"_Semi-reducta Venus_," said the Templar, pointing to one of these
nymphs, who seemed afraid of observation, and partly concealed herself
behind the casement, as she chirped to a miserable blackbird, the
tenant of a wicker prison, which hung outside on the black brick
wall.--"I know the face of yonder waistcoateer," continued the guide;
"and I could wager a rose-noble, from the posture she stands in, that
she has clean head-gear and a soiled night-rail.--But here come two of
the male inhabitants, smoking like moving volcanoes! These are roaring
blades, whom Nicotia and Trinidado serve, I dare swear, in lieu of
beef and pudding; for be it known to you, my lord, that the king's
counter-blast against the Indian weed will no more pass current in
Alsatia than will his writ of _capias_."

As he spoke, the two smokers approached; shaggy, uncombed ruffians,
whose enormous mustaches were turned back over their ears, and mingled
with the wild elf-locks of their hair, much of which was seen under
the old beavers which they wore aside upon their heads, while some
straggling portion escaped through the rents of the hats aforesaid.
Their tarnished plush jerkins, large slops, or trunk-breeches, their
broad greasy shoulder-belts, and discoloured scarfs, and, above all,
the ostentatious manner in which the one wore a broad-sword and the
other an extravagantly long rapier and poniard, marked the true
Alsatian bully, then, and for a hundred years afterwards, a well-known
character.

"Tour out," said the one ruffian to the other; "tour the bien mort
twiring at the gentry cove!" [Footnote: Look sharp. See how the girl
is coquetting with the strange gallants!]

"I smell a spy," replied the other, looking at Nigel. "Chalk him
across the peepers with your cheery." [Footnote: Slash him over the
eyes with your dagger.]

"Bing avast, bing avast!" replied his companion; "yon other is
rattling Reginald Lowestoffe of the Temple--I know him; he is a good
boy, and free of the province."

So saying, and enveloping themselves in another thick cloud of smoke,
they went on without farther greeting.

"_Grasso in aere_!" said the Templar. "You hear what a character the
impudent knave gives me; but, so it serves your lordship's turn, I
care not.--And, now, let me ask your lordship what name you will
assume, for we are near the ducal palace of Duke Hildebrod."

"I will be called Grahame," said Nigel; "it was my mother's name."

"Grime," repeated the Templar, "will suit Alsatia well enough--both a
grim and grimy place of refuge."

"I said Grahame, sir, not Grime," said Nigel, something shortly, and
laying an emphasis on the vowel--for few Scotsmen understand raillery
upon the subject of their names.

"I beg pardon, my lord," answered the undisconcerted punster; "but
_Graam_ will suit the circumstance, too--it signifies tribulation in
the High Dutch, and your lordship must be considered as a man under
trouble."

Nigel laughed at the pertinacity of the Templar; who, proceeding to
point out a sign representing, or believed to represent, a dog
attacking a bull, and running at his head, in the true scientific
style of onset,--"There," said he, "doth faithful Duke Hildebrod deal
forth laws, as well as ale and strong waters, to his faithful
Alsatians. Being a determined champion of Paris Garden, he has chosen
a sign corresponding to his habits; and he deals in giving drink to
the thirsty, that he himself may drink without paying, and receive pay
for what is drunken by others.--Let us enter the ever-open gate of
this second Axylus."

As they spoke, they entered the dilapidated tavern, which was,
nevertheless, more ample in dimensions, and less ruinous, than many
houses in the same evil neighbourhood. Two or three haggard, ragged
drawers, ran to and fro, whose looks, like those of owls, seemed only
adapted for midnight, when other creatures sleep, and who by day
seemed bleared, stupid, and only half awake. Guided by one of these
blinking Ganymedes, they entered a room, where the feeble rays of the
sun were almost wholly eclipsed by volumes of tobacco-smoke, rolled
from the tubes of the company, while out of the cloudy sanctuary arose
the old chant of--

      "Old Sir Simon the King,
       And old Sir Simon the King,
       With his malmsey nose,
       And his ale-dropped hose,
       And sing hey ding-a-ding-ding."

Duke Hildebrod, who himself condescended to chant this ditty to his
loving subjects, was a monstrously fat old man, with only one eye; and
a nose which bore evidence to the frequency, strength, and depth of
his potations. He wore a murrey-coloured plush jerkin, stained with
the overflowings of the tankard, and much the worse for wear, and
unbuttoned at bottom for the ease of his enormous paunch. Behind him
lay a favourite bull-dog, whose round head and single black glancing
eye, as well as the creature's great corpulence, gave it a burlesque
resemblance to its master.

The well-beloved counsellors who surrounded the ducal throne, incensed
it with tobacco, pledged its occupier in thick clammy ale, and echoed
back his choral songs, were Satraps worthy of such a Soldan. The buff
jerkin, broad belt, and long sword of one, showed him to be a Low
Country soldier, whose look of scowling importance, and drunken
impudence, were designed to sustain his title to call himself a Roving
Blade. It seemed to Nigel that he had seen this fellow somewhere or
other. A hedge-parson, or buckle-beggar, as that order of priesthood
has been irreverently termed, sat on the Duke's left, and was easily
distinguished by his torn band, flapped hat, and the remnants of a
rusty cassock. Beside the parson sat a most wretched and meagre-
looking old man, with a threadbare hood of coarse kersey upon his
head, and buttoned about his neck, while his pinched features, like
those of old Daniel, were illuminated by
                            --"an eye,
 Through the last look of dotage still cunning and sly."

On his left was placed a broken attorney, who, for some malpractices,
had been struck from the roll of practitioners, and who had nothing
left of his profession, except its roguery. One or two persons of less
figure, amongst whom there was one face, which, like that of the
soldier, seemed not unknown to Nigel, though he could not recollect
where he had seen it, completed the council-board of Jacob Duke
Hildebrod.

The strangers had full time to observe all this; for his grace the
Duke, whether irresistibly carried on by the full tide of harmony, or
whether to impress the strangers with a proper idea of his
consequence, chose to sing his ditty to an end before addressing them,
though, during the whole time, he closely scrutinized them with his
single optic.

