The Fortunes of Nigel

“Your Majesty needs not fear my patience,” said Lord Dalgarno; “and that I may keep it the better, I will not utter another word in this presence, save those enjoined to me in that happy portion of the Prayer-Book, which begins with Dearly Beloved, and ends with amazement.”

“You are a hardened villain, Dalgarno,” said the king; “and were I the lass, by my father’s saul, I would rather brook the stain of having been your concubine, than run the risk of becoming your wife. But she shall be under our special protection. – Come, my lords, we will ourselves see this blithesome bridal.” He gave the signal by rising, and moved towards the door, followed by the train. Lord Dalgarno attended, speaking to none, and spoken to by no one, yet seeming as easy and unembarrassed in his gait and manner as if in reality a happy bridegroom.

They reached the Chapel by a private entrance, which communicated from the royal apartment. The Bishop of Winchester, in his pontifical dress, stood beside the altar; on the other side, supported by Monna Paula, the colourless, faded, half-lifeless form of the Lady Hermione, or Erminia Pauletti. Lord Dalgarno bowed profoundly to her, and the Prince, observing the horror with which she regarded him, walked up, and said to her, with much dignity, – “Madam, ere you put yourself under the authority of this man, let me inform you, he hath in the fullest degree vindicated your honour, so far as concerns your former intercourse. It is for you to consider whether you will put your fortune and happiness into the hands of one, who has shown himself unworthy of all trust.”

The lady, with much difficulty, found words to make reply. “I owe to his Majesty’s goodness,” she said, “the care of providing me some reservation out of my own fortune, for my decent sustenance. The rest cannot be better disposed than in buying back the fair fame of which I am deprived, and the liberty of ending my life in peace and seclusion.”

“The contract has been drawn up,” said the king, “under our own eye, specially discharging the potestas maritalis, and agreeing they shall live separate. So buckle them, my Lord Bishop, as fast as you can, that they may sunder again the sooner.”

The Bishop accordingly opened his book and commenced the marriage ceremony, under circumstances so novel and so inauspicious. The responses of the bride were only expressed by inclinations of the head and body; while those of the bridegroom were spoken boldly and distinctly, with a tone resembling levity, if not scorn. When it was concluded, Lord Dalgarno advanced as if to salute the bride, but seeing that she drew back in fear and abhorrence, he contented himself with making her a low bow. He then drew up his form to its height, and stretched himself as if examining the power of his limbs, but elegantly, and without any forcible change of attitude. “I could caper yet,” he said “though I am in fetters – but they are of gold, and lightly worn. – Well, I see all eyes look cold on me, and it is time I should withdraw. The sun shines elsewhere than in England! But first I must ask how this fair Lady Dalgarno is to be bestowed. Methinks it is but decent I should know. Is she to be sent to the harem of my Lord Duke? Or is this worthy citizen, as before – ”

“Hold thy base ribald tongue!” said his father, Lord Huntinglen, who had kept in the background during the ceremony, and now stepping suddenly forward, caught the lady by the arm, and confronted her unworthy husband. – “The Lady Dalgarno,” he continued, “shall remain as a widow in my house. A widow I esteem her, as much as if the grave had closed over her dishonoured husband.”

Lord Dalgarno exhibited momentary symptoms of extreme confusion, and said, in a submissive tone, “If you, my lord, can wish me dead, I cannot, though your heir, return the compliment. Few of the first-born of Israel,” he added, recovering himself from the single touch of emotion he had displayed, “can say so much with truth. But I will convince you ere I go, that I am a true descendant of a house famed for its memory of injuries.”

“I marvel your Majesty will listen to him longer,” said Prince Charles. “Methinks we have heard enough of his daring insolence.”

But James, who took the interest of a true gossip in such a scene as was now passing, could not bear to cut the controversy short, but imposed silence on his son, with “Whisht, Baby Charles – there is a good bairn, whisht! – I want to hear what the frontless loon can say.”

“Only, sir,” said Dalgarno, “that but for one single line in this schedule, all else that it contains could not have bribed me to take that woman’s hand into mine.”

“That line maun have been the SUMMA TOTALIS,” said the king.

