St. Ronan's Well

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER XV.

  A PRAISER OF PAST TIMES.

  ----Now your traveller, He and his toothpick at my worship's mess.

  _King John._

  The noise stated at the conclusion of last chapter to have disturbed Mr.Bindloose, was the rapping of one, as in haste and impatience, at theBank-office door, which office was an apartment of the Banker's house,on the left hand of his passage, as the parlour in which he had receivedMrs. Dods was upon the right.

  In general, this office was patent to all having business there; but atpresent, whatever might be the hurry of the party who knocked, theclerks within the office could not admit him, being themselves madeprisoners by the prudent jealousy of Mr. Bindloose, to prevent them fromlistening to his consultation with Mrs. Dods. They therefore answeredthe angry and impatient knocking of the stranger only with stifledgiggling from within, finding it no doubt an excellent joke, that theirmaster's precaution was thus interfering with their own discharge ofduty.

  With one or two hearty curses upon them, as the regular plagues of hislife, Mr. Bindloose darted into the passage, and admitted the strangerinto his official apartment. The doors both of the parlour and officeremaining open, the ears of Luckie Dods (experienced, as the readerknows, in collecting intelligence) could partly overhear what passed.The conversation seemed to regard a cash transaction of some importance,as Meg became aware when the stranger raised a voice which was naturallysharp and high, as he did when uttering the following words, towards theclose of a conversation which had lasted about five minutes--"Premium?--Nota pice, sir--not a courie--not a farthing--premium for a Bank of Englandbill?--d'ye take me for a fool, sir?--do not I know that you call fortydays par when you give remittances to London?"

  Mr. Bindloose was here heard to mutter something indistinctly about thecustom of the trade.

  "Custom!" retorted the stranger, "no such thing--damn'd bad custom, ifit is one--don't tell me of customs--'Sbodikins, man, I know the rate ofexchange all over the world, and have drawn bills from Timbuctoo--Myfriends in the Strand filed it along with Bruce's from Gondar--talk tome of premium on a Bank of England post-bill!--What d'ye look at thebill for?--D'ye think it doubtful--I can change it."

  "By no means necessary," answered Bindloose, "the bill is quite right;but it is usual to indorse, sir."

  "Certainly--reach me a pen--d'ye think I can write with my rattan?--Whatsort of ink is this?--yellow as curry sauce--never mind--there is myname--Peregrine Touchwood--I got it from the Willoughbies, my Christianname--Have I my full change here?"

  "Your full change, sir," answered Bindloose.

  "Why, you should give _me_ a premium, friend, instead of me giving youone."

  "It is out of our way, I assure you, sir," said the Banker, "quite outof our way--but if you would step into the parlour and take a cup oftea"----

  "Why, ay," said the stranger, his voice sounding more distinctly as(talking all the while, and ushered along by Mr. Bindloose) he left theoffice and moved towards the parlour, "a cup of tea were no such badthing, if one could come by it genuine--but as for your premium"----Sosaying, he entered the parlour and made his bow to Mrs. Dods, who,seeing what she called a decent, purpose-like body, and aware that hispocket was replenished with English and Scottish paper currency,returned the compliment with her best curtsy.

  Mr. Touchwood, when surveyed more at leisure, was a short, stout, activeman, who, though sixty years of age and upwards, retained in his sinewsand frame the elasticity of an earlier period. His countenance expressedself-confidence, and something like a contempt for those who had neitherseen nor endured so much as he had himself. His short black hair wasmingled with grey, but not entirely whitened by it. His eyes werejet-black, deep-set, small, and sparkling, and contributed, with a shortturned-up nose, to express an irritable and choleric habit. Hiscomplexion was burnt to a brick-colour by the vicissitudes of climate,to which it had been subjected; and his face, which at the distance of ayard or two seemed hale and smooth, appeared, when closely examined, tobe seamed with a million of wrinkles, crossing each other in everydirection possible, but as fine as if drawn by the point of a verysmall needle.[I-20] His dress was a blue coat and buff waistcoat, halfboots remarkably well blacked, and a silk handkerchief tied withmilitary precision. The only antiquated part of his dress was a cockedhat of equilateral dimensions, in the button-hole of which he wore avery small cockade. Mrs. Dods, accustomed to judge of persons by theirfirst appearance, said, that in the three steps which he made from thedoor to the tea-table, she recognised, without the possibility ofmistake, the gait of a person who was well to pass in the world; "andthat," she added with a wink, "is what we victuallers are seldomdeceived in. If a gold-laced waistcoat has an empty pouch, the plainswan's-down will be the brawer of the twa."

