The Ayrshire Legatees
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John Galt >> The Ayrshire Legatees
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"It appears to us," said Mr. Snodgrass, as he folded up the letter
to return it to his pocket, "that the Londoners, with all their
advantages of information, are neither purer nor better than their
fellow-subjects in the country." "As to their betterness," replied
Miss Mally, "I have a notion that they are far waur; and I hope you
do not think that earthly knowledge of any sort has a tendency to
make mankind, or womankind either, any better; for was not Solomon,
who had more of it than any other man, a type and testification,
that knowledge without grace is but vanity?" The young clergyman
was somewhat startled at this application of a remark on which he
laid no particular stress, and was thankful in his heart that Mrs.
Glibbans was not present. He was not aware that Miss Mally had an
orthodox corn, or bunyan, that could as little bear a touch from the
royne-slippers of philosophy, as the inflamed gout of polemical
controversy, which had gumfiated every mental joint and member of
that zealous prop of the Relief Kirk. This was indeed the tender
point of Miss Mally's character; for she was left unplucked on the
stalk of single blessedness, owing entirely to a conversation on
this very subject with the only lover she ever had, Mr. Dalgliesh,
formerly helper in the neighbouring parish of Dintonknow. He
happened incidentally to observe, that education was requisite to
promote the interests of religion. But Miss Mally, on that
occasion, jocularly maintained, that education had only a tendency
to promote the sale of books. This, Mr. Dalgliesh thought, was a
sneer at himself, he having some time before unfortunately published
a short tract, entitled, "The moral union of our temporal and
eternal interests considered, with respect to the establishment of
parochial seminaries," and which fell still-born from the press. He
therefore retorted with some acrimony, until, from less to more,
Miss Mally ordered him to keep his distance; upon which he bounced
out of the room, and they were never afterwards on speaking terms.
Saving, however, and excepting this particular dogma, Miss Mally was
on all other topics as liberal and beneficent as could be expected
from a maiden lady, who was obliged to eke out her stinted income
with a nimble needle and a close-clipping economy. The conversation
with Mr. Snodgrass was not, however, lengthened into acrimony; for
immediately after the remark which we have noticed, she proposed
that they should call on Miss Isabella Tod to see Rachel's letter;
indeed, this was rendered necessary by the state of the fire, for
after boiling the kettle she had allowed it to fall low. It was her
nightly practice after tea to take her evening seam, in a friendly
way, to some of her neighbours' houses, by which she saved both coal
and candle, while she acquired the news of the day, and was
occasionally invited to stay supper.
On their arrival at Mrs. Tod's, Miss Isabella understood the purport
of their visit, and immediately produced her letter, receiving, at
the same time, a perusal of Mr. Andrew Pringle's. Mrs. Pringle's to
Miss Mally she had previously seen.
LETTER XXIV
Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod
My Dear Bell--Since my last, we have undergone great changes and
vicissitudes. Last week we removed to our present house, which is
exceedingly handsome and elegantly furnished; and on Saturday there
was an insurrection of the servants, on account of my mother not
allowing them to have their dinners served up at the usual hour for
servants at other genteel houses. We have also had the legacy in
the funds transferred to my father, and only now wait the settling
of the final accounts, which will yet take some time. On the day
that the transfer took place, my mother made me a present of a
twenty pound note, to lay out in any way I thought fit, and in so
doing, I could not but think of you; I have, therefore, in a box
which she is sending to Miss Mally Glencairn, sent you an evening
dress from Mrs. Bean's, one of the most fashionable and tasteful
dressmakers in town, which I hope you will wear with pleasure for my
sake. I have got one exactly like it, so that when you see yourself
in the glass, you will behold in what state I appeared at Lady -'s
route.
Ah! my dear Bell, how much are our expectations disappointed! How
often have we, with admiration and longing wonder, read the
descriptions in the newspapers of the fashionable parties in this
great metropolis, and thought of the Grecian lamps, the ottomans,
the promenades, the ornamented floors, the cut glass, the coup
d'oeil, and the tout ensemble. "Alas!" as Young the poet says, "the
things unseen do not deceive us." I have seen more beauty at an
Irvine ball, than all the fashionable world could bring to market at
my Lady -'s emporium for the disposal of young ladies, for indeed I
can consider it as nothing else.