“Not so, sire,” replied Dalgarno. “The sum total might indeed have been an object for consideration even to a Scottish king, at no very distant period; but it would have had little charms for me, save that I see here an entry which gives me the power of vengeance over the family of Glenvarloch; and learn from it that yonder pale bride, when she put the wedding-torch into my hand, gave me the power of burning her mother’s house to ashes!”

“How is that?” said the king. “What is he speaking about, Jingling Geordie?”

“This friendly citizen, my liege,” said Lord Dalgarno, “hath expended a sum belonging to my lady, and now, I thank heaven, to me, in acquiring a certain mortgage, or wanset, over the estate of Glenvarloch, which, if it be not redeemed before to-morrow at noon, will put me in possession of the fair demesnes of those who once called themselves our house’s rivals.”

“Can this be true?” said the king.

“It is even but too true, please your Majesty,” answered the citizen. “The Lady Hermione having advanced the money for the original creditor, I was obliged, in honour and honesty, to take the rights to her; and doubtless, they pass to her husband.”

“But the warrant, man,” said the king – “the warrant on our Exchequer – Couldna that supply the lad wi’ the means of redemption?”

“Unhappily, my liege, he has lost it, or disposed of it – It is not to be found. He is the most unlucky youth!”

“This is a proper spot of work!” said the king, beginning to amble about and play with the points of his doublet and hose, in expression of dismay. “We cannot aid him without paying our debts twice over, and we have, in the present state of our Exchequer, scarce the means of paying them once.”

“You have told me news,” said Lord Dalgarno, “but I will take no advantage.”

“Do not,” said his father, “be a bold villain, since thou must be one, and seek revenge with arms, and not with the usurer’s weapons.”

“Pardon me, my lord,” said Lord Dalgarno. “Pen and ink are now my surest means of vengeance; and more land is won by the lawyer with the ram-skin, than by the Andrea Ferrara with his sheepshead handle. But, as I said before, I will take no advantages. I will await in town to-morrow, near Covent Garden; if any one will pay the redemption-money to my scrivener, with whom the deeds lie, the better for Lord Glenvarloch; if not, I will go forward on the next day, and travel with all dispatch to the north, to take possession.”

“Take a father’s malison with you, unhappy wretch!” said Lord Huntinglen.

“And a king’s, who is pater patriae,” said James.

“I trust to bear both lightly,” said Lord Dalgarno; and bowing around him, he withdrew; while all present, oppressed, and, as it were, overawed, by his determined effrontery, found they could draw breath more freely, when he at length relieved them of his society. Lord Huntinglen, applying himself to comfort his new daughter-in-law, withdrew with her also; and the king, with his privy-council, whom he had not dismissed, again returned to his council-chamber, though the hour was unusually late. Heriot’s attendance was still commanded, but for what reason was not explained to him.

CHAPTER XXXIII

– I’ll play the eavesdropper.Richard III., Act V., Scene 3.

James had no sooner resumed his seat at the council-board than he began to hitch in his chair, cough, use his handkerchief, and make other intimations that he meditated a long speech. The council composed themselves to the beseeming degree of attention. Charles, as strict in his notions of decorum, as his father was indifferent to it, fixed himself in an attitude of rigid and respectful attention, while the haughty favourite, conscious of his power over both father and son, stretched himself more easily on his seat, and, in assuming an appearance of listening, seemed to pay a debt to ceremonial rather than to duty.

“I doubt not, my lords,” said the Monarch, “that some of you may be thinking the hour of refection is past, and that it is time to ask with the slave in the comedy —Quid de symbolo?– Nevertheless, to do justice and exercise judgment is our meat and drink; and now we are to pray your wisdom to consider the case of this unhappy youth, Lord Glenvarloch, and see whether, consistently with our honour, any thing can be done in his favour.”

“I am surprised at your Majesty’s wisdom making the inquiry,” said the Duke; “it is plain this Dalgarno hath proved one of the most insolent villains on earth, and it must therefore be clear, that if Lord Glenvarloch had run him through the body, there would but have been out of the world a knave who had lived in it too long. I think Lord Glenvarloch hath had much wrong; and I regret that, by the persuasions of this false fellow, I have myself had some hand in it.”

