The Fortunes of Nigel Read online

  CHAPTER II

  This, sir, is one among the Seignory, Has wealth at will, and will to use his wealth, And wit to increase it. Marry, his worst folly Lies in a thriftless sort of charity, That goes a-gadding sometimes after objects, Which wise men will not see when thrust upon them. _The Old Couple._

  The ancient gentleman bustled about his shop, in pettish displeasureat being summoned hither so hastily, to the interruption of his moreabstract studies; and, unwilling to renounce the train of calculationwhich he had put in progress, he mingled whimsically with the fragmentsof the arithmetical operation, his oratory to the passengers, and angryreflections on his idle apprentices. "What d'ye lack, sir? Madam,what d'ye lack--clocks for hall or table--night-watches--daywatches?--_Locking wheel being 48--the power of retort 8--the strikingpins are 48_--What d'ye lack, honoured sir?--_The quotient--themultiplicand_--That the knaves should have gone out this blessedminute!--_the acceleration being at the rate of 5 minutes, 55 seconds,53 thirds, 59 fourths_--I will switch them both when they come back--Iwill, by the bones of the immortal Napier!"

  Here the vexed philosopher was interrupted by the entrance of a gravecitizen of a most respectable appearance, who, saluting him familiarlyby the name of "Davie, my old acquaintance," demanded what had put himso much out of sorts, and gave him at the same time a cordial grasp ofhis hand.

  The stranger's dress was, though grave, rather richer than usual. Hispaned hose were of black velvet, lined with purple silk, which garnitureappeared at the slashes. His doublet was of purple cloth, and hisshort cloak of black velvet, to correspond with his hose; and both wereadorned with a great number of small silver buttons richly wrought infiligree. A triple chain of gold hung round his neck; and, in place ofa sword or dagger, he wore at his belt an ordinary knife for the purposeof the table, with a small silver case, which appeared to containwriting materials. He might have seemed some secretary or clerk engagedin the service of the public, only that his low, flat, and unadornedcap, and his well-blacked, shining shoes, indicated that he belonged tothe city. He was a well-made man, about the middle size, and seemed infirm health, though advanced in years. His looks expressed sagacity andgood-humour: and the air of respectability which his dress announced,was well supported by his clear eye, ruddy cheek, and grey hair. He usedthe Scottish idiom in his first address, but in such a manner that itcould hardly be distinguished whether he was passing upon his friend asort of jocose mockery, or whether it was his own native dialect, forhis ordinary discourse had little provincialism.

  In answer to the queries of his respectable friend, Ramsay groanedheavily, answering by echoing back the question, "What ails me, MasterGeorge? Why, every thing ails me! I profess to you that a man mayas well live in Fairyland as in the Ward of Farringdon-Without. Myapprentices are turned into mere goblins--they appear and disappear likespunkies, and have no more regularity in them than a watch without ascapement. If there is a ball to be tossed up, or a bullock to be drivenmad, or a quean to be ducked for scolding, or a head to be broken,Jenkin is sure to be at the one end or the other of it, and thenaway skips Francis Tunstall for company. I think the prize-fighters,bear-leaders, and mountebanks, are in a league against me, my dearfriend, and that they pass my house ten times for any other in the city.Here's an Italian fellow come over, too, that they call Punchinello;and, altogether----"

  "Well," interrupted Master George, "but what is all this to the presentcase?"

  "Why," replied Ramsay, "here has been a cry of thieves or murder, (Ihope that will prove the least of it amongst these English pock-puddingswine!) and I have been interrupted in the deepest calculation evermortal man plunged into, Master George."

  "What, man!" replied Master George, "you must take patience--You are aman that deals in time, and can make it go fast and slow at pleasure;you, of all the world, have least reason to complain, if a little of itbe lost now and then.--But here come your boys, and bringing in a slainman betwixt them, I think--here has been serious mischief, I am afraid."

  "The more mischief the better sport," said the crabbed oldwatchmaker. "I am blithe, though, that it's neither of the twa loonsthemselves.--What are ye bringing a corpse here for, ye fause villains?"he added, addressing the two apprentices, who, at the head of aconsiderable mob of their own class, some of whom bore evident marks ofa recent fray, were carrying the body betwixt them.

