It was now very cloudy, although the stars from time to time shed
a twinkling and uncertain light. Hitherto nothing had broken the
silence around him but the deep cry of the bog-blitter, or bull-
of-the-bog, a large species of bittern, and the sighs of the wind
as it passed along the dreary morass. To these was now joined the
distant roar of the ocean, towards which the traveller seemed to
be fast approaching. This was no circumstance to make his mind
easy. Many of the roads in that country lay along the sea-beach,
and were liable to be flooded by the tides, which rise with great
height, and advance with extreme rapidity. Others were intersected
with creeks and small inlets, which it was only safe to pass at
particular times of the tide. Neither circumstance would have
suited a dark night, a fatigued horse, and a traveller ignorant of
his road. Mannering resolved, therefore, definitively to halt for
the night at the first inhabited place, however poor, he might
chance to reach, unless he could procure a guide to this unlucky
village of Kippletringan.

A miserable hut gave him an opportunity to execute his purpose. He
found out the door with no small difficulty, and for some time
knocked without producing any other answer than a duet between a
female and a cur-dog, the latter yelping as if he would have
barked his heart out, the other screaming in chorus. By degrees
the human tones predominated; but the angry bark of the cur being
at the instant changed into a howl, it is probable something more
than fair strength of lungs had contributed to the ascendency.

'Sorrow be in your thrapple then!' these were the first articulate
words, 'will ye no let me hear what the man wants, wi' your
yaffing?'

'Am I far from Kippletringan, good dame?'

'Frae Kippletringan!!!' in an exalted tone of wonder, which we can
but faintly express by three points of admiration. 'Ow, man! ye
should hae hadden eassel to Kippletringan; ye maun gae back as far
as the whaap, and baud the whaap till ye come to Ballenloan, and
then--'

'This will never do, good dame! my horse is almost quite knocked
up; can you not give me a night's lodgings?'

'Troth can I no; I am a lone woman, for James he's awa to
Drumshourloch Fair with the year-aulds, and I daurna for my life
open the door to ony o' your gang-there-out sort o' bodies.'

'But what must I do then, good dame? for I can't sleep here upon
the road all night.'

'Troth, I kenna, unless ye like to gae down and speer for quarters
at the Place. I'se warrant they'll tak ye in, whether ye be gentle
or semple.'

'Simple enough, to be wandering here at such a time of night,'
thought Mannering, who was ignorant of the meaning of the phrase;
'but how shall I get to the PLACE, as you call it?'

'Ye maun baud wessel by the end o' the loan, and take tent o' the
jaw-hole.'

'O, if ye get to eassel and wessel again, I am undone! Is there
nobody that could guide me to this Place? I will pay him
handsomely.'

The word pay operated like magic. 'Jock, ye villain,' exclaimed
the voice from the interior, 'are ye lying routing there, and a
young gentleman seeking the way to the Place? Get up, ye fause
loon, and show him the way down the muckle loaning. He'll show you
the way, sir, and I'se warrant ye'll be weel put up; for they
never turn awa naebody frae the door; and ye'll be come in the
canny moment, I'm thinking, for the laird's servant--that's no to
say his body-servant, but the helper like--rade express by this
e'en to fetch the houdie, and he just staid the drinking o' twa
pints o' tippenny to tell us how my leddy was ta'en wi' her
pains.'

'Perhaps,' said Mannering, 'at such a time a stranger's arrival
might be inconvenient?'

'Hout, na, ye needna be blate about that; their house is muckle
eneugh, and decking time's aye canty time.'

By this time Jock had found his way into all the intricacies of a
tattered doublet and more tattered pair of breeches, and sallied
forth, a great white-headed, bare-legged, lubberly boy of twelve
years old, so exhibited by the glimpse of a rush-light which his
half-naked mother held in such a manner as to get a peep at the
stranger without greatly exposing herself to view in return. Jock
moved on westward by the end of the house, leading Mannering's
horse by the bridle, and piloting with some dexterity along the
little path which bordered the formidable jaw-hole, whose vicinity
the stranger was made sensible of by means of more organs than
one. His guide then dragged the weary hack along a broken and
stony cart-track, next over a ploughed field, then broke down a
slap, as he called it, in a drystone fence, and lugged the
unresisting animal through the breach, about a rood of the simple
masonry giving way in the splutter with which he passed. Finally,
he led the way through a wicket into something which had still the
air of an avenue, though many of the trees were felled. The roar
of the ocean was now near and full, and the moon, which began to
make her appearance, gleamed on a turreted and apparently a ruined
mansion of considerable extent. Mannering fixed his eyes upon it
with a disconsolate sensation.

'Why, my little fellow,' he said, 'this is a ruin, not a house?'

'Ah, but the lairds lived there langsyne; that's Ellangowan Auld
Place. There's a hantle bogles about it; but ye needna be feared,
I never saw ony mysell, and we're just at the door o' the New
Place.'

Accordingly, leaving the ruins on the right, a few steps brought
the traveller in front of a modern house of moderate size, at
which his guide rapped with great importance. Mannering told his
circumstances to the servant; and the gentleman of the house, who
heard his tale from the parlour, stepped forward and welcomed the
stranger hospitably to Ellangowan. The boy, made happy with half-
a-crown, was dismissed to his cottage, the weary horse was
conducted to a stall, and Mannering found himself in a few minutes
seated by a comfortable supper, for which his cold ride gave him a
hearty appetite.




CHAPTER II

     Comes me cranking in,
     And cuts me from the best of all my land
     A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle, out

          Henry IV, Part 1.


