Guy Mannering; or, The Astrologer

Bertram here produced a small velvet bag, which he said he had worn round his neck from his earliest infancy, and which he had preserved, first from superstitious reverence, and latterly from the hope that it might serve one day to aid in the discovery of his birth. The bag, being opened, was found to contain a blue silk case, from which was drawn a scheme of nativity. Upon inspecting this paper, Colonel Mannering instantly admitted it was his own composition; and afforded the strongest and most satisfactory evidence that the possessor of it must necessarily be the young heir of Ellangowan, by avowing his having first appeared in that country in the character of an astrologer.

‘And now,’ said Pleydell, ‘make out warrants of commitment for Hatteraick and Glossin until liberated in due course of law. Yet,’ he said, ‘I am sorry for Glossin.’

‘Now, I think,’ said Mannering, ‘he’s incomparably the least deserving of pity of the two. The other’s a bold fellow, though as hard as flint.’

‘Very natural, Colonel,’ said the Advocate, ‘that you should be interested in the ruffian and I in the knave, that’s all professional taste; but I can tell you Glossin would have been a pretty lawyer had he not had such a turn for the roguish part of the profession.’

‘Scandal would say,’ observed Mannering, ‘he might not be the worse lawyer for that.’

‘Scandal would tell a lie, then,’ replied Pleydell, ‘as she usually does. Law’s like laudanum: it’s much more easy to use it as a quack does than to learn to apply it like a physician.’

CHAPTER XXVIII

Unfit to live or die-O marble heart!     After him, fellows, drag him to the block.          Measure for Measure.

The jail at the county town of the shire of-was one of those old-fashioned dungeons which disgraced Scotland until of late years. When the prisoners and their guard arrived there, Hatteraick, whose violence and strength were well known, was secured in what was called the condemned ward. This was a large apartment near the top of the prison. A round bar of iron,[Footnote: See Note 9.] about the thickness of a man’s arm above the elbow, crossed the apartment horizontally at the height of about six inches from the floor; and its extremities were strongly built into the wall at either end. Hatteraick’s ankles were secured within shackles, which were connected by a chain, at the distance of about four feet, with a large iron ring, which travelled upon the bar we have described. Thus a prisoner might shuffle along the length of the bar from one side of the room to another, but could not retreat farther from it in any other direction than the brief length of the chain admitted. When his feet had been thus secured, the keeper removed his handcuffs and left his person at liberty in other respects. A pallet-bed was placed close to the bar of iron, so that the shackled prisoner might lie down at pleasure, still fastened to the iron bar in the manner described.

Hatteraick had not been long in this place of confinement before Glossin arrived at the same prison-house. In respect to his comparative rank and education, he was not ironed, but placed in a decent apartment, under the inspection of Mac-Guffog, who, since the destruction of the bridewell of Portanferry by the mob, had acted here as an under-turnkey. When Glossin was enclosed within this room, and had solitude and leisure to calculate all the chances against him and in his favour, he could not prevail upon himself to consider the game as desperate.

‘The estate is lost,’ he said, ‘that must go; and, between Pleydell and Mac-Morlan, they’ll cut down my claim on it to a trifle. My character-but if I get off with life and liberty I’ll win money yet and varnish that over again. I knew not of the gauger’s job until the rascal had done the deed, and, though I had some advantage by the contraband, that is no felony. But the kidnapping of the boy-there they touch me closer. Let me see. This Bertram was a child at the time; his evidence must be imperfect. The other fellow is a deserter, a gipsy, and an outlaw. Meg Merrilies, d-n her, is dead. These infernal bills! Hatteraick brought them with him, I suppose, to have the means of threatening me or extorting money from me. I must endeavour to see the rascal; must get him to stand steady; must persuade him to put some other colour upon the business.’