  "He is not dead yet, sir," answered Tunstall.

  "Carry him into the apothecary's, then," replied his master. "D'yethink I can set a man's life in motion again, as if he were a clock or atimepiece?"

  "For godsake, old friend," said his acquaintance, "let us have him hereat the nearest--he seems only in a swoon."

  "A swoon?" said Ramsay, "and what business had he to swoon in thestreets? Only, if it will oblige my friend Master George, I would takein all the dead men in St. Dunstan's parish. Call Sam Porter to lookafter the shop." So saying, the stunned man, being the identicalScotsman who had passed a short time before amidst the jeers of theapprentices, was carried into the back shop of the artist, and thereplaced in an armed chair till the apothecary from over the way came tohis assistance. This gentleman, as sometimes happens to those of thelearned professions, had rather more lore than knowledge, and began totalk of the sinciput and occiput, and cerebrum and cerebellum, until heexhausted David Ramsay's brief stock of patience.

  "Bell-um! bell-ell-um!" he repeated, with great indignation; "Whatsignify all the bells in London, if you do not put a plaster on thechild's crown?"

  Master George, with better-directed zeal, asked the apothecary whetherbleeding might not be useful; when, after humming and hawing for amoment, and being unable, upon the spur of the occasion, to suggest anything else, the man of pharmacy observed, that it would, at all events,relieve the brain or cerebrum, in case there was a tendency to thedepositation of any extravasated blood, to operate as a pressure uponthat delicate organ.

  Fortunately he was adequate to performing this operation; and, beingpowerfully aided by Jenkin Vincent (who was learned in all cases ofbroken heads) with plenty of cold water, and a little vinegar, appliedaccording to the scientific method practised by the bottle-holders in amodern ring, the man began to raise himself on his chair, draw his cloaktightly around him, and look about like one who struggles to recoversense and recollection.

  "He had better lie down on the bed in the little back closet," said Mr.Ramsay's visitor, who seemed perfectly familiar with the accommodationswhich the house afforded.

  "He is welcome to my share of the truckle," said Jenkin,--for inthe said back closet were the two apprentices accommodated in onetruckle-bed,--"I can sleep under the counter."

  "So can I," said Tunstall, "and the poor fellow can have the bed allnight."

  "Sleep," said the apothecary, "is, in the opinion of Galen,a restorative and febrifuge, and is most naturally taken in atruckle-bed."

  "Where a better cannot be come by,"--said Master George; "but these aretwo honest lads, to give up their beds so willingly. Come, off with hiscloak, and let us bear him to his couch--I will send for Dr. Irving, theking's chirurgeon--he does not live far off, and that shall be my shareof the Samaritan's duty, neighbour Ramsay."

  "Well, sir," said the apothecary, "it is at your pleasure to send forother advice, and I shall not object to consult with Dr. Irving or anyother medical person of skill, neither to continue to furnish such drugsas may be needful from my pharmacopeia. However, whatever Dr. Irving,who, I think, hath had his degrees in Edinburgh, or Dr. Any-one-beside,be he Scottish or English, may say to the contrary, sleep, takentimeously, is a febrifuge, or sedative, and also a restorative."

  He muttered a few more learned words, and concluded by informingRamsay's friend in English far more intelligible than his Latin, that hewould look to him as his paymaster, for medicines, care, and attendance,furnished, or to be furnished, to this party unknown.

  Master George only replied by desiring him to send his bill for what hehad already to charge, and to give himself no farther trouble unless heheard from him. The pharmacopolist, who, from discoveries made by thecloak falling a little aside, had no great opinion of the faculty ofthis chance patient to make reimbursement, had no sooner seen his caseespoused by a substantial citizen, than he showed some reluctance toquit possession of it, and it needed a short and stern hint from MasterGeorge, which, with all his good-humour, he was capable of expressingwhen occasion required, to send to his own dwelling this Esculapius ofTemple Bar.