When Duke Hildebrod had ended his song, he informed his Peers that a
worthy officer of the Temple attended them, and commanded the captain
and parson to abandon their easy chairs in behalf of the two
strangers, whom he placed on his right and left hand. The worthy
representative of the army and the church of Alsatia went to place
themselves on a crazy form at the bottom of the table, which, ill
calculated to sustain men of such weight, gave way under them, and the
man of the sword and man of the gown were rolled over each other on
the floor, amidst the exulting shouts of the company. They arose in
wrath, contending which should vent his displeasure in the loudest and
deepest oaths, a strife in which the parson's superior acquaintance
with theology enabled him greatly to excel the captain, and were at
length with difficulty tranquillised by the arrival of the alarmed
waiters with more stable chairs, and by a long draught of the cooling
tankard. When this commotion was appeased, and the strangers
courteously accommodated with flagons, after the fashion of the others
present, the Duke drank prosperity to the Temple in the most gracious
manner, together with a cup of welcome to Master Reginald Lowestoffe;
and, this courtesy having been thankfully accepted, the party honoured
prayed permission to call for a gallon of Rhenish, over which he
proposed to open his business.

The mention of a liquor so superior to their usual potations had an
instant and most favourable effect upon the little senate; and its
immediate appearance might be said to secure a favourable reception of
Master Lowestoffe's proposition, which, after a round or two had
circulated, he explained to be the admission of his friend Master
Nigel Grahame to the benefit of the sanctuary and other immunities of
Alsatia, in the character of a grand compounder; for so were those
termed who paid a double fee at their matriculation, in order to avoid
laying before the senate the peculiar circumstances which compelled
them to take refuge there.

The worthy Duke heard the proposition with glee, which glittered in
his single eye; and no wonder, as it was a rare occurrence, and of
peculiar advantage to his private revenue. Accordingly, he commanded
his ducal register to be brought him, a huge book, secured with brass
clasps like a merchant's ledger, and whose leaves, stained with wine,
and slabbered with tobacco juice, bore the names probably of as many
rogues as are to be found in the Calendar of Newgate.

Nigel was then directed to lay down two nobles as his ransom, and to
claim privilege by reciting the following doggerel verses, which were
dictated to him by the Duke:--

        "Your suppliant, by name
         Nigel Grahame,
         In fear of mishap
         From a shoulder-tap;
         And dreading a claw
         From the talons of law,
          That are sharper than briers:
         His freedom to sue,
         And rescue by you--
         Thorugh weapon and wit,
         From warrant and writ,
         From bailiff's hand,
         From tipstaff's wand,
          Is come hither to Whitefriars."

As Duke Hildebrod with a tremulous hand began to make the entry, and
had already, with superfluous generosity, spelled Nigel with two g's
instead of one, he was interrupted by the parson. [Footnote: This
curious register is still in existence, being in possession of that
eminent antiquary, Dr. Dryasdust, who liberally offered the author
permission to have the autograph of Duke Hildebrod engraved as an
illustration of this passage. Unhappily, being rigorous as Ritson
himself in adhering to the very letter of his copy, the worthy Doctor
clogged his munificence with the condition that we should adopt the
Duke's orthography, and entitle the work "The Fortunes of Niggle,"
with which stipulation we did not think it necessary to comply.] This
reverend gentleman had been whispering for a minute or two, not with
the captain, but with that other individual, who dwelt imperfectly, as
we have already mentioned, in Nigel's memory, and being, perhaps,
still something malecontent on account of the late accident, he now
requested to be heard before the registration took place.

"The person," he said, "who hath now had the assurance to propose
himself as a candidate for the privileges and immunities of this
honourable society, is, in plain terms, a beggarly Scot, and we have
enough of these locusts in London already--if we admit such palmer-
worms and caterpillars to the Sanctuary, we shall soon have the whole
nation."

"We are not entitled to inquire," said Duke Hildebrod, "whether he be
Scot, or French, or English; seeing he has honourably laid down his
garnish, he is entitled to our protection."

"Word of denial, most Sovereign Duke," replied the parson, "I ask him
no questions--his speech betrayeth him--he is a Galilean--and his
garnish is forfeited for his assurance in coming within this our
realm; and I call on you, Sir Duke, to put the laws in force against
him!"

The Templar here rose, and was about to interrupt the deliberations of
the court, when the Duke gravely assured him that he should be heard
in behalf of his friend, so soon as the council had finished their
deliberations.

The attorney next rose, and, intimating that he was to speak to the
point of law, said--"It was easy to be seen that this gentleman did
not come here in any civil case, and that he believed it to be the
story they had already heard of concerning a blow given within the
verge of the Park--that the Sanctuary would not bear out the offender
in such case--and that the queer old Chief would send down a broom
which would sweep the streets of Alsatia from the Strand to the
Stairs; and it was even policy to think what evil might come to their
republic, by sheltering an alien in such circumstances."

The captain, who had sat impatiently while these opinions were
expressed, now sprung on his feet with the vehemence of a cork
bouncing from a bottle of brisk beer, and, turning up his mustaches
with a martial air, cast a glance of contempt on the lawyer and
churchman, while he thus expressed his opinion.

"Most noble Duke Hildebrod! When I hear such base, skeldering,
coistril propositions come from the counsellors of your grace, and
when I remember the Huffs, the Muns, and the Tityretu's by whom your
grace's ancestors and predecessors were advised on such occasions, I
begin to think the spirit of action is as dead in Alsatia as in my old
grannam; and yet who thinks so thinks a lie, since I will find as many
roaring boys in the Friars as shall keep the liberties against all the
scavengers of Westminster. And, if we should be overborne for a turn,
death and darkness! have we not time to send the gentleman off by
water, either to Paris Garden or to the bankside? and, if he is a
gallant of true breed, will he not make us full amends for all the
trouble we have? Let other societies exist by the law, I say that we
brisk boys of the Fleet live in spite of it; and thrive best when we
are in right opposition to sign and seal, writ and warrant, sergeant
and tipstaff, catchpoll, and bum-bailey."