I went with the Argents. The hall door was open, and filled with
the servants in their state liveries; but although the door was
open, the porter, as each carriage came up, rung a peal upon the
knocker, to announce to all the square the successive arrival of the
guests. We were shown upstairs to the drawing-rooms. They were
very well, but neither so grand nor so great as I expected. As for
the company, it was a suffocating crowd of fat elderly gentlewomen,
and misses that stood in need of all the charms of their fortunes.
One thing I could notice--for the press was so great, little could
be seen--it was, that the old ladies wore rouge. The white satin
sleeve of my dress was entirely ruined by coming in contact with a
little round, dumpling duchess's cheek--as vulgar a body as could
well be. She seemed to me to have spent all her days behind a
counter, smirking thankfulness to bawbee customers.
When we had been shown in the drawing-rooms to the men for some
time, we then adjourned to the lower apartments, where the
refreshments were set out. This, I suppose, is arranged to afford
an opportunity to the beaux to be civil to the belles, and thereby
to scrape acquaintance with those whom they approve, by assisting
them to the delicacies. Altogether, it was a very dull well-dressed
affair, and yet I ought to have been in good spirits, for Sir
Marmaduke Towler, a great Yorkshire baronet, was most particular in
his attentions to me; indeed so much so, that I saw it made poor
Sabre very uneasy. I do not know why it should, for I have given
him no positive encouragement to hope for anything; not that I have
the least idea that the baronet's attentions were more than
commonplace politeness, but he has since called. I cannot, however,
say that my vanity is at all flattered by this circumstance. At the
same time, there surely could be no harm in Sir Marmaduke making me
an offer, for you know I am not bound to accept it. Besides, my
father does not like him, and my mother thinks he's a fortune-
hunter; but I cannot conceive how that may be, for, on the contrary,
he is said to be rather extravagant.
Before we return to Scotland, it is intended that we shall visit
some of the watering-places; and, perhaps, if Andrew can manage it
with my father, we may even take a trip to Paris. The Doctor
himself is not averse to it, but my mother is afraid that a new war
may break out, and that we may be detained prisoners. This
fantastical fear we shall, however, try to overcome. But I am
interrupted. Sir Marmaduke is in the drawing-room, and I am
summoned.--Yours truly,
RACHEL PRINGLE.
When Mr. Snodgrass had read this letter, he paused for a moment, and
then said dryly, in handing it to Miss Isabella, "Miss Pringle is
improving in the ways of the world."
The evening by this time was far advanced, and the young clergyman
was not desirous to renew the conversation; he therefore almost
immediately took his leave, and walked sedately towards Garnock,
debating with himself as he went along, whether Dr. Pringle's family
were likely to be benefited by their legacy. But he had scarcely
passed the minister's carse, when he met with Mrs. Glibbans
returning. "Mr. Snodgrass! Mr. Snodgrass!" cried that ardent
matron from her side of the road to the other where he was walking,
and he obeyed her call; "yon's no sic a black story as I thought.
Mrs. Craig is to be sure far gane! but they were married in
December; and it was only because she was his servan' lass that the
worthy man didna like to own her at first for his wife. It would
have been dreadful had the matter been jealoused at the first. She
gaed to Glasgow to see an auntie that she has there, and he gaed in
to fetch her out, and it was then the marriage was made up, which I
was glad to hear; for, oh, Mr. Snodgrass, it would have been an
awfu' judgment had a man like Mr. Craig turn't out no better than a
Tam Pain or a Major Weir. But a's for the best; and Him that has
the power of salvation can blot out all our iniquities. So good-
night--ye'll have a lang walk."