The company in the parlour at Ellangowan consisted of the Laird
and a sort of person who might be the village schoolmaster, or
perhaps the minister's assistant; his appearance was too shabby to
indicate the minister, considering he was on a visit to the Laird.

The Laird himself was one of those second-rate sort of persons
that are to be found frequently in rural situations. Fielding has
described one class as feras consumere nati; but the love of
field-sports indicates a certain activity of mind, which had
forsaken Mr. Bertram, if ever he possessed it. A good-humoured
listlessness of countenance formed the only remarkable expression
of his features, although they were rather handsome than
otherwise. In fact, his physiognomy indicated the inanity of
character which pervaded his life. I will give the reader some
insight into his state and conversation before he has finished a
long lecture to Mannering upon the propriety and comfort of
wrapping his stirrup-irons round with a wisp of straw when he had
occasion to ride in a chill evening.

Godfrey Bertram of Ellangowan succeeded to a long pedigree and a
short rent-roll, like many lairds of that period. His list of
forefathers ascended so high that they were lost in the barbarous
ages of Galwegian independence, so that his genealogical tree,
besides the Christian and crusading names of Godfreys, and
Gilberts, and Dennises, and Rolands without end, bore heathen
fruit of yet darker ages--Arths, and Knarths, and Donagilds, and
Hanlons. In truth, they had been formerly the stormy chiefs of a
desert but extensive domain, and the heads of a numerous tribe
called Mac-Dingawaie, though they afterwards adopted the Norman
surname of Bertram. They had made war, raised rebellions, been
defeated, beheaded, and hanged, as became a family of importance,
for many centuries. But they had gradually lost ground in the
world, and, from being themselves the heads of treason and
traitorous conspiracies, the Bertrams, or Mac-Dingawaies, of
Ellangowan had sunk into subordinate accomplices. Their most fatal
exhibitions in this capacity took place in the seventeenth
century, when the foul fiend possessed them with a spirit of
contradiction, which uniformly involved them in controversy with
the ruling powers. They reversed the conduct of the celebrated
Vicar of Bray, and adhered as tenaciously to the weaker side as
that worthy divine to the stronger. And truly, like him, they had
their reward.

Allan Bertram of Ellangowan, who flourished tempore Caroli primi,
was, says my authority, Sir Robert Douglas, in his Scottish
Baronage (see the title 'Ellangowan'), 'a steady loyalist, and
full of zeal for the cause of His Sacred Majesty, in which he
united with the great Marquis of Montrose and other truly zealous
and honourable patriots, and sustained great losses in that
behalf. He had the honour of knighthood conferred upon him by His
Most Sacred Majesty, and was sequestrated as a malignant by the
parliament, 1642, and afterwards as a resolutioner in the year
1648.' These two cross-grained epithets of malignant and
resolutioner cost poor Sir Allan one half of the family estate.
His son Dennis Bertram married a daughter of an eminent fanatic
who had a seat in the council of state, and saved by that union
the remainder of the family property. But, as ill chance would
have it, he became enamoured of the lady's principles as well as
of her charms, and my author gives him this character: 'He was a
man of eminent parts and resolution, for which reason he was
chosen by the western counties one of the committee of noblemen
and gentlemen to report their griefs to the privy council of
Charles II. anent the coming in of the Highland host in 1678.' For
undertaking this patriotic task he underwent a fine, to pay which
he was obliged to mortgage half of the remaining moiety of his
paternal property. This loss he might have recovered by dint of
severe economy, but on the breaking out of Argyle's rebellion
Dennis Bertram was again suspected by government, apprehended,
sent to Dunnotar Castle on the coast of the Mearns, and there
broke his neck in an attempt to escape from a subterranean
habitation called the Whigs' Vault, in which he was confined with
some eighty of the same persuasion. The apprizer therefore (as the
holder of a mortgage was then called) entered upon possession,
and, in the language of Hotspur, 'came me cranking in,' and cut
the family out of another monstrous cantle of their remaining
property.

Donohoe Bertram, with somewhat of an Irish name and somewhat of an
Irish temper, succeeded to the diminished property of Ellangowan.
He turned out of doors the Reverend Aaron Macbriar, his mother's
chaplain (it is said they quarrelled about the good graces of a
milkmaid); drank himself daily drunk with brimming healths to the
king, council, and bishops; held orgies with the Laird of Lagg,
Theophilus Oglethorpe, and Sir James Turner; and lastly, took his
grey gelding and joined Clavers at Killiecrankie. At the skirmish
of Dunkeld, 1689, he was shot dead by a Cameronian with a silver
button (being supposed to have proof from the Evil One against
lead and steel), and his grave is still called the Wicked Laird's
Lair.

His son Lewis had more prudence than seems usually to have
belonged to the family. He nursed what property was yet left to
him; for Donohoe's excesses, as well as fines and forfeitures, had
made another inroad upon the estate. And although even he did not
escape the fatality which induced the Lairds of Ellangowan to
interfere with politics, he had yet the prudence, ere he went out
with Lord Kenmore in 1715, to convey his estate to trustees, in
order to parry pains and penalties in case the Earl of Mar could
not put down the Protestant succession. But Scylla and Charybdis--
a word to the wise--he only saved his estate at expense of a
lawsuit, which again subdivided the family property. He was,
however, a man of resolution. He sold part of the lands, evacuated
the old cattle, where the family lived in their decadence as a
mouse (said an old farmer) lives under a firlot. Pulling down part
of these venerable ruins, he built with the stones a narrow house
of three stories high, with a front like a grenadier's cap, having
in the very centre a round window like the single eye of a
Cyclops, two windows on each side, and a door in the middle,
leading to a parlour and withdrawing-room full of all manner of
cross lights.