This speech was followed by a murmur of approbation, and Lowestoffe,
striking in before the favourable sound had subsided, reminded the
Duke and his council how much the security of their state depended
upon the amity of the Templars, who, by closing their gates, could at
pleasure shut against the Alsatians the communication betwixt the
Friars and the Temple, and that as they conducted themselves on this
occasion, so would they secure or lose the benefit of his interest
with his own body, which they knew not to be inconsiderable. "And, in
respect of my friend being a Scotsman and alien, as has been observed
by the reverend divine and learned lawyer, you are to consider," said
Lowestoffe, "for what he is pursued hither--why, for giving the
bastinado, not to an Englishman, but to one of his own countrymen. And
for my own simple part," he continued, touching Lord Glenvarloch at
the same time, to make him understand he spoke but in jest, "if all
the Scots in London were to fight a Welsh main, and kill each other to
a man, the survivor would, in my humble opinion, be entitled to our
gratitude, as having done a most acceptable service to poor Old
England."

A shout of laughter and applause followed this ingenious apology for
the client's state of alienage; and the Templar followed up his plea
with the following pithy proposition:--"I know well," said he, "it is
the custom of the fathers of this old and honourable republic, ripely
and well to consider all their proceedings over a proper allowance of
liquor; and far be it from me to propose the breach of so laudable a
custom, or to pretend that such an affair as the present can be well
and constitutionally considered during the discussion of a pitiful
gallon of Rhenish. But, as it is the same thing to this honourable
conclave whether they drink first and determine afterwards, or whether
they determine first and drink afterwards, I propose your grace, with
the advice of your wise and potent senators, shall pass your edict,
granting to mine honourable friend the immunities of the place, and
assigning him a lodging, according to your wise forms, to which he
will presently retire, being somewhat spent with this day's action;
whereupon I will presently order you a rundlet of Rhenish, with a
corresponding quantity of neats' tongues and pickled herrings, to make
you all as glorious as George-a-Green."

This overture was received with a general shout of applause, which
altogether drowned the voice of the dissidents, if any there were
amongst the Alsatian senate who could have resisted a proposal so
popular. The words of, kind heart! noble gentleman! generous gallant!
flew from mouth to mouth; the inscription of the petitioner's name in
the great book was hastily completed, and the oath administered to him
by the worthy Doge. Like the Laws of the Twelve Tables, of the ancient
Cambro-Britons, and other primitive nations, it was couched in poetry,
and ran as follows:-

 "By spigot and barrel,
  By bilboe and buff;
  Thou art sworn to the quarrel
  Of the blades of the huff.
  For Whitefriars and its claims
  To be champion or martyr,
  And to fight for its dames
  Like a Knight of the Garter."

Nigel felt, and indeed exhibited, some disgust at this mummery; but,
the Templar reminding him that he was too far advanced to draw back,
he repeated the words, or rather assented as they were repeated by
Duke Hildebrod, who concluded the ceremony by allowing him the
privilege of sanctuary, in the following form of prescriptive
doggerel:--

 "From the touch of the tip,
  From the blight of the warrant,
  From the watchmen who skip
  On the Harman Beck's errand;
  From the bailiffs cramp speech,
  That makes man a thrall,
  I charm thee from each,
  And I charm thee from all.
  Thy freedom's complete
  As a Blade of the Huff,
  To be cheated and cheat,
  To be cuff'd and to cuff;
  To stride, swear, and swagger,
  To drink till you stagger,
  To stare and to stab,
  And to brandish your dagger
  In the cause of your drab;
  To walk wool-ward in winter,
  Drink brandy, and smoke,
  And go _fresco_ in summer
  For want of a cloak;
  To eke out your living
  By the wag of your elbow,
  By fulham and gourd,
  And by baring of bilboe;
  To live by your shifts,
  And to swear by your honour,
  Are the freedom and gifts
  Of which I am the donor."[Footnote: Of the cant words used in this
inauguratory oration, some are obvious in their meaning, others, as
Harman Beck (constable), and the like, derive their source from that
ancient piece of lexicography, the Slang Dictionary]

This homily being performed, a dispute arose concerning the special
residence to be assigned the new brother of the Sanctuary; for, as the
Alsatians held it a maxim in their commonwealth, that ass's milk
fattens, there was usually a competition among the inhabitants which
should have the managing, as it was termed, of a new member of the
society.

The Hector who had spoken so warmly and critically in Nigel's behalf,
stood out now chivalrously in behalf of a certain Blowselinda, or
Bonstrops, who had, it seems, a room to hire, once the occasional
residence of Slicing Dick of Paddington, who lately suffered at
Tyburn, and whose untimely exit had been hitherto mourned by the
damsel in solitary widowhood, after the fashion of the turtle-dove.

The captain's interest was, however, overruled, in behalf of the old
gentleman in the kersey hood, who was believed, even at his extreme
age, to understand the plucking of a pigeon, as well, or better, than
any man in Alsatia.

This venerable personage was an usurer of notoriety, called Trapbois,
and had very lately done the state considerable service in advancing a
subsidy necessary to secure a fresh importation of liquors to the
Duke's cellars, the wine-merchant at the Vintry being scrupulous to
deal with so great a man for any thing but ready money.

When, therefore, the old gentleman arose, and with much coughing,
reminded the Duke that he had a poor apartment to let, the claims of
all others were set aside, and Nigel was assigned to Trapbois as his
guest.

No sooner was this arrangement made, than Lord Glenvarloch expressed
to Lowestoffe his impatience to leave this discreditable assembly, and
took his leave with a careless haste, which, but for the rundlet of
Rhenish wine that entered just as he left the apartment, might have
been taken in bad part. The young Templar accompanied his friend to
the house of the old usurer, with the road to which he and some other
youngsters about the Temple were even but too well acquainted. On the
way, he assured Lord Glenvarloch that he was going to the only clean
house in Whitefriars; a property which it owed solely to the exertions
of the old man's only daughter, an elderly damsel, ugly enough to
frighten sin, yet likely to be wealthy enough to tempt a puritan, so
soon as the devil had got her old dad for his due. As Lowestoffe spoke
thus, they knocked at the door of the house, and the sour stern
countenance of the female by whom it was opened, fully confirmed all
that the Templar had said of the hostess. She heard with an ungracious
and discontented air the young Templar's information, that the
gentleman, his companion, was to be her father's lodger, muttered
something about the trouble it was likely to occasion, but ended by
showing the stranger's apartment, which was better than could have
been augured from the general appearance of the place, and much larger
in extent than that which he occupied at Paul's Wharf, though inferior
to it in neatness.