CHAPTER VIII--THE QUEEN'S TRIAL
As the spring advanced, the beauty of the country around Garnock was
gradually unfolded; the blossom was unclosed, while the church was
embraced within the foliage of more umbrageous boughs. The
schoolboys from the adjacent villages were, on the Saturday
afternoons, frequently seen angling along the banks of the Lugton,
which ran clearer beneath the churchyard wall, and the hedge of the
minister's glebe; and the evenings were so much lengthened, that the
occasional visitors at the manse could prolong their walk after tea.
These, however, were less numerous than when the family were at
home; but still Mr. Snodgrass, when the weather was fine, had no
reason to deplore the loneliness of his bachelor's court.
It happened that, one fair and sunny afternoon, Miss Mally Glencairn
and Miss Isabella Tod came to the manse. Mrs. Glibbans and her
daughter Becky were the same day paying their first ceremonious
visit, as the matron called it, to Mr. and Mrs. Craig, with whom the
whole party were invited to take tea; and, for lack of more amusing
chit-chat, the Reverend young gentleman read to them the last letter
which he had received from Mr. Andrew Pringle. It was conjured
naturally enough out of his pocket, by an observation of Miss
Mally's "Nothing surprises me," said that amiable maiden lady, "so
much as the health and good-humour of the commonality. It is a
joyous refutation of the opinion, that the comfort and happiness of
this life depends on the wealth of worldly possessions."
"It is so," replied Mr. Snodgrass, "and I do often wonder, when I
see the blithe and hearty children of the cottars, frolicking in the
abundance of health and hilarity, where the means come from to
enable their poor industrious parents to supply their wants."
"How can you wonder at ony sic things, Mr. Snodgrass? Do they not
come from on high," said Mrs. Glibbans, "whence cometh every good
and perfect gift? Is there not the flowers of the field, which
neither card nor spin, and yet Solomon, in all his glory, was not
arrayed like one of these?"
"I was not speaking in a spiritual sense," interrupted the other,
"but merely made the remark, as introductory to a letter which I
have received from Mr. Andrew Pringle, respecting some of the ways
of living in London."
Mrs. Craig, who had been so recently translated from the kitchen to
the parlour, pricked up her ears at this, not doubting that the
letter would contain something very grand and wonderful, and
exclaimed, "Gude safe's, let's hear't--I'm unco fond to ken about
London, and the king and the queen; but I believe they are baith
dead noo."
Miss Becky Glibbans gave a satirical keckle at this, and showed her
superior learning, by explaining to Mrs. Craig the unbroken nature
of the kingly office. Mr. Snodgrass then read as follows:-
LETTER XXV
Andrew Pringle, Esq,, to the Rev. Charles Snodgrass
My Dear Friend--You are not aware of the task you impose, when you
request me to send you some account of the general way of living in
London. Unless you come here, and actually experience yourself what
I would call the London ache, it is impossible to supply you with
any adequate idea of the necessity that exists in this wilderness of
mankind, to seek refuge in society, without being over fastidious
with respect to the intellectual qualifications of your occasional
associates. In a remote desart, the solitary traveller is subject
to apprehensions of danger; but still he is the most important thing
"within the circle of that lonely waste"; and the sense of his own
dignity enables him to sustain the shock of considerable hazard with
spirit and fortitude. But, in London, the feeling of self-
importance is totally lost and suppressed in the bosom of a
stranger. A painful conviction of insignificance--of nothingness, I
may say--is sunk upon his heart, and murmured in his ear by the
million, who divide with him that consequence which he unconsciously
before supposed he possessed in a general estimate of the world.
While elbowing my way through the unknown multitude that flows
between Charing Cross and the Royal Exchange, this mortifying sense
of my own insignificance has often come upon me with the energy of a
pang; and I have thought, that, after all we can say of any man, the
effect of the greatest influence of an individual on society at
large, is but as that of a pebble thrown into the sea.
Mathematically speaking, the undulations which the pebble causes,
continue until the whole mass of the ocean has been disturbed to the
bottom of its most secret depths and farthest shores; and, perhaps,
with equal truth it may be affirmed, that the sentiments of the man
of genius are also infinitely propagated; but how soon is the
physical impression of the one lost to every sensible perception,
and the moral impulse of the other swallowed up from all practical
effect.