This was the New Place of Ellangowan, in which we left our hero,
better amused perhaps than our readers, and to this Lewis Bertram
retreated, full of projects for re-establishing the prosperity of
his family. He took some land into his own hand, rented some from
neighbouring proprietors, bought and sold Highland cattle and
Cheviot sheep, rode to fairs and trysts, fought hard bargains, and
held necessity at the staff's end as well as he might. But what he
gained in purse he lost in honour, for such agricultural and
commercial negotiations were very ill looked upon by his brother
lairds, who minded nothing but cock-fighting, hunting, coursing,
and horse-racing, with now and then the alternative of a desperate
duel. The occupations which he followed encroached, in their
opinion, upon the article of Ellangowan's gentry, and he found it
necessary gradually to estrange himself from their society, and
sink into what was then a very ambiguous character, a gentleman
farmer. In the midst of his schemes death claimed his tribute, and
the scanty remains of a large property descended upon Godfrey
Bertram, the present possessor, his only son.

The danger of the father's speculations was soon seen. Deprived of
Laird Lewis's personal and active superintendence, all his
undertakings miscarried, and became either abortive or perilous.
Without a single spark of energy to meet or repel these
misfortunes, Godfrey put his faith in the activity of another. He
kept neither hunters nor hounds, nor any other southern
preliminaries to ruin; but, as has been observed of his
countrymen, he kept a man of business, who answered the purpose
equally well. Under this gentleman's supervision small debts grew
into large, interests were accumulated upon capitals, movable
bonds became heritable, and law charges were heaped upon all;
though Ellangowan possessed so little the spirit of a litigant
that he was on two occasions charged to make payment of the
expenses of a long lawsuit, although he had never before heard
that he had such cases in court. Meanwhile his neighbours
predicted his final ruin. Those of the higher rank, with some
malignity, accounted him already a degraded brother. The lower
classes, seeing nothing enviable in his situation, marked his
embarrassments with more compassion. He was even a kind of
favourite with them, and upon the division of a common, or the
holding of a black-fishing or poaching court, or any similar
occasion when they conceived themselves oppressed by the gentry,
they were in the habit of saying to each other, 'Ah, if
Ellangowan, honest man, had his ain that his forbears had afore
him, he wadna see the puir folk trodden down this gait.'
Meanwhile, this general good opinion never prevented their taking
advantage of him on all possible occasions, turning their cattle
into his parks, stealing his wood, shooting his game, and so
forth, 'for the Laird, honest man, he'll never find it; he never
minds what a puir body does.' Pedlars, gipsies, tinkers, vagrants
of all descriptions, roosted about his outhouses, or harboured in
his kitchen; and the Laird, who was 'nae nice body,' but a
thorough gossip, like most weak men, found recompense for his
hospitality in the pleasure of questioning them on the news of the
country side.

A circumstance arrested Ellangowan's progress on the highroad to
ruin. This was his marriage with a lady who had a portion of about
four thousand pounds. Nobody in the neighbourhood could conceive
why she married him and endowed him with her wealth, unless
because he had a tall, handsome figure, a good set of features, a
genteel address, and the most perfect good-humour. It might be
some additional consideration, that she was herself at the
reflecting age of twenty-eight, and had no near relations to
control her actions or choice.

It was in this lady's behalf (confined for the first time after
her marriage) that the speedy and active express, mentioned by the
old dame of the cottage, had been despatched to Kippletringan on
the night of Mannering's arrival.

Though we have said so much of the Laird himself, it still remains
that we make the reader in some degree acquainted with his
companion. This was Abel Sampson, commonly called, from his
occupation as a pedagogue, Dominie Sampson. He was of low birth,
but having evinced, even from his cradle, an uncommon seriousness
of disposition, the poor parents were encouraged to hope that
their bairn, as they expressed it, 'might wag his pow in a pulpit
yet.' With an ambitious view to such a consummation, they pinched
and pared, rose early and lay down late, ate dry bread and drank
cold water, to secure to Abel the means of learning. Meantime, his
tall, ungainly figure, his taciturn and grave manners, and some
grotesque habits of swinging his limbs and screwing his visage
while reciting his task, made poor Sampson the ridicule of all his
school-companions. The same qualities secured him at Glasgow
College a plentiful share of the same sort of notice. Half the
youthful mob of 'the yards' used to assemble regularly to see
Dominie Sampson (for he had already attained that honourable
title) descend the stairs from the Greek class, with his lexicon
under his arm, his long misshapen legs sprawling abroad, and
keeping awkward time to the play of his immense shoulder-blades,
as they raised and depressed the loose and threadbare black coat
which was his constant and only wear. When he spoke, the efforts
of the professor (professor of divinity though he was) were
totally inadequate to restrain the inextinguishable laughter of
the students, and sometimes even to repress his own. The long,
sallow visage, the goggle eyes, the huge under-jaw, which appeared
not to open and shut by an act of volition, but to be dropped and
hoisted up again by some complicated machinery within the inner
man, the harsh and dissonant voice, and the screech-owl notes to
which it was exalted when he was exhorted to pronounce more
distinctly,--all added fresh subject for mirth to the torn cloak
and shattered shoe, which have afforded legitimate subjects of
raillery against the poor scholar from Juvenal's time downward. It
was never known that Sampson either exhibited irritability at this
ill usage, or made the least attempt to retort upon his
tormentors. He slunk from college by the most secret paths he
could discover, and plunged himself into his miserable lodging,
where, for eighteenpence a week, he was allowed the benefit of a
straw mattress, and, if his landlady was in good humour,
permission to study his task by her fire. Under all these
disadvantages, he obtained a competent knowledge of Greek and
Latin, and some acquaintance with the sciences.