  "A drizzling morning, good madam," said Mr. Touchwood, as with a view ofsounding what sort of company he had got into.

  "A fine saft morning for the crap, sir," answered Mrs. Dods, with equalsolemnity.

  "Right, my good madam; _soft_ is the very word, though it has been sometime since I heard it. I have cast a double hank about the round worldsince I last heard of a soft[I-21] morning."

  "You will be from these parts, then?" said the writer, ingeniouslyputting a case, which, he hoped, would induce the stranger to explainhimself. "And yet, sir," he added, after a pause, "I was thinking thatTouchwood is not a Scottish name, at least that I ken of."

  "Scottish name?--no," replied the traveller; "but a man may have been inthese parts before, without being a native--or, being a native, he mayhave had some reason to change his name--there are many reasons why menchange their names."

  "Certainly, and some of them very good ones," said the lawyer; "as inthe common case of an heir of entail, where deed of provision andtailzie is maist ordinarily implemented by taking up name and arms."

  "Ay, or in the case of a man having made the country too hot for himunder his own proper appellative," said Mr. Touchwood.

  "That is a supposition, sir," replied the lawyer, "which it would illbecome me to put.--But at any rate, if you knew this country formerly,ye cannot but be marvellously pleased with the change we have beenmaking since the American war--hill-sides bearing clover instead ofheather--rents doubled, trebled, quadrupled--the auld reekie dungeonspulled down, and gentlemen living in as good houses as you will see anywhere in England."

  "Much good may it do them, for a pack of fools!" replied Mr. Touchwood,hastily.

  "You do not seem much delighted with our improvements, sir?" said thebanker, astonished to hear a dissentient voice where he conceived allmen were unanimous.

  "Pleased!" answered the stranger--"Yes, as much pleased as I am with thedevil, who I believe set many of them agoing. Ye have got an idea thatevery thing must be changed--Unstable as water, ye shall not excel--Itell ye, there have been more changes in this poor nook of yours withinthe last forty years, than in the great empires of the East for thespace of four thousand, for what I know."

  "And why not," replied Bindloose, "if they be changes for the better?"

  "But they are _not_ for the better," replied Mr. Touchwood, eagerly. "Ileft your peasantry as poor as rats indeed, but honest and industrious,enduring their lot in this world with firmness, and looking forward tothe next with hope--Now they are mere eye-servants--looking at theirwatches, forsooth, every ten minutes, lest they should work for theirmaster half an instant after loosing-time--And then, instead of studyingthe Bible on the work days, to kittle the clergymen with doubtful pointsof controversy on the Sabbath, they glean all their theology from TomPaine and Voltaire."

  "Weel I wot the gentleman speaks truth," said Mrs. Dods. "I fand abundle of their bawbee blasphemies in my ain kitchen--But I trow I madea clean house of the packman loon that brought them!--No content wi'turning the tawpies' heads wi' ballants, and driving them daft wi'ribands, to cheat them out of their precious souls, and gie them thedeevil's ware, that I suld say sae, in exchange for the siller that suldsupport their puir
father that's aff wark and bedridden!"

  "Father! madam," said the stranger; "they think no more of their fatherthan Regan or Goneril."

  "In gude troth, ye have skeel of our sect, sir," replied the dame; "theyare gomerils, every one of them--I tell them sae every hour of the day,but catch them profiting by the doctrine."

  "And then the brutes are turned mercenary, madam," said Mr. Touchwood,"I remember when a Scottishman would have scorned to touch a shillingthat he had not earned, and yet was as ready to help a stranger as anArab of the desert. And now, I did but drop my cane the other day as Iwas riding--a fellow who was working at the hedge made three steps tolift it--I thanked him, and my friend threw his hat on his head, and'damned my thanks, if that were all'--Saint Giles could not haveexcelled him."

  "Weel, weel," said the banker, "that may be a' as you say, sir, and naedoubt wealth makes wit waver; but the country's wealthy, that cannot bedenied, and wealth, sir, ye ken"----

  "I know wealth makes itself wings," answered the cynical stranger; "butI am not quite sure we have it even now. You make a great show, indeed,with building and cultivation; but stock is not capital, any more thanthe fat of a corpulent man is health or strength."

  "Surely, Mr. Touchwood," said Bindloose, who felt his own account in themodern improvements, "a set of landlords, living like lairds in goodearnest, and tenants with better housekeeping than the lairds used tohave, and facing Whitsunday and Martinmas as I would face mybreakfast--if these are not signs of wealth, I do not know where to seekfor them."

  "They are signs of folly, sir," replied Touchwood; "folly that is poor,and renders itself poorer by desiring to be thought rich; and how theycome by the means they are so ostentatious of, you, who are a banker,perhaps can tell me better than I can guess."