“Ye speak like a child, Steenie – I mean my Lord of Buckingham,” answered the king, “and as one that does not understand the logic of the schools; for an action may be inconsequential or even meritorious, quoad hominem, that is, as touching him upon whom it is acted; and yet most criminal, quoad locum, or considering the place wherein it is done; as a man may lawfully dance Chrighty Beardie or any other dance in a tavern, but not inter parietes ecclesiae. So that, though it may have been a good deed to have sticked Lord Dalgarno, being such as he has shown himself, anywhere else, yet it fell under the plain statute, when violence was offered within the verge of the Court. For, let me tell you, my lords, the statute against striking would be of no small use in our Court, if it could be eluded by justifying the person stricken to be a knave. It is much to be lamented that I ken nae Court in Christendom where knaves are not to be found; and if men are to break the peace under pretence of beating them, why, it will rain Jeddart staves [Footnote: The old-fashioned weapon called the Jeddart staff was a species of battle-axe. Of a very great tempest, it is said, in the south of Scotland, that it rains Jeddart staffs, as in England the common people talk of its raining cats and dogs.] in our very ante-chamber.”

“What your Majesty says,” replied Prince Charles, “is marked with your usual wisdom – the precincts of palaces must be sacred as well as the persons of kings, which are respected even in the most barbarous nations, as being one step only beneath their divinities. But your Majesty’s will can control the severity of this and every other law, and it is in your power, on consideration of his case, to grant the rash young man a free pardon.”

“Rem acu tetigisti, Carole, mi puerule,” answered the king; “and know, my lords, that we have, by a shrewd device and gift of our own, already sounded the very depth of this Lord Glenvarloch’s disposition. I trow there be among you some that remember my handling in the curious case of my Lady Lake, and how I trimmed them about the story of hearkening behind the arras. Now this put me to cogitation, and I remembered me of having read that Dionysius, King of Syracuse, whom historians call Tyrannos, which signifieth not in the Greek tongue, as in ours, a truculent usurper, but a royal king who governs, it may be, something more strictly than we and other lawful monarchs, whom the ancients termed Basileis – Now this Dionysius of Syracuse caused cunning workmen to build for himself a lugg– D’ye ken what that is, my Lord Bishop?”

“A cathedral, I presume to guess,” answered the Bishop.

“What the deil, man – I crave your lordship’s pardon for swearing – but it was no cathedral – only a lurking-place called the king’s lugg, or ear, where he could sit undescried, and hear the converse of his prisoners. Now, sirs, in imitation of this Dionysius, whom I took for my pattern, the rather that he was a great linguist and grammarian, and taught a school with good applause after his abdication, (either he or his successor of the same name, it matters not whilk) – I have caused them to make a lugg up at the state-prison of the Tower yonder, more like a pulpit than a cathedral, my Lord Bishop – and communicating with the arras behind the Lieutenant’s chamber, where we may sit and privily hear the discourse of such prisoners as are pent up there for state-offences, and so creep into the very secrets of our enemies.”

The Prince cast a glance towards the Duke, expressive of great vexation and disgust. Buckingham shrugged his shoulders, but the motion was so slight as to be almost imperceptible.