  When they were rid of Mr. Raredrench, the charitable efforts of Jenkinand Francis, to divest the patient of his long grey cloak, were firmlyresisted on his own part.--"My life suner--my life suner," he mutteredin indistinct murmurs. In these efforts to retain his upper garment,which was too tender to resist much handling, it gave way at length witha loud rent, which almost threw the patient into a second syncope,and he sat before them in his under garments, the looped and repairedwretchedness of which moved at once pity and laughter, and had certainlybeen the cause of his unwillingness to resign the mantle, which, likethe virtue of charity, served to cover so many imperfections.

  The man himself cast his eyes on his poverty-struck garb, and seemed somuch ashamed of the disclosure, that, muttering between his teeth, thathe would be too late for his appointment, he made an effort to rise andleave the shop, which was easily prevented by Jenkin Vincent and hiscomrade, who, at the nod of Master George, laid hold of and detained himin his chair.

  The patient next looked round him for a moment, and then said faintly,in his broad northern language--"What sort of usage ca' ye this,gentlemen, to a stranger a sojourner in your town? Ye hae broken myhead--ye hae riven my cloak, and now ye are for restraining my personalliberty! They were wiser than me," he said, after a moment's pause,"th
at counselled me to wear my warst claithing in the streets ofLondon; and, if I could have got ony things warse than these meangarments,"--("which would have been very difficult," said Jin Vin, in awhisper to his companion,)--"they would have been e'en ower gude for thegrips o' men sae little acquented with the laws of honest civility."

  "To say the truth," said Jenkin, unable to forbear any longer, althoughthe discipline of the times prescribed to those in his situation adegree of respectful distance and humility in the presence of parents,masters, or seniors, of which the present age has no idea--"to say thetruth, the good gentleman's clothes look as if they would not brook muchhandling."

  "Hold your peace, young man," said Master George, with a tone ofauthority; "never mock the stranger or the poor--the black ox has nottrod on your foot yet--you know not what lands you may travel in, orwhat clothes you may wear, before you die."

  Vincent held down his head and stood rebuked, but the stranger did notaccept the apology which was made for him.

  "I _am_ a stranger, sir," said he, "that is certain; though methinks,that, being such, I have been somewhat familiarly treated in this townof yours; but, as for my being poor, I think I need not be charged withpoverty, till I seek siller of somebody."

  "The dear country all over," said Master George, in a whisper, to DavidRamsay, "pride and poverty."

  But David had taken out his tablets and silver pen, and, deeply immersedin calculations, in which he rambled over all the terms of arithmetic,from the simple unit to millions, billions, and trillions, neither heardnor answered the observation of his friend, who, seeing his abstraction,turned again to the Scot.

  "I fancy now, Jockey, if a stranger were to offer you a noble, you wouldchuck it back at his head?"

  "Not if I could do him honest service for it, sir," said the Scot; "Iam willing to do what I may to be useful, though I come of an honourablehouse, and may be said to be in a sort indifferently weel provided for."

  "Ay!" said the interrogator, "and what house may claim the honour ofyour descent?"

  "An ancient coat belongs to it, as the play says," whispered Vincent tohis companion.

  "Come, Jockey, out with it," continued Master George, observing that theScot, as usual with his countrymen, when asked a blunt, straightforwardquestion, took a little time before answering it.

  "I am no more Jockey, sir, than you are John," said the stranger, as ifoffended at being addressed by a name, which at that time was used, asSawney now is, for a general appellative of the Scottish nation. "Myname, if you must know it, is Richie Moniplies; and I come of the oldand honourable house of Castle Collop, weel kend at the West-Port ofEdinburgh."

  "What is that you call the West-Port?" proceeded the interrogator.

  "Why, an it like your honour," said Richie, who now, having recoveredhis senses sufficiently to observe the respectable exterior of MasterGeorge, threw more civility into his manner than at first, "theWest-Port is a gate of our city, as yonder brick arches at Whitehallform the entrance of the king's palace here, only that the West-Port isof stonern work, and mair decorated with architecture and the policy ofbigging."

