Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume XI Part 2

All my efforts were o' no avail. I could get him to learn nothing, and to comprehend nothing. Often I had half made up my mind to turn him awa from the school, for I saw that I never would have any credit by the blockhead. But what was most annoying was, that here was his mother at me, every hand-awhile, saying--

"Mr Grierson, I'm really surprised at ye. My son John is not coming on ava. I really wush ye wad tak mair pains wi' him. It is an unco thing to be paying you guid money, and the laddie to be getting nae guid for it. I wad hae ye to understand that his faither doesna make his money sae easily--no by sitting on a seat, or walking up and down a room--as ye do. There's such-a-ane's son awa into the Latin, nae less, I understand, and my John no out o' the Testament. But, depend upon it, Mr Grierson, if ye dinna try to do something wi' him, I maun tak him awa frae your school, and that is the short and the lang o't."

"Do sae, ma'am," said I, "and I'll thank ye. Mercy me! it's a bonny thing, indeed--do ye suppose that I had the makin o' your son? If Nature has formed his head out o' a whinstane, can I transform it into marble? Your son would try the patience o' Job--his head is thicker than a door-post. I can mak naething o' him. I would sooner teach a hundred than be troubled wi' him."

"Hundred here, hundred there!" said she, in a tift; "but it's a hard matter, Mr Grierson, for his faither and me to be payin ye money for naething; and if ye dinna try to mak something o' him, I'll tak him frae your school, and that will be baith seen and heard tell o'!"

So saying, away she would drive, tossing her head wi' the airs o' my lady. Ye canna conceive, sir, what a teacher has to put up wi'.

Thomson says--

"Delightful task, To teach the young idea how to shoot!"

I wish to goodness he had tried it, and a month's specimen o' its _delights_ would have surfeited him, and instead o' what he has written, he would have said--

"Degrading thought, To be each snivelling blockhead's parent's slave!"

Now, ye'll remember that Jock was perpetually sniftering and gaping wi' his mouth, or even sucking his thumb like an idiot. There was nae keeping the animal cleanly, much less instructing him; and then, if he had the book in his hand, there he sat staring owre it, wi' a look as vacant and stupid as a tortoise. Or, if he had the slate before him, there was he drawing scores on't, or amusing himsel wi' twirling and twisting the pencil in the string through the frame. Never had I such a lump o' stupidity within the walls o' my school.

After his leaving me, he was put as an apprentice to a bookseller. I thought, of all the callings under the sun, that which had been chosen for him was the least suited to a person o' his capacity. But--would ye believe it, sir?--Jock surprised us a'. He fairly turned the corner on a' my calculations. When he began to look after the la.s.sies, he also began to "smart up." He came to my night-school when he would be about eighteen, and I was perfectly astonished at the change that had taken place, even in the appearance o' the callant. His very nose, which had always been so stuffed and thick like, was now an ornament to his face. He had become altogether a lively, fine-looking lad; and, more marvellous still, his whole heart's desire seemed to be to learn; and he did learn with a rapidity that both astonished and delighted me. I actually thought the instructions which I had endeavoured to instil into him for years, and apparently without effect, had been lying dormant, as it were, in the chambers o' his brain, like a cuckoo in winter--that they had been sealed up as fast as I imparted them, by some cause that I did not comprehend, and that now they had got vent, and were issuing out in rapid and vigorous strength, like a person refreshed after a sleep.

After he had been two years at the night-school, so far from considering him a dunce, I regarded him as an amazingly clever lad.

From the instance I had had in him, I began to perceive that precocity o' intellect was nae proof o' its power. Well, shortly after the time I am speaking o', he left Annan for Glasgow, and after being a year or twa there, he commenced business upon his own account. I may safely say, that never man was more fortunate. But, as his means increased, he did not confine himself to the business in which he had been brought up, but he became an extensive s.h.i.+powner; he also became a partner in a cotton-mill concern. He was elected a member of the town council, and was distinguished as a leading member and orator of the guild. Eventually, he rose to be one of the city magistrates. He is now also an extensive landed proprietor; and I even hear it affirmed, that it is in contemplation to put him in nomination for some place or other at the next election. Such things happen, doctor--and wha would hae thocht it o' Jack the dunse?