His mind teeming with schemes of future deceit to cover former villainy, he spent the time in arranging and combining them until the hour of supper. Mac-Guffog attended as turnkey on this occasion. He was, as we know, the old and special acquaintance of the prisoner who was now under his charge. After giving the turnkey a glass of brandy, and sounding him with one or two cajoling speeches, Glossin made it his request that he would help him to an interview with Dirk Hatteraick. ‘Impossible! utterly impossible! it’s contrary to the express orders of Mr. Mac-Morlan, and the captain (as the head jailor of a county jail is called in Scotland) would never forgie me.’

‘But why should he know of it?’ said Glossin, slipping a couple of guineas into Mac-Guffog’s hand.

The turnkey weighed the gold and looked sharp at Glossin. ‘Ay, ay, Mr. Glossin, ye ken the ways o’ this place. Lookee, at lock-up hour I’ll return and bring ye upstairs to him. But ye must stay a’ night in his cell, for I am under needcessity to carry the keys to the captain for the night, and I cannot let you out again until morning; then I’ll visit the wards half an hour earlier than usual, and ye may get out and be snug in your ain birth when the captain gangs his rounds.’

When the hour of ten had pealed from the neighbouring steeple Mac-Guffog came prepared with a small dark lantern. He said softly to Glossin, ‘Slip your shoes off and follow me.’ When Glossin was out of the door, Mac-Guffog, as if in the execution of his ordinary duty, and speaking to a prisoner within, called aloud, ‘Good-night to you, sir,’ and locked the door, clattering the bolts with much ostentatious noise. He then guided Glossin up a steep and narrow stair, at the top of which was the door of the condemned ward; he unbarred and unlocked it, and, giving Glossin the lantern, made a sign to him to enter, and locked the door behind him with the same affected accuracy.

In the large dark cell into which he was thus introduced Glossin’s feeble light for some time enabled him to discover nothing. At length he could dimly distinguish the pallet-bed stretched on the floor beside the great iron bar which traversed the room, and on that pallet reposed the figure of a man. Glossin approached him. ‘Dirk Hatteraick!’

‘Donner and hagel! it is his voice,’ said the prisoner, sitting up and clashing his fetters as he rose; ‘then my dream is true! Begone, and leave me to myself; it will be your best.’

‘What! my good friend,’ said Glossin, ‘will you allow the prospect of a few weeks’ confinement to depress your spirit?’

‘Yes,’ answered the ruffian, sullenly, ‘when I am only to be released by a halter! Let me alone; go about your business, and turn the lamp from my face!’

‘Psha! my dear Dirk, don’t be afraid,’ said Glossin; ‘I have a glorious plan to make all right.’

‘To the bottomless pit with your plans!’ replied his accomplice; ‘you have planned me out of ship, cargo, and life; and I dreamt this moment that Meg Merrilies dragged you here by the hair and gave me the long clasped knife she used to wear; you don’t know what she said. Sturmwetter! it will be your wisdom not to tempt me!’

‘But, Hatteraick, my good friend, do but rise and speak to me,’ said Glossin.

‘I will not!’ answered the savage, doggedly. ‘You have caused all the mischief; you would not let Meg keep the boy; she would have returned him after he had forgot all.’

‘Why, Hatteraick, you are turned driveller!’

‘Wetter! will you deny that all that cursed attempt at Portanferry, which lost both sloop and crew, was your device for your own job?’

‘But the goods, you know-’

‘Curse the goods!’ said the smuggler, ‘we could have got plenty more; but, der deyvil! to lose the ship and the fine fellows, and my own life, for a cursed coward villain, that always works his own mischief with other people’s hands! Speak to me no more; I’m dangerous.’

‘But, Dirk-but, Hatteraick, hear me only a few words.’

‘Hagel! nein.’

‘Only one sentence.’

‘Tousand curses! nein.’

‘At least get up, for an obstinate Dutch brute!’ said Glossin, losing his temper and pushing Hatteraick with his foot.

‘Donner and blitzen!’ said Hatteraick, springing up and grappling with him; ‘you WILL have it then?’

