"My native land, good night." Lord Byron.
In the present day, a journey from Edinburgh to London is a matter atonce safe, brief, and simple, however inexperienced or unprotected thetraveller. Numerous coaches of different rates of charge, and as manypackets, are perpetually passing and repassing betwixt the capital ofBritain and her northern sister, so that the most timid or indolent mayexecute such a journey upon a few hours' notice. But it was different in1737. So slight and infrequent was the intercourse betwixt London andEdinburgh, that men still alive remember that upon one occasion the mailfrom the former city arrived at the General Post-Office in Scotland withonly one letter in it.*
* The fact is certain. The single epistle was addressed to the principaldirector of the British Linen Company.
The usual mode of travelling was by means of post-horses, the travelleroccupying one, and his guide another, in which manner, by relays ofhorses from stage to stage, the journey might be accomplished in awonderfully short time by those who could endure fatigue. To have thebones shaken to pieces by a constant change of those hacks was a luxuryfor the rich--the poor were under the necessity of using the mode ofconveyance with which nature had provided them.
With a strong heart, and a frame patient of fatigue, Jeanie Deans,travelling at the rate of twenty miles a-day, and sometimes farther,traversed the southern part of Scotland, and advanced as far as Durham.
Hitherto she had been either among her own country-folk, or those to whomher bare feet and tartan screen were objects too familiar to attract muchattention. But as she advanced, she perceived that both circumstancesexposed her to sarcasm and taunts, which she might otherwise haveescaped; and although in her heart she thought it unkind, andinhospitable, to sneer at a passing stranger on account of the fashion ofher attire, yet she had the good sense to alter those parts of her dresswhich attracted ill-natured observation. Her chequed screen was depositedcarefully in her bundle, and she conformed to the national extravaganceof wearing shoes and stockings for the whole day. She confessedafterwards, that, "besides the wastrife, it was lang or she could walksae comfortably with the shoes as without them; but there was often a bitsaft heather by the road-side, and that helped her weel on." The want ofthe screen, which was drawn over the head like a veil, she supplied by a_bon-grace,_ as she called it; a large straw bonnet like those worn bythe English maidens when labouring in the fields. "But I thought uncoshame o' mysell," she said, "the first time I put on a married woman's_bon-grace,_ and me a single maiden."
With these changes she had little, as she said, to make "her kenspecklewhen she didna speak," but her accent and language drew down on her somany jests and gibes, couched in a worse _patois_ by far than her own,that she soon found it was her interest to talk as little and as seldomas possible. She answered, therefore, civil salutations of chancepassengers with a civil courtesy, and chose, with anxious circumspection,such places of repose as looked at once most decent and sequestered. Shefound the common people of England, although inferior in courtesy tostrangers, such as was then practised in her own more unfrequentedcountry, yet, upon the whole, by no means deficient in the real duties ofhospitality. She readily obtained food, and shelter, and protection at avery moderate rate, which sometimes the generosity of mine hostaltogether declined, with a blunt apology,--"Thee hast a long way aforethee, lass; and I'se ne'er take penny out o' a single woman's purse; it'sthe best friend thou can have on the road."
It often happened, too, that mine hostess was struck with "the tidy, niceScotch body," and procured her an escort, or a cast in a waggon, for somepart of the way, or gave her a useful advice and recommendationrespecting her resting-places.
At York our pilgrim stopped for the best part of a day, partly to recruither strength,--partly because she had the good luck to obtain a lodgingin an inn kept by a countrywoman,--partly to indite two letters to herfather and Reuben Butler; an operation of some little difficulty, herhabits being by no means those of literary composition. That to herfather was in the following words.--
"Dearest Father,--I make my present pilgrimage more heavy and burdensome,through the sad occasion to reflect that it is without your knowledge,which, God knows, was far contrary to my heart; for Scripture says, that'the vow of the daughter should not be binding without the consent of thefather,' wherein it may be I have been guilty to tak this wearie journeywithout your consent. Nevertheless, it was borne in upon my mind that Ishould be an instrument to help my poor sister in this extremity ofneedcessity, otherwise I wad not, for wealth or for world's gear, or forthe haill lands of Da'keith and Lugton, have done the like o' this,without your free will and knowledge. Oh, dear father, as ye wad desire ablessing on my journey, and upon your household, speak a word or write aline of comfort to yon poor prisoner. If she has sinned, she has sorrowedand suffered, and ye ken better than me, that we maun forgie others, aswe pray to be forgien. Dear father, forgive my saying this muckle, for itdoth not become a young head to instruct grey hairs; but I am sae farfrae ye, that my heart yearns to ye a', and fain wad I hear that ye hadforgien her trespass, and sae I nae doubt say mair than may become me.The folk here are civil, and, like the barbarians unto the holy apostle,hae shown me much kindness; and there are a sort of chosen people in theland, for they hae some kirks without organs that are like ours, and arecalled meeting-houses, where the minister preaches without a gown. Butmost of the country are prelatists, whilk is awfu' to think; and I sawtwa men that were ministers following hunds, as bauld as Roslin orDriden, the young Laird of Loup-the-dike, or ony wild gallant in Lothian.A sorrowfa' sight to behold! Oh, dear father, may a blessing be with yourdown-lying and up-rising, and remember in your prayers your affectionatedaughter to command, "Jean Deans."
