The Antiquary - Volume II

Chapter 18

Full of wise saws and modern instances.

As You Like It.

"I wish to Heaven, Hector," said the Antiquary, next morning after

breakfast, "you would spare our nerves, and not be keeping snapping that

arquebuss of yours."

"Well, sir, I'm sure I'm sorry to disturb you," said his nephew, still

handling his fowling-piece;--"but it's a capital gun--it's a Joe Manton,

that cost forty guineas."

"A fool and his money are soon parted, nephew--there is a Joe Miller for

your Joe Manton," answered the Antiquary; "I am glad you have so many

guineas to throw away."

"Every one has their fancy, uncle,--you are fond of books."

"Ay, Hector," said the uncle, "and if my collection were yours, you would

make it fly to the gunsmith, the horse-market, the dog-breaker,--

_Coemptos undique nobiles libros--mutare loricis Iberis._"

"I could not use your books, my dear uncle," said the young soldier,

"that's true; and you will do well to provide for their being in better

hands. But don't let the faults of my head fall on my heart--I would not

part with a Cordery that belonged to an old friend, to get a set of

horses like Lord Glenallan's."

"I don't think you would, lad--I don't think you would," said his

softening relative. "I love to tease you a little sometimes; it keeps up

the spirit of discipline and habit of subordination--You will pass your

time happily here having me to command you, instead of Captain, or

Colonel, or Knight in Arms,' as Milton has it; and instead of the

French," he continued, relapsing into his ironical humour, "you have the

_Gens humida ponti_--for, as Virgil says,

Sternunt se somno diversae in littore phocae;

which might be rendered,

Here phocae slumber on the beach,

Within our Highland Hector's reach.

Nay, if you grow angry, I have done. Besides, I see old Edie in the

court-yard, with whom I have business. Good-bye, Hector--Do you remember

how she splashed into the sea like her master Proteus, _et se jactu dedit

aequor in altum_?"

M'Intyre,--waiting, however, till the door was shut,--then gave way to

the natural impatience of his temper.

"My uncle is the best man in the world, and in his way the kindest; but

rather than hear any more about that cursed _phoca,_ as he is pleased to

call it, I would exchange for the West Indies, and never see his face

again."

Miss M'Intyre, gratefully attached to her uncle, and passionately fond of

her brother, was, on such occasions, the usual envoy of reconciliation.

She hastened to meet her uncle on his return, before he entered the

parlour.

"Well, now, Miss Womankind, what is the meaning of that imploring

countenance?--has Juno done any more mischief?"

"No, uncle; but Juno's master is in such fear of your joking him about

the seal--I assure you, he feels it much more than you would wish;--it's

very silly of him, to be sure; but then you can turn everybody so sharply

into ridicule"--

"Well, my dear," answered Oldbuck, propitiated by the compliment, "I will

rein in my satire, and, if possible, speak no more of the _phoca_--I will

not even speak of sealing a letter, but say _umph,_ and give a nod to you

when I want the wax-light--I am not _monitoribus asper,_ but, Heaven

knows, the most mild, quiet, and easy of human beings, whom sister,

niece, and nephew, guide just as best pleases them."

With this little panegyric on his own docility, Mr. Oldbuck entered the

parlour, and proposed to his nephew a walk to the Mussel-crag. "I have

some questions to ask of a woman at Mucklebackit's cottage," he observed,

"and I would willingly have a sensible witness with me--so, for fault of

a better, Hector, I must be contented with you."

"There is old Edie, sir, or Caxon--could not they do better than me?"

answered M'Intyre, feeling somewhat alarmed at the prospect of a long

_tete-a-tete_ with his uncle.

"Upon my word, young man, you turn me over to pretty companions, and I am

quite sensible of your politeness," replied Mr. Oldbuck. "No, sir, I

intend the old Blue-Gown shall go with me--not as a competent witness,

for he is, at present, as our friend Bailie Littlejohn says (blessings on

his learning!) _tanquam suspectus,_ and you are _suspicione major,_ as

our law has it."

"I wish I were a major, sir," said Hector, catching only the last, and,

to a soldier's ear, the most impressive word in the sentence,--"but,

without money or interest, there is little chance of getting the step."

"Well, well, most doughty son of Priam," said the Antiquary, "be ruled by

your friends, and there's no saying what may happen--Come away with me,

and you shall see what may be useful to you should you ever sit upon a

court-martial, sir."

"I have been on many a regimental court-martial, sir," answered Captain

M'Intyre. "But here's a new cane for you."

"Much obliged, much obliged."

"I bought it from our drum-major," added M'Intyre, "who came into our

regiment from the Bengal army when it came down the Red Sea. It was cut

on the banks of the Indus, I assure you."

"Upon my word, 'tis a fine ratan, and well replaces that which the _ph_--

Bah! what was I going to say?"