Now, sir (added the dominie), so far as I have been able, I have given you the history o' your schoolfellows. Concerning you, doctor, I have known less and heard less than o' ony o' them. You being so far awa, and so long awa, and your immediate relations about here being dead, so that ye have dropped correspondence, I have heard nothing concerning ye; and I have often been sorry on that account; for, believe me, doctor (here the doctor pushed the bottle to him, and the old man, helping himself to another gla.s.s, and drinking it, again continued)--I say, believe me, doctor, that I never had twa scholars under my care, o' whose talents I had greater opinion than o' Solitary Sandy and yoursel; and it has often vexed me that I could hear naething concerning ye, or whether ye were dead or living. Now, sir, if ye'll favour me wi' an account o' your history, from the time o'

your going out to India, your auld dominie will be obliged to ye; for I like to hear concerning ye a', as though ye had been my ain bairns.

"There is little of interest in my history, sir," said the doctor; "but, as far as there is any, your wish shall be gratified." And he proceeded as is hereafter written.

THE DOCTOR'S STORY.

"In your history, sir, of Venturesome Jamie, which you are unable to finish, you mentioned the rivalry that existed between him and me, for the affections o' bonny Katie Alison. James was a n.o.ble fellow. I am not ashamed that I had such a rival. In our youth I esteemed him while I hated him. But, sir, I do not remember the time when Katie Alison was not as a dream in my heart--when I did not tremble at her touch.

Even when we pulled the gowans and cowslips together, though there had been twenty present, it was for Katie that I pulled mine. When we plaited the rushes, I did it for her. She preferred me to Jamie, and I knew it. When I left your school, and when I proceeded to India, I did not forget her. But, as you said, men go there to make money--so did I. My friends laughed at my boyish fancy--they endeavoured to make me ashamed of it. I became smitten with the eastern disease of fortune-making, and, though I did not forget her, I neglected her.

But, sir, to drop this: I was not twenty-one when I arrived in Bombay; nor had I been long there till I was appointed physician to several Pa.r.s.ee families of great wealth. With but little effort, fortune opened before me. I performed a few surgical operations of considerable difficulty, with success. In several desperate cases I effected cures, and my name was spread not only through the city, but throughout the island. The riches I went to seek I found. But even then, sir, my heart would turn to your school, and to the happy hours I had spent by the side of bonny Katie Alison.

However, it would be of no interest to enter into the details of my monotonous life. I shall dwell only upon one incident, which is, of all others, the most remarkable that ever occurred to me, and which took place about six years after my arrival in India. I was in my carriage, and accompanying the remains of a patient to the burial ground--for you know that doctors cannot cure, when death is determined to have its way. The burial ground lies about three miles from Bombay, across an extensive and beautiful plain, and the road to it is by a sort of avenue, lined and shaded on each side by cocoa-nut-trees, which spread their branches over the path, and distil their cooling juice into the cups which the Hindoos have placed around them to receive it. You can form but a faint conception of the clear azure of an Indian sky, and never had I seen it more beautiful than on the day to which I refer, though some of the weather-prophets about Bombay were predicting a storm.

We were about the middle of the avenue I have described, when we overtook the funeral of an officer who had held a commission in a corps of Sepoys. The coffin was carried upon the shoulders of four soldiers; before it marched the Sepoys, and behind it, seated in a palanquin, borne by four Hindoos, came the widow of the deceased. A large black veil thrown over her head, almost enveloped her person.

Her head was bent upon her bosom, and she seemed to weep bitterly. We followed behind them to the burial-place; but, before the service was half concluded, the heavens overcast, and a storm, such as I had never witnessed, burst over our heads, and hurled its fury upon the graves.

The rain poured down in a fierce and impetuous torrent--but you know not, in this country, what a torrent of rain is. The thunder seemed tearing heaven in twain. It rolled, reverbed, and pealed, and rattled with its tremendous voice over the graves of the dead, as though it were the outbursting of eternity--the first blast of the archangel's trumpet announcing the coming judgment! The incessant lightnings flashed through the air, like spirits winged with flame, and awakening the dead.

The Sepoys fled in terror, and hastened to the city, to escape the terrible fury of the storm. Even those who had accompanied my friend's body fled with them, before the earth was covered over the dead that they had followed to the grave. But still, by the side of the officer's grave, and unmindful of the storm, stood his poor widow. She refused to leave the spot till the last sod was placed upon her husband's bosom. My heart bled for her. Within three yards from her stood a veteran English serjeant, who, with the Hindoos that bore her palanquin, were all that remained in the burial-place.