  "There is maybe an accommodation bill discounted now and then, Mr.Touchwood; but men must have accommodation, or the world would standstill--accommodation is the grease that makes the wheels go."

  "Ay, makes them go down hill to the devil," answered Touchwood. "I leftyou bothered about one Ayr bank, but the whole country is an Air banknow, I think--And who is to pay the piper?--But it's all one--I will seelittle more of it--it is a perfect Babel, and would turn the head of aman who has spent his life with people who love sitting better thanrunning, silence better than speaking, who never eat but when they arehungry, never drink but when thirsty, never laugh without a jest, andnever speak but when they have something to say. But here, it is allrun, ride, and drive--froth, foam, and flippancy--no steadiness--nocharacter."

  "I'll lay the burden of my life," said Dame Dods, looking towards herfriend Bindloose, "that the gentleman has been at the new Spaw-waalyonder!"

  "Spaw do you call it, madam?--If you mean the new establishment that hasbeen spawned down yonder at St. Ronan's, it is the very fountain-head offolly and coxcombry--a Babel for noise, and a Vanity-fair fornonsense--no well in your swamps tenanted by such a conceited colony ofclamorous frogs."

  "Sir, sir!" exclaimed Dame Dods, delighted with the unqualified sentencepassed upon her fashionable rivals, and eager to testify her respect forthe judicious stranger who had pronounced it,--"will you let me have thepleasure of pouring you out a dish of tea?" And so saying, she tookbustling possession of the administration which had hitherto remained inthe hands of Mr. Bindloose himself.

  "I hope it is to your taste, sir," she continued, when the travellerhad accepted her courtesy with the grateful acknowledgment, which menaddicted to speak a great deal usually show to a willing auditor.

  "It is as good as we have any right to expect, ma'am," answered Mr.Touchwood; "not quite like what I have drunk at Canton with old FongQua--but the Celestial Empire does not send its best tea to LeadenhallStreet, nor does Leadenhall Street send its best to Marchthorn."

  "That may be very true, sir," replied the dame; "but I will venture tosay that Mr. Bindloose's tea is muckle better than you had at theSpaw-waal yonder."

  "Tea, madam!--I saw none--Ash leaves and black-thorn leaves were broughtin in painted canisters, and handed about by powder-monkeys in livery,and consumed by those who liked it, amidst the chattering of parrots andthe squalling of kittens. I longed for the days of the Spectator, when Imight have laid my penny on the bar, and retired without ceremony--Butno--this blessed decoction was circulated under the auspices of somehalf-crazed blue-stocking or other, and we were saddled with all theformality of an entertainment, for this miserable allowance of acockle-shell full of cat-lap per head."

  "Weel, sir," answered Dame Dods, "all I can say is, that if it had beenmy luck to have served you at the Cleikum Inn, which our folk have keptfor these twa generations, I canna pretend to say ye should have hadsuch tea as ye have been used to in foreign parts where it grows, butthe best I had I wad have gi'en it to a gentleman of your appearance,and I never charged mair than six-pence in all my time, and my father'sbefore me."

  "I wish I had known the Old Inn was still standing, madam," said thetraveller; "I should certainly have been your guest, and sent down forthe water every morning--the doctors insist I must use Cheltenham, orsome substitute, for the bile--though, d--n them, I believe it's onlyto hide their own ignorance. And I thought this Spaw would have been theleast evil of the two; but I have been fairly overreached--one might aswell live in the inside of a bell. I think young St. Ronan's must bemad, to have established such a Vanity-fair upon his father's oldproperty."

  "Do you ken this St. Ronan's that now is?" enquired the dame.

  "By report only," said Mr. Touchwood; "but I have heard of the family,and I think I have read of them, too, in Scottish history. I am sorry tounderstand they are lower in the world than they have been. This youngman does not seem to take the best way to mend matters, spending histime among gamblers and black-legs."

  "I should be sorry if it were so," said honest Meg Dods, whosehereditary respect for the family always kept her from joining in anyscandal affecting the character of the young Laird--"My forbears, sir,have had kindness frae his; and although maybe he may have forgotten allabout it, it wad ill become me to say ony thing of him that should notbe said of his father's son."

  Mr. Bindloose had not the same motive for forbearance; he declaimedagainst Mowbray as a thoughtless dissipater of his own fortune, and thatof others. "I have some reason to speak," he said, "having two of hisnotes for L.100 each, which I discounted out of mere kindness andrespect for his ancient family, and which he thinks nae mair ofretiring, than he does of paying the national debt--And here has he beenraking every shop in Marchthorn, to fit out an entertainment for all thefine folk at the Well yonder; and tradesfolk are obliged to take hisacceptances for their furnishings. But they may cash his bills thatwill; I ken ane that will never advance a bawbee on ony paper that hasJohn Mowbray either on the back or front of it. He had mair need to bepaying the debts which he has made already, than making new anes, thathe may feed fules and flatterers."