In progress of time, Abel Sampson, probationer of divinity, was
admitted to the privileges of a preacher. But, alas! partly from
his own bashfulness, partly owing to a strong and obvious
disposition to risibility which pervaded the congregation upon his
first attempt, he became totally incapable of proceeding in his
intended discourse, gasped, grinned, hideously rolled his eyes
till the congregation thought them flying out of his head, shut
the Bible, stumbled down the pulpit-stairs, trampling upon the old
women who generally take their station there, and was ever after
designated as a 'stickit minister.' And thus he wandered back to
his own country, with blighted hopes and prospects, to share the
poverty of his parents. As he had neither friend nor confidant,
hardly even an acquaintance, no one had the means of observing
closely how Dominie Sampson bore a disappointment which supplied
the whole town with a week's sport. It would be endless even to
mention the numerous jokes to which it gave birth, from a ballad
called 'Sampson's Riddle,' written upon the subject by a smart
young student of humanity, to the sly hope of the Principal that
the fugitive had not, in imitation of his mighty namesake, taken
the college gates along with him in his retreat.

To all appearance, the equanimity of Sampson was unshaken. He
sought to assist his parents by teaching a school, and soon had
plenty of scholars, but very few fees. In fact, he taught the sons
of farmers for what they chose to give him, and the poor for
nothing; and, to the shame of the former be it spoken, the
pedagogue's gains never equalled those of a skilful ploughman. He
wrote, however, a good hand, and added something to his pittance
by copying accounts and writing letters for Ellangowan. By
degrees, the Laird, who was much estranged from general society,
became partial to that of Dominie Sampson. Conversation, it is
true, was out of the question, but the Dominie was a good
listener, and stirred the fire with some address. He attempted
even to snuff the candles, but was unsuccessful, and relinquished
that ambitious post of courtesy after having twice reduced the
parlour to total darkness. So his civilities, thereafter, were
confined to taking off his glass of ale in exactly the same time
and measure with the Laird, and in uttering certain indistinct
murmurs of acquiescence at the conclusion of the long and winding
stories of Ellangowan.

On one of these occasions, he presented for the first time to
Mannering his tall, gaunt, awkward, bony figure, attired in a
threadbare suit of black, with a coloured handkerchief, not over
clean, about his sinewy, scraggy neck, and his nether person
arrayed in grey breeches, dark-blue stockings, clouted shoes, and
small copper buckles.

Such is a brief outline of the lives and fortunes of those two
persons in whose society Mannering now found himself comfortably
seated.




CHAPTER III

     Do not the hist'ries of all ages
     Relate miraculous presages
     Of strange turns in the world's affairs,
     Foreseen by astrologers, soothsayers,
     Chaldeans, learned genethliacs,
     And some that have writ almanacks?

          Hudibras.

The circumstances of the landlady were pleaded to Mannering,
first, as an apology for her not appearing to welcome her guest,
and for those deficiencies in his entertainment which her
attention might have supplied, and then as an excuse for pressing
an extra bottle of good wine. 'I cannot weel sleep,' said the
Laird, with the anxious feelings of a father in such a
predicament, 'till I hear she's gotten ower with it; and if you,
sir, are not very sleepery, and would do me and the Dominie the
honour to sit up wi' us, I am sure we shall not detain you very
late. Luckie Howatson is very expeditious. There was ance a lass
that was in that way; she did not live far from hereabouts--ye
needna shake your head and groan, Dominie; I am sure the kirk dues
were a' weel paid, and what can man do mair?--it was laid till her
ere she had a sark ower her head; and the man that she since
wadded does not think her a pin the waur for the misfortune. They
live, Mr. Mannering, by the shoreside at Annan, and a mair decent,
orderly couple, with six as fine bairns as ye would wish to see
plash in a saltwater dub; and little curlie Godfrey--that's the
eldest, the come o' will, as I may say--he's on board an excise
yacht. I hae a cousin at the board of excise; that's Commissioner
Bertram; he got his commissionership in the great contest for the
county, that ye must have heard of, for it was appealed to the
House of Commons. Now I should have voted there for the Laird of
Balruddery; but ye see my father was a Jacobite, and out with
Kenmore, so he never took the oaths; and I ken not weel how it
was, but all that I could do and say, they keepit me off the roll,
though my agent, that had a vote upon my estate, ranked as a good
vote for auld Sir Thomas Kittlecourt. But, to return to what I was
saying, Luckie Howatson is very expeditious, for this lass--'

Here the desultory and long-winded narrative of the Laird was
interrupted by the voice of some one ascending the stairs from the
kitchen story, and singing at full pitch of voice. The high notes
were too shrill for a man, the low seemed too deep for a woman.
The words, as far as Mannering could distinguish them, seemed to
run thus:--

    Canny moment, lucky fit!
    Is the lady lighter yet?
    Be it lad, or be it lass,
    Sign wi' cross and sain wi' mass.

'It's Meg Merrilies, the gipsy, as sure as I am a sinner,' said
Mr. Bertram. The Dominie groaned deeply, uncrossed his legs, drew
in the huge splay foot which his former posture had extended,
placed it perpendicularly, and stretched the other limb over it
instead, puffing out between whiles huge volumes of tobacco smoke.
'What needs ye groan, Dominie? I am sure Meg's sangs do nae ill.'