Lowestoffe, having thus seen his friend fairly installed in his new
apartment, and having obtained for him a note of the rate at which he
could be accommodated with victuals from a neighbouring cook's shop,
now took his leave, offering, at the same time, to send the whole, or
any part of Lord Glenvarloch's baggage, from his former place of
residence to his new lodging. Nigel mentioned so few articles, that
the Templar could not help observing, that his lordship, it would
seem, did not intend to enjoy his new privileges long.

"They are too little suited to my habits and taste, that I should do
so," replied Lord Glenvarloch.

"You may change your opinion to-morrow," said Lowestoffe; "and so I
wish you a good even. To-morrow I will visit you betimes."

The morning came, but instead of the Templar, it brought only a letter
from him. The epistle stated, that Lowestoffe's visit to Alsatia had
drawn down the animadversions of some crabbed old pantaloons among the
benchers, and that he judged it wise not to come hither at present,
for fear of attracting too much attention to Lord Glenvarloch's place
of residence. He stated, that he had taken measures for the safety of
his baggage, and would send him, by a safe hand, his money-casket, and
what articles he wanted. Then followed some sage advices, dictated by
Lowestoffe's acquaintance with Alsatia and its manners. He advised him
to keep the usurer in the most absolute uncertainty concerning the
state of his funds-never to throw a main with the captain, who was in
the habit of playing dry-fisted, and paying his losses with three
vowels; and, finally, to beware of Duke Hildebrod, who was as sharp,
he said, as a needle, though he had no more eyes than are possessed by
that necessary implement of female industry.




CHAPTER XVIII


_Mother._ What I dazzled by a flash from Cupid's mirror,
With which the boy, as mortal urchins wont,
Flings back the sunbeam in the eye of passengers--
Then laughs to see them stumble!

_Daughter._ Mother! no--
It was a lightning-flash which dazzled me,
And never shall these eyes see true again.
              _Beef and Pudding.-An Old English Comedy._

It is necessary that we should leave our hero Nigel for a time,
although in a situation neither safe, comfortable, nor creditable, in
order to detail some particulars which have immediate connexion with
his fortunes.

It was but the third day after he had been forced to take refuge in
the house of old Trapbois, the noted usurer of Whitefriars, commonly
called Golden Trapbois, when the pretty daughter of old Ramsay, the
watchmaker, after having piously seen her father finish his breakfast,
(from the fear that he might, in an abstruse fit of thought, swallow
the salt-cellar instead of a crust of the brown loaf,) set forth from
the house as soon as he was again plunged into the depth of
calculation, and, accompanied only by that faithful old drudge, Janet,
the Scots laundress, to whom her whims were laws, made her way to
Lombard Street, and disturbed, at the unusual hour of eight in the
morning, Aunt Judith, the sister of her worthy godfather.

The venerable maiden received her young visitor with no great
complacency; for, naturally enough, she had neither the same
admiration of her very pretty countenance, nor allowance for her
foolish and girlish impatience of temper, which Master George Heriot
entertained. Still Mistress Margaret was a favourite of her brother's,
whose will was to Aunt Judith a supreme law; and she contented herself
with asking her untimely visitor, "what she made so early with her
pale, chitty face, in the streets of London?"

"I would speak with the Lady Hermione," answered the almost breathless
girl, while the blood ran so fast to her face as totally to remove the
objection of paleness which Aunt Judith had made to her complexion.

"With the Lady Hermione?" said Aunt Judith--"with the Lady Hermione?
and at this time in the morning, when she will scarce see any of the
family, even at seasonable hours? You are crazy, you silly wench, or
you abuse the indulgence which my brother and the lady have shown to
you."

"Indeed, indeed I have not," repeated Margaret, struggling to retain
the unbidden tear which seemed ready to burst out on the slightest
occasion. "Do but say to the lady that your brother's god-daughter
desires earnestly to speak to her, and I know she will not refuse to
see me."

Aunt Judith bent an earnest, suspicious, and inquisitive glance on her
young visitor, "You might make me your secretary, my lassie," she
said, "as well as the Lady Hermione. I am older, and better skilled to
advise. I live more in the world than one who shuts herself up within
four rooms, and I have the better means to assist you."

"O! no--no--no," said Margaret, eagerly, and with more earnest
sincerity than complaisance; "there are some things to which you
cannot advise me, Aunt Judith. It is a case--pardon me, my dear aunt--
a case beyond your counsel."

"I am glad on't, maiden," said Aunt Judith, somewhat angrily; "for I
think the follies of the young people of this generation would drive
mad an old brain like mine. Here you come on the viretot, through the
whole streets of London, to talk some nonsense to a lady, who scarce
sees God's sun, but when he shines on a brick wall. But I will tell
her you are here."

She went away, and shortly returned with a dry--"Miss Marget, the lady
will be glad to see you; and that's more, my young madam, than you had
a right to count upon."

Mistress Margaret hung her head in silence, too much perplexed by the
train of her own embarrassed thoughts, for attempting either to
conciliate Aunt Judith's kindness, or, which on other occasions would
have been as congenial to her own humour, to retaliate on her cross-
tempered remarks and manner. She followed Aunt Judith, therefore, in
silence and dejection, to the strong oaken door which divided the Lady
Hermione's apartments from the rest of George Heriot's spacious house.

At the door of this sanctuary it is necessary to pause, in order to
correct the reports with which Richie Moniplies had filled his
master's ear, respecting the singular appearance of that lady's
attendance at prayers, whom we now own to be by name the Lady
Hermione. Some part of these exaggerations had been communicated to
the worthy Scotsman by Jenkin Vincent, who was well experienced in the
species of wit which has been long a favourite in the city, under the
names of cross-biting, giving the dor, bamboozling, cramming, hoaxing,
humbugging, and quizzing; for which sport Richie Moniplies, with his
solemn gravity, totally unapprehensive of a joke, and his natural
propensity to the marvellous, formed an admirable subject. Farther
ornaments the tale had received from Richie himself, whose tongue,
especially when oiled with good liquor, had a considerable tendency to
amplification, and who failed not, while he retailed to his master all
the wonderful circumstances narrated by Vincent, to add to them many
conjectures of his own, which his imagination had over-hastily
converted into facts.