  "I believe he is likely to lose his preparations, too," said Mr.Touchwood, "for the entertainment has been put off, as I heard, inconsequence of Miss Mowbray's illness."

  "Ay, ay, puir thing!" said Dame Margaret Dods: "her health has beenunsettled for this mony a day."

  "Something wrong here, they tell me," said the traveller, pointing tohis own forehead significantly.

  "God only kens," replied Mrs. Dods; "but I rather suspect the heart thanthe head--the puir thing is hurried here and there, and down to theWaal, and up again, and nae society or quiet at hame; and a' thingganging this unthrifty gait--nae wonder she is no that weel settled."

  "Well," replied Touchwood, "she is worse they say than she has been, andthat has occasioned the party at Shaws-Castle having been put off.Besides, now this fine young lord has come down to the Well, undoubtedlythey will wait her recovery."

  "A lord!" ejaculated the astonished Mrs. Dods; "a lord come down to theWaal--they will be neither to haud nor to bind now--ance wud and ayewaur--a lord!--set them up and shute them forward--a lord!--the Lordhave a care o' us!--a
lord at the hottle!--Maister Touchwood, it's mymind he will only prove to be a Lord o' Session."

  "Nay, not so, my good lady," replied the traveller "he is an Englishlord, and, as they say, a Lord of Parliament--but some folk pretend tosay there is a flaw in the title."

  "I'll warrant is there--a dozen of them!" said Meg, with alacrity--forshe could by no means endure to think on the accumulation of dignitylikely to accrue to the rival establishment, from its becoming theresidence of an actual nobleman. "I'll warrant he'll prove a landloupinglord on their hand, and they will be e'en cheap o' the loss--And he hascome down out of order it's like, and nae doubt he'll no be lang therebefore he will recover his health, for the credit of the Spaw."

  "Faith, madam, his present disorder is one which the Spaw will hardlycure--he is shot in the shoulder with a pistol-bullet--a robberyattempted, it seems--that is one of your new accomplishments--no suchthing happened in Scotland in my time--men would have sooner expected tomeet with the phoenix than with a highwayman."

  "And where did this happen, if you please, sir?" asked the man of bills.

  "Somewhere near the old village," replied the stranger; "and, if I amrightly informed, on Wednesday last."

  "This explains your twa shots, I am thinking, Mrs. Dods," said Mr.Bindloose; "your groom heard them on the Wednesday--it must have beenthis attack on the stranger nobleman."

  "Maybe it was, and maybe it was not," said Mrs. Dods; "but I'll see gudereason before I give up my ain judgment in that case.--I wad like token if this gentleman," she added, returning to the subject from whichMr. Touchwood's interesting conversation had for a few minutes divertedher thoughts, "has heard aught of Mr. Tirl?"

  "If you mean the person to whom this paper relates," said the stranger,taking a printed handbill from his pocket, "I heard of little else--thewhole place rang of him, till I was almost as sick of Tyrrel as WilliamRufus was. Some idiotical quarrel which he had engaged in, and which hehad not fought out, as their wisdom thought he should have done, was theprincipal cause of censure. That is another folly now, which has gainedground among you. Formerly, two old proud lairds, or cadets of goodfamily, perhaps, quarrelled, and had a rencontre, or fought a duel afterthe fashion of their old Gothic ancestors; but men who had nograndfathers never dreamt of such folly--And here the folk denounce atrumpery dauber of canvass, for such I understand to be this hero'soccupation, as if he were a field-officer, who made valour hisprofession; and who, if you deprived him of his honour, was like to bedeprived of his bread at the same time.--Ha, ha, ha! it reminds one ofDon Quixote, who took his neighbour, Samson Carrasco, for aknight-errant."

  The perusal of this paper, which contained the notes formerly laidbefore the reader, containing the statement of Sir Bingo, and thecensure which the company at the Well had thought fit to pass upon hisaffair with Mr. Tyrrel, induced Mr. Bindloose to say to Mrs. Dods, withas little exultation on the superiority of his own judgment as humannature would permit,--

  "Ye see now that I was right, Mrs. Dods, and that there was nae earthlyuse in your fashing yoursell wi' this lang journey--The lad had justta'en the bent rather than face Sir Bingo; and troth, I think him thewiser of the twa for sae doing--There ye hae print for it."