'Nor good neither,' answered Dominie Sampson, in a voice whose
untuneable harshness corresponded with the awkwardness of his
figure. They were the first words which Mannering had heard him
speak; and as he had been watching with some curiosity when this
eating, drinking, moving, and smoking automaton would perform the
part of speaking, he was a good deal diverted with the harsh
timber tones which issued from him. But at this moment the door
opened, and Meg Merrilies entered.

Her appearance made Mannering start. She was full six feet high,
wore a man's great-coat over the rest of her dress, had in her
hand a goodly sloethorn cudgel, and in all points of equipment,
except her petticoats, seemed rather masculine than feminine. Her
dark elf-locks shot out like the snakes of the gorgon between an
old-fashioned bonnet called a bongrace, heightening the singular
effect of her strong and weather-beaten features, which they
partly shadowed, while her eye had a wild roll that indicated
something like real or affected insanity.

'Aweel, Ellangowan,' she said, 'wad it no hae been a bonnie thing,
an the leddy had been brought to bed, and me at the fair o'
Drumshourloch, no kenning, nor dreaming a word about it? Wha was
to hae keepit awa the worriecows, I trow? Ay, and the elves and
gyre-carlings frae the bonnie bairn, grace be wi' it? Ay, or said
Saint Colme's charm for its sake, the dear?' And without waiting
an answer she began to sing--

     Trefoil, vervain, John's-wort, dill,
     Hinders witches of their
     will, Weel is them, that weel may
     Fast upon Saint Andrew's day.

     Saint Bride and her brat,
     Saint Colme and his cat,
     Saint Michael and his spear,
     Keep the house frae reif and wear.

This charm she sung to a wild tune, in a high and shrill voice,
and, cutting three capers with such strength and agility as almost
to touch the roof of the room, concluded, 'And now, Laird, will
ye no order me a tass o' brandy?'

'That you shall have, Meg. Sit down yont there at the door and
tell us what news ye have heard at the fair o' Drumshourloch.'

'Troth, Laird, and there was muckle want o' you, and the like o'
you; for there was a whin bonnie lasses there, forbye mysell, and
deil ane to gie them hansels.'

'Weel, Meg, and how mony gipsies were sent to the tolbooth?'

'Troth, but three, Laird, for there were nae mair in the fair, bye
mysell, as I said before, and I e'en gae them leg-bail, for
there's nae ease in dealing wi' quarrelsome fowk. And there's
Dunbog has warned the Red Rotten and John Young aff his grunds--
black be his cast! he's nae gentleman, nor drap's bluid o'
gentleman, wad grudge twa gangrel puir bodies the shelter o' a
waste house, and the thristles by the roadside for a bit cuddy,
and the bits o' rotten birk to boil their drap parritch wi'. Weel,
there's Ane abune a'; but we'll see if the red cock craw not in
his bonnie barn-yard ae morning before day-dawing.'

'Hush! Meg, hush! hush! that's not safe talk.'

'What does she mean?' said Mannering to Sampson, in an undertone.

'Fire-raising,' answered the laconic Dominie.

'Who, or what is she, in the name of wonder?'

'Harlot, thief, witch, and gipsy,' answered Sampson again.

'O troth, Laird,' continued Meg, during this by-talk, 'it's but to
the like o' you ane can open their heart; ye see, they say Dunbog
is nae mair a gentleman than the blunker that's biggit the bonnie
house down in the howm. But the like o' you, Laird, that's a real
gentleman for sae mony hundred years, and never hunds puir fowk
aff your grund as if they were mad tykes, nane o' our fowk wad
stir your gear if ye had as mony capons as there's leaves on the
trysting-tree. And now some o' ye maun lay down your watch, and
tell me the very minute o' the hour the wean's born, an I'll spae
its fortune.'

'Ay, but, Meg, we shall not want your assistance, for here's a
student from Oxford that kens much better than you how to spae its
fortune; he does it by the stars.'

'Certainly, sir,' said Mannering, entering into the simple humour
of his landlord, 'I will calculate his nativity according to the
rule of the "triplicities," as recommended by Pythagoras,
Hippocrates, Diocles, and Avicenna. Or I will begin ab hora
questionis, as Haly, Messahala, Ganwehis, and Guido Bonatus have
recommended.'

One of Sampson's great recommendations to the favour of Mr.
Bertram was, that he never detected the most gross attempt at
imposition, so that the Laird, whose humble efforts at jocularity
were chiefly confined to what were then called bites and bams,
since denominated hoaxes and quizzes, had the fairest possible
subject of wit in the unsuspecting Dominie. It is true, he never
laughed, or joined in the laugh which his own simplicity afforded--nay,
it is said, he never laughed but once in his life, and on
that memorable occasion his landlady miscarried, partly through
surprise at the event itself, and partly from terror at the
hideous grimaces which attended this unusual cachinnation. The
only effect which the discovery of such impositions produced upon
this saturnine personage was, to extort an ejaculation of
'Prodigious!' or 'Very facetious!' pronounced syllabically, but
without moving a muscle of his own countenance.

On the present occasion, he turned a gaunt and ghastly stare upon
the youthful astrologer, and seemed to doubt if he had rightly
understood his answer to his patron.

'I am afraid, sir,' said Mannering, turning towards him, 'you may
be one of those unhappy persons who, their dim eyes being unable
to penetrate the starry spheres, and to discern therein the
decrees of heaven at a distance, have their hearts barred against
conviction by prejudice and misprision.'

