The Ayrshire Legatees
J >>
John Galt >> The Ayrshire Legatees
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 | 9 |
10 |
11
LETTER XXVII
The Rev. Z. Pringle, D.D., to Mr. Micklewham, Schoolmaster and
Session-Clerk of Garnock
Dear Sir--I had a great satisfaction in hearing that Mr. Snodgrass,
in my place, prays for the queen on the Lord's Day, which liberty,
to do in our national church, is a thing to be upholden with a
fearless spirit, even with the spirit of martyrdom, that we may not
bow down in Scotland to the prelatic Baal of an order in Council,
whereof the Archbishop of Canterbury, that is cousin-german to the
Pope of Rome, is art and part. Verily, the sending forth of that
order to the General Assembly was treachery to the solemn oath of
the new king, whereby he took the vows upon him, conform to the
Articles of the Union, to maintain the Church of Scotland as by law
established, so that for the Archbishop of Canterbury to meddle
therein was a shooting out of the horns of aggressive domination.
I think it is right of me to testify thus much, through you, to the
Session, that the elders may stand on their posts to bar all such
breaking in of the Episcopalian boar into our corner of the
vineyard.
Anent the queen's case and condition, I say nothing; for be she
guilty, or be she innocent, we all know that she was born in sin,
and brought forth in iniquity--prone to evil, as the sparks fly
upwards--and desperately wicked, like you and me, or any other poor
Christian sinner, which is reason enough to make us think of her in
the remembering prayer.
Since she came over, there has been a wonderful work doing here; and
it is thought that the crown will be taken off her head by a strong
handling of the Parliament; and really, when I think of the bishops
sitting high in the peerage, like owls and rooks in the bartisans of
an old tower, I have my fears that they can bode her no good. I
have seen them in the House of Lords, clothed in their idolatrous
robes; and when I looked at them so proudly placed at the right hand
of the king's throne, and on the side of the powerful, egging on, as
I saw one of them doing in a whisper, the Lord Liverpool, before he
rose to speak against the queen, the blood ran cold in my veins, and
I thought of their woeful persecutions of our national church, and
prayed inwardly that I might be keepit in the humility of a zealous
presbyter, and that the corruption of the frail human nature within
me might never be tempted by the pampered whoredoms of prelacy.
Saving the Lord Chancellor, all the other temporal peers were just
as they had come in from the crown of the causeway--none of them
having a judicial garment, which was a shame; and as for the
Chancellor's long robe, it was not so good as my own gown; but he is
said to be a very narrow man. What he spoke, however, was no doubt
sound law; yet I could observe he has a bad custom of taking the
name of God in vain, which I wonder at, considering he has such a
kittle conscience, which, on less occasions, causes him often to
shed tears.
Mrs. Pringle and me, by ourselves, had a fine quiet canny sight of
the queen, out of the window of a pastry baxter's shop, opposite to
where her majesty stays. She seems to be a plump and jocose little
woman; gleg, blithe, and throwgaun for her years, and on an easy
footing with the lower orders--coming to the window when they call
for her, and becking to them, which is very civil of her, and gets
them to take her part against the government.
The baxter in whose shop we saw this told us that her majesty said,
on being invited to take her dinner at an inn on the road from
Dover, that she would be content with a mutton-chop at the King's
Arms in London, {2} which shows that she is a lady of a very hamely
disposition. Mrs. Pringle thought her not big enough for a queen;
but we cannot expect every one to be like that bright accidental
star, Queen Elizabeth, whose effigy we have seen preserved in armour
in the Tower of London, and in wax in Westminster Abbey, where they
have a living-like likeness of Lord Nelson, in the very identical
regimentals that he was killed in. They are both wonderful places,
but it costs a power of money to get through them, and all the folk
about them think of nothing but money; for when I inquired, with a
reverent spirit, seeing around me the tombs of great and famous men,
the mighty and wise of their day, what department it was of the
Abbey--"It's the eighteenpence department," said an uncircumcised
Philistine, with as little respect as if we had been treading the
courts of the darling Dagon.
Our concerns here are now drawing to a close; but before we return,
we are going for a short time to a town on the seaside, which they
call Brighton. We had a notion of taking a trip to Paris, but that
we must leave to Andrew Pringle, my son, and his sister Rachel, if
the bit lassie could get a decent gudeman, which maybe will cast up
for her before we leave London. Nothing, however, is settled as yet
upon that head, so I can say no more at present anent the same.