Yet the life which the Lady Hermione had led for two years, during
which she had been the inmate of George Heriot's house, was so
singular, as almost to sanction many of the wild reports which went
abroad. The house which the worthy goldsmith inhabited, had in former
times belonged to a powerful and wealthy baronial family, which,
during the reign of Henry VIII., terminated in a dowager lady, very
wealthy, very devout, and most unalienably attached to the Catholic
faith. The chosen friend of the Honourable Lady Foljambe was the
Abbess of Saint Roque's Nunnery, like herself a conscientious, rigid,
and devoted Papist. When the house of Saint Roque was despotically
dissolved by the fiat of the impetuous monarch, the Lady Foljambe
received her friend into her spacious mansion, together with two
vestal sisters, who, like their Abbess, were determined to follow the
tenor of their vows, instead of embracing the profane liberty which
the Monarch's will had thrown in their choice. For their residence,
the Lady Foljambe contrived, with all secrecy--for Henry might not
have relished her interference--to set apart a suite of four rooms,
with a little closet fitted up as an oratory, or chapel; the whole
apartments fenced by a stout oaken door to exclude strangers, and
accommodated with a turning wheel to receive necessaries, according to
the practice of all nunneries. In this retreat, the Abbess of Saint
Roque and her attendants passed many years, communicating only with
the Lady Foljambe, who, in virtue of their prayers, and of the support
she afforded them, accounted herself little less than a saint on
earth. The Abbess, fortunately for herself, died before her munificent
patroness, who lived deep in Queen Elizabeth's time, ere she was
summoned by fate.

The Lady Foljambe was succeeded in this mansion by a sour fanatic
knight, a distant and collateral relation, who claimed the same merit
for expelling the priestess of Baal, which his predecessor had founded
on maintaining the votaresses of Heaven. Of the two unhappy nuns,
driven from their ancient refuge, one went beyond sea; the other,
unable from old age to undertake such a journey, died under the roof
of a faithful Catholic widow of low degree. Sir Paul Crambagge, having
got rid of the nuns, spoiled the chapel of its ornaments, and had
thoughts of altogether destroying the apartments, until checked by the
reflection that the operation would be an unnecessary expense, since
he only inhabited three rooms of the large mansion, and had not
therefore the slightest occasion for any addition to its
accommodations. His son proved a waster and a prodigal, and from him
the house was bought by our friend George Heriot, who, finding, like
Sir Paul, the house more than sufficiently ample for his
accommodation, left the Foljambe apartments, or Saint Roque's rooms,
as they were called, in the state in which he found them.

About two years and a half before our history opened, when Heriot was
absent upon an expedition to the Continent, he sent special orders to
his sister and his cash-keeper, directing that the Foljambe apartments
should be fitted up handsomely, though plainly, for the reception of a
lady, who would make them her residence for some time; and who would
live more or less with his own family according to her pleasure. He
also directed, that the necessary repairs should be made with secrecy,
and that as little should be said as possible upon the subject of his
letter.

When the time of his return came nigh, Aunt Judith and the household
were on the tenter-hooks of impatience. Master George came, as he had
intimated, accompanied by a lady, so eminently beautiful, that, had it
not been for her extreme and uniform paleness, she might have been
reckoned one of the loveliest creatures on earth. She had with her an
attendant, or humble companion, whose business seemed only to wait
upon her. This person, a reserved woman, and by her dialect a
foreigner, aged about fifty, was called by the lady Monna Paula, and
by Master Heriot, and others, Mademoiselle Pauline. She slept in the
same room with her patroness at night, ate in her apartment, and was
scarcely ever separated from her during the day.

These females took possession of the nunnery of the devout Abbess,
and, without observing the same rigorous seclusion, according to the
letter, seemed wellnigh to restore the apartments to the use to which
they had been originally designed. The new inmates lived and took
their meals apart from the rest of the family. With the domestics Lady
Hermione, for so she was termed, held no communication, and
Mademoiselle Pauline only such as was indispensable, which she
dispatched as briefly as possible. Frequent and liberal largesses
reconciled the servants to this conduct; and they were in the habit of
observing to each other, that to do a service for Mademoiselle
Pauline, was like finding a fairy treasure.

To Aunt Judith the Lady Hermione was kind and civil, but their
intercourse was rare; on which account the elder lady felt some pangs
both of curiosity and injured dignity. But she knew her brother so
well, and loved him so dearly, that his will, once expressed, might be
truly said to become her own. The worthy citizen was not without a
spice of the dogmatism which grows on the best disposition, when a
word is a law to all around. Master George did not endure to be
questioned by his family, and, when he had generally expressed his
will, that the Lady Hermione should live in the way most agreeable to
her, and that no inquiries should be made concerning their history, or
her motives for observing such strict seclusion, his sister well knew
that he would have been seriously displeased with any attempt to pry
into the secret.

But, though Heriot's servants were bribed, and his sister awed into
silent acquiescence in these arrangements, they were not of a nature
to escape the critical observation of the neighbourhood. Some opined
that the wealthy goldsmith was about to turn papist, and re-establish
Lady Foljambe's nunnery--others that he was going mad--others that he
was either going to marry, or to do worse. Master George's constant
appearance at church, and the knowledge that the supposed votaress
always attended when the prayers of the English ritual were read in
the family, liberated him from the first of these suspicions; those
who had to transact business with him upon 'Change, could not doubt
the soundness of Master Heriot's mind; and, to confute the other
rumours, it was credibly reported by such as made the matter their
particular interest, that Master George Heriot never visited his guest
but in presence of Mademoiselle Pauline, who sat with her work in a
remote part of the same room in which they conversed. It was also
ascertained that these visits scarcely ever exceeded an hour in
length, and were usually only repeated once a week, an intercourse too
brief and too long interrupted, to render it probable that love was
the bond of their union.