'Truly,' said Sampson, 'I opine with Sir Isaac Newton, Knight, and
umwhile master of his Majesty's mint, that the (pretended) science
of astrology is altogether vain, frivolous, and unsatisfactory.'
And here he reposed his oracular jaws.

'Really,' resumed the traveller, 'I am sorry to see a gentleman of
your learning and gravity labouring under such strange blindness
and delusion. Will you place the brief, the modern, and, as I may
say, the vernacular name of Isaac Newton in opposition to the
grave and sonorous authorities of Dariot, Bonatus, Ptolemy, Haly,
Eztler, Dieterick, Naibob, Harfurt, Zael, Taustettor, Agrippa,
Duretus, Maginus, Origen, and Argol? Do not Christians and
Heathens, and Jews and Gentiles, and poets and philosophers, unite
in allowing the starry influences?'

'Communis error--it is a general mistake,' answered the inflexible
Dominie Sampson.

'Not so,' replied the young Englishman; 'it is a general and well-
grounded belief.'

'It is the resource of cheaters, knaves, and cozeners,' said
Sampson.

'Abusus non tollit usum.--The abuse of anything doth not abrogate
the lawful use thereof.'

During this discussion Ellangowan was somewhat like a woodcock
caught in his own springe. He turned his face alternately from the
one spokesman to the other, and began, from the gravity with which
Mannering plied his adversary, and the learning which he displayed
in the controversy, to give him credit for being half serious. As
for Meg, she fixed her bewildered eyes upon the astrologer,
overpowered by a jargon more mysterious than her own.

Mannering pressed his advantage, and ran over all the hard terms
of art which a tenacious memory supplied, and which, from
circumstances hereafter to be noticed, had been familiar to him in
early youth.

Signs and planets, in aspects sextile, quartile, trine, conjoined,
or opposite; houses of heaven, with their cusps, hours, and
minutes; almuten, almochoden, anabibazon, catabibazon; a thousand
terms of equal sound and significance, poured thick and threefold
upon the unshrinking Dominie, whose stubborn incredulity bore him
out against the pelting of this pitiless storm.

At length the joyful annunciation that the lady had presented her
husband with a fine boy, and was (of course) as well as could be
expected, broke off this intercourse. Mr. Bertram hastened to the
lady's apartment, Meg Merrilies descended to the kitchen to secure
her share of the groaning malt and the 'ken-no,' [Footnote: See
Note i.] and Mannering, after looking at his watch, and noting
with great exactness the hour and minute of the birth, requested,
with becoming gravity, that the Dominie would conduct him to some
place where he might have a view of the heavenly bodies.

The schoolmaster, without further answer, rose and threw open a
door half sashed with glass, which led to an old-fashioned
terrace-walk behind the modern house, communicating with the
platform on which the ruins of the ancient castle were situated.
The wind had arisen, and swept before it the clouds which had
formerly obscured the sky. The moon was high, and at the full, and
all the lesser satellites of heaven shone forth in cloudless
effulgence. The scene which their light presented to Mannering was
in the highest degree unexpected and striking.

We have observed, that in the latter part of his journey our
traveller approached the sea-shore, without being aware how
nearly. He now perceived that the ruins of Ellangowan Castle were
situated upon a promontory, or projection of rock, which formed
one side of a small and placid bay on the sea-shore. The modern
mansion was placed lower, though closely adjoining, and the ground
behind it descended to the sea by a small swelling green bank,
divided into levels by natural terraces, on which grew some old
trees, and terminating upon the white sand. The other side of the
bay, opposite to the old castle, was a sloping and varied
promontory, covered chiefly with copsewood, which on that favoured
coast grows almost within water-mark. A fisherman's cottage peeped
from among the trees. Even at this dead hour of night there were
lights moving upon the shore, probably occasioned by the unloading
a smuggling lugger from the Isle of Man which was lying in the
bay. On the light from the sashed door of the house being
observed, a halloo from the vessel of 'Ware hawk! Douse the glim!'
alarmed those who were on shore, and the lights instantly
disappeared.

It was one hour after midnight, and the prospect around was
lovely. The grey old towers of the ruin, partly entire, partly
broken, here bearing the rusty weather-stains of ages, and there
partially mantled with ivy, stretched along the verge of the dark
rock which rose on Mannering's right hand. In his front was the
quiet bay, whose little waves, crisping and sparkling to the
moonbeams, rolled successively along its surface, and dashed with
a soft and murmuring ripple against the silvery beach. To the left
the woods advanced far into the ocean, waving in the moonlight
along ground of an undulating and varied form, and presenting
those varieties of light and shade, and that interesting
combination of glade and thicket, upon which the eye delights to
rest, charmed with what it sees, yet curious to pierce still
deeper into the intricacies of the woodland scenery. Above rolled
the planets, each, by its own liquid orbit of light, distinguished
from the inferior or more distant stars. So strangely can
imagination deceive even those by whose volition it has been
excited, that Mannering, while gazing upon these brilliant bodies,
was half inclined to believe in the influence ascribed to them by
superstition over human events. But Mannering was a youthful
lover, and might perhaps be influenced by the feelings so
exquisitely expressed by a modern poet:--

     For fable is Love's world, his home, his birthplace:
     Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays, and talismans,
     And spirits, and delightedly believes
     Divinities, being himself divine
     The intelligible forms of ancient poets,
     The fair humanities of old religion,
     The power, the beauty, and the majesty,
     That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain,
     Or forest, by slow stream, or pebbly spring,
     Or chasms and wat'ry depths--all these have vanish'd;
     They live no longer in the faith of reason!
     But still the heart doth need a language, still
     Doth the old instinct bring back the old names.
     And to yon starry world they now are gone,
     Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth
     With man as with their friend, and to the lover
     Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky
     Shoot influence down; and even at this day
     'T is Jupiter who brings whate'er is great,
     And Venus who brings everything that's fair.