  "Nouns, man, the Whitehall gateways were planned by the great Holbein,"answered Master George; "I suspect your accident has jumbled yourbrains, my good friend. I suppose you will tell me next, you haveat Edinburgh as fine a navigable river as the Thames, with all itsshipping?"

  "The Thames!" exclaimed Richie, in a tone of ineffable contempt--"Godbless your honour's judgment, we have at Edinburgh the Water-of-Leithand the Nor-loch!"

  "And the Pow-Burn, and the Quarry-holes, and the Gusedub, ye fauseloon!" answered Master George, speaking Scotch with a strong and naturalemphasis; "it is such land-loupers as you, that, with your falset andfair fashions, bring reproach on our whole country."

  "God forgie me, sir," said Richie, much surprised at finding thesupposed southron converted into a native Scot, "I took your honour foran Englisher! But I hope there was naething wrang in standing up forane's ain country's credit in a strange land, where all men cry herdown?"

  "Do you call it for your country's credit, to show that she has a lying,puffing rascal, for one of her children?" said Master George. "But come,man, never look grave on it,--as you have found a countryman, so youhave found a friend, if you deserve one--and especially if you answer metruly."

  "I see nae gude it wad do me to speak ought else but truth," said theworthy North Briton.

  "Well, then--to begin," said Master George, "I suspect you are a son ofold Mungo Moniplies, the flesher, at the West-Port."

  "Your honour is a witch, I think," said Richie, grinning.

  "And how dared you, sir, to uphold him for a noble?"

  "I dinna ken, sir," said Richie, scratching his head; "I hear muckleof an Earl of Warwick in these southern parts,--Guy, I think his namewas,--and he has great reputation here for slaying dun cows, and boars,and such like; and I am sure my father has killed more cows and boars,not to mention bulls, calves, sheep, ewes, lambs, and pigs, than thehaill Baronage of England."

  "Go to! you are a shrewd knave," said Master George; "charm your tongue,and take care of saucy answers. Your father was an honest burgher, andthe deacon of his craft: I am sorry to see his son in so poor a coat."

  "Indifferent, sir," said Richie Moniplies, looking down on hisgarments--"very indifferent; but it is the wonted livery of poorburghers' sons in our country--one of Luckie Want's bestowing uponus--rest us patient! The king's leaving Scotland has taken all customfrae Edinburgh; and there is hay made at the Cross, and a dainty cropof fouats in the Grass-market. There is as much grass grows where myfather's stall stood, as might have been a good bite for the beasts hewas used to kill."

  "It is even too true," said Master George; "and while we make fortuneshere, our old neighbours and their families are starving at home. Thisshould be thought upon oftener.--And how came you by that broken head,Richie?--tell me honestly."

  "Troth, sir, I'se no lee about the matter," answered Moniplies. "I wascoming along the street here, and ilk ane was at me with their jests androguery. So I thought to mysell, ye are ower mony for me to mell with;but let me catch ye in Barford's Park, or at the fit of the Vennel, Icould gar some of ye sing another sang. Sae ae auld hirpling deevil ofa potter behoved just to step in my way and offer me a pig, as hesaid, just to put my Scotch ointment in, and I gave him a push, as butnatural, and the tottering deevil coupit ower amang his ain pigs, anddamaged a score of them. And then the reird raise, and hadna these twagentlemen helped me out of it, murdered I suld hae been, without remeid.And as it was, just when they got haud of my arm to have me out of thefray, I got the lick that donnerit me from a left-handed lighterman."

  Master George looked to the apprentices as if to demand the truth ofthis story.

  "It is just as he says, sir," replied Jenkin; "only I heard nothingabout pigs.--The people said he had broke some crockery, and that--I begpardon, sir--nobody could thrive within the kenning of a Scot."

  "Well, no matter what they said, you were an honest fellow to help theweaker side.--And you, sirrah," continued Master George, addressing hiscountryman, "will call at my house to-morrow morning, agreeable to thisdirection."

  "I will wait upon your honour," said the Scot, bowing very low; "thatis, if my honourable master will permit me."

  "Thy master?" said George,--"Hast thou any other master save Want, whoselivery you say you wear?"

