Rob Roy – Complete

“And this kinsman of yours, and friend of mine, is he one of those great proprietors who maintain the household troops you speak of?” I inquired.

“Na, na,” said Bailie Jarvie; “he’s nane o’ your great grandees o’ chiefs, as they ca’ them, neither. Though he is weel born, and lineally descended frae auld Glenstrae – I ken his lineage – indeed he is a near kinsman, and, as I said, of gude gentle Hieland blude, though ye may think weel that I care little about that nonsense – it’s a’ moonshine in water – waste threads and thrums, as we say – But I could show ye letters frae his father, that was the third aff Glenstrae, to my father Deacon Jarvie (peace be wi’ his memory!) beginning, Dear Deacon, and ending, your loving kinsman to command, – they are amaist a’ about borrowed siller, sae the gude deacon, that’s dead and gane, keepit them as documents and evidents – He was a carefu’ man.”

“But if he is not,” I resumed, “one of their chiefs or patriarchal leaders, whom I have heard my father talk of, this kinsman of yours has, at least, much to say in the Highlands, I presume?”

“Ye may say that – nae name better ken’d between the Lennox and Breadalbane. Robin was ance a weel-doing, painstaking drover, as ye wad see amang ten thousand – It was a pleasure to see him in his belted plaid and brogues, wi’ his target at his back, and claymore and dirk at his belt, following a hundred Highland stots, and a dozen o’ the gillies, as rough and ragged as the beasts they drave. And he was baith civil and just in his dealings; and if he thought his chapman had made a hard bargain, he wad gie him a luck-penny to the mends. I hae ken’d him gie back five shillings out o’ the pund sterling.”

“Twenty-five per cent,” said Owen – “a heavy discount.”

“He wad gie it though, sir, as I tell ye; mair especially if he thought the buyer was a puir man, and couldna stand by a loss. But the times cam hard, and Rob was venturesome. It wasna my faut – it wasna my faut; he canna wyte me – I aye tauld him o’t – And the creditors, mair especially some grit neighbours o’ his, gripped to his living and land; and they say his wife was turned out o’ the house to the hill-side, and sair misguided to the boot. Shamefu’! shamefu’! – I am a peacefu’ man and a magistrate, but if ony ane had guided sae muckle as my servant quean, Mattie, as it’s like they guided Rob’s wife, I think it suld hae set the shabble[52 - Cutlass.] that my father the deacon had at Bothwell brig a-walking again.

Weel, Rob cam hame, and fand desolation, God pity us! where he left plenty; he looked east, west, south, north, and saw neither hauld nor hope – neither beild nor shelter; sae he e’en pu’d the bonnet ower his brow, belted the broadsword to his side, took to the brae-side, and became a broken man.” [53 - An outlaw.]

The voice of the good citizen was broken by his contending feelings. He obviously, while he professed to contemn the pedigree of his Highland kinsman, attached a secret feeling of consequence to the connection, and he spoke of his friend in his prosperity with an overflow of affection, which deepened his sympathy for his misfortunes, and his regret for their consequences.

“Thus tempted and urged by despair,” said I, seeing Mr. Jarvie did not proceed in his narrative, “I suppose your kinsman became one of those depredators you have described to us?”

“No sae bad as that,” said the Glaswegian, – “no a’thegither and outright sae bad as that; but he became a levier of black-mail, wider and farther than ever it was raised in our day, a through the Lennox and Menteith, and up to the gates o’ Stirling Castle.”

“Black-mail? – I do not understand the phrase,” I remarked.