Common humanity prompted me to offer her a place in my carriage back to the city. I inquired of the serjeant who the deceased was. He informed me that he was a young Scotch officer--that his marriage had offended his friends--that they had denounced him in consequence--that he had enlisted--and that the officers of the regiment which he had first joined, had procured him an ensigncy in a corps of Sepoys, but that he had died, leaving the young widow who wept over his grave, a stranger in a strange land. And, added the serjeant, "a braver fellow never set foot upon the ground."

When the last sod had been placed upon the grave, I approached the young widow. I respectfully offered to convey her and the serjeant to the city in my carriage, as the violence of the storm increased.

At my voice she started--she uttered a suppressed scream--she raised her head--she withdrew her handkerchief from her eyes!--I beheld her features!--and, gracious Heaven!--whom, sir!--whom--whom did I see, but my own Katie Alison!

"Doctor!--doctor!" exclaimed the old dominie, starting from his seat, "what do I hear?"

"I cannot describe to you," continued the other, "the tumultuous joy, combined with agony, the indescribable feelings of that moment. We stood--we gasped--we gazed upon each other; neither of us spoke. I took her hand--I led her to the carriage--I conveyed her to the city."

"And, oh doctor, what then?" inquired the dominie.

"Why, sir," said the doctor, "many days pa.s.sed--many words were spoken--mutual tears were shed for Jamie Johnstone--and bonny Katie Alison, the la.s.sie of my first love, became my wife, and is the mother of my children. She will be here in a few days, and will see her old dominie."

THE CONTRAST OF WIVES.[B]

In the absence of that finely-adjusted balance of power which ought to be found in the state of marriage, it becomes a nice question, whether less evil results from an overstretched domination on the part of the husband, or from his due submission or subjugation to an authority exercised by her, and carried farther than is generally deemed consistent with the delicacy of her s.e.x, or the situation in which she is placed. Connected with this question is that which comprises the comparative evil arising from a superabundance or deficiency of the intellectual powers of the wife. We are too well aware of the uselessness, as well as the impracticability, of solving such speculative questions, to say a single word on either side of the vexed argument to which they have given rise; but we will be within our province, and probably not beyond the wishes of our readers, if we lay before them a _case of real life_, involving a solution of the question in one exemplary instance, where the "grey mare" is not only found to be the "better horse," but where, by her powers of judicious leading, she saves not only herself but her partner from the dangers of a rough road and a precipitous course. In those good days of old Scotland, when the corporation hall formed the theatre wherein was enacted the great play (comedy, if you please) of "Burgh Ambition,"

the influence of petticoat power extended its secret workings behind the green curtain, and often regulated all the actions of the performers in a manner which was not only totally concealed from the spectators, but even from the moving puppets themselves. In one instance--that to which we have referred--this secret authority transpired, and in a manner so ludicrous that it deserves to be recorded. The incorporation of Dyers and Scourers of P---- (at the time of which we speak a considerable fraternity) had a deacon and boxmaster; the former named Murdoch Waldie, and the latter Andrew Todd. Their names still figure in the old books of the corporation, if these are not gone astray; and there is, or was, an entry in these same books, connected with the reign of the two worthies, which, ill.u.s.trative and probative as it is of our story, we shall have occasion to lay before our readers. Well, to proceed in historical order, the worthy boxmaster had been married for a number of years. He might be about fifty years of age, was of small stature, very bland and affable in his manners, of an easy disposition, but, withal, as ambitious of fame as any of the aspirants for office in his corporation. Endowed by nature with very inadequate powers of judgment, he experienced no want of the powers of speech, which was as fluent as a shallow mind could make it; and he had, besides, a species of humour about him, which owed its existence rather to the simplicity and _bonhommie_ of his nature, than to the more ordinary source of a perception of the ludicrous. As almost every want is remedied by some equipollent surrogation which strangely often supplies its place, Andrew Todd was _sensible_ of his want of mental powers; and thus he exhibited that sense of a _want of sense_, which is often more valuable than sense itself, in so far as the modesty with which it is accompanied leads the individual to seek the a.s.sistance of good advisers, by which he sometimes surpa.s.ses, in the race of life, conceited wiseacres. We do not say that he married Mrs Jean Todd merely because he saw she was endowed with greater powers than himself; but it is certain that, after he came to appreciate the extent of her understanding, he had the prudence to take every advantage of her excellent sense and judgment, as well in the private affairs of his business, as in the public concerns of the corporation treasurers.h.i.+p, with which he came, by her means, to be invested. This was not only advantageous to his pecuniary interests, but congenial to his feelings, as, getting quit, in this way, of the trouble of thinking--a most laborious operation to him, and generally very ill executed, if not altogether bungled--he was left at liberty to indulge his speech and humour; two powers which had nothing more to do with judgment or even common sense, than with the sublimated spirit of genius itself.