  Meg answered somewhat sullenly, "Ye may be mista'en, for a' that, yourainsell, for as wise as ye are, Mr. Bindloose; I shall hae that mattermair strictly enquired into."

  This led to a renewal of the altercation concerning the probable fate ofTyrrel, in the course of which the stranger was induced to take someinterest in the subject.

  At length Mrs. Dods, receiving no countenance from the experiencedlawyer for the hypothesis she had formed, rose, in something likedispleasure, to order her whiskey to be prepared. But hostess as she washerself, when in her own dominions, she reckoned without her host in thepresent instance; for the humpbacked postilion, as absolute in hisdepartment as Mrs. Dods herself, declared that the cattle would not befit for the road these two hours yet. The good lady was thereforeobliged to wait his pleasure, bitterly lamenting all the while the losswhich a house of public entertainment was sure to sustain by the absenceof the landlord or landlady, and anticipating a long list of brokendishes, miscalculated reckonings, unarranged chambers, and otherdisasters, which she was to expect at her return. Mr. Bindloose, zealousto recover the regard of his good friend and client, which he had insome degree forfeited by contradicting her on a favourite subject, didnot choose to offer the unpleasing, though obvious topic of consolation,that an unfrequented inn is little exposed to the accidents sheapprehended. On the contrary, he condoled with her very cordially, andwent so far as to hint, that if Mr. Touchwood had come to Marchthornwith post-horses, as he supposed from his dress, she could have theadvantage of them to return with more despatch to St. Ronan's.

  "I am not sure," said Mr. Touchwood, suddenly, "but I may return theremyself. In that case I will be glad to set this good lady down, and tostay a few days at her house if she will receive me.--I respect a womanlike you, ma'am, who pursue the occupation of your father--I have beenin countries, ma'am, where people have followed the same trade, fromfather to son, for thousands of years--And I like the fashion--it showsa steadiness and sobriety of character."

  Mrs. Dods put on a joyous countenance at this proposal, protesting thatall should be done in her power to make things agreeable; and while hergood friend, Mr. Bindloose, expatiated upon the comfort her new guestwould experience at the Cleikum, she silently contemplated with delightthe prospect of a speedy and dazzling triumph, by carrying off acreditable customer from her showy and successful rival at the Well.

  "I shall be easily accommodated, ma'am," said the stranger; "I havetravelled too much and too far to be troublesome. A Spanish venta, aPersian khan, or a Turkish caravanserail, is all the same to me--only,as I have no servant--indeed, never can be plagued with one of theseidle loiterers,--I must beg you will send to the Well for a bottle ofthe water on such mornings as I cannot walk there myself--I find it isreally of some service to me."

  Mrs. Dods readily promised compliance with this reasonable request;graciously conceding, that there "could be nae ill in the water itsell,but maybe some gude--it was only the New Inn, and the daft haverils thatthey caa'd the Company, that she misliked. Folk had a jest that St.Ronan dookit the Deevil in the Waal, which garr'd it taste aye since ofbrimstane--but she dared to say that was a' papist nonsense, for she wastell't by him that kend weel, and that was the minister himsell, thatSt. Ronan was nane of your idolatrous Roman saunts, but a Chaldee,"(meaning probably a Culdee,) "whilk was doubtless a very differentstory."

  Matters being thus arranged to the satisfaction of both parties, thepost-chaise was ordered, and speedily appeared at the door of Mr.Bindloose's mansion. It was not without a private feeling of reluctance,that honest Meg mounted the step of a vehicle, on the door of which waspainted, "FOX INN AND HOTEL, ST. RONAN'S WELL;" but it was too late tostart such scruples.

  "I never thought to have entered ane o' their hurley-hackets," she said,as she seated herself; "and sic a like thing as it is--scarce room fortwa folk!--Weel I wot, Mr. Touchwood, when I was in the hiring line, ourtwa chaises wad hae carried, ilk ane o' them, four grown folk and asmony bairns. I trust that doited creature Anthony will come awa back wi'my whiskey and the cattle, as soon as they have had their feed.--Are yesure ye hae room eneugh, sir?--I wad fain hotch mysell farther yont."

  "O, ma'am," answered the Oriental, "I am accustomed to all sorts ofconveyances--a dooly, a litter, a cart, a palanquin, or a post-chaise,are all alike to me--I think I could be an inside with Queen Mab in anutshell, rather than not get forward.--Begging you many pardons, if youhave no particular objections, I will light my sheroot," &c. &c. &c.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [I-20] This was a peculiarity in the countenance of the celebrated Cossackleader, Platoff.

  [I-21] An epithet which expresses, in Scotland, what the barometer callsrainy.