“Ou, ye see, Rob soon gathered an unco band o’ blue-bonnets at his back, for he comes o’ a rough name when he’s kent by his ain, and a name that’s held its ain for mony a lang year, baith again king and parliament, and kirk too, for aught I ken – an auld and honourable name, for as sair as it has been worried and hadden down and oppressed. My mother was a MacGregor – I carena wha kens it – And Rob had soon a gallant band; and as it grieved him (he said) to see sic hership and waste and depredation to the south o’ the Hieland line, why, if ony heritor or farmer wad pay him four punds Scots out of each hundred punds of valued rent, whilk was doubtless a moderate consideration, Rob engaged to keep them scaithless; – let them send to him if they lost sae muckle as a single cloot by thieving, and Rob engaged to get them again, or pay the value – and he aye keepit his word – I canna deny but he keepit his word – a’ men allow Rob keeps his word.”

“This is a very singular contract of assurance,” said Mr. Owen.

“It’s clean again our statute law, that must be owned,” said Jarvie, “clean again law; the levying and the paying black-mail are baith punishable: but if the law canna protect my barn and byre, whatfor suld I no engage wi’ a Hieland gentleman that can? – answer me that.”

“But,” said I, “Mr. Jarvie, is this contract of black-mail, as you call it, completely voluntary on the part of the landlord or farmer who pays the insurance? or what usually happens, in case any one refuses payment of this tribute?”

“Aha, lad!” said the Bailie, laughing, and putting his finger to his nose, “ye think ye hae me there. Troth, I wad advise ony friends o’ mine to gree wi’ Rob; for, watch as they like, and do what they like, they are sair apt to be harried[54 - Plundered.] when the lang nights come on.

Some o’ the Grahame and Cohoon gentry stood out; but what then? – they lost their haill stock the first winter; sae maist folks now think it best to come into Rob’s terms. He’s easy wi’ a’ body that will be easy wi’ him; but if ye thraw him, ye had better thraw the deevil.”

“And by his exploits in these vocations,” I continued, “I suppose he has rendered himself amenable to the laws of the country?”

“Amenable? – ye may say that; his craig wad ken the weight o’ his hurdies if they could get haud o’ Rob. But he has gude friends amang the grit folks; and I could tell ye o’ ae grit family that keeps him up as far as they decently can, to be a them in the side of another. And then he’s sic an auld-farran lang-headed chield as never took up the trade o’ cateran in our time; mony a daft reik he has played – mair than wad fill a book, and a queer ane it wad be – as gude as Robin Hood, or William Wallace – a’ fu’ o’ venturesome deeds and escapes, sic as folk tell ower at a winter ingle in the daft days. It’s a queer thing o’ me, gentlemen, that am a man o’ peace mysell, and a peacefu man’s son – for the deacon my father quarrelled wi’ nane out o the town-council – it’s a queer thing, I say, but I think the Hieland blude o’ me warms at thae daft tales, and whiles I like better to hear them than a word o’ profit, gude forgie me! But they are vanities – sinfu’ vanities – and, moreover, again the statute law – again the statute and gospel law.”

I now followed up my investigation, by inquiring what means of influence this Mr. Robert Campbell could possibly possess over my affairs, or those of my father.

“Why, ye are to understand,” said Mr. Jarvie in a very subdued tone – “I speak amang friends, and under the rose – Ye are to understand, that the Hielands hae been keepit quiet since the year aughty-nine – that was Killiecrankie year. But how hae they been keepit quiet, think ye? By siller, Mr. Owen – by siller, Mr. Osbaldistone. King William caused Breadalbane distribute twenty thousand oude punds sterling amang them, and it’s said the auld Hieland Earl keepit a lang lug o’t in his ain sporran. And then Queen Anne, that’s dead, gae the chiefs bits o’ pensions, sae they had wherewith to support their gillies and caterans that work nae wark, as I said afore; and they lay by quiet eneugh, saying some spreagherie on the Lowlands, whilk is their use and wont, and some cutting o’ thrapples amang themsells, that nae civilised body kens or cares onything anent. – Weel, but there’s a new warld come up wi’ this King George (I say, God bless him, for ane) – there’s neither like to be siller nor pensions gaun amang them; they haena the means o’ mainteening the clans that eat them up, as ye may guess frae what I said before; their credit’s gane in the Lowlands; and a man that can whistle ye up a thousand or feifteen hundred linking lads to do his will, wad hardly get fifty punds on his band at the Cross o’ Glasgow – This canna stand lang – there will be an outbreak for the Stuarts – there will be an outbreak – they will come down on the low country like a flood, as they did in the waefu’ wars o’ Montrose, and that will be seen and heard tell o’ ere a twalmonth gangs round.”

