by John Buchan
CHAPTER II
I VISIT MASTER PETER WISHART
The life at the college of Leyden was the most curious that one couldwell conceive; yet ere I had been there a week, I had begun heartily tolike it. The students were drawn from the four corners of Europe:Swedes, great men with shaggy beards and invincible courage; neat-coatedGermans, Dutchmen by the score, and not a few Frenchmen, who were thedandies of the place. We all gathered of a morning in the duskylecture-hall, where hung the portraits of the great scholars of thepast, and where in the cobwebbed rafters there abode such a weight ofdust that a breeze coming through the high windows would stir it andmake the place all but dark. Nor had I fault to find with the worthyprofessors, for I found soon that Master Sandvoort, though a miserlychurl, had vast store of Latin, and would expound the works of CorneliusTacitus in a fashion which I could not sufficiently admire. Hiscolleague, too, who was the best of good fellows in the seclusion of hishouse, in his lecture-room was dignified and severe in deportment. Younever saw such a change in a man. I went on the first morning expectingto find little but buffoonery; and lo! to my surprise, in walks mygentleman in a stately gown, holding his head like an archduke's; andwhen he began to speak, it was with the gravest accents of precision.And I roundly affirm that no man ever made more good matter come out ofPlato. He would show wherein he erred and wherein he was wiser thanthose who sought to refute him; he would weigh with the nicest judgmentthe _variae lectiones_ on each passage; and he would illustrate allthings with the choicest citations. In truth, I got a great wealth ofgood scholarship and sound philosophy from my squire of bottle andpasty.
I was not the only Scot in Leyden, as I soon discovered; for forbye thatI had letters to Master Peter Wishart, who taught philosophy in thecollege, there abode in the town Sir James Dalrymple, afterwards my LordStair, the great lawyer, and sometime a professor in my old college,whose nephew I had so cruelly beaten before I bade farewell to Glasgow.He was a man of a grave deportment, somewhat bent with study, and withthe look of exceeding weight on his face which comes to one who hasshared the counsel of princes. There were also not a few Scots lords oflesser fame and lesser fortune, pensioners, many of them, on a foreignking, exiles from home for good and evil causes. As one went down theBreedestraat of a morning he could hear much broad Scots spoke on thecauseway, and find many fellow-countrymen in a state ill-befitting theirrank. For poverty was ever the curse of our nation, and I found itbitter to see ignoble Flemings and Dutch burghers flaunting in theirfinery, while our poor gentlemen were threadbare. And these folk, too,were the noblest in the land, bearing the proudest names, descendants ofwarriors and statesmen--Halketts of Pitfirran, Prestons of Gorton,Stewarts, Hays, Sinclairs, Douglases, Hamiltons, and Grahams. It wastheir fathers and grandfathers who had won the day at Rijnemants, underSir Robert Stuart, when, says Strada, "Nudi pugnant Scoti multi." Theyhad fought to the death on the Kowenstyn dyke when Parma beleagueredAntwerp. And in all the later wars they took their share--Scotts ofBuccleuch, Haigs of Bemersyde, Erskines, Grants, and Kilpatricks. Inthe Scots brigade in Holland had served John Graham of Claverhouse, assome will have it, the greatest soldier of our age. I saw nothing ofhim, for while I was in the Low Lands he was already riding in thewestern hills, shooting and hanging and dealing martial law to herds andweavers. But I saw often the gallant figure of that Colonel Hugh Mackaywho met Claverhouse in that last and awful fight in the Highland passwhen the mountaineers swept on the lowlanders like a winter storm, andwho marched to his death long after on the field of Steinkirk, and fellwith the words on his lips, "The will of the Lord be done." Thisvaliant soldier had made the Scots brigade into some semblance of thatdoughty regiment which Lord Reay commanded under the great Gustavus. Hehad driven out all the foreign admixture, and, by keeping it to Scotsmenof gentle blood, rendered it well-nigh invincible. But the pay waspoor, and they who entered it did so for the sake of honour and for nonotions of gain.
