof-tree, with whatsoever other wishes of kindness could be devised, asan apology for another pint-bumper of noble punch.
The rest soon thronged the dancing-room, an apartment which partook ofthe simplicity of the time and of the country. Drawing-rooms and saloonswere then unknown in Scotland, save in the houses of the nobility, andof course absolutely so in Zetland; but a long, low, anomalousstore-room, sometimes used for the depositation of merchandise,sometimes for putting aside lumber, and a thousand other purposes, waswell known to all the youth of Dunrossness, and of many a districtbesides, as the scene of the merry dance, which was sustained with somuch glee when Magnus Troil gave his frequent f
easts.
The first appearance of this ball-room might have shocked a fashionableparty, assembled for the quadrille or the waltz. Low as we have statedthe apartment to be, it was but imperfectly illuminated by lamps,candles, ship-lanterns, and a variety of other _candelabra_, whichserved to throw a dusky light upon the floor, and upon the heaps ofmerchandise and miscellaneous articles which were piled around; some ofthem stores for the winter; some, goods destined for exportation some,the tribute of Neptune, paid at the expense of shipwrecked vessels,whose owners were unknown; some, articles of barter received by theproprietor, who, like most others at the period, was somewhat of amerchant as well as a landholder, in exchange for the fish, and otherarticles, the produce of his estate. All these, with the chests, boxes,casks, &c., which contained them, had been drawn aside, and piled oneabove the other, in order to give room for the dancers, who, light andlively as if they had occupied the most splendid saloon in the parish ofSt. James's, executed their national dances with equal grace andactivity.
The group of old men who looked on, bore no inconsiderable resemblanceto a party of aged tritons, engaged in beholding the sports of thesea-nymphs; so hard a look had most of them acquired by contending withthe elements, and so much did the shaggy hair and beards, which many ofthem cultivated after the ancient Norwegian fashion, give their headsthe character of these supposed natives of the deep. The young people,on the other hand, were uncommonly handsome, tall, well-made, andshapely; the men with long fair hair, and, until broken by the weather,a fresh ruddy complexion, which, in the females, was softened into abloom of infinite delicacy. Their natural good ear for music qualifiedthem to second to the utmost the exertions of a band, whose strains wereby no means contemptible; while the elders, who stood around or satquiet upon the old sea-chests, which served for chairs, criticised thedancers, as they compared their execution with their own exertions informer days; or, warmed by the cup and flagon, which continued tocirculate among them, snapped their fingers, and beat time with theirfeet to the music.
Mordaunt looked upon this scene of universal mirth with the painfulrecollection, that he, thrust aside from his pre-eminence, no longerexercised the important duties of chief of the dancers, or office ofleader of the revels, which had been assigned to the stranger Cleveland.Anxious, however, to suppress the feelings of his own disappointment,which he felt it was neither wise to entertain nor manly to display, heapproached his fair neighbours, to whom he had been so acceptable attable, with the purpose of inviting one of them to become his partner inthe dance. But the awfully ancient old lady, even the Lady Glowrowrum,who had only tolerated the exuberance of her nieces' mirth during thetime of dinner, because her situation rendered it then impossible forher to interfere, was not disposed to permit the apprehended renewal ofthe intimacy implied in Mertoun's invitation. She therefore took uponherself, in the name of her two nieces, who sat pouting beside her indispleased silence, to inform Mordaunt, after thanking him for hiscivility, that the hands of her nieces were engaged for that evening;and, as he continued to watch the party at a little distance, he had anopportunity of being convinced that the alleged engagement was a mereapology to get rid of him, when he saw the two good-humoured sistersjoin the dance, under the auspices of the next young men who asked theirhands. Incensed at so marked a slight, and unwilling to expose himselfto another, Mordaunt Mertoun drew back from the circle of dancers,shrouded himself amongst the mass of inferior persons who crowded intothe bottom of the room as spectators, and there, concealed from theobservation of others, digested his own mortification as well as hecould--that is to say, very ill--and with all the philosophy of hisage--that is to say, with none at all.