His wife, Mrs Jean, was, as partly hinted, the very opposite of her husband. She was a large, stout, gaucy woman, at least twice as big as her mate. She had been, early in life, considerably pitted with the small-pox, enough of the traces of which were still left to give her that st.u.r.dy, hardy aspect they generally impart; while a strong and somewhat rough voice, agreeing well with her other attributes, gave her ideas and sentiments an apparent breadth and weight, which, added to their own sterling qualities, could not fail to produce a considerable effect even on men of strong minds, and to give her a decided advantage over her s.e.x. Her original powers of mind were strengthened by reading--an occupation in which, as it required silence, her husband very seldom engaged; and, what few women are able to accomplish, she never allowed this favourite habit to interfere with the regulation of her domestic economy, or of the actions of her husband. Bold and masculine, however, as she was, she was a kind-hearted woman; and, having no family to her husband, she was a warm friend, a ready adviser to all her female acquaintances, and a charitable giver to those who, after a strict and very stern investigation, she thought worthy of her a.s.sistance.

The deacon of the incorporation again, Murdoch Waldie, was a man of a very different cast from the boxmaster. He was a person of considerable parts; but his conceit, which led him to conceive himself cleverer than nature had made him, produced often all the consequences which result from a deficiency of mental parts. Proud and domineering, he loved to rule his corporation with dignity and authority; while his love of official show and domestic parade rendered him extravagant, and made him poor, notwithstanding of a good trade, which he carried on with great success. In his choice of a wife, there might have been perceived the tendency of his peculiar disposition; for he married a beauty, who qualified his love of authority by an affected softness, gentleness, and meekness, and his self-conceit, by showing herself inferior to him in understanding, as indeed she was, though she excelled him in another quality, which more than supplied its place.

What with his business, his deacons.h.i.+p, his chain, his gold-headed cane, and his fair wife, dressed in the gaudy colours of his own dyeing, Deacon Waldie was an important personage in those times, when to be high in a corporation was to be in the enjoyment of the truest elevation to which human nature, in this world, could aspire.

Vain, showy, gaudy, and frivolous, Mrs Deacon Waldie held the same position to Mrs Todd that the boxmaster did to her husband. She had no sense or power to rule her lord, who, indeed, would not have submitted to female authority; but she had what Mrs Todd wanted, and what served her purpose equally well, and that was cunning--the signal quality of small, weak minds, and the very curse of the whole race of man and woman. This insidious power enabled her to detect her husband's failings, as well as to profit by them--and hence her affectation of total subjugation to his high will and authority, and her tame system of according and a.s.senting to everything he said or did, whether right or wrong. But in all this her selfish cunning had a part; because, while she pretended to love him, and dote on him and prize him beyond all mortals, her adulation, her blandishments, and submission were accompanied or followed always by _pet.i.tions_. She contrived to have hardihood enough to make the most unreasonable requests, and to show that she was too sensitive, too fragile, and too weak, to bear a refusal. If her suit was rejected, she flung herself upon the haughty deacon's bosom, and sobbed; and what deacon could withstand the appeal of beauty in tears? The sight was the very personification of the triumph of his pride and dignity. The chain of his official authority, and the arms of a praying, supplicating, weeping wife, hanging at the same time around his proud neck, were the very counterparts of each other. His love of subjugation bent, as it often does, his own head; and cunning enjoyed its greatest triumph in overcoming one, by turning his own weapons against himself.

The contrast which we have thus exhibited between these two couples, is that of real everyday life. The characters of too many married parties partake, more or less, of the qualities possessed by those we have now mentioned; but how strangely do apparent contrasts often meet in grotesque resemblances? Mrs Todd ruled her husband, and he knew it; but Mrs Waldie ruled her husband, and he was ignorant of it: while the one followed her occupation for her own and her husband's good, the other was bent (unconsciously, it may be) on her own and her husband's ruin.