Glossin struggled and resisted; but, owing to his surprise at the fury of the assault, so ineffectually that he fell under Hatteraick, the back part of his neck coming full upon the iron bar with stunning violence. The death-grapple continued. The room immediately below the condemned ward, being that of Glossin, was, of course, empty; but the inmates of the second apartment beneath felt the shock of Glossin’s heavy fall, and heard a noise as of struggling and of groans. But all sounds of horror were too congenial to this place to excite much curiosity or interest.

In the morning, faithful to his promise, Mac-Guffog came. ‘Mr. Glossin,’ said he, in a whispering voice.

‘Call louder,’ answered Dirk Hatteraick.

‘Mr. Glossin, for God’s sake come away!’

‘He’ll hardly do that without help,’ said Hatteraick.

‘What are you chattering there for, Mac-Guffog?’ called out the captain from below.

‘Come away, for God’s sake, Mr. Glossin!’ repeated the turnkey.

At this moment the jailor made his appearance with a light. Great was his surprise, and even horror, to observe Glossin’s body lying doubled across the iron bar, in a posture that excluded all idea of his being alive. Hatteraick was quietly stretched upon his pallet within a yard of his victim. On lifting Glossin it was found he had been dead for some hours. His body bore uncommon marks of violence. The spine where it joins the skull had received severe injury by his first fall. There were distinct marks of strangulation about the throat, which corresponded with the blackened state of his face. The head was turned backward over the shoulder, as if the neck had been wrung round with desperate violence. So that it would seem that his inveterate antagonist had fixed a fatal gripe upon the wretch’s throat, and never quitted it while life lasted. The lantern, crushed and broken to pieces, lay beneath the body.

Mac-Morlan was in the town, and came instantly to examine the corpse. ‘What brought Glossin here?’ he said to Hatteraick.

‘The devil!’ answered the ruffian.

‘And what did you do to him?’

‘Sent him to hell before me!’ replied the miscreant.

‘Wretch,’ said Mac-Morlan, ‘you have crowned a life spent without a single virtue with the murder of your own miserable accomplice!’

‘Virtue?’ exclaimed the prisoner. ‘Donner! I was always faithful to my shipowners-always accounted for cargo to the last stiver. Hark ye! let me have pen and ink and I’ll write an account of the whole to our house, and leave me alone a couple of hours, will ye; and let them take away that piece of carrion, donnerwetter!’

Mac-Morlan deemed it the best way to humour the savage; he was furnished with writing materials and left alone. When they again opened the door it was found that this determined villain had anticipated justice. He had adjusted a cord taken from the truckle-bed, and attached it to a bone, the relic of his yesterday’s dinner, which he had contrived to drive into a crevice between two stones in the wall at a height as great as he could reach, standing upon the bar. Having fastened the noose, he had the resolution to drop his body as if to fall on his knees, and to retain that posture until resolution was no longer necessary. The letter he had written to his owners, though chiefly upon the business of their trade, contained many allusions to the younker of Ellangowan, as he called him, and afforded absolute confirmation of all Meg Merrilies and her nephew had told.

To dismiss the catastrophe of these two wretched men, I shall only add, that Mac-Guffog was turned out of office, notwithstanding his declaration (which he offered to attest by oath), that he had locked Glossin safely in his own room upon the night preceding his being found dead in Dirk Hatteraick’s cell. His story, however, found faith with the worthy Mr. Skriegh and other lovers of the marvellous, who still hold that the Enemy of Mankind brought these two wretches together upon that night by supernatural interference, that they might fill up the cup of their guilt and receive its meed by murder and suicide.

CHAPTER XXIX

To sum the whole-the close of all.          DEAN SWIFT.