A postscript bore, "I learned from a decent woman, a grazier's widow,that they hae a cure for the muir-ill in Cumberland, whilk is ane pint,as they ca't, of yill, whilk is a dribble in comparison of our gawsieScots pint, and hardly a mutchkin, boiled wi' sope and hartshorn draps,and toomed doun the creature's throat wi' ane whorn. Ye might try it onthe bauson-faced year-auld quey; an it does nae gude, it can do nae ill.--She was a kind woman, and seemed skeely about horned beasts. When Ireach Lunnon, I intend to gang to our cousin Mrs. Glass, the tobacconist,at the sign o' the Thistle, wha is so ceevil as to send you down yourspleuchan-fu' anes a year; and as she must be well kend in Lunnon, Idoubt not easily to find out where she lives."
Being seduced into betraying our heroine's confidence thus far, we willstretch our communication a step beyond, and impart to the reader herletter to her lover.
"Mr. Reuben Butler,--Hoping this will find you better, this comes to say,that I have reached this great town safe, and am not wearied withwalking, but the better for it. And I have seen many things which I trustto tell you one day, also the muckle kirk of this place; and all aroundthe city are mills, whilk havena muckle wheels nor mill-dams, but gang bythe wind--strange to behold. Ane miller asked me to gang in and see itwork, but I wad not, for I am not come to the south to make acquaintancewith strangers. I keep the straight road, and just beck if onybody speaksto me ceevilly, and answers naebody with the tong but women of my ainsect. I wish, Mr. Butler, I kend onything that wad mak ye weel, for theyhae mair medicines in this town of York than wad cure a' Scotland, andsurely some of them wad be gude for your complaints. If ye had a kindlymotherly body to nurse ye, and no to let ye waste yoursell wi'reading--whilk ye read mair than eneugh wi' the bairns in theschule--and to gie ye warm milk in the morning, I wad be mair easy forye. Dear Mr. Butler, keep a good heart, for we are in the hands of Anethat kens better what is gude for us than we ken what is for oursells. Ihae nae doubt to do that for which I am come--I canna doubt it--I winnathink to doubt it--because, if I haena full assurance, how shall I bearmyself with earnest entreaties in the great folk's presence? But to kenthat ane's purpose is right, and to make their heart strong, is the wayto get through the warst
day's darg. The bairns' rime says, the warstblast of the borrowing days* couldna kill the three silly poor hog-lams.
* The last three days of March, old style, are called the Borrowing Days;for, as they are remarked to be unusually stormy, it is feigned thatMarch had borrowed them from April, to extend the sphere of his roughersway. The rhyme on the subject is quoted in the glossary to Leyden'sedition of the "Complaynt of Scotland"--
[March said to Aperill, I see three hogs upon a hill, A young sheep before it has lost its first fleece. But when the borrowed days were gane The three silly hogs came hirplin hame.]
"And if it be God's pleasure, we that are sindered in sorrow may meetagain in joy, even on this hither side of Jordan. I dinna bid ye mindwhat I said at our partin' anent my poor father, and that misfortunatelassie, for I ken you will do sae for the sake of Christian charity,whilk is mair than the entreaties of her that is your servant to command,
"Jeanie Deans."