Such musings soon gave way to others. 'Alas!' he muttered, 'my
good old tutor, who used to enter so deep into the controversy
between Heydon and Chambers on the subject of astrology, he would
have looked upon the scene with other eyes, and would have
seriously endeavoured to discover from the respective positions of
these luminaries their probable effects on the destiny of the new-
born infant, as if the courses or emanations of the stars
superseded, or at least were co-ordinate with, Divine Providence.
Well, rest be with him! he instilled into me enough of knowledge
for erecting a scheme of nativity, and therefore will I presently
go about it.' So saying, and having noted the position of the
principal planetary bodies, Guy Mannering returned to the house.
The Laird met him in the parlour, and, acquainting him with great
glee that the boy was a fine healthy little fellow, seemed rather
disposed to press further conviviality. He admitted, however,
Mannering's plea of weariness, and, conducting him to his sleeping
apartment, left him to repose for the evening.




CHAPTER IV

    Come and see' trust thine own eyes
    A fearful sign stands in the house of life,
    An enemy a fiend lurks close behind
    The radiance of thy planet O be warned!

         COLERIDGE, from SCHILLER


The belief in astrology was almost universal in the middle of the
seventeenth century; it began to waver and become doubtful towards
the close of that period, and in the beginning of the eighteenth
the art fell into general disrepute, and even under general
ridicule. Yet it still retained many partizans even in the seats
of learning. Grave and studious men were both to relinquish the
calculations which had early become the principal objects of their
studies, and felt reluctant to descend from the predominating
height to which a supposed insight into futurity, by the power of
consulting abstract influences and conjunctions, had exalted them
over the rest of mankind.

Among those who cherished this imaginary privilege with undoubting
faith was an old clergyman with whom Mannering was placed during
his youth. He wasted his eyes in observing the stars, and his
brains in calculations upon their various combinations. His pupil,
in early youth, naturally caught some portion of his enthusiasm,
and laboured for a time to make himself master of the technical
process of astrological research; so that, before he became
convinced of its absurdity, William Lilly himself would have
allowed him 'a curious fancy and piercing judgment in resolving a
question of nativity.'

On the present occasion he arose as early in the morning as the
shortness of the day permitted, and proceeded to calculate the
nativity of the young heir of Ellangowan. He undertook the task
secundum artem, as well to keep up appearances as from a sort of
curiosity to know whether he yet remembered, and could practise,
the imaginary science. He accordingly erected his scheme, or
figure of heaven, divided into its twelve houses, placed the
planets therein according to the ephemeris, and rectified their
position to the hour and moment of the nativity. Without troubling
our readers with the general prognostications which judicial
astrology would have inferred from these circumstances, in this
diagram there was one significator which pressed remarkably upon
our astrologer's attention. Mars, having dignity in the cusp of
the twelfth house, threatened captivity or sudden and violent
death to the native; and Mannering, having recourse to those
further rules by which diviners pretend to ascertain the vehemency
of this evil direction, observed from the result that three
periods would be particularly hazardous--his fifth, his tenth, his
twenty-first year.

It was somewhat remarkable that Mannering had once before tried a
similar piece of foolery at the instance of Sophia Wellwood, the
young lady to whom he was attached, and that a similar conjunction
of planetary influence threatened her with death or imprisonment
in her thirty-ninth year. She was at this time eighteen; so that,
according to the result of the scheme in both cases, the same year
threatened her with the same misfortune that was presaged to the
native or infant whom that night had introduced into the world.
Struck with this coincidence, Mannering repeated his calculations;
and the result approximated the events predicted, until at length
the same month, and day of the month, seemed assigned as the
period of peril to both.

It will be readily believed that, in mentioning this circumstance,
we lay no weight whatever upon the pretended information thus
conveyed. But it often happens, such is our natural love for the
marvellous, that we willingly contribute our own efforts to
beguile our better judgments. Whether the coincidence which I have
mentioned was really one of those singular chances which sometimes
happen against all ordinary calculations; or whether Mannering,
bewildered amid the arithmetical labyrinth and technical jargon of
astrology, had insensibly twice followed the same clue to guide
him out of the maze; or whether his imagination, seduced by some
point of apparent resemblance, lent its aid to make the similitude
between the two operations more exactly accurate than it might
otherwise have been, it is impossible to guess; but the impression
upon his mind that the results exactly corresponded was vividly
and indelibly strong.

He could not help feeling surprise at a coincidence so singular
and unexpected. 'Does the devil mingle in the dance, to avenge
himself for our trifling with an art said to be of magical origin?
Or is it possible, as Bacon and Sir Thomas Browne admit, that
there is some truth in a sober and regulated astrology, and that
the influence of the stars is not to be denied, though the due
application of it by the knaves who pretend to practise the art is
greatly to be suspected?' A moment's consideration of the subject
induced him to dismiss this opinion as fantastical, and only
sanctioned by those learned men either because they durst not at
once shock the universal prejudices of their age, or because they
themselves were not altogether freed from the contagious influence
of a prevailing superstition. Yet the result of his calculations
in these two instances left so unpleasing an impression on his
mind that, like Prospero, he mentally relinquished his art, and
resolved, neither in jest nor earnest, ever again to practise
judicial astrology.