As Glossin died without heirs, and without payment of the price, the estate of Ellangowan was again thrown upon the hands of Mr. Godfrey Bertram’s creditors, the right of most of whom was, however, defeasible in case Henry Bertram should establish his character of heir of entail. This young gentleman put his affairs into the hands of Mr. Pleydell and Mr. Mac-Morlan, with one single proviso, that, though he himself should be obliged again to go to India, every debt justly and honourably due by his father should be made good to the claimant. Mannering, who heard this declaration, grasped him kindly by the hand, and from that moment might be dated a thorough understanding between them.

The hoards of Miss Margaret Bertram, and the liberal assistance of the Colonel, easily enabled the heir to make provision for payment of the just creditors of his father, while the ingenuity and research of his law friends detected, especially in the accounts of Glossin, so many overcharges as greatly diminished the total amount. In these circumstances the creditors did not hesitate to recognise Bertram’s right, and to surrender to him the house and property of his ancestors. All the party repaired from Woodbourne to take possession, amid the shouts of the tenantry and the neighbourhood; and so eager was Colonel Mannering to superintend certain improvements which he had recommended to Bertram, that he removed with his family from Woodbourne to Ellangowan, although at present containing much less and much inferior accommodation.

The poor Dominie’s brain was almost turned with joy on returning to his old habitation. He posted upstairs, taking three steps at once, to a little shabby attic, his cell and dormitory in former days, and which the possession of his much superior apartment at Woodbourne had never banished from his memory. Here one sad thought suddenly struck the honest man-the books! no three rooms in Ellangowan were capable to contain them. While this qualifying reflection was passing through his mind, he was suddenly summoned by Mannering to assist in calculating some proportions relating to a large and splendid house which was to be built on the site of the New Place of Ellangowan, in a style corresponding to the magnificence of the ruins in its vicinity. Among the various rooms in the plan, the Dominie observed that one of the largest was entitled THE LIBRARY; and close beside was a snug, well-proportioned chamber, entitled Mr. SAMPSON’S APARTMENT. ‘Prodigious, prodigious, pro-di-gi-ous!’ shouted the enraptured Dominie.

Mr. Pleydell had left the party for some time; but he returned, according to promise, during the Christmas recess of the courts. He drove up to Ellangowan when all the family were abroad but the Colonel, who was busy with plans of buildings and pleasure-grounds, in which he was well skilled, and took great delight.

‘Ah ha!’ said the Counsellor, ‘so here you are! Where are the ladies? where is the fair Julia?’

‘Walking out with young Hazlewood, Bertram, and Captain Delaserre, a friend of his, who is with us just now. They are gone to plan out a cottage at Derncleugh. Well, have you carried through your law business?’

‘With a wet finger,’ answered the lawyer; ‘got our youngster’s special service retoured into Chancery. We had him served heir before the macers.’

‘Macers? who are they?’

‘Why, it is a kind of judicial Saturnalia. You must know, that one of the requisites to be a macer, or officer in attendance upon our supreme court, is, that they shall be men of no knowledge.’

‘Very well!’

‘Now, our Scottish legislature, for the joke’s sake I suppose, have constituted those men of no knowledge into a peculiar court for trying questions of relationship and descent, such as this business of Bertram, which often involve the most nice and complicated questions of evidence.’

‘The devil they have! I should think that rather inconvenient,’ said Mannering.

‘O, we have a practical remedy for the theoretical absurdity. One or two of the judges act upon such occasions as prompters and assessors to their own doorkeepers. But you know what Cujacius says, “Multa sunt in moribus dissentanea, multa sine ratione.” [Footnote: The singular inconsistency hinted at is now, in a great degree, removed.] However, this Saturnalian court has done our business; and a glorious batch of claret we had afterwards at Walker’s. Mac-Morlan will stare when he sees the bill.’

‘Never fear,’ said the Colonel, ‘we’ll face the shock, and entertain the county at my friend Mrs. Mac-Candlish’s to boot.’

‘And choose Jock Jabos for your master of horse?’ replied the lawyer.

‘Perhaps I may.’

‘And where is Dandie, the redoubted Lord of Liddesdale?’ demanded the advocate.