Since the affair of the sermon, I have withdrawn myself from
trafficking so much as I did in the missionary and charitable ploys
that are so in vogue with the pious here, which will be all the
better for my own people, as I will keep for them what I was giving
to the unknown; and it is my design to write a book on almsgiving,
to show in what manner that Christian duty may be best fulfilled,
which I doubt not will have the effect of opening the eyes of many
in London to the true nature of the thing by which I was myself
beguiled in this Vanity Fair, like a bird ensnared by the fowler.
I was concerned to hear of poor Mr. Witherspoon's accident, in
falling from his horse in coming from the Dalmailing occasion. How
thankful he must be, that the Lord made his head of a durability to
withstand the shock, which might otherwise have fractured his skull.
What you say about the promise of the braird gives me pleasure on
account of the poor; but what will be done with the farmers and
their high rents, if the harvest turn out so abundant? Great reason
have I to be thankful that the legacy has put me out of the
reverence of my stipend; for when the meal was cheap, I own to you
that I felt my carnality grudging the horn of abundance that the
Lord was then pouring into the lap of the earth. In short, Mr.
Micklewham, I doubt it is o'er true with us all, that the less we
are tempted, the better we are; so with my sincere prayers that you
may be delivered from all evil, and led out of the paths of
temptation, whether it is on the highway, or on the footpaths, or
beneath the hedges, I remain, dear sir, your friend and pastor,
ZACHARIAH PRINGLE.
"The Doctor," said Mrs. Glibbans, as the schoolmaster concluded, "is
there like himself--a true orthodox Christian, standing up for the
word, and overflowing with charity even for the sinner. But, Mr.
Snodgrass, I did not ken before that the bishops had a hand in the
making of the Acts of the Parliament; I think, Mr. Snodgrass, if
that be the case, there should be some doubt in Scotland about
obeying them. However that may be, sure am I that the queen, though
she was a perfect Deliah, has nothing to fear from them; for have we
not read in the Book of Martyrs, and other church histories, of
their concubines and indulgences, in the papist times, to all manner
of carnal iniquity? But if she be that noghty woman that they say"-
-"Gude safe's," cried Mrs. Craig, "if she be a noghty woman, awa'
wi' her, awa' wi' her--wha kens the cantrips she may play us?"
Here Miss Mally Glencairn interposed, and informed Mrs. Craig, that
a noghty woman was not, as she seemed to think, a witch wife. "I am
sure," said Miss Becky Glibbans, "that Mrs. Craig might have known
that." "Oh, ye're a spiteful deevil," whispered Miss Mally, with a
smile to her; and turning in the same moment to Miss Isabella Tod,
begged her to read Miss Pringle's letter--a motion which Mr.
Snodgrass seconded chiefly to abridge the conversation, during
which, though he wore a serene countenance, he often suffered much.
LETTER XXVIII
Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod
My Dear Bell--I am much obliged by your kind expressions for my
little present. I hope soon to send you something better, and
gloves at the same time; for Sabre has been brought to the point by
an alarm for the Yorkshire baronet that I mentioned, as showing
symptoms of the tender passion for my fortune. The friends on both
sides being satisfied with the match, it will take place as soon as
some preliminary arrangements are made. When we are settled, I hope
your mother will allow you to come and spend some time with us at
our country-seat in Berkshire; and I shall be happy to repay all the
expenses of your journey, as a jaunt to England is what your mother
would, I know, never consent to pay for.
It is proposed that, immediately after the ceremony, we shall set
out for France, accompanied by my brother, where we are to be soon
after joined at Paris by some of the Argents, who, I can see, think
Andrew worth the catching for Miss. My father and mother will then
return to Scotland; but whether the Doctor will continue to keep his
parish, or give it up to Mr. Snodgrass, will depend greatly on the
circumstances in which he finds his parishioners. This is all the
domestic intelligence I have got to give, but its importance will
make up for other deficiencies.
As to the continuance of our discoveries in London, I know not well
what to say. Every day brings something new, but we lose the sense
of novelty. Were a fire in the same street where we live, it would
no longer alarm me. A few nights ago, as we were sitting in the
parlour after supper, the noise of an engine passing startled us
all; we ran to the windows--there was haste and torches, and the
sound of other engines, and all the horrors of a conflagration
reddening the skies. My father sent out the footboy to inquire
where it was; and when the boy came back, he made us laugh, by
snapping his fingers, and saying the fire was not worth so much--
although, upon further inquiry, we learnt that the house in which it
originated was burnt to the ground. You see, therefore, how the
bustle of this great world hardens the sensibilities, but I trust
its influence will never extend to my heart.