These two couples were on the most intimate terms--the circ.u.mstance of the two husbands being office-bearers of the same corporation having increased an intimacy which had been of considerable duration. But there was little respect felt for her showy friends on the part of the wife of the minor official, who probably saw that their extravagance was fast driving them to ruin. This foresight was soon verified. The demands of Mrs Deacon Waldie were not limited to her own wants and wishes--they were extended to those of her friends. Her father, trusting to the reputation of her husband's deacons.h.i.+p, had occasion for his security to the extent of 200; and she was fixed upon as the instrument to wring, by her usual artifice, out of her proud lord and master, not only his own name to the bond, but also that of some of his friends, to be procured through his means and intercession. She had, for a considerable time, been occupied zealously in endeavouring to accomplish her object--bringing into contrast her husband's proud domination, and her innocent and interesting weakness and timidity, and showing, as she hung round his neck, her helplessness and insignificance, at the very moment when she was exercising more power than ever was arrogated by the boxmaster's wife in all her female tyranny. She succeeded in her scheme, and Waldie consented--but only as a king grants the prayer of a pet.i.tion--not only to give his own name to the bill, but to endeavour to get that of Mr Andrew Todd.

Tears of thankfulness, and a full acknowledgment of his great power over her, was the reward offered and granted for this great condescension and unparalleled favour. But it was more easy for Mrs Waldie to ask, and give thanks and tears, and for her husband to vouchsafe his own name as cautioner, than for him to get out of the clutches of Mrs Jean Todd the consent of her husband. The deacon knew how his brother-official was ruled by his wife, and l.u.s.tily despised the white-livered caitiff for his pusillanimity.

"I canna promise, Mrs Deacon Waldie," said he to his wife, according to the fas.h.i.+on of address that suited his dignity--"I canna promise to get the boxmaster to gie his name to yer faither's bond. He's sae completely, puir cratur! under the power and direction o' a woman, that he daurna tak sae muckle liberty wi' his ain. The woman brocht him naething when he married her, but the iron rod o' authority by which she rules him; and yet, strange to say, he seems to like her the better for a' the stern dominion she exercises owre him."

"That's a fault, I'm sure, ye canna charge me wi'," replied his wife.

"No, Margaret," said the deacon; "you dare not presume to dictate to me; and, to do you justice, you never attempted it; but I began ye fair. I showed you at first the proper conduct o' a husband towards his wife--firm but kind; and the duty o' a wife towards a husband--obedient and loving; and it was weel that you had the sense to understand me, and the good-nature to comply wi' my wishes; for, if I had seen the least glimpse o' an inclination to rule me or force me into yer measures, there wad sune hae been rebellion in the house o'

Deacon Waldie. The consequences o' a wife's domination are weel exemplified in the case o' that contemptible man whase a.s.sistance we now require. He daurna a.s.sist a freend. His wife is cash-keeper, conscience-keeper, housekeeper, and, by and by, she may be box-keeper, to the entire disgrace o' oor trade, wha, though they live by women (for men never employ dyers), wouldna relish to acknowledge the authority o' a female boxmaster. When a man resigns himsel to the authority o' a wife, he is dune for a' guid to himsel as weel as his neebors."

"Ye canna, my dear Murdoch," said the soft wife, "look upon a tame husband, wha submits to the rule o' a wife, wi' mair contemp and ill favour than I do upon the virago wha presumes to reverse the order o'

nature, and wrest the authority frae the lord o' the creation."

"You gie a fine turn to the sentiment, Margaret," replied the gratified deacon. "I am anxious (but it is my ain free will) to do yer faither this service; and I will try, for ance, if I canna fecht Mrs Jean Todd wi' her ain weapons. The boxmaster's no dead to shame; and surety, if there's ony power on earth whereby the blush can be brought to the face o' man, it's the power o' being in a condition to tell him to that very face he is _henpecked_. The very word has a spur and a neb in't to rouse him to the vindication o' the rights o' man. I was aye afraid o't; and, G.o.d be thanked! I hae escaped even the very chance o' its application to me."

"You forgot, my love, that you hae also _me_ to thank for that happiness," said the wife.

"No, it is mysel, it is mysel," cried the proud lord of his own household. "It lies in my native sense o' the rights o' our superior s.e.x, and my firmness o' purpose in keepin the reins ticht upon ye. You hae only the merit o' no rebellin; but even your rebellion I would hae sune laid."

"I fancy, then," said Mrs Waldie, gently, "it will be your intention and pleasure to see the boxmaster immediately."

"No, Mrs Waldie," replied the deacon, a little touched; "not _immediately_, but by and by."