But though it cheers me yet to tell of such fellows, and though itpleased me vastly to meet them in that distant land, it is not of suchthat I must write. As I have said, forbye attending the two classes ofGreek and Latin, I resorted to the lectures of Master Wishart, whohailed from Fife, and had taught philosophy with much success among theHollanders for some twenty years. He was well acquainted with myfamily, so what does he do but bid me to his house at Alphen oneSaturday in the front of March. For he did not abide in Leyden, neverhaving loved the ways of a town, but in the little village of Alphen,some seven miles to the northeast.
I accepted his bidding, for I had come there for no other cause than tomeet and converse with men of learning and wisdom; so I bade Nicol haveready the two horses, which I had bought, at eleven o'clock in theforenoon. One of the twain was a bay mare, delicately stepping, withwhite pasterns and a patch of white on her forehead. The other was theheavier, reserved for Nicol and what baggage I might seek to carry,black and deep-chested, and more sedate than his comrade.
It was a clear, mild day when we set out, with no trace of frost, andbut little cold. The roads were dry underfoot, and the horses steppedmerrily, for they were fresh from long living indoors. The fields oneither side were still bleak, but the sowers were abroad, scattering theseeds of the future harvest. The waters that we passed were alive withwild-fowl, which had wintered in the sea-marshes, and were now coming upto breed among the flags and rushes of the inland lakes. The tendergreen was sprouting on the trees, the early lark sang above the furrows,and the whole earth was full of the earnest of spring.
Alphen is a straggling line of houses by a canal. They are all wellsized, and even with some pretension to gentility, with long gardenssloping to the water, and shady coverts of trees. Master Wishart'sstood in the extreme end, apart from the rest, low-built, with a doorwaywith stuccoed pilasters. It was a place very pleasant to look upon, andsave for its flatness, I could have found it in my heart to choose itfor a habitation. But I am hill-bred, and must have rough, craggy landnear me, else I weary of the finest dwelling. Master Wishart dwelthere, since he had ever a passion for the growing of rare flowers, andcould indulge it better here than in the town of Leyden. He was used todrive in every second day in his great coach, for he lectured but threetimes a week.
A serving-man took my horse from me, and, along with Nicol, led them tothe stable, having directed me where, in the garden, I should find myhost. I opened a gate in a quickset hedge, and entered upon the mostbeautiful pleasure-ground that I had ever beheld. A wide, well-orderedlawn stretched straitly down to the very brink of the canal, and though,as was natural at that season of the year, the grass had not come to itsproper greenness, yet it gave promise of great smoothness and verdure.To the side of this, again, there ran a belt of low wood, between whichand the house was a green all laid out into flower beds, bright even atthat early time with hyacinths and jonquils. Below this the low woodbegan again, and continued to the borders of the garden, full of themost delightsome alleys and shady walks. From one of these I heardvoices, and going in that direction, I came of a sudden to a handsomearbour, at the side of which flowered the winter-jasmine, and around thedoor of which, so mild was the day, some half-dozen men were sitting.
My host, Master Wishart, was a short, spare man, with a long faceadorned with a well-trimmed beard. He had the most monstrous heavy browsthat I have ever seen, greater even than those of our Master Sandeman,of whom the students were wont to say that his eyebrows wereheather-besoms. His eyes twinkled merrily when he spoke, and but forhis great forehead no one might have guessed that he stood in thepresence of one of the most noted of our schoolmen.
He rose and greeted me heartily, bidding me all welcome to Alphen,saying that he loved to see the sight of a Scots face, for was he not anexile here like the Jews by the waters of Babylon? "This is Master JohnBurnet of Barns," said he, presenting me to a very grave and comely mansome ten years my senior, "who has come all the way from Tweedside todrink at our
Pierian Spring." The other greeted me, looked kindly at mefor a second, and then asked me some question of my family; and findingthat a second cousin of his own on his mother's side had once marriedone of my race, immediately became very gracious, and condescended totell me his opinions of the land, which were none so good. He was, as Idid not know till later, Sir William Crichtoun of Bourhope; that SirWilliam who in after times was slain in the rout at Cromdale when theforces of Buchan and Cannon were caught unawares on the hillside.