  "Troth, in one sense, if it please your honour, I serve twa masters,"said Richie; "for both my master and me are slaves to that same beldam,whom we thought to show our heels to by coming off from Scotland. Sothat you see, sir, I hold in a sort of black ward tenure, as we call itin our country, being the servant of a servant."

  "And what is your master's name?" said Master George; and observing thatRichie hesitated, he added, "Nay, do not tell me, if it is a secret."

  "A secret that there is little use in keeping," said Richie; "only yeken that our northern stomachs are ower proud to call in witnesses toour distress. No that my master is in mair than present pinch, sir," headded, looking towards the two English apprentices, "having a large sumin the Royal Treasury--that is," he continued, in a whisper to MasterGeorge,--"the king is owing him a lot of siller; but it's ill getting atit, it's like.--My master is the young Lord Glenvarloch."

  Master George testified surprise at the name.--"_You_ one of the youngLord Glenvarloch's followers, and in such a condition?"

  "Troth, and I am all the followers he has, for the present that is; andblithe wad I be if he were muckle better aff than I am, though I were tobide as I am."

  "I have seen his father with four gentlemen and ten lackeys at hisheels," said Master George, "rustling in their laces and velvets. Well,this is a changeful world, but there is a better beyond it.--The goodold house of Glenvarloch, that stood by king and country five hundredyears!"

  "Your honour may say a thousand," said the follower.

  "I will say what I know to be true, friend," said the citizen, "and nota word more.--You seem well recovered now--can you walk?"

  "Bravely, sir," said Richie; "it was but a bit dover. I was bred at theWest-Port, and my cantle will stand a clour wad bring a stot down."

  "Where does your master lodge?"

  "We pit up, an it like your honour," replied the Scot, "in a sma' houseat the fit of ane of the wynds that gang down to the water-side, witha decent man, John Christie, a ship-chandler, as they ca't. His fathercame from Dundee. I wotna the name of the wynd, but it's right anent themickle kirk yonder; and your honour will mind, that we pass only by ourfamily-name of simple Mr. Nigel Olifaunt, as keeping ourselves retiredfor the present, though in Scotland we be called the Lord Nigel."

  "It is wisely done of your master," said the citizen. "I will findout your lodgings, tho
ugh your direction be none of the clearest."So saying, and slipping a piece of money at the same time into RichieMoniplies's hand, he bade him hasten home, and get into no more affrays.

  "I will take care of that now, sir," said Richie, with a look ofimportance, "having a charge about me. And so, wussing ye a' weel, withspecial thanks to these twa young gentlemen----"

  "I am no gentleman," said Jenkin, flinging his cap on his head; "I ama tight London 'prentice, and hope to be a freeman one day. Frank maywrite himself gentleman, if he will."

  "I _was_ a gentleman once," said Tunstall, "and I hope I have donenothing to lose the name of one."

  "Weel, weel, as ye list," said Richie Moniplies; "but I am micklebeholden to ye baith--and I am not a hair the less like to bear it inmind that I say but little about it just now.--Gude-night to you, mykind countryman." So saying, he thrust out of the sleeve of his raggeddoublet a long bony hand and arm, on which the muscles rose likewhip-cord. Master George shook it heartily, while Jenkin and Frankexchanged sly looks with each other.

  Richie Moniplies would next have addressed his thanks to the master ofthe shop, but seeing him, as he afterwards said, "scribbling on hisbit bookie, as if he were demented," he contented his politenesswith "giving him a hat," touching, that is, his bonnet, in token ofsalutation, and so left the shop.

  "Now, there goes Scotch Jockey, with all his bad and good about him,"said Master George to Master David, who suspended, though unwillingly,the calculations with which he was engaged, and keeping his pen withinan inch of the tablets, gazed on his friend with great lack-lustre eyes,which expressed any thing rather than intelligence or interest in thediscourse addressed to him.--"That fellow," proceeded Master George,without heeding his friend's state of abstraction, "shows, with greatliveliness of colouring, how our Scotch pride and poverty make liarsand braggarts of us; and yet the knave, whose every third word to anEnglishman is a boastful lie, will, I warrant you, be a true and tenderfriend and follower to his master, and has perhaps parted with hismantle to him in the cold blast, although he himself walked _in cuerpo,_as the Don says.--Strange! that courage and fidelity--for I will warrantthat the knave is stout--should have no better companion than thisswaggering braggadocio humour.--But you mark me not, friend Davie."