“Weel, my lords, ye ken the fray at the hunting this morning – I shall not get out of the trembling exies until I have a sound night’s sleep – just after that, they bring ye in a pretty page that had been found in the Park. We were warned against examining him ourselves by the anxious care of those around us; nevertheless, holding our life ever at the service of these kingdoms, we commanded all to avoid the room, the rather that we suspected this boy to be a girl. What think ye, my lords? – few of you would have thought I had a hawk’s eye for sic gear; but we thank God, that though we are old, we know so much of such toys as may beseem a man of decent gravity. Weel, my lords, we questioned this maiden in male attire ourselves, and I profess it was a very pretty interrogatory, and well followed. For, though she at first professed that she assumed this disguise in order to countenance the woman who should present us with the Lady Hermione’s petition, for whom she professed entire affection; yet when we, suspecting anguis in herba, did put her to the very question, she was compelled to own a virtuous attachment for Glenvarlochides, in such a pretty passion of shame and fear, that we had much ado to keep our own eyes from keeping company with hers in weeping. Also, she laid before us the false practices of this Dalgarno towards Glenvarlochides, inveigling him into houses of ill resort, and giving him evil counsel under pretext of sincere friendship, whereby the inexperienced lad was led to do what was prejudicial to himself, and offensive to us. But, however prettily she told her tale, we determined not altogether to trust to her narration, but rather to try the experiment whilk we had devised for such occasions. And having ourselves speedily passed from Greenwich to the Tower, we constituted ourselves eavesdropper, as it is called, to observe what should pass between Glenvarlochides and his page, whom we caused to be admitted to his apartment, well judging that if they were of counsel together to deceive us, it could not be but something of it would spunk out – And what think ye we saw, my lords? – Naething for you to sniggle and laugh at, Steenie – for I question if you could have played the temperate and Christian-like part of this poor lad Glenvarloch. He might be a Father of the Church in comparison of you, man. – And then, to try his patience yet farther, we loosed on him a courtier and a citizen, that is Sir Mungo Malagrowther and our servant George Heriot here, wha dang the poor lad about, and didna greatly spare our royal selves. – You mind, Geordie, what you said about the wives and concubines? but I forgie ye, man – nae need of kneeling, I forgie ye – the readier, that it regards a certain particular, whilk, as it added not much to Solomon’s credit, the lack of it cannot be said to impinge on ours. Aweel, my lords, for all temptation of sore distress and evil ensample, this poor lad never loosed his tongue on us to say one unbecoming word – which inclines us the rather, acting always by your wise advice, to treat this affair of the Park as a thing done in the heat of blood, and under strong provocation, and therefore to confer our free pardon on Lord Glenvarloch.”

“I am happy your gracious Majesty,” said the Duke of Buckingham, “has arrived at that conclusion, though I could never have guessed at the road by which you attained it.”

“I trust,” said Prince Charles, “that it is not a path which your Majesty will think it consistent with your high dignity to tread frequently.”

“Never while I live again, Baby Charles, that I give you my royal word on. They say that hearkeners hear ill tales of themselves – by my saul, my very ears are tingling wi’ that auld sorrow Sir Mungo’s sarcasms. He called us close-fisted, Steenie – I am sure you can contradict that. But it is mere envy in the auld mutilated sinner, because he himself has neither a noble to hold in his loof, nor fingers to close on it if he had.” Here the king lost recollection of Sir Mungo’s irreverence in chuckling over his own wit, and only farther alluded to it by saying – “We must give the old maunderer bos in linguam– something to stop his mouth, or he will rail at us from Dan to Beersheba. – And now, my lords, let our warrant of mercy to Lord Glenvarloch be presently expedited, and he put to his freedom; and as his estate is likely to go so sleaveless a gate, we will consider what means of favour we can show him. – My lords, I wish you an appetite to an early supper – for our labours have approached that term. – Baby Charles and Steenie, you will remain till our couchee. – My Lord Bishop, you will be pleased to stay to bless our meat. – Geordie Heriot, a word with you apart.”

His Majesty then drew the citizen into a corner, while the counsellors, those excepted who had been commanded to remain, made their obeisance, and withdrew. “Geordie,” said the king, “my good and trusty servant” – Here he busied his fingers much with the points and ribbons of his dress, – “Ye see that we have granted, from our own natural sense of right and justice, that which yon long-backed fallow, Moniplies I think they ca’ him, proffered to purchase from us with a mighty bribe; whilk we refused, as being a crowned king, who wad neither sell our justice nor our mercy for pecuniar consideration. Now, what think ye should be the upshot of this?”

“My Lord Glenvarloch’s freedom, and his restoration to your Majesty’s favour,” said Heriot.

“I ken that,” said the king, peevishly. “Ye are very dull to-day. I mean, what do you think this fallow Moniplies should think about the matter?”

“Surely that your Majesty is a most good and gracious sovereign,” answered Heriot.

“We had need to be gude and gracious baith,” said the king, still more pettishly, “that have idiots about us that cannot understand what we mint at, unless we speak it out in braid Lowlands. See this chield Moniplies, sir, and tell him what we have done for Lord Glenvarloch, in whom he takes such part, out of our own gracious motion, though we refused to do it on ony proffer of private advantage. Now, you may put it till him, as if of your own mind, whether it will be a gracious or a dutiful part in him, to press us for present payment of the two or three hundred miserable pounds for whilk we were obliged to opignorate our jewels? Indeed, mony men may think ye wad do the part of a good citizen, if you took it on yourself to refuse him payment, seeing he hath had what he professed to esteem full satisfaction, and considering, moreover, that it is evident he hath no pressing need of the money, whereof we have much necessity.”