“Yet still,” I said, “I do not see how this concerns Mr. Campbell, much less my father’s affairs.”

“Rob can levy five hundred men, sir, and therefore war suld concern him as muckle as maist folk,” replied the Bailie; “for it is a faculty that is far less profitable in time o’ peace. Then, to tell ye the truth, I doubt he has been the prime agent between some o’ our Hieland chiefs and the gentlemen in the north o’ England. We a’ heard o’ the public money that was taen frae the chield Morris somewhere about the fit o’ Cheviot by Rob and ane o’ the Osbaldistone lads; and, to tell ye the truth, word gaed that it was yoursell Mr. Francis, – and sorry was I that your father’s son suld hae taen to sic practices – Na, ye needna say a word about it – I see weel I was mistaen; but I wad believe onything o’ a stage-player, whilk I concluded ye to be. But now, I doubtna, it has been Rashleigh himself or some other o’ your cousins – they are a’ tarred wi’ the same stick – rank Jacobites and papists, and wad think the government siller and government papers lawfu’ prize. And the creature Morris is sic a cowardly caitiff, that to this hour he daurna say that it was Rob took the portmanteau aff him; and troth he’s right, for your custom-house and excise cattle are ill liket on a’ sides, and Rob might get a back-handed lick at him, before the Board, as they ca’t, could help him.”

“I have long suspected this, Mr. Jarvie,” said I, “and perfectly agree with you. But as to my father’s affairs” —

“Suspected it? – it’s certain – it’s certain – I ken them that saw some of the papers that were taen aff Morris – it’s needless to say where. But to your father’s affairs – Ye maun think that in thae twenty years by-gane, some o’ the Hieland lairds and chiefs hae come to some sma’ sense o’ their ain interest – your father and others hae bought the woods of Glen-Disseries, Glen Kissoch, Tober-na-Kippoch, and mony mair besides, and your father’s house has granted large bills in payment, – and as the credit o’ Osbaldistone and Tresham was gude – for I’ll say before Mr. Owen’s face, as I wad behind his back, that, bating misfortunes o’ the Lord’s sending, nae men could be mair honourable in business – the Hieland gentlemen, holders o’ thae bills, hae found credit in Glasgow and Edinburgh – (I might amaist say in Glasgow wholly, for it’s little the pridefu’ Edinburgh folk do in real business) – for all, or the greater part of the contents o’ thae bills. So that – Aha! d’ye see me now?”

I confessed I could not quite follow his drift.

“Why,” said he, “if these bills are not paid, the Glasgow merchant comes on the Hieland lairds, whae hae deil a boddle o’ siller, and will like ill to spew up what is item a’ spent – They will turn desperate – five hundred will rise that might hae sitten at hame – the deil will gae ower Jock Wabster – and the stopping of your father’s house will hasten the outbreak that’s been sae lang biding us.”

“You think, then,” said I, surprised at this singular view of the case, “that Rashleigh Osbaldistone has done this injury to my father, merely to accelerate a rising in the Highlands, by distressing the gentlemen to whom these bills were originally granted?”