I had leisure now to look around me at the others, and a motley groupthey were. There was Quentin Markelboch, the famous physician ofLeyden, who had been pointed out to me in the street some days before, alittle, round-bellied man with an eye of wondrous shrewdness. There waslikewise Master Jardinius, who had lectured on philosophy at one time inthe college, but had now grown too old for aught save sitting in the sunand drinking Schiedam--which, as some said, was no great pity. But theone I most marked was a little, fiery-eyed, nervous man, Pieter vanMieris by name, own cousin to the painter, and one who lived for nothingelse than to fight abstruse metaphysical quarrels in defence ofreligion, which he believed to be in great peril from men of learning,and, but for his exertions on its behalf, to be unable to exist. It washe who first addressed me.
"I have heard that the true religion is wondrous pure in your land,Master Burnet, and that men yet worship God in simple fashion, andbelieve in Him without subtleties. Is that so, may I beg of you to tellme?"
"Ay," I answered, "doubtless they do, when they worship Him at all."
"Then the most pernicious heresy of the pervert Arminius has not yetpenetrated to your shores, I trust, nor Pelagianism, which, of old, wasthe devil's wile for simple souls?"
"I have never heard of their names," I answered bluntly. "We folk inScotland keep to our own ways, and like little to import aught foreign,be it heresy or strong ale."
"Then," said my inquisitor triumphantly, "you are not yet tainted withthat most vile and pernicious heresy of all, with which one BaruchSpinoza, of accursed memory, has tainted this land?"
I roused myself at the name, for this was one I had heard often withinthe past few weeks, and I had a great desire to find out for myself thetruth of his philosophy.
"I am ashamed to confess," I said, "that I have read none of hiswritings, that I scarcely know his name. But I would be enlightened inthe matter."
"Far be it from me," said the little man earnestly, "to corrupt theheart of any man with so pernicious a doctrine. Rather close thy cars,young man, when you hear anyone speak his name, and pray to God to keepyou from danger. 'Tis the falsest admixture of the Jewish heresy withthe scum of ancient philosophy, the vain imaginings of man stirred up bythe Evil One. The man who made it is dead, and gone to his account, butI would that the worthy magistrates had seen fit to gibbet him for awarning to all the fickle and light-minded. Faugh, I cannot bear topollute my mouth with his name."
And here a new voice spoke.
"The man of whom you speak was so great that little minds are unable tocomprehend him. He is dead, and has doubtless long since learned thetruth which he sought so earnestly in life. I am a stranger, and Ilittle thought to hear any Hollander speak ill of Baruch Spinoza, forthough God, in his mercy, has given many good gifts to this land, He hasnever given a greater than him. I am no follower of his, as they whoknow me will bear witness, but I firmly believe that when men have grownwiser and see more clearly, his name will shine as one of the lights ofour time, brighter, may be, even than the great Cartesius."
The speaker was but newly come, and had been talking with my host whenhe heard the declamation of Master van Mieris. I turned to look at himand found a tall, comely man, delicately featured, but with a chin asgrim as a marshal's. He stood amid the crowd of us with such an easycarriage of dignity and breeding that one and all looked at him inadmiration. His broad, high brow was marked with many lines, as if hehad schemed and meditated much. He was dressed in the pink of thefashion, and in his gestures and tones I fancied I discerned somethingcourtier-like, as of a man who had travelled and seen much of courts andkingships. He spoke so modestly, and withal so wisely, that the unhappyPieter looked wofully crestfallen, and would not utter another word.
A minute later, finding Master Wishart at hand, I plucked him by thesleeve.