The inquirers were, therefore, at fault, and compelled to relinquish
the pursuit of Master Heriot's secret, while a thousand ridiculous
tales were circulated amongst the ignorant and superstitious, with
some specimens of which our friend Richie Moniplies had been
_crammed_, as we have seen, by the malicious apprentice of worthy
David Ramsay.

There was one person in the world who, it was thought, could (if she
would) have said more of the Lady Hermione than any one in London,
except George Heriot himself; and that was the said David Ramsay's
only child, Margaret.

This girl was not much past the age of fifteen when the Lady Hermione
first came to England, and was a very frequent visitor at her
godfather's, who was much amused by her childish sallies, and by the
wild and natural beauty with which she sung the airs of her native
country. Spoilt she was on all hands; by the indulgence of her
godfather, the absent habits and indifference of her father, and the
deference of all around to her caprices, as a beauty and as an
heiress. But though, from these circumstances, the city-beauty had
become as wilful, as capricious, and as affected, as unlimited
indulgence seldom fails to render those to whom it is extended; and
although she exhibited upon many occasions that affectation of extreme
shyness, silence, and reserve, which misses in their teens are apt to
take for an amiable modesty; and, upon others, a considerable portion
of that flippancy, which youth sometimes confounds with wit, Mistress
Margaret had much real shrewdness and judgment, which wanted only
opportunities of observation to refine it--a lively, good-humoured,
playful disposition, and an excellent heart. Her acquired follies were
much increased by reading plays and romances, to which she devoted a
great deal of her time, and from which she adopted ideas as different
as possible from those which she might have obtained from the
invaluable and affectionate instructions of an excellent mother; and
the freaks of which she was sometimes guilty, rendered her not
unjustly liable to the charge of affectation and coquetry. But the
little lass had sense and shrewdness enough to keep her failings out
of sight of her godfather, to whom she was sincerely attached; and so
high she stood in his favour, that, at his recommendation, she
obtained permission to visit the recluse Lady Hermione.

The singular mode of life which that lady observed; her great beauty,
rendered even more interesting by her extreme paleness; the conscious
pride of being admitted farther than the rest of the world into the
society of a person who was wrapped in so much mystery, made a deep
impression on the mind of Margaret Ramsay; and though their
conversations were at no time either long or confidential, yet, proud
of the trust reposed in her, Margaret was as secret respecting their
tenor as if every word repeated had been to cost her life. No inquiry,
however artfully backed by flattery and insinuation, whether on the
part of Dame Ursula, or any other person equally inquisitive, could
wring from the little maiden one word of what she heard or saw, after
she entered these mysterious and secluded apartments. The slightest
question concerning Master Heriot's ghost, was sufficient, at her
gayest moment, to check the current of her communicative prattle, and
render her silent.

We mention this, chiefly to illustrate the early strength of
Margaret's character--a strength concealed under a hundred freakish
whims and humours, as an ancient and massive buttress is disguised by
its fantastic covering of ivy and wildflowers. In truth, if the damsel
had told all she heard or saw within the Foljambe apartments, she
would have said but little to gratify the curiosity of inquirers.

At the earlier period of their acquaintance, the Lady Hermione was
wont to reward the attentions of her little friend with small but
elegant presents, and entertain her by a display of foreign rarities
and curiosities, many of them of considerable value. Sometimes the
time was passed in a way much less agreeable to Margaret, by her
receiving lessons from Pauline in the use of the needle. But, although
her preceptress practised these arts with a dexterity then only known
in foreign convents, the pupil proved so incorrigibly idle and
awkward, that the task of needlework was at length given up, and
lessons of music substituted in their stead. Here also Pauline was
excellently qualified as an instructress, and Margaret, more
successful in a science for which Nature had gifted her, made
proficiency both in vocal and instrumental music. These lessons passed
in presence of the Lady Hermione, to whom they seemed to give
pleasure. She sometimes added her own voice to the performance, in a
pure, clear stream of liquid melody; but this was only when the music
was of a devotional cast. As Margaret became older, her communications
with the recluse assumed a different character. She was allowed, if
not encouraged, to tell whatever she had remarked out of doors, and
the Lady Hermione, while she remarked the quick, sharp, and retentive
powers of observation possessed by her young friend, often found
sufficient reason to caution her against rashness in forming opinions,
and giddy petulance in expressing them.

The habitual awe with which she regarded this singular personage,
induced Mistress Margaret, though by no means delighting in
contradiction or reproof, to listen with patience to her admonitions,
and to make full allowance for the good intentions of the patroness by
whom they were bestowed; although in her heart she could hardly
conceive how Madame Hermione, who never stirred from the Foljambe
apartments, should think of teaching knowledge of the world to one who
walked twice a-week between Temple Bar and Lombard Street, besides
parading in the Park every Sunday that proved to be fair weather.
Indeed, pretty Mistress Margaret was so little inclined to endure such
remonstrances, that her intercourse with the inhabitants of the
Foljambe apartments would have probably slackened as her circle of
acquaintance increased in the external world, had she not, on the one
hand, entertained an habitual reverence for her monitress, of which
she could not divest herself, and been flattered, on the other, by
being to a certain degree the depository of a confidence for which
others thirsted in vain. Besides, although the conversation of
Hermione was uniformly serious, it was not in general either formal or
severe; nor was the lady offended by flights of levity which Mistress
Margaret sometimes ventured on in her presence, even when they were
such as made Monna Paula cast her eyes upwards, and sigh with that
compassion which a devotee extends towards the votaries of a trivial
and profane world. Thus, upon the whole, the little maiden was
disposed to submit, though not without some wincing, to the grave
admonitions of the Lady Hermione; and the rather that the mystery
annexed to the person of her monitress was in her mind early
associated with a vague idea of wealth and importance, which had been
rather confirmed than lessened by many accidental circumstances which
she had noticed since she was more capable of observation.