But though London, in the general, may be justly compared to the
vast and restless ocean, or to any other thing that is either
sublime, incomprehensible, or affecting, it loses all its influence
over the solemn associations of the mind when it is examined in its
details. For example, living on the town, as it is slangishly
called, the most friendless and isolated condition possible, is yet
fraught with an amazing diversity of enjoyment. Thousands of
gentlemen, who have survived the relish of active fashionable
pursuits, pass their life in that state without tasting the delight
of one new sensation. They rise in the morning merely because
Nature will not allow them to remain longer in bed. They begin the
day without motive or purpose, and close it after having performed
the same unvaried round as the most thoroughbred domestic animal
that ever dwelt in manse or manor-house. If you ask them at three
o'clock where they are to dine, they cannot tell you; but about the
wonted dinner-hour, batches of these forlorn bachelors find
themselves diurnally congregated, as if by instinct, around a cozy
table in some snug coffee-house, where, after inspecting the
contents of the bill of fare, they discuss the news of the day,
reserving the scandal, by way of dessert, for their wine. Day after
day their respective political opinions give rise to keen
encounters, but without producing the slightest shade of change in
any of their old ingrained and particular sentiments.
Some of their haunts, I mean those frequented by the elderly race,
are shabby enough in their appearance and circumstances, except
perhaps in the quality of the wine. Everything in them is regulated
by an ancient and precise economy, and you perceive, at the first
glance, that all is calculated on the principle of the house giving
as much for the money as it can possibly afford, without infringing
those little etiquettes which persons of gentlemanly habits regard
as essentials. At half price the junior members of these
unorganised or natural clubs retire to the theatres, while the elder
brethren mend their potations till it is time to go home. This
seems a very comfortless way of life, but I have no doubt it is the
preferred result of a long experience of the world, and that the
parties, upon the whole, find it superior, according to their early
formed habits of dissipation and gaiety, to the sedate but not more
regular course of a domestic circle.
The chief pleasure, however, of living on the town, consists in
accidentally falling in with persons whom it might be otherwise
difficult to meet in private life. I have several times enjoyed
this. The other day I fell in with an old gentleman, evidently a
man of some consequence, for he came to the coffee-house in his own
carriage. It happened that we were the only guests, and he proposed
that we should therefore dine together. In the course of
conversation it came out, that he had been familiarly acquainted
with Garrick, and had frequented the Literary Club in the days of
Johnson and Goldsmith. In his youth, I conceive, he must have been
an amusing companion; for his fancy was exceedingly lively, and his
manners altogether afforded a very favourable specimen of the old,
the gentlemanly school. At an appointed hour his carriage came for
him, and we parted, perhaps never to meet again.
Such agreeable incidents, however, are not common, as the
frequenters of the coffee-houses are, I think, usually taciturn
characters, and averse to conversation. I may, however, be myself
in fault. Our countrymen in general, whatever may be their address
in improving acquaintance to the promotion of their own interests,
have not the best way, in the first instance, of introducing
themselves. A raw Scotchman, contrasted with a sharp Londoner, is
very inadroit and awkward, be his talents what they may; and I
suspect, that even the most brilliant of your old class-fellows
have, in their professional visits to this metropolis, had some
experience of what I mean.
ANDREW PRINGLE.
When Mr. Snodgrass paused, and was folding up the letter, Mrs.
Craig, bending with her hands on her knees, said, emphatically,
"Noo, sir, what think you of that?" He was not, however, quite
prepared to give an answer to a question so abruptly propounded, nor
indeed did he exactly understand to what particular the lady
referred. "For my part," she resumed, recovering her previous
posture--"for my part, it's a very caldrife way of life to dine
every day on coffee; broth and beef would put mair smeddum in the
men; they're just a whin auld fogies that Mr. Andrew describes, an'
no wurth a single woman's pains." "Wheesht, wheesht, mistress,"
cried Mr. Craig; "ye mauna let your tongue rin awa with your sense
in that gait." "It has but a light load," said Miss Becky,
whispering Isabella Tod. In this juncture, Mr. Micklewham happened
to come in, and Mrs. Craig, on seeing him, cried out, "I hope, Mr.