George Heriot sighed internally. “O my Master,” thought he – “my dear Master, is it then fated you are never to indulge any kingly or noble sentiment, without its being sullied by some afterthought of interested selfishness!”

The king troubled himself not about what he thought, but taking him by the collar, said, – “Ye ken my meaning now, Jingler – awa wi’ ye. You are a wise man – manage it your ain gate – but forget not our present straits.” The citizen made his obeisance, and withdrew.

“And now, bairns,” said the king, “what do you look upon each other for – and what have you got to ask of your dear dad and gossip?”

“Only,” said the Prince, “that it would please your Majesty to command the lurking-place at the prison to be presently built up – the groans of a captive should not be brought in evidence against him.”

“What! build up my lugg, Baby Charles? And yet, better deaf than hear ill tales of oneself. So let them build it up, hard and fast, without delay, the rather that my back is sair with sitting in it for a whole hour. – And now let us see what the cooks have been doing for us, bonny bairns.”

CHAPTER XXXIV

  To this brave man the knight repairs  For counsel in his law affairs;  And found him mounted in his pew.  With books and money placed for show,  Like nest-eggs to make clients lay,  And for his false opinion pay.Hudibras.

Our readers may recollect a certain smooth-tongued, lank-haired, buckram-suited, Scottish scrivener, who, in the earlier part of this history, appeared in the character of a protege of George Heriot. It is to his house we are about to remove, but times have changed with him. The petty booth hath become a chamber of importance – the buckram suit is changed into black velvet; and although the wearer retains his puritanical humility and politeness to clients of consequence, he can now look others broad in the face, and treat them with a full allowance of superior opulence, and the insolence arising from it. It was but a short period that had achieved these alterations, nor was the party himself as yet entirely accustomed to them, but the change was becoming less embarrassing to him with every day’s practice. Among other acquisitions of wealth, you may see one of Davy Ramsay’s best timepieces on the table, and his eye is frequently observing its revolutions, while a boy, whom he employs as a scribe, is occasionally sent out to compare its progress with the clock of Saint Dunstan.

The scrivener himself seemed considerably agitated. He took from a strong-box a bundle of parchments, and read passages of them with great attention; then began to soliloquize – “There is no outlet which law can suggest – no back-door of evasion – none – if the lands of Glenvarloch are not redeemed before it rings noon, Lord Dalgarno has them a cheap pennyworth. Strange, that he should have been at last able to set his patron at defiance, and achieve for himself the fair estate, with the prospect of which he so long flattered the powerful Buckingham. – Might not Andrew Skurliewhitter nick him as neatly? He hath been my patron – true – not more than Buckingham was his; and he can be so no more, for he departs presently for Scotland. I am glad of it – I hate him, and I fear him. He knows too many of my secrets – I know too many of his. But, no – no – no – I need never attempt it, there are no means of over-reaching him. – Well, Willie, what o’clock?”

“Ele’en hours just chappit, sir.”

“Go to your desk without, child,” said the scrivener. “What to do next – I shall lose the old Earl’s fair business, and, what is worse, his son’s foul practice. Old Heriot looks too close into business to permit me more than the paltry and ordinary dues. The Whitefriars business was profitable, but it has become unsafe ever since – pah! – what brought that in my head just now? I can hardly hold my pen – if men should see me in this way! – Willie,” (calling aloud to the boy,) “a cup of distilled waters – Soh! – now I could face the devil.”

He spoke the last words aloud, and close by the door of the apartment, which was suddenly opened by Richie Moniplies, followed by two gentlemen, and attended by two porters bearing money-bags. “If ye can face the devil, Maister Skurliewhitter,” said Richie, “ye will be the less likely to turn your back on a sack or twa o’ siller, which I have ta’en the freedom to bring you. Sathanas and Mammon are near akin.” The porters, at the same time, ranged their load on the floor.

“I – I,” – stammered the surprised scrivener – “I cannot guess what you mean, sir.”

“Only that I have brought you the redemption-money on the part of Lord Glenvarloch, in discharge of a certain mortgage over his family inheritance. And here, in good time, comes Master Reginald Lowestoffe, and another honourable gentleman of the Temple, to be witnesses to the transaction.”