It frequently happens, that the counsel which we reckon intrusive when
offered to us unasked, becomes precious in our eyes when the pressure
of difficulties renders us more diffident of our own judgment than we
are apt to find ourselves in the hours of ease and indifference; and
this is more especially the case if we suppose that our adviser may
also possess power and inclination to back his counsel with effectual
assistance. Mistress Margaret was now in that situation. She was, or
believed herself to be, in a condition where both advice and
assistance might be necessary; and it was therefore, after an anxious
and sleepless night, that she resolved to have recourse to the Lady
Hermione, who she knew would readily afford her the one, and, as she
hoped, might also possess means of giving her the other. The
conversation between them will best explain the purport of the visit.




CHAPTER XIX


  By this good light, a wench of matchless mettle!
  This were a leaguer-lass to love a soldier,
  To bind his wounds, and kiss his bloody brow,
  And sing a roundel as she help'd to arm him,
  Though the rough foeman's drums were beat so nigh,
  They seem'd to bear the burden.
                               _Old Play._

When Mistress Margaret entered the Foljambe apartment, she found the
inmates employed in their usual manner; the lady in reading, and her
attendant in embroidering a large piece of tapestry, which had
occupied her ever since Margaret had been first admitted within these
secluded chambers.

Hermione nodded kindly to her visitor, but did not speak; and
Margaret, accustomed to this reception, and in the present case not
sorry for it, as it gave her an interval to collect her thoughts,
stooped over Monna Paula's frame and observed, in a half whisper, "You
were just so far as that rose, Monna, when I first saw you--see, there
is the mark where I had the bad luck to spoil the flower in trying to
catch the stitch--I was little above fifteen then. These flowers make
me an old woman, Monna Paula."

"I wish they could make you a wise one, my child," answered Monna
Paula, in whose esteem pretty Mistress Margaret did not stand quite so
high as in that of her patroness; partly owing to her natural
austerity, which was something intolerant of youth and gaiety, and
partly to the jealousy with which a favourite domestic regards any one
whom she considers as a sort of rival in the affections of her
mistress.

"What is it you say to Monna, little one?" asked the lady.

"Nothing, madam," replied Mistress Margaret, "but that I have seen the
real flowers blossom three times over since I first saw Monna Paula
working in her canvass garden, and her violets have not budded yet."

"True, lady-bird," replied Hermione; "but the buds that are longest in
blossoming will last the longest in flower. You have seen them in the
garden bloom thrice, but you have seen them fade thrice also; now,
Monna Paula's will remain in blow for ever--they will fear neither
frost nor tempest."

"True, madam," answered Mistress Margaret; "but neither have they life
or odour."

"That, little one," replied the recluse, "is to compare a life
agitated by hope and fear, and chequered with success and
disappointment, and fevered by the effects of love and hatred, a life
of passion and of feeling, saddened and shortened by its exhausting
alternations, to a calm and tranquil existence, animated but by a
sense of duties, and only employed, during its smooth and quiet
course, in the unwearied discharge of them. Is that the moral of your
answer?"

"I do not know, madam," answered Mistress Margaret; "but, of all birds
in the air, I would rather be the lark, that sings while he is
drifting down the summer breeze, than the weathercock that sticks fast
yonder upon his iron perch, and just moves so much as to discharge his
duty, and tell us which way the wind blows."

"Metaphors are no arguments, my pretty maiden," said the Lady
Hermione, smiling.

"I am sorry for that, madam," answered Margaret; "for they are such a
pretty indirect way of telling one's mind when it differs from one's
betters--besides, on this subject there is no end of them, and they
are so civil and becoming withal."

"Indeed?" replied the lady; "let me hear some of them, I pray you."

"It would be, for example, very bold in me," said Margaret, "to say to
your ladyship, that, rather than live a quiet life, I would like a
little variety of hope and fear, and liking and disliking--and--and--
and the other sort of feelings which your ladyship is pleased to speak
of; but I may say freely, and without blame, that I like a butterfly
better than a bettle, or a trembling aspen better than a grim Scots
fir, that never wags a leaf--or that of all the wood, brass, and wire
that ever my father's fingers put together, I do hate and detest a
certain huge old clock of the German fashion, that rings hours and
half hours, and quarters and half quarters, as if it were of such
consequence that the world should know it was wound up and going. Now,
dearest lady, I wish you would only compare that clumsy, clanging,
Dutch-looking piece of lumber, with the beautiful timepiece that
Master Heriot caused my father to make for your ladyship, which uses
to play a hundred merry tunes, and turns out, when it strikes the
hour, a whole band of morrice dancers, to trip the hays to the
measure."

"And which of these timepieces goes the truest, Margaret?" said the
lady.

"I must confess the old Dutchman has the advantage in that"--said
Margaret. "I fancy you are right, madam, and that comparisons are no
arguments; at least mine has not brought me through."

"Upon my word, maiden Margaret," said the lady, smiling, "you have
been of late thinking very much of these matters."

"Perhaps too much, madam," said Margaret, so low as only to be heard
by the lady, behind the back of whose chair she had now placed
herself. The words were spoken very gravely, and accompanied by a half
sigh, which did not escape the attention of her to whom they were
addressed. The Lady Hermione turned immediately round, and looked
earnestly at Margaret, then paused for a moment, and, finally,
commanded Monna Paula to carry her frame and embroidery into the
antechamber. When they were left alone, she desired her young friend
to come from behind the chair on the back of which she still rested,
and sit down beside her upon a stool.

"I will remain thus, madam, under your favour," answered Margaret,
without changing her posture; "I would rather you heard me without
seeing me."

"In God's name, maiden," returned her patroness, "what is it you can
have to say, that may not be uttered face to face, to so true a friend
as I am?"

Without making any direct answer, Margaret only replied, "You were
right, dearest lady, when you said, I had suffered my feelings too
much to engross me of late. I have done very wrong, and you will be
angry with me--so will my godfather, but I cannot help it--he must be
rescued."

"_He?_" repeated the lady, with emphasis; "that brief little word
does, indeed, so far explain your mystery;--but come from behind the
chair, you silly popinjay! I will wager you have suffered yonder gay
young apprentice to sit too near your heart. I have not heard you
mention young Vincent for many a day--perhaps he has not been out of
mouth and out of mind both. Have you been so foolish as to let him
speak to you seriously?--I am told he is a bold youth."