‘Returned to his mountains; but he has promised Julia to make a descent in summer, with the goodwife, as he calls her, and I don’t know how many children.’

‘O, the curly-headed varlets! I must come to play at Blind Harry and Hy Spy with them. But what is all this?’ added Pleydell, taking up the plans. ‘Tower in the centre to be an imitation of the Eagle Tower at Caernarvon-corps de logis-the devil! Wings-wings! Why, the house will take the estate of Ellangowan on its back and fly away with it!’

‘Why, then, we must ballast it with a few bags of sicca rupees,’ replied the Colonel.

‘Aha! sits the wind there? Then I suppose the young dog carries off my mistress Julia?’

‘Even so, Counsellor.’

‘These rascals, the post-nati, get the better of us of the old school at every turn,’ said Mr. Pleydell. ‘But she must convey and make over her interest in me to Lucy.’

‘To tell you the truth, I am afraid your flank will be turned there too,’ replied the Colonel.

‘Indeed?’

‘Here has been Sir Robert Hazlewood,’ said Mannering, ‘upon a visit to Bertram, thinking and deeming and opining-’

‘O Lord! pray spare me the worthy Baronet’s triads!’

‘Well, sir,’ continued Mannering, ‘to make short, he conceived that, as the property of Singleside lay like a wedge between two farms of his, and was four or five miles separated from Ellangowan, something like a sale or exchange or arrangement might take place, to the mutual convenience of both parties.’

‘Well, and Bertram-’

‘Why, Bertram replied, that he considered the original settlement of Mrs. Margaret Bertram as the arrangement most proper in the circumstances of the family, and that therefore the estate of Singleside was the property of his sister.’

‘The rascal!’ said Pleydell, wiping his spectacles. ‘He’ll steal my heart as well as my mistress. Et puis?’

‘And then Sir Robert retired, after many gracious speeches; but last week he again took the field in force, with his coach and six horses, his laced scarlet waistcoat, and best bob-wig-all very grand, as the good-boy books say.’

‘Ay! and what was his overture?’

‘Why, he talked with great form of an attachment on the part of Charles Hazlewood to Miss Bertram.’

‘Ay, ay; he respected the little god Cupid when he saw him perched on the Dun of Singleside. And is poor Lucy to keep house with that old fool and his wife, who is just the knight himself in petticoats?’

‘No; we parried that. Singleside House is to be repaired for the young people, and to be called hereafter Mount Hazlewood.’

‘And do you yourself, Colonel, propose to continue at Woodbourne?’

‘Only till we carry these plans into effect. See, here’s the plan of my bungalow, with all convenience for being separate and sulky when I please.’

‘And, being situated, as I see, next door to the old castle, you may repair Donagild’s tower for the nocturnal contemplation of the celestial bodies? Bravo, Colonel!’

‘No, no, my dear Counsellor! Here ends THE ASTROLOGER.’

THE END

NOTES TO VOLUME I

NOTE 1, p. 25

The groaning malt mentioned in the text was the ale brewed for the purpose of being drunk after the lady or goodwife’s safe delivery. The ken-no has a more ancient source, and perhaps the custom may be derived from the secret rites of the Bona Dea. A large and rich cheese was made by the women of the family, with great affectation of secrecy, for the refreshment of the gossips who were to attend at the ‘canny’ minute. This was the ken-no, so called because its existence was secret (that is, presumed to be so) from all the males of the family, but especially from the husband and master. He was accordingly expected to conduct himself as if he knew of no such preparation, to act as if desirous to press the female guests to refreshments, and to seem surprised at their obstinate refusal. But the instant his back was turned the ken-no was produced; and after all had eaten their fill, with a proper accompaniment of the groaning malt, the remainder was divided among the gossips, each carrying a large portion home with the same affectation of great secrecy.