"Tell me, who is that man there, the one who spoke?"
"Ah," said he, "you do not know him, perhaps you do not know his name;but be sure that when you are old you will look back upon this day withpleasure, and thank Providence for bringing you within sight of such aman. That is the great Gottfried Leibnitz, who has been dwelling for ashort space in London, and now goes to Hanover as Duke Frederick'scouncillor."
But just at this moment all thoughts of philosophy and philosophers werebanished from my mind by the sudden arrival of a new guest. This was noother than the worthy professor of Greek, Master Quellinus, who came inarrayed in the coarsest clothes, with a gigantic basket suspended overhis shoulders by a strap, and a rod like a weaver's beam in his hand. Intruth the little man presented a curious sight. For the great rod wouldnot stay balanced on his shoulders, but must ever slip upward andseriously endanger the equipoise of its owner. His boots were very wideand splashed with mud, and round the broad-brimmed hat which he wore Idiscerned many lengths of horsehair. My heart warmed to the man, for Iperceived he was a fellow-fisherman, and, in that strange place, it wasthe next best thing to being a fellow Scot.
He greeted us with great joviality. "A good day to you, my masters," hecried; "and God send you the ease which you love. Here have I beenbearing the heat and burden of the day, all in order that lazy folkshould have carp to eat when they wish it. Gad, I am tired and wet anddirty, this last beyond expression. For Heaven's sake, Master Wishart,take me where I may clean myself."
The host led the fisherman away, and soon he returned, spruce andsmiling once more. He sat down heavily on a seat beside me. "Now,Master Burnet," says he, "you must not think it unworthy of a learnedGrecian to follow the sport of the angle, for did not the most famous oftheir writers praise it, not to speak of the example of the Apostles?"
I tried hard to think if this were true.
"Homer, at any rate," I urged, "had no great opinion of fish and theircatchers, though that was the worse for Homer, for I am an anglermyself, and can understand your likings."
"Then I will have your hand on it," said he, "and may Homer go to thedevil. But Theocritus and Oppian, ay, even Plato, mention it withoutdisrespect, and does not Horace himself say 'Piscemur'? Surely we haveauthority."
But this was all the taste I had of my preceptor's conversation, for hehad been walking all day in miry ways, and his limbs were tired: nor wasI surprised to see his head soon sink forward on his breast; and in atrice he was sleeping the sleep of the just and labouring man.
And now we were joined by a newcomer, no less than Mistress KateWishart, as pretty a lass as you will see in a day's journey. She hadbeen nurtured by her father amid an aroma of learning, and, truly, for amaid, she was wondrous learned, and would dispute and cite instanceswith a fine grace and a skill which astonished all. To me, who amcountry-bred and a trifle over-fastidious, she seemed a thought pedanticand proud of her knowledge; but what is hateful in a hard-featured womanis to be pardoned in a fresh lass. Her father brought me to her andpresented me, which she acknowledged with a courtsey which became hermightily; but I spoke not two words to her, for the old man led me awaydown one of the alleys among the trees.
"Kate'll look after thae auld dotterels," said he, speaking in thebroadest Scots; "I brocht her out that I micht get a word wi' ye mylane, for I'm fair deein' for news frae the auld country. First of a',how is Saunders Blackett at Peebles? Him and me were aince weelacquant." And when I had told him, he ran off into a string ofinquiries about many folk whom I knew, and whom he once had known, whichI answered according to my ability.
"And now," he says, "I've bidden twa-three o' the officers o' the S
cotsbrigade to supper the nicht, so ye'll see some guid Scots physiogs afterthae fosy Dutchmen. Ye'll maybe ken some o' them."
I thanked him for his consideration, and after I had answered his manyquestions, we returned to the others, whom I found busily arguing somepoint in divinity, with Mistress Kate very disgusted in their midst.
"Gang intil the house wi' my dochter, John," said Master Wishart, and,giving her my arm, I did as I was bid, while the others straggled afterin twos and threes.