The principal topic of conversation at present is about the queen.
The Argents, who are our main instructors in the proprieties of
London life, say that it would be very vulgar in me to go to look at
her, which I am sorry for, as I wish above all things to see a
personage so illustrious by birth, and renowned by misfortune. The
Doctor and my mother, who are less scrupulous, and who, in
consequence, somehow, by themselves, contrive to see, and get into
places that are inaccessible to all gentility, have had a full view
of her majesty. My father has since become her declared partisan,
and my mother too has acquired a leaning likewise towards her side
of the question; but neither of them will permit the subject to be
spoken of before me, as they consider it detrimental to good morals.
I, however, read the newspapers.
What my brother thinks of her majesty's case is not easy to divine;
but Sabre is convinced of the queen's guilt, upon some private and
authentic information which a friend of his, who has returned from
Italy, heard when travelling in that country. This information he
has not, however, repeated to me, so that it must be very bad. We
shall know all when the trial comes on. In the meantime, his
majesty, who has lived in dignified retirement since he came to the
throne, has taken up his abode, with rural felicity, in a cottage in
Windsor Forest; where he now, contemning all the pomp and follies of
his youth, and this metropolis, passes his days amidst his cabbages,
like Dioclesian, with innocence and tranquillity, far from the
intrigues of courtiers, and insensible to the murmuring waves of the
fluctuating populace, that set in with so strong a current towards
"the mob-led queen," as the divine Shakespeare has so beautifully
expressed it.
You ask me about Vauxhall Gardens;--I have not seen them--they are
no longer in fashion--the theatres are quite vulgar--even the opera-
house has sunk into a second-rate place of resort. Almack's balls,
the Argyle-rooms, and the Philharmonic concerts, are the only public
entertainments frequented by people of fashion; and this high
superiority they owe entirely to the difficulty of gaining
admission. London, as my brother says, is too rich, and grown too
luxurious, to have any exclusive place of fashionable resort, where
price alone is the obstacle. Hence, the institution of these select
aristocratic assemblies. The Philharmonic concerts, however, are
rather professional than fashionable entertainments; but everybody
is fond of music, and, therefore, everybody, that can be called
anybody, is anxious to get tickets to them; and this anxiety has
given them a degree of eclat, which I am persuaded the performance
would never have excited had the tickets been purchasable at any
price. The great thing here is, either to be somebody, or to be
patronised by a person that is a somebody; without this, though you
were as rich as Croesus, your golden chariots, like the comets of a
season, blazing and amazing, would speedily roll away into the
obscurity from which they came, and be remembered no more.
At first when we came here, and when the amount of our legacy was
first promulgated, we were in a terrible flutter. Andrew became a
man of fashion, with all the haste that tailors, and horses, and
dinners, could make him. My father, honest man, was equally
inspired with lofty ideas, and began a career that promised a
liberal benefaction of good things to the poor--and my mother was
almost distracted with calculations about laying out the money to
the best advantage, and the sum she would allow to be spent. I
alone preserved my natural equanimity; and foreseeing the necessity
of new accomplishments to suit my altered circumstances, applied
myself to the instructions of my masters, with an assiduity that won
their applause. The advantages of this I now experience--my brother
is sobered from his champaign fumes--my father has found out that
charity begins at home--and my mother, though her establishment is
enlarged, finds her happiness, notwithstanding the legacy, still
lies within the little circle of her household cares. Thus, my dear
Bell, have I proved the sweets of a true philosophy; and, unseduced
by the blandishments of rank, rejected Sir Marmaduke Towler, and
accepted the humbler but more disinterested swain, Captain Sabre,
who requests me to send you his compliments, not altogether content
that you should occupy so much of the bosom of your affectionate
RACHEL PRINGLE.