He hesitated a good deal what he should say to the Laird of
Ellangowan concerning the horoscope of his first-born; and at
length resolved plainly to tell him the judgment which he had
formed, at the same time acquainting him with the futility of the
rules of art on which he had proceeded. With this resolution he
walked out upon the terrace.

If the view of the scene around Ellangowan had been pleasing by
moonlight, it lost none of its beauty by the light of the morning
sun. The land, even in the month of November, smiled under its
influence. A steep but regular ascent led from the terrace to the
neighbouring eminence, and conducted Mannering to the front of the
old castle. It consisted of two massive round towers projecting
deeply and darkly at the extreme angles of a curtain, or flat
wall, which united them, and thus protecting the main entrance,
that opened through a lofty arch in the centre of the curtain into
the inner court of the castle. The arms of the family, carved in
freestone, frowned over the gateway, and the portal showed the
spaces arranged by the architect for lowering the portcullis and
raising the drawbridge. A rude farm-gate, made of young fir-trees
nailed together, now formed the only safeguard of this once
formidable entrance. The esplanade in front of the castle
commanded a noble prospect.

The dreary scene of desolation through which Mannering's road had
lain on the preceding evening was excluded from the view by some
rising ground, and the landscape showed a pleasing alternation of
hill and dale, intersected by a river, which was in some places
visible, and hidden in others, where it rolled betwixt deep and
wooded banks. The spire of a church and the appearance of some
houses indicated the situation of a village at the place where the
stream had its junction with the ocean. The vales seemed well
cultivated, the little inclosures into which they were divided
skirting the bottom of the hills, and sometimes carrying their
lines of straggling hedgerows a little way up the ascent. Above
these were green pastures, tenanted chiefly by herds of black
cattle, then the staple commodity of the country, whose distant
low gave no unpleasing animation to the landscape. The remoter
hills were of a sterner character, and, at still greater distance,
swelled into mountains of dark heath, bordering the horizon with a
screen which gave a defined and limited boundary to the cultivated
country, and added at the same time the pleasing idea that it was
sequestered and solitary. The sea-coast, which Mannering now saw
in its extent, corresponded in variety and beauty with the inland
view. In some places it rose into tall rocks, frequently crowned
with the ruins of old buildings, towers, or beacons, which,
according to tradition, were placed within sight of each other,
that, in times of invasion or civil war, they might communicate by
signal for mutual defence and protection. Ellangowan Castle was by
far the most extensive and important of these ruins, and asserted
from size and situation the superiority which its founders were
said once to have possessed among the chiefs and nobles of the
district. In other places the shore was of a more gentle
description, indented with small bays, where the land sloped
smoothly down, or sent into the sea promontories covered with
wood.

A scene so different from what last night's journey had presaged
produced a proportional effect upon Mannering. Beneath his eye lay
the modern house--an awkward mansion, indeed, in point of
architecture, but well situated, and with a warm, pleasant
exposure. 'How happily,' thought our hero, 'would life glide on in
such a retirement! On the one hand, the striking remnants of
ancient grandeur, with the secret consciousness of family pride
which they inspire; on the other, enough of modern elegance and
comfort to satisfy every moderate wish. Here then, and with thee,
Sophia!'

We shall not pursue a lover's day-dream any farther. Mannering
stood a minute with his arms folded, and then turned to the ruined
castle.

On entering the gateway, he found that the rude magnificence of
the inner court amply corresponded with the grandeur of the
exterior. On the one side ran a range of windows lofty and large,
divided by carved mullions of stone, which had once lighted the
great hall of the castle; on the other were various buildings of
different heights and dates, yet so united as to present to the
eye a certain general effect of uniformity of front. The doors and
windows were ornamented with projections exhibiting rude specimens
of sculpture and tracery, partly entire and partly broken down,
partly covered by ivy and trailing plants, which grew luxuriantly
among the ruins. That end of the court which faced the entrance
had also been formerly closed by a range of buildings; but owing,
it was said, to its having been battered by the ships of the
Parliament under Deane, during the long civil war, this part of
the castle was much more ruinous than the rest, and exhibited a
great chasm, through which Mannering could observe the sea, and
the little vessel (an armed lugger), which retained her station in
the centre of the bay. [Footnote: The outline of the above
description, as far as the supposed ruins are concerned, will be
found somewhat to resemble the noble remains of Carlaverock
Castle, six or seven miles from Dumfries, and near to Lochar
Moss.] While Mannering was gazing round the ruins, he heard from
the interior of an apartment on the left hand the voice of the
gipsy he had seen on the preceding evening. He soon found an
aperture through which he could observe her without being himself
visible; and could not help feeling that her figure, her
employment, and her situation conveyed the exact impression of an
ancient sibyl.

She sate upon a broken corner-stone in the angle of a paved
apartment, part of which she had swept clean to afford a smooth
space for the evolutions of her spindle. A strong sunbeam through
a lofty and narrow window fell upon her wild dress and features,
and afforded her light for her occupation; the rest of the
apartment was very gloomy. Equipt in a habit which mingled the
national dress of the Scottish common people with something of an
Eastern costume, she spun a thread drawn from wool of three
different colours, black, white, and grey, by assistance of those
ancient implements of housewifery now almost banished from the
land, the distaff and spindle. As she spun, she sung what seemed
to be a charm. Mannering, after in vain attempting to make himself
master of the exact words of her song, afterwards attempted the
following paraphrase of what, from a few intelligible phrases, he
concluded to be its purport:--