Micklewham, ye have brought the Doctor's letter. He's such a funny
man! and touches off the Londoners to the nines."
"He's a good man," said Mrs. Glibbans, in a tone calculated to
repress the forwardness of Mrs. Craig; but Miss Mally Glencairn
having, in the meanwhile, taken from her pocket an epistle which she
had received the preceding day from Mrs. Pringle, Mr. Snodgrass
silenced all controversy on that score by requesting her to proceed
with the reading. "She's a clever woman, Mrs. Pringle," said Mrs.
Craig, who was resolved to cut a figure in the conversation in her
own house. "She's a discreet woman, and may be as godly, too, as
some that make mair wark about the elect." Whether Mrs. Glibbans
thought this had any allusion to herself is not susceptible of legal
proof; but she turned round and looked at their "most kind hostess"
with a sneer that might almost merit the appellation of a snort.
Mrs. Craig, however, pacified her, by proposing, "that, before
hearing the letter, they should take a dram of wine, or pree her
cherry bounce"--adding, "our maister likes a been house, and ye a'
ken that we are providing for a handling." The wine was accordingly
served, and, in due time, Miss Mally Glencairn edified and
instructed the party with the contents of Mrs. Pringle's letter.
LETTER XXVI
Mrs. Pringle to Miss Mally Glencairn
Dear Miss Mally--You will have heard, by the peppers, of the gret
hobbleshow heer aboot the queen's coming over contrary to the will
of the nation; and, that the king and parlement are so angry with
her, that they are going to put her away by giving to her a bill of
divorce. The Doctor, who has been searchin the Scriptures on the
okashon, says this is not in their poor, although she was found
guilty of the fact; but I tell him, that as the king and parlement
of old took upon them to change our religion, I do not see how they
will be hampered now by the word of God.
You may well wonder that I have no ritten to you about the king, and
what he is like, but we have never got a sight of him at all, whilk
is a gret shame, paying so dear as we do for a king, who shurely
should be a publik man. But, we have seen her majesty, who stays
not far from our house heer in Baker Street, in dry lodgings, which,
I am creditably informed, she is obligated to pay for by the week,
for nobody will trust her; so you see what it is, Miss Mally, to
have a light character. Poor woman, they say she might have been
going from door to door, with a staff and a meal pock, but for ane
Mr. Wood, who is a baillie of London, that has ta'en her by the
hand. She's a woman advanced in life, with a short neck, and a
pentit face; housomever, that, I suppose, she canno help, being a
queen, and obligated to set the fashons to the court, where it is
necessar to hide their faces with pent, our Andrew says, that their
looks may not betray them--there being no shurer thing than a false-
hearted courtier.
But what concerns me the most, in all this, is, that there will be
no coronashon till the queen is put out of the way--and nobody can
take upon them to say when that will be, as the law is so dootful
and endless--which I am verra sorry for, as it was my intent to rite
Miss Nanny Eydent a true account of the coronashon, in case there
had been any partiklars that might be servisable to her in her
bisness.
The Doctor and me, by ourselves, since we have been settlt, go about
at our convenience, and have seen far mae farlies than baith Andrew
and Rachel, with all the acquaintance they have forgathert with--but
you no old heeds canno be expectit on young shouthers, and they have
not had the experience of the world that we have had.