  "I do--I do, most heedfully," said Davie.--"For, as the sun goeth roundthe dial-plate in twenty-four hours, add, for the moon, fifty minutesand a half----"

  "You are in the seventh heavens, man," said his companion.

  "I crave your pardon," replied Davie.--"Let the wheel A go round intwenty-four hours--I have it--and the wheel B in twenty-four hours,fifty minutes and a half--fifty-seven being to fifty-four, as fifty-nineto twenty-four hours, fifty minutes and a half, or very nearly,--I craveyour forgiveness, Master George, and heartily wish you good-even."

  "Good-even?" said Master George; "why, you have not wished me good-dayyet. Come, old friend, lay by these tablets, or you will crack the innermachinery of _your_ skull, as our friend yonder has got the outer-caseof his damaged.--Good-night, quotha! I mean not to part with you soeasily. I came to get my four hours' nunchion from you, man, besides atune on the lute from my god-daughter, Mrs. Marget."

  "Good faith! I was abstracted, Master George--but you know me. WheneverI get amongst the wheels," said Mr. Ramsay, "why, 'tis----"

  "Lucky that you deal in small ones," said his friend; as, awakened fromhis reveries and calculations, Ramsay led the way up a little back-stairto the first storey, occupied by his daughter and his little household.

  The apprentices resumed their places in the front-shop, and relievedSam Porter; when Jenkin said to Tunstall--"Didst see, Frank, how the oldgoldsmith cottoned in with his beggarly countryman? When would oneof his wealth have shaken hands so courteously with a poorEnglishman?--Well, I'll say that for the best of the Scots, that theywill go over head and ears to serve a countryman, when they will notwet a nail of their finger to save a Southron, as they call us, fromdrowning. And yet Master George is but half-bred Scot neither in thatrespect; for I have known him do many a kind thing to the English too."

  "But hark ye, Jenkin," said Tunstall, "I think you are but half-bredEnglish yourself. How came you to strike on the Scotsman's side afterall?"

  "Why, you did so, too," answered Vincent.

  "Ay, because I saw you begin; and, besides, it is no Cumberland fashionto fall fifty upon one," replied Tunstall.

  "And no Christ Church fashion neither," said Jenkin. "Fair play and OldEngland for ever!--Besides, to tell you a secret, his voice had a twangin it--in the dialect I mean--reminded me of a little tongue, which Ithink sweeter--sweeter than the last toll of St. Dunstan's will sound,on the day that I am shot of my indentures--Ha!--you guess who I mean,Frank?"

  "Not I, indeed," answered Tunstall.--"Scotch Janet, I suppose, thelaundress."

  "Off with Janet in her own bucking-basket!--No, no, no!--You blindbuzzard,--do you not know I mean pretty Mrs. Marget?"

  "Umph!" answered Tunstall, dryly.

  A flash of anger, not unmingled with suspicion, shot from Jenkin's keenblack eyes.

  "Umph!--and what signifies umph? I am not the first 'prentice hasmarried his master's daughter, I suppose?"

  "They kept their own secret, I fancy," said Tunstall, "at least tillthey were out of their time."

  "I tell you what it is, Frank," answered Jenkin, sharply, "that maybe the fashion of you gentlefolks, that are taught from your biggin tocarry two faces under the same hood, but it shall never be mine."

  "There are the stairs, then," said Tunstall, coolly; "go up and ask Mrs.Marget of our master just now, and see what sort of a face he will wearunder _his_ hood."

  "No, I wonnot," answered Jenkin; "I am not such a fool as that neither.But I will take my own time; and all the Counts in Cumberland shall notcut my comb, and this is that which you may depend upon."

  Francis made no reply; and they resumed their usual attention to thebusiness of the shop, and their usual solicitations to the passengers.