This letter also had a postscript. "Dear Reuben, If ye think that it wadhae been right for me to have said mair and kinder things to ye, justthink that I hae written sae, since I am sure that I wish a' that is kindand right to ye and by ye. Ye will think I am turned waster, for I wearclean hose and shoon every day; but it's the fashion here for decentbodies and ilka land has it's ain landlaw. Ower and aboon a', if laughingdays were e'er to come back again till us, ye wad laugh weel to see myround face at the far end of a strae _bon-grace,_ that looks as muckleand round as the middell aisle in Libberton Kirk. But it sheds the sunweel aff, and keeps uncivil folk frae staring as if ane were a worrycow.I sall tell ye by writ how I come on wi' the Duke of Argyle, when I wonup to Lunnon. Direct a line, to say how ye are, to me, to the charge ofMrs. Margaret Glass, tobacconist, at the sign of the Thistle, Lunnon,whilk, if it assures me of your health, will make my mind sae muckleeasier. Excuse bad spelling and writing, as I have ane ill pen."
The orthography of these epistles may seem to the southron to require abetter apology than the letter expresses, though a bad pen was the excuseof a certain Galwegian laird for bad spelling; but, on behalf of theheroine, I would have them to know, that, thanks to the care of Butler,Jeanie Deans wrote and spelled fifty times better than half the women ofrank in Scotland at that period, whose strange orthography and singulardiction form the strongest contrast to the good sense which theircorrespondence usually intimates.
For the rest, in the tenor of these epistles, Jeanie expressed, perhaps,more hopes, a firmer courage, and better spirits, than she actually felt.But this was with the amiable idea of relieving her father and lover fromapprehensions on her account, which she was sensible must greatly add totheir other troubles. "If they think me weel, and like to do weel," saidthe poor pilgrim to herself, "my father will be kinder to Effie, andButler will be kinder to himself. For I ken weel that they will thinkmair o' me than I do o' mysell."
Accordingly, she sealed her letters carefully, and put them into thepost-office with her own hand, after many inquiries concerning the timein which they were likely to reach Edinburgh. When this duty wasperformed, she readily accepted her landlady's pressing invitation todine with her, and remain till the next morning. The hostess, as we havesaid, was her countrywoman, and the eagerness with which Scottish peoplemeet, communicate, and, to the extent of their power, assist each other,although it is often objected to us as a prejudice and narrowness ofsentiment, seems, on the contrary, to arise from a most justifiable andhonourable feeling of patriotism, combined with a conviction, which, ifundeserved, would long since have been confuted by experience, that thehabits and principles of the nation are a sort of guarantee for thecharacter of the individual. At any rate, if the extensive influence ofthis national partiality be considered as an additional tie, binding manto man, and calling forth the good offices of such as can render them tothe countryman who happens to need them, we think it must be found toexceed, as an active and efficient motive, to generosity, that moreimpartial and wider principle of general benevolence, which we havesometimes seen pleaded as an excuse for assisting no individual whatever.
Mrs. Bickerton, lady of the ascendant of the Seven Stars, in theCastle-gate, York, was deeply infected with the unfortunate prejudices ofher country. Indeed, she displayed so much kindness to Jeanie Deans(because she herself, being a Merse woman, _marched_ with Mid-Lothian, inwhich Jeanie was born), showed such motherly regard to her, and suchanxiety for her farther progress, that Jeanie thought herself safe,though by temper sufficiently cautious, in communicating her whole storyto her.
Mrs. Bickerton raised her hands and eyes at the recital, and exhibitedmuch wonder and pity. But she also gave some effectual good advice.
She required to know the strength of Jeanie's purse, reduced by herdeposit at Liberton, and the necessary expense of her journey, to aboutfifteen pounds. "This," she said, "would do very well, providing shewould carry it a' safe to London."
"Safe!" answered Jeanie; "I'se warrant my carrying it safe, bating theneedful expenses."
"Ay, but highwaymen, lassie," said Mrs. Bickerton; "for ye are come intoa more civilised, that is to say, a more roguish country than the north,and how ye are to get forward, I do not profess to know. If ye could waithere eight days, our waggons would go up, and I would recommend you toJoe Broadwheel, who would see you safe to the Swan and two Necks. Anddinna sneeze at Joe, if he should be for drawing up wi' you" (continuedMrs. Bickerton, her acquired English mingling with her national ororiginal dialect), "he's a handy boy, and a wanter, and no lad betterthought o' on the road; and the English make good husbands enough,witness my poor man, Moses Bickerton, as is i' the kirkyard."