"Rachel had ay a gude roose of hersel'," said Becky Glibbans, as
Miss Isabella concluded. In the same moment, Mr. Snodgrass took his
leave, saying to Mr. Micklewham, that he had something particular to
mention to him. "What can it be about?" inquired Mrs. Glibbans at
Mr. Craig, as soon as the helper and schoolmaster had left the room:
"Do you think it can be concerning the Doctor's resignation of the
parish in his favour?" "I'm sure," interposed Mrs. Craig, before
her husband could reply, "it winna be wi' my gudewill that he shall
come in upon us--a pridefu' wight, whose saft words, and a' his
politeness, are but lip-deep; na, na, Mrs. Glibbans, we maun hae
another on the leet forbye him."
"And wha would ye put on the leet noo, Mrs. Craig, you that's sic a
judge?" said Mrs. Glibbans, with the most ineffable
consequentiality.
"I'll be for young Mr. Dirlton, who is baith a sappy preacher of the
word, and a substantial hand at every kind of civility."
"Young Dirlton!--young Deevilton!" cried the orthodox Deborah of
Irvine; "a fallow that knows no more of a gospel dispensation than I
do of the Arian heresy, which I hold in utter abomination. No, Mrs.
Craig, you have a godly man for your husband--a sound and true
follower; tread ye in his footsteps, and no try to set up yoursel'
on points of doctrine. But it's time, Miss Mally, that we were
taking the road; Becky and Miss Isabella, make yourselves ready.
Noo, Mrs. Craig, ye'll no be a stranger; you see I have no been lang
of coming to give you my countenance; but, my leddy, ca' canny, it's
no easy to carry a fu' cup; ye hae gotten a great gift in your
gudeman. Mr. Craig, I wish you a good-night; I would fain have
stopped for your evening exercise, but Miss Mally was beginning, I
saw, to weary--so good-night; and, Mrs. Craig, ye'll take tent of
what I have said--it's for your gude." So exeunt Mrs. Glibbans,
Miss Mally, and the two young ladies. "Her bark's waur than her
bite," said Mrs. Craig, as she returned to her husband, who felt
already some of the ourie symptoms of a henpecked destiny.
CHAPTER IX--THE MARRIAGE
Mr. Snodgrass was obliged to walk into Irvine one evening, to get
rid of a raging tooth, which had tormented him for more than a week.
The operation was so delicately and cleverly performed by the
surgeon to whom he applied--one of those young medical gentlemen,
who, after having been educated for the army or navy, are obliged,
in this weak piping time of peace, to glean what practice they can
amid their native shades--that the amiable divine found himself in a
condition to call on Miss Isabella Tod.
During this visit, Saunders Dickie, the postman, brought a London
letter to the door, for Miss Isabella; and Mr. Snodgrass having
desired the servant to inquire if there were any for him, had the
good fortune to get the following from Mr. Andrew Pringle:-
LETTER XXIX
Andrew Pringle Esq., to the Rev. Mr. Charles Snodgrass
My Dear Friend--I never receive a letter from you without
experiencing a strong emotion of regret, that talents like yours
should be wilfully consigned to the sequestered vegetation of a
country pastor's life. But we have so often discussed this point,
that I shall only offend your delicacy if I now revert to it more
particularly. I cannot, however, but remark, that although a
private station may be the happiest, a public is the proper sphere
of virtue and talent, so clear, superior, and decided as yours. I
say this with the more confidence, as I have really, from your
letter, obtained a better conception of the queen's case, than from
all that I have been able to read and hear upon the subject in
London. The rule you lay down is excellent. Public safety is
certainly the only principle which can justify mankind in agreeing
to observe and enforce penal statutes; and, therefore, I think with
you, that unless it could be proved in a very simple manner, that it
was requisite for the public safety to institute proceedings against
the queen--her sins or indiscretions should have been allowed to
remain in the obscurity of her private circle.
I have attended the trial several times. For a judicial proceeding,
it seems to me too long--and for a legislative, too technical.
Brougham, it is allowed, has displayed even greater talent than was
expected; but he is too sharp; he seems to me more anxious to gain a
triumph, than to establish truth. I do not like the tone of his
proceedings, while I cannot sufficiently admire his dexterity. The
style of Denman is more lofty, and impressed with stronger
lineaments of sincerity. As for their opponents, I really cannot
endure the Attorney-General as an orator; his whole mind consists,
as it were, of a number of little hands and claws--each of which
holds some scrap or portion of his subject; but you might as well
expect to get an idea of the form and character of a tree, by
looking at the fallen leaves, the fruit, the seeds, and the
blossoms, as anything like a comprehensive view of a subject, from
an intellect so constituted as that of Sir Robert Gifford. He is a
man of application, but of meagre abilities, and seems never to have
read a book of travels in his life. The Solicitor-General is
somewhat better; but he is one of those who think a certain
artificial gravity requisite to professional consequence; and which
renders him somewhat obtuse in the tact of propriety.