NOTE 2, p. 198

It is fitting to explain to the reader the locality described in chapter xxii. There is, or rather I should say there WAS, a little inn called Mumps’s Hall, that is, being interpreted, Beggar’s Hotel, near to Gilsland, which had not then attained its present fame as a Spa. It was a hedge alehouse, where the Border farmers of either country often stopped to refresh themselves and their nags, in their way to and from the fairs and trysts in Cumberland, and especially those who came from or went to Scotland, through a barren and lonely district, without either road or pathway, emphatically called the Waste of Bewcastle. At the period when the adventures described in the novel are supposed to have taken place, there were many instances of attacks by freebooters on those who travelled through this wild district, and Mumps’s Ha’ had a bad reputation for harbouring the banditti who committed such depredations.

An old and sturdy yeoman belonging to the Scottish side, by surname an Armstrong or Elliot, but well known by his soubriquet of Fighting Charlie of Liddesdale, and still remembered for the courage he displayed in the frequent frays which took place on the Border fifty or sixty years since, had the following adventure in the Waste, which suggested the idea of the scene in the text: -

Charlie had been at Stagshawbank Fair, had sold his sheep or cattle, or whatever he had brought to market, and was on his return to Liddesdale. There were then no country banks where cash could be deposited and bills received instead, which greatly encouraged robbery in that wild country, as the objects of plunder were usually fraught with gold. The robbers had spies in the fair, by means of whom they generally knew whose purse was best stocked, and who took a lonely and desolate road homeward, – those, in short, who were best worth robbing and likely to be most easily robbed.

All this Charlie knew full well; but he had a pair of excellent pistols and a dauntless heart. He stopped at Mumps’s Ha’, notwithstanding the evil character of the place. His horse was accommodated where it might have the necessary rest and feed of corn; and Charlie himself, a dashing fellow, grew gracious with the landlady, a buxom quean, who used all the influence in her power to induce him to stop all night. The landlord was from home, she said, and it was ill passing the Waste, as twilight must needs descend on him before he gained the Scottish side, which was reckoned the safest. But Fighting Charlie, though he suffered himself to be detained later than was prudent, did not account Mumps’s Ha’ a safe place to quarter in during the night. He tore himself away, therefore, from Meg’s good fare and kind words, and mounted his nag, having first examined his pistols, and tried by the ramrod whether the charge remained in them.

He proceeded a mile or two at a round trot, when, as the Waste stretched black before him, apprehensions began to awaken in his mind, partly arising out of Meg’s unusual kindness, which he could not help thinking had rather a suspicious appearance. He therefore resolved to reload his pistols, lest the powder had become damp; but what was his surprise, when he drew the charge, to find neither powder nor ball, while each barrel had been carefully filled with TOW, up to the space which the loading had occupied! and, the priming of the weapons being left untouched, nothing but actually drawing and examining the charge could have discovered the inefficiency of his arms till the fatal minute arrived when their services were required. Charlie bestowed a hearty Liddesdale curse on his landlady, and reloaded his pistols with care and accuracy, having now no doubt that he was to be waylaid and assaulted. He was not far engaged in the Waste, which was then, and is now, traversed only by such routes as are described in the text, when two or three fellows, disguised and variously armed, started from a moss-hag, while by a glance behind him (for, marching, as the Spaniard says, with his beard on his shoulder, he reconnoitred in every direction) Charlie instantly saw retreat was impossible, as other two stout men appeared behind him at some distance. The Borderer lost not a moment in taking his resolution, and boldly trotted against his enemies in front, who called loudly on him to stand and deliver; Charlie spurred on, and presented his pistol. ‘D-n your pistol,’ said the foremost robber, whom Charlie to his dying day protested he believed to have been the landlord of Mumps’s Ha’, ‘d-n your pistol! I care not a curse for it.’ ‘Ay, lad,’ said the deep voice of Fighting Charlie, ‘but the TOW’S out now.’ He had no occasion to utter another word; the rogues, surprised at finding a man of redoubted courage well armed, instead of being defenceless, took to the moss in every direction, and he passed on his way without farther molestation.