Jeanie hastened to say, that she could not possibly wait for the settingforth of Joe Broadwheel; being internally by no means gratified with theidea of becoming the object of his attention during the journey,
"Aweel, lass," answered the good landlady, "then thou must pickle inthine ain poke-nook, and buckle thy girdle thine ain gate. But take myadvice, and hide thy gold in thy stays, and keep a piece or two and somesilver, in case thou be'st spoke withal; for there's as wud lads hauntwithin a day's walk from hence, as on the braes of Doune in Perthshire.And, lass, thou maunna gang staring through Lunnon, asking wha kens Mrs.Glass at the sign o' the Thistle; marry, they would laugh thee to scorn.But gang thou to this honest man," and she put a direction into Jeanie'shand, "he kens maist part of the sponsible Scottish folk in the city, andhe will find out your friend for thee."
Jeanie took the little introductory letter with sincere thanks; but,something alarmed on the subject of the highway robbers, her mindrecurred to what Ratcliffe had mentioned to her, and briefly relating thecircumstances which placed a document so extraordinary in her hands, sheput the paper he had given her into the hand of Mrs. Bickerton.
The Lady of the Seven Stars did not indeed ring a bell, because such wasnot the fashion of the time, but she whistled on a silver call, which washung by her side, and a tight serving-maid entered the room.
"Tell Dick Ostler to come here," said Mrs. Bickerton.
Dick Ostler accordingly made his appearance;--a queer, knowing, shamblinganimal, with a hatchet-face, a squint, a game-arm, and a limp.
"Dick Ostler," said Mrs. Bickerton, in a tone of authority that showedshe was (at least by adoption) Yorkshire too, "thou knowest most peopleand most things o' the road."
"Eye, eye, God help me, mistress," said Dick, shrugging his shouldersbetwixt a repentant and a knowing expression--"Eye! I ha' know'd a thingor twa i' ma day, mistress." He looked sharp and laughed--looked graveand sighed, as one who was prepared to take the matter either way.
"Kenst thou this wee bit paper amang the rest, man?" said Mrs. Bickerton,handing him the protection which Ratcliffe had given Jeanie Deans.
When Dick had looked at the paper, he winked with one eye, extended hisgrotesque mouth from ear to ear, like a navigable canal, scratched h
ishead powerfully, and then said, "Ken!--ay--maybe we ken summat, an itwerena for harm to him, mistress!"
"None in the world," said Mrs. Bickerton; "only a dram of Hollands tothyself, man, an thou wilt speak."
"Why, then," said Dick, giving the head-band of his breeches a knowinghoist with one hand, and kicking out one foot behind him to accommodatethe adjustment of that important habiliment, "I dares to say the passwill be kend weel eneugh on the road, an that be all."
"But what sort of a lad was he?" said Mrs. Bickerton, winking to Jeanie,as proud of her knowing Ostler.
"Why, what ken I?--Jim the Rat--why he was Cock o' the North within thistwelmonth--he and Scotch Wilson, Handle Dandie, as they called him--buthe's been out o' this country a while, as I rackon; but ony gentleman, askeeps the road o' this side Stamford, will respect Jim's pass."
Without asking farther questions, the landlady filled Dick Ostler abumper of Hollands. He ducked with his head and shoulders, scraped withhis more advanced hoof, bolted the alcohol, to use the learned phrase,and withdrew to his own domains.
"I would advise thee, Jeanie," said Mrs. Bickerton, "an thou meetest withugly customers o' the road, to show them this bit paper, for it willserve thee, assure thyself."
A neat little supper concluded the evening. The exported Scotswoman, Mrs.Bickerton by name, ate heartily of one or two seasoned dishes, drank somesound old ale, and a glass of stiff negus; while she gave Jeanie ahistory of her gout, admiring how it was possible that she, whose fathersand mothers for many generations had been farmers in Lammermuir, couldhave come by a disorder so totally unknown to them. Jeanie did not chooseto offend her friendly landlady, by speaking her mind on the probableorigin of this complaint; but she thought on the flesh-pots of Egypt,and, in spite of all entreaties to better fare, made her evening mealupon vegetables, with a glass of fair water.
Mrs. Bickerton assured her, that the acceptance of any reckoning wasentirely out of the question, furnished her with credentials to hercorrespondent in London, and to several inns upon the road where she hadsome influence or interest, reminded her of the precautions she shouldadopt for concealing her money, and as she was to depart early in themorning, took leave of her very affectionately, taking her word that shewould visit her on her return to Scotland, and tell her how she hadmanaged, and that summum bonum for a gossip, "all how and about it." ThisJeanie faithfully promised.