Within the bar, the talent is superior to what it is without; and I
have been often delighted with the amazing fineness, if I may use
the expression, with which the Chancellor discriminates the shades
of difference in the various points on which he is called to deliver
his opinion. I consider his mind as a curiosity of no ordinary
kind. It deceives itself by its own acuteness. The edge is too
sharp; and, instead of cutting straight through, it often diverges--
alarming his conscience with the dread of doing wrong. This
singular subtlety has the effect of impairing the reverence which
the endowments and high professional accomplishments of this great
man are otherwise calculated to inspire. His eloquence is not
effective--it touches no feeling nor affects any passion; but still
it affords wonderful displays of a lucid intellect. I can compare
it to nothing but a pencil of sunshine; in which, although one sees
countless motes flickering and fluctuating, it yet illuminates, and
steadily brings into the most satisfactory distinctness, every
object on which it directly falls.
Lord Erskine is a character of another class, and whatever
difference of opinion may exist with respect to their professional
abilities and attainments, it will be allowed by those who contend
that Eldon is the better lawyer--that Erskine is the greater genius.
Nature herself, with a constellation in her hand, playfully
illuminates his path to the temple of reasonable justice; while
Precedence with her guide-book, and Study with a lantern, cautiously
show the road in which the Chancellor warily plods his weary way to
that of legal Equity. The sedateness of Eldon is so remarkable,
that it is difficult to conceive that he was ever young; but Erskine
cannot grow old; his spirit is still glowing and flushed with the
enthusiasm of youth. When impassioned, his voice acquires a
singularly elevated and pathetic accent; and I can easily conceive
the irresistible effect he must have had on the minds of a jury,
when he was in the vigour of his physical powers, and the case
required appeals of tenderness or generosity. As a parliamentary
orator, Earl Grey is undoubtedly his superior; but there is
something much less popular and conciliating in his manner. His
eloquence is heard to most advantage when he is contemptuous; and he
is then certainly dignified, ardent, and emphatic; but it is apt, I
should think, to impress those who hear him, for the first time,
with an idea that he is a very supercilious personage, and this
unfavourable impression is liable to be strengthened by the elegant
aristocratic languor of his appearance.
I think that you once told me you had some knowledge of the Marquis
of Lansdowne, when he was Lord Henry Petty. I can hardly hope that,
after an interval of so many years, you will recognise him in the
following sketch:- His appearance is much more that of a Whig than
Lord Grey--stout and sturdy--but still withal gentlemanly; and there
is a pleasing simplicity, with somewhat of good-nature, in the
expression of his countenance, that renders him, in a quiescent
state, the more agreeable character of the two. He speaks
exceedingly well--clear, methodical, and argumentative; but his
eloquence, like himself, is not so graceful as it is upon the whole
manly; and there is a little tendency to verbosity in his language,
as there is to corpulency in his figure; but nothing turgid, while
it is entirely free from affectation. The character of respectable
is very legibly impressed, in everything about the mind and manner
of his lordship. I should, now that I have seen and heard him, be
astonished to hear such a man represented as capable of being
factious.
I should say something about Lord Liverpool, not only on account of
his rank as a minister, but also on account of the talents which
have qualified him for that high situation. The greatest objection
that I have to him as a speaker, is owing to the loudness of his
voice--in other respects, what he does say is well digested. But I
do not think that he embraces his subject with so much power and
comprehension as some of his opponents; and he has evidently less
actual experience of the world. This may doubtless be attributed to
his having been almost constantly in office since he came into
public life; than which nothing is more detrimental to the unfolding
of natural ability, while it induces a sort of artificial talent,
connected with forms and technicalities, which, though useful in
business, is but of minor consequence in a comparative estimate of
moral and intellectual qualities. I am told that in his manner he
resembles Mr. Pitt; be this, however, as it may, he is evidently a
speaker, formed more by habit and imitation, than one whom nature
prompts to be eloquent. He lacks that occasional accent of passion,
the melody of oratory; and I doubt if, on any occasion, he could at
all approximate to that magnificent intrepidity which was admired as
one of the noblest characteristics of his master's style.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 | 9 |
10 |
11