The lamps in the streets here are lighted with gauze, and not with
crusies, like those that have lately been put up in your toun; and
it is brought in pips aneath the ground from the manufactors, which
the Doctor and me have been to see--an awful place--and they say as
fey to a spark as poother, which made us glad to get out o't when we
heard so;--and we have been to see a brew-house, where they mak the
London porter, but it is a sight not to be told. In it we saw a
barrel, whilk the Doctor said was by gauging bigger than the Irvine
muckle kirk, and a masking fat, like a barn for mugnited. But all
thae were as nothing to a curiosity of a steam-ingine, that minches
minch collops as natural as life--and stuffs the sosogees itself, in
a manner past the poor of nature to consiv. They have, to be shure,
in London, many things to help work--for in our kitchen there is a
smoking-jack to roast the meat, that gangs of its oun free will, and
the brisker the fire, the faster it runs; but a potatoe-beetle is
not to be had within the four walls of London, which is a great want
in a house; Mrs. Argent never hard of sic a thing.
Me and the Doctor have likewise been in the Houses of Parliament,
and the Doctor since has been again to heer the argol-bargoling
aboot the queen. But, cepting the king's throne, which is all gold
and velvet, with a croun on the top, and stars all round, there was
nothing worth the looking at in them baith. Howsomever, I sat in
the king's seat, and in the preses chair of the House of Commons,
which, you no, is something for me to say; and we have been to see
the printing of books, where the very smallest dividual syllib is
taken up by itself and made into words by the hand, so as to be
quite confounding how it could ever read sense. But there is ane
piece of industry and froughgalaty I should not forget, whilk is
wives going about with whirl-barrows, selling horses' flesh to the
cats and dogs by weight, and the cats and dogs know them very well
by their voices. In short, Miss Mally, there is nothing heer that
the hand is not turnt to; and there is, I can see, a better order
and method really among the Londoners than among our Scotch folks,
notwithstanding their advantages of edicashion, but my pepper will
hold no more at present, from your true friend,
JANET PRINGLE.
There was a considerable diversity of opinion among the commentators
on this epistle. Mrs. Craig was the first who broke silence, and
displayed a great deal of erudition on the minch-collop-engine, and
the potatoe-beetle, in which she was interrupted by the indignant
Mrs. Glibbans, who exclaimed, "I am surprised to hear you, Mrs.
Craig, speak of sic baubles, when the word of God's in danger of
being controverted by an Act of Parliament. But, Mr. Snodgrass,
dinna ye think that this painting of the queen's face is a
Jezebitical testification against her?" Mr. Snodgrass replied, with
an unwonted sobriety of manner, and with an emphasis that showed he
intended to make some impression on his auditors--"It is impossible
to judge correctly of strangers by measuring them according to our
own notions of propriety. It has certainly long been a practice in
courts to disfigure the beauty of the human countenance with paint;
but what, in itself, may have been originally assumed for a mask or
disguise, may, by usage, have grown into a very harmless custom. I
am not, therefore, disposed to attach any criminal importance to the
circumstance of her majesty wearing paint. Her late majesty did so
herself." "I do not say it was criminal," said Mrs. Glibbans; "I
only meant it was sinful, and I think it is." The accent of
authority in which this was said, prevented Mr. Snodgrass from
offering any reply; and, a brief pause ensuing, Miss Molly Glencairn
observed, that it was a surprising thing how the Doctor and Mrs.
Pringle managed their matters so well. "Ay," said Mrs. Craig, "but
we a' ken what a manager the mistress is--she's the bee that mak's
the hincy--she does not gang bizzing aboot, like a thriftless wasp,
through her neighbours' houses." "I tell you, Betty, my dear,"
cried Mr. Craig, "that you shouldna make comparisons--what's past is
gane--and Mrs. Glibbans and you maun now be friends." "They're a'
friends to me that's no faes, and am very glad to see Mrs. Glibbans
sociable in my house; but she needna hae made sae light of me when
she was here before." And, in saying this, the amiable hostess
burst into a loud sob of sorrow, which induced Mr. Snodgrass to beg
Mr. Micklewham to read the Doctor's letter, by which a happy stop
was put to the further manifestation of the grudge which Mrs. Craig
harboured against Mrs. Glibbans for the lecture she had received, on
what the latter called "the incarnated effect of a more than
Potipharian claught o' the godly Mr. Craig."
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