The party, consisting of the Antiquary, his nephew, and the old beggar,

now took the sands towards Mussel-crag--the former in the very highest

mood of communicating information, and the others, under a sense of

former obligation, and some hope for future favours, decently attentive

to receive it. The uncle and nephew walked together, the mendicant about

a step and a half behind, just near enough for his patron to speak to him

by a slight inclination of his neck, and without the trouble of turning

round. (Petrie, in his Essay on Good-breeding, dedicated to the

magistrates of Edinburgh, recommends, upon his own experience, as tutor

in a family of distinction, this attitude to all led captains, tutors,

dependants, and bottle-holders of every description. ) Thus escorted, the

Antiquary moved along full of his learning, like a lordly man of war, and

every now and then yawing to starboard and larboard to discharge a

broadside upon his followers.

"And so it is your opinion," said he to the mendicant, "that this

windfall--this _arca auri,_ as Plautus has it, will not greatly avail Sir

Arthur in his necessities?"

"Unless he could find ten times as much," said the beggar, "and that I am

sair doubtful of;--I heard Puggie Orrock, and the tother thief of a

sheriff-officer, or messenger, speaking about it--and things are ill aff

when the like o' them can speak crousely about ony gentleman's affairs. I

doubt Sir Arthur will be in stane wa's for debt, unless there's swift

help and certain."

"You speak like a fool," said the Antiquary.--"Nephew, it is a remarkable

thing, that in this happy country no man can be legally imprisoned for

debt."

"Indeed, sir?" said M'Intyre; "I never knew that before--that part of our

law would suit some of our mess well."

"And if they arena confined for debt," said Ochiltree, "what is't that

tempts sae mony puir creatures to bide in the tolbooth o' Fairport

yonder?--they a' say they were put there by their creditors--Od! they

maun like it better than I do, if they're there o' free will."

"A very natural observation, Edie, and many of your betters would make

the same; but it is founded entirely upon ignorance of the feudal system.

Hector, be so good as to attend, unless you are looking out for another--

Ahem!" (Hector compelled himself to give attention at this hint. ) "And

you, Edie, it may be useful to you _reram cognoscere causas._ The nature

and origin of warrant for caption is a thing _haud alienum a Scaevolae

studiis._--You must know then, once more, that nobody can be arrested in

Scotland for debt."

"I haena muckle concern wi' that, Monkbarns," said the old man, "for

naebody wad trust a bodle to a gaberlunzie."

"I pr'ythee, peace, man--As a compulsitor, therefore, of p*****t, that

being a thing to which no debtor is naturally inclined, as I have too

much reason to warrant from the experience I have had with my own,--we

had first the letters of four forms, a sort of gentle invitation, by

which our sovereign lord the king, interesting himself, as a monarch

should, in the regulation of his subjects' private affairs, at first by

mild exhortation, and afterwards by letters of more strict enjoinment and

more hard compulsion--What do you see extraordinary about that bird,

Hector?--it's but a seamaw."

"It's a pictarnie, sir," said Edie.

"Well, what an if it were--what does that signify at present?--But I see

you're impatient; so I will waive the letters of four forms, and come to

the modern process of diligence.--You suppose, now, a man's committed to

prison because he cannot pay his debt? Quite otherwise: the truth is, the

king is so good as to interfere at the request of the creditor, and to

send the debtor his royal command to do him justice within a certain

time--fifteen days, or six, as the case may be. Well, the man resists and

disobeys: what follows? Why, that he be lawfully and rightfully declared

a rebel to our gracious sovereign, whose command he has disobeyed, and

that by three blasts of a horn at the market-place of Edinburgh, the

metropolis of Scotland. And he is then legally imprisoned, not on account

of any civil debt, but because of his ungrateful contempt of the royal

mandate. What say you to that, Hector?--there's something you never knew

before."*

* The doctrine of Monkbarns on the origin of imprisonment for civil debt

in Scotland, may appear somewhat whimsical, but was referred to, and

admitted to be correct, by the Bench of the Supreme Scottish Court, on

5th December 1828, in the case of Thom _v._ Black. In fact, the Scottish

law is in this particular more jealous of the personal liberty of the

subject than any other code in Europe.

"No, uncle; but, I own, if I wanted money to pay my debts, I would rather

thank the king to send me some, than to declare me a rebel for not doing

what I could not do."

"Your education has not led you to consider these things," replied his

uncle; "you are incapable of estimating the elegance of the legal

fiction, and the manner in which it reconciles that duress, which, for

the protection of commerce, it has been found necessary to extend towards

refractory debtors, with the most scrupulous attention to the liberty of

the subject."

"I don't know, sir," answered the unenlightened Hector; "but if a man

must pay his debt or go to jail, it signifies but little whether he goes

as a debtor or a rebel, I should think. But you say this command of the

king's gives a license of so many days--Now, egad, were I in the scrape,

I would beat a march and leave the king and the creditor to settle it

among themselves before they came to extremities."

"So wad I," said Edie; "I wad gie them leg-bail to a certainty."

"True," replied Monkbarns; "but those whom the law suspects of being

unwilling to abide her formal visit, she proceeds with by means of a

shorter and more unceremonious call, as dealing with persons on whom

patience and favour would be utterly thrown away."