"Not bold enough to say any thing that could displease me, madam,"
said Margaret.

"Perhaps, then, you were _not_ displeased," said the lady; "or perhaps
he has not _spoken_, which would be wiser and better. Be open-hearted,
my love--your godfather will soon return, and we will take him into
our consultations. If the young man is industrious, and come of honest
parentage, his poverty may be no such insurmountable obstacle. But you
are both of you very young, Margaret--I know your godfather will
expect, that the youth shall first serve out his apprenticeship."

Margaret had hitherto suffered the lady to proceed, under the mistaken
impression which she had adopted, simply because she could not tell
how to interrupt her; but pure despite at hearing her last words gave
her boldness at length to say "I crave your pardon, madam; but neither
the youth you mention, nor any apprentice or master within the city of
London--"

"Margaret," said the lady, in reply, "the contemptuous tone with which
you mention those of your own class, (many hundreds if not thousands
of whom are in all respects better than yourself, and would greatly
honour you by thinking of you,) is methinks, no warrant for the wisdom
of your choice--for a choice, it seems, there is. Who is it, maiden,
to whom you have thus rashly attached yourself?--rashly, I fear it
must be."

"It is the young Scottish Lord Glenvarloch, madam," answered Margaret,
in a low and modest tone, but sufficiently firm, considering the
subject.

"The young Lord of Glenvarloch!" repeated the lady, in great surprise-
-"Maiden, you are distracted in your wits."

"I knew you would say so, madam," answered Margaret. "It is what
another person has already told me--it is, perhaps, what all the world
would tell me--it is what I am sometimes disposed to tell myself. But
look at me, madam, for I will now come before you, and tell me if
there is madness or distraction in my look and word, when I repeat to
you again, that I have fixed my affections on this young nobleman."

"If there is not madness in your look or word, maiden, there is
infinite folly in what you say," answered the Lady Hermione, sharply.
"When did you ever hear that misplaced love brought any thing but
wretchedness? Seek a match among your equals, Margaret, and escape the
countless kinds of risk and misery that must attend an affection
beyond your degree.--Why do you smile, maiden? Is there aught to cause
scorn in what I say?"

"Surely no, madam," answered Margaret. "I only smiled to think how it
should happen, that, while rank made such a wide difference between
creatures formed from the same clay, the wit of the vulgar should,
nevertheless, jump so exactly the same length with that of the
accomplished and the exalted. It is but the variation of the phrase
which divides them. Dame Ursley told me the very same thing which your
ladyship has but now uttered; only you, madam, talk of countless
misery, and Dame Ursley spoke of the gallows, and Mistress Turner, who
was hanged upon it."

"Indeed?" answered the Lady Hermione; "and who may Dame Ursley be,
that your wise choice has associated with me in the difficult task of
advising a fool?"

"The barber's wife at next door, madam," answered Margaret, with
feigned simplicity, but far from being sorry at heart, that she had
found an indirect mode of mortifying her monitress. "She is the wisest
woman that I know, next to your ladyship."

"A proper confidant," said the lady, "and chosen with the same
delicate sense of what is due to yourself and others!--But what ails
you, maiden--where are you going?"

"Only to ask Dame Ursley's advice," said Margaret, as if about to
depart; "for I see your ladyship is too angry to give me any, and the
emergency is pressing."

"What emergency, thou simple one?" said the lady, in a kinder tone.--
"Sit down, maiden, and tell me your tale. It is true you are a fool,
and a pettish fool to boot; but then you are a child--an amiable
child, with all your self-willed folly, and we must help you, if we
can.--Sit down, I say, as you are desired, and you will find me a
safer and wiser counseller than the barber-woman. And tell me how you
come to suppose, that you have fixed your heart unalterably upon a man
whom you have seen, as I think, but once."

"I have seen him oftener," said the damsel, looking down; "but I have
only spoken to him once. I should have been able to get that once out
of my head, though the impression was so deep, that I could even now
repeat every trifling word he said; but other things have since
riveted it in my bosom for ever."

"Maiden," replied the lady, "_for ever_ is the word which comes most
lightly on the lips in such circumstances, but
 which, not the less, is almost the last that we should use. The
fashion of this world, its passions, its joys, and its sorrows, pass
away like the winged breeze--there is nought for ever but that which
belongs to the world beyond the grave."

"You have corrected me justly, madam," said Margaret calmly; "I ought
only to have spoken of my present state of mind, as what will last me
for my lifetime, which unquestionably may be but short."

"And what is there in this Scottish lord that can rivet what concerns
him so closely in your fancy?" said the lady. "I admit him a
personable man, for I have seen him; and I will suppose him courteous
and agreeable. But what are his accomplishments besides, for these
surely are not uncommon attributes."

"He is unfortunate, madam--most unfortunate--and surrounded by snares
of different kinds, ingeniously contrived to ruin his character,
destroy his estate, and, perhaps, to reach even his life. These
schemes have been devised by avarice originally, but they are now
followed close by vindictive ambition, animated, I think, by the
absolute and concentrated spirit of malice; for the Lord Dalgarno--"

"Here, Monna Paula--Monna Paula!" exclaimed the Lady Hermione,
interrupting her young friend's narrative. "She hears me not," she
answered, rising and going out, "I must seek her--I will return
instantly." She returned accordingly very soon after. "You mentioned a
name which I thought was familiar to me," she said; "but Monna Paula
has put me right. I know nothing of your lord--how was it you named
him?"

"Lord Dalgarno," said Margaret;--"the wickedest man who lives. Under
pretence of friendship, he introduced the Lord Glenvarloch to a
gambling-house with the purpose of engaging him in deep play; but he
with whom the perfidious traitor had to deal, was too virtuous,
moderate, and cautious, to be caught in a snare so open. What did they
next, but turn his own moderation against him, and persuade others
that--because he would not become the prey of wolves, he herded with
them for a share of their booty! And, while this base Lord Dalgarno
was thus undermining his unsuspecting countryman, he took every
measure to keep him surrounded by creatures of his own, to prevent him
from attending Court, and mixing with those of his proper rank. Since
the Gunpowder Treason, there never was a conspiracy more deeply laid,
more basely and more deliberately pursued."