by Walter Scott
Allan Bertram of Ellangowan, who flourished tempore Caroli primi, was,says my authority, Sir Robert Douglas, in his Scottish Baronage (see thetitle 'Ellangowan'), 'a steady loyalist, and full of zeal for the causeof His Sacred Majesty, in which he united with the great Marquis ofMontrose and other truly zealous and honourable patriots, and sustainedgreat losses in that behalf. He had the honour of knighthood conferredupon him by His Most Sacred Majesty, and was sequestrated as a malignantby the parliament, 1642, and afterwards as a resolutioner in the year1648.' These two cross-grained epithets of malignant and resolutionercost poor Sir Allan one half of the family estate. His son Dennis Bertrammarried a daughter of an eminent fanatic who had a seat in the council ofstate, 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 principlesas well as of her charms, and my author gives him this character: 'He wasa man of eminent parts and resolution, for which reason he was chosen bythe western counties one of the committee of noblemen and gentlemen toreport their griefs to the privy council of Charles II. anent the comingin of the Highland host in 1678.' For undertaking this patriotic task heunderwent a fine, to pay which he was obliged to mortgage half of theremaining moiety of his paternal property. This loss he might haverecovered by dint of severe economy, but on the breaking out of Argyle'srebellion Dennis Bertram was again suspected by government, apprehended,sent to Dunnotar Castle on the coast of the Mearns, and there broke hisneck in an attempt to escape from a subterranean habitation called theWhigs' Vault, in which he was confined with some eighty of the samepersuasion. The apprizer therefore (as the holder of a mortgage was thencalled) entered upon possession, and, in the language of Hotspur, 'cameme cranking in,' and cut the family out of another monstrous cantle oftheir remaining property.
Donohoe Bertram, with somewhat of an Irish name and somewhat of an Irishtemper, succeeded to the diminished property of Ellangowan. He turned outof doors the Reverend Aaron Macbriar, his mother's chaplain (it is saidthey quarrelled about the good graces of a milkmaid); drank himself dailydrunk with brimming healths to the king, council, and bishops; heldorgies with the Laird of Lagg, Theophilus Oglethorpe, and Sir JamesTurner; and lastly, took his grey gelding and joined Clavers atKilliecrankie. At the skirmish of Dunkeld, 1689, he was shot dead by aCameronian with a silver button (being supposed to have proof from theEvil One against lead and steel), and his grave is still called theWicked Laird's Lair.
His son Lewis had more prudence than seems usually to have belonged tothe family. He nursed what property was yet left to him; for Donohoe'sexcesses, as well as fines and forfeitures, had made another inroad uponthe estate. And although even he did not escape the fatality whichinduced the Lairds of Ellangowan to interfere with politics, he had yetthe prudence, ere he went out with Lord Kenmore in 1715, to convey hisestate to trustees, in order to parry pains and penalties in case theEarl of Mar could not put down the Protestant succession. But Scylla andCharybdis--a word to the wise--he only saved his estate at expense of alawsuit, which again subdivided the family property. He was, however, aman 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, hebuilt with the stones a narrow house of three stories high, with a frontlike a grenadier's cap, having in the very centre a round window like thesingle eye of a Cyclops, two windows on each side, and a door in themiddle, leading to a parlour and withdrawing-room full of all manner ofcross lights.
This was the New Place of Ellangowan, in which we left our hero, betteramused perhaps than our readers, and to this Lewis Bertram retreated,full of projects for re-establishing the prosperity of his family. Hetook some land into his own hand, rented some from neighbouringproprietors, bought and sold Highland cattle and Cheviot sheep, rode tofairs and trysts, fought hard bargains, and held necessity at the staff'send as well as he might. But what he gained in purse he lost in honour,for such agricultural and commercial negotiations were very ill lookedupon by his brother lairds