"Ay," said Ochiltree, "that will be what they ca' the fugie-warrants--I

hae some skeel in them. There's Border-warrants too in the south country,

unco rash uncanny things;--I was taen up on ane at Saint James's Fair,

and keepit in the auld kirk at Kelso the haill day and night; and a cauld

goustie place it was, I'se assure ye.--But whatna wife's this, wi' her

creel on her back? It's puir Maggie hersell, I'm thinking."

It was so. The poor woman's sense of her loss, if not diminished, was

become at least mitigated by the inevitable necessity of attending to the

means of supporting her family; and her salutation to Oldbuck was made in

an odd mixture between the usual language of solicitation with which she

plied her customers, and the tone of lamentation for her recent calamity.

"How's a' wi' ye the day, Monkbarns? I havena had the grace yet to come

down to thank your honour for the credit ye did puir Steenie, wi' laying

his head in a rath grave, puir fallow. "--Here she whimpered and wiped

her eyes with the corner of her blue apron--"But the fishing comes on no

that ill, though the gudeman hasna had the heart to gang to sea himsell--

Atweel I would fain tell him it wad do him gude to put hand to wark--but

I'm maist fear'd to speak to him--and it's an unco thing to hear ane o'

us speak that gate o' a man--However, I hae some dainty caller haddies,

and they sall be but three shillings the dozen, for I hae nae pith to

drive a bargain ennow, and maun just tak what ony Christian body will

gie, wi' few words and nae flyting."

"What shall we do, Hector?" said Oldbuck, pausing: "I got into disgrace

with my womankind for making a bad bargain with her before. These

maritime animals, Hector, are unlucky to our family."

"Pooh, sir, what would you do?--give poor Maggie what she asks, or allow

me to send a dish of fish up to Monkbarns."

And he held out the money to her; but Maggie drew back her hand. "Na, na,

Captain; ye're ower young and ower free o' your siller--ye should never

tak a fish-wife's first bode; and troth I think maybe a flyte wi' the

auld housekeeper at Monkbarns, or Miss Grizel, would do me some gude--And

I want to see what that hellicate quean Jenny Ritherout's doing--folk

said she wasna weel--She'll be vexing hersell about Steenie, the silly

tawpie, as if he wad ever hae lookit ower his shouther at the like

o'her!--Weel, Monkbarns, they're braw caller haddies, and they'll bid me

unco little indeed at the house if ye want crappit-heads the day."

And so on she paced with her burden,--grief, gratitude for the sympathy

of her betters, and the habitual love of traffic and of gain, chasing

each other through her thoughts.

"And now that we are before the door of their hut," said Ochiltree, "I

wad fain ken, Monkbarns, what has gar'd ye plague yoursell wi' me a' this

length? I tell ye sincerely I hae nae pleasure in ganging in there. I

downa bide to think how the young hae fa'en on a' sides o' me, and left

me an useless auld stump wi' hardly a green leaf on't."

"This old woman," said Oldbuck, "sent you on a message to the Earl of

Glenallan, did she not?"

"Ay!" said the surprised mendicant; "how ken ye that sae weel?"

"Lord Glenallan told me himself," answered the Antiquary; "so there is no

delation--no breach of trust on your part; and as he wishes me to take

her evidence down on some important family matters, I chose to bring you

with me, because in her situation, hovering between dotage and

consciousness, it is possible that your voice and appearance may awaken

trains of recollection which I should otherwise have no means of

exciting. The human mind--what are you about, Hector?"

"I was only whistling for the dog, sir," replied the Captain "she always

roves too wide--I knew I should be troublesome to you."

"Not at all, not at all," said Oldbuck, resuming the subject of his

disquisition--"the human mind is to be treated like a skein of ravelled

silk, where you must cautiously secure one free end before you can make

any progress in disentangling it."

"I ken naething about that," said the gaberlunzie; "but an my auld

acquaintance be hersell, or anything like hersell, she may come to wind

us a pirn. It's fearsome baith to see and hear her when she wampishes

about her arms, and gets to her English, and speaks as if she were a

prent book, let a-be an auld fisher's wife. But, indeed, she had a grand

education, and was muckle taen out afore she married an unco bit beneath

hersell. She's aulder than me by half a score years--but I mind weel

eneugh they made as muckle wark about her making a half-merk marriage wi'

Simon Mucklebackit, this Saunders's father, as if she had been ane o' the

gentry. But she got into favour again, and then she lost it again, as I

hae heard her son say, when he was a muckle chield; and then they got

muckle siller, and left the Countess's land, and settled here. But things

never throve wi' them. Howsomever, she's a weel-educate woman, and an she

win to her English, as I hae heard her do at an orra time, she may come

to fickle us a'."

In the 1600s, Balthasar Gracian, a jesuit priest wrote 300 aphorisms on living life called "The Art of Worldly Wisdom." Join our newsletter below and read them all, one at a time.