“Doubtless – doubtless – it has been one main reason, Mr. Osbaldistone. I doubtna but what the ready money he carried off wi’ him might be another. But that makes comparatively but a sma’ part o’ your father’s loss, though it might make the maist part o’ Rashleigh’s direct gain. The assets he carried off are of nae mair use to him than if he were to light his pipe wi’ them. He tried if MacVittie & Co. wad gie him siller on them – that I ken by Andro Wylie – but they were ower auld cats to draw that strae afore them – they keepit aff, and gae fair words. Rashleigh Osbaldistone is better ken’d than trusted in Glasgow, for he was here about some jacobitical papistical troking in seventeen hundred and seven, and left debt ahint him. Na, na – he canna pit aff the paper here; folk will misdoubt him how he came by it. Na, na – he’ll hae the stuff safe at some o’ their haulds in the Hielands, and I daur say my cousin Rob could get at it gin he liked.”

“But would he be disposed to serve us in this pinch, Mr. Jarvie?” said I. “You have described him as an agent of the Jacobite party, and deeply connected in their intrigues: will he be disposed for my sake, or, if you please, for the sake of justice, to make an act of restitution, which, supposing it in his power, would, according to your view of the case, materially interfere with their plans?”

“I canna preceesely speak to that: the grandees among them are doubtfu’ o’ Rob, and he’s doubtfu’ o’ them. – And he’s been weel friended wi’ the Argyle family, wha stand for the present model of government. If he was freed o’ his hornings and captions, he would rather be on Argyle’s side than he wad be on Breadalbane’s, for there’s auld ill-will between the Breadalbane family and his kin and name. The truth is, that Rob is for his ain hand, as Henry Wynd feught[55 - Two great clans fought out a quarrel with thirty men of a side, in presence of the king, on the North Inch of Perth, on or about the year 1392; a man was amissing on one side, whose room was filled by a little bandy-legged citizen of Perth. This substitute, Henry Wynd – or, as the Highlanders called him, Gow Chrom, that is, the bandy-legged smith – fought well, and contributed greatly to the fate of the battle, without knowing which side he fought on; – so, “To fight for your own hand, like Henry Wynd,” passed into a proverb. [This incident forms a conspicuous part of the subsequent novel, “The Fair Maid of Perth.”]]– he’ll take the side that suits him best; if the deil was laird, Rob wad be for being tenant; and ye canna blame him, puir fallow, considering his circumstances.

But there’s ae thing sair again ye – Rob has a grey mear in his stable at hame.”

“A grey mare?” said I. “What is that to the purpose?”

“The wife, man – the wife, – an awfu’ wife she is. She downa bide the sight o’ a kindly Scot, if he come frae the Lowlands, far less of an Inglisher, and she’ll be keen for a’ that can set up King James, and ding down King George.”

“It is very singular,” I replied, “that the mercantile transactions of London citizens should become involved with revolutions and rebellions.”

“Not at a’, man – not at a’,” returned Mr. Jarvie; “that’s a’ your silly prejudications. I read whiles in the lang dark nights, and I hae read in Baker’s Chronicle[56 - [The Chronicle of the Kings of England, by Sir Richard Baker, with continuations, passed through several editions between 1641 and 1733. Whether any of them contain the passage alluded to is doubtful.]] that the merchants o’London could gar the Bank of Genoa break their promise to advance a mighty sum to the King o’ Spain, whereby the sailing of the Grand Spanish Armada was put aff for a haill year – What think you of that, sir?”

“That the merchants did their country golden service, which ought to be honourably remembered in our histories.”

“I think sae too; and they wad do weel, and deserve weal baith o’ the state and o’ humanity, that wad save three or four honest Hieland gentlemen frae louping heads ower heels into destruction, wi’ a’ their puir sackless[57 - Sackless, that is, innocent.] followers, just because they canna pay back the siller they had reason to count upon as their ain – and save your father’s credit – and my ain gude siller that Osbaldistone and Tresham awes me into the bargain.

I say, if ane could manage a’ this, I think it suld be done and said unto him, even if he were a puir ca’-the-shuttle body, as unto one whom the king delighteth to honour.”

“I cannot pretend to estimate the extent of public gratitude,” I replied; “but our own thankfulness, Mr. Jarvie, would be commensurate with the extent of the obligation.”

“Which,” added Mr. Owen, “we would endeavour to balance with a per contra, the instant our Mr. Osbaldistone returns from Holland.”

“I doubtna – I doubtna – he is a very worthy gentleman, and a sponsible, and wi’ some o’ my lights might do muckle business in Scotland – Weel, sir, if these assets could be redeemed out o’ the hands o’ the Philistines, they are gude paper – they are the right stuff when they are in the right hands, and that’s yours, Mr. Owen. And I’se find ye three men in Glasgow, for as little as ye may think o’ us, Mr. Owen – that’s Sandie Steenson in the Trade’s-Land, and John Pirie in Candleriggs, and another that sall be nameless at this present, sall advance what soums are sufficient to secure the credit of your house, and seek nae better security.”

Owen’s eyes sparkled at this prospect of extrication; but his countenance instantly fell on recollecting how improbable it was that the recovery of the assets, as he technically called them, should be successfully achieved.

“Dinna despair, sir – dinna despair,” said Mr. Jarvie; “I hae taen sae muckle concern wi’ your affairs already, that it maun een be ower shoon ower boots wi’ me now. I am just like my father the deacon (praise be wi’ him!) I canna meddle wi’ a friend’s business, but I aye end wi’ making it my ain – Sae, I’ll e’en pit on my boots the morn, and be jogging ower Drymen Muir wi’ Mr. Frank here; and if I canna mak Rob hear reason, and his wife too, I dinna ken wha can – I hae been a kind freend to them afore now, to say naething o’ ower-looking him last night, when naming his name wad hae cost him his life – I’ll be hearing o’ this in the council maybe frae Bailie Grahame and MacVittie, and some o’ them. They hae coost up my kindred to Rob to me already – set up their nashgabs! I tauld them I wad vindicate nae man’s faults; but set apart what he had done again the law o’ the country, and the hership o’ the Lennox, and the misfortune o’ some folk losing life by him, he was an honester man than stood on ony o’ their shanks – And whatfor suld I mind their clavers? If Rob is an outlaw, to himsell be it said – there is nae laws now about reset of inter-communed persons, as there was in the ill times o’ the last Stuarts – I trow I hae a Scotch tongue in my head – if they speak, I’se answer.”

It was with great pleasure that I saw the Bailie gradually surmount the barriers of caution, under the united influence of public spirit and good-natured interest in our affairs, together with his natural wish to avoid loss and acquire gain, and not a little harmless vanity. Through the combined operation of these motives, he at length arrived at the doughty resolution of taking the field in person, to aid in the recovery of my father’s property. His whole information led me to believe, that if the papers were in possession of this Highland adventurer, it might be possible to induce him to surrender what he could not keep with any prospect of personal advantage; and I was conscious that the presence of his kinsman was likely to have considerable weight with him. I therefore cheerfully acquiesced in Mr. Jarvie’s proposal that we should set out early next morning.

That honest gentleman was indeed as vivacious and alert in preparing to carry his purpose into execution, as he had been slow and cautious in forming it. He roared to Mattie to “air his trot-cosey, to have his jack-boots greased and set before the kitchen-fire all night, and to see that his beast be corned, and a’ his riding gear in order.” Having agreed to meet him at five o’clock next morning, and having settled that Owen, whose presence could be of no use to us upon this expedition, should await our return at Glasgow, we took a kind farewell of this unexpectedly zealous friend. I installed Owen in an apartment in my lodgings, contiguous to my own, and, giving orders to Andrew Fairservice to attend me next morning at the hour appointed, I retired to rest with better hopes than it had lately been my fortune to entertain.

CHAPTER TENTH

Far as the eye could reach no tree was seen,
Earth, clad in russet, scorned the lively green;
No birds, except as birds of passage flew;
No bee was heard to hum, no dove to coo;
No streams, as amber smooth-as amber clear,
Were seen to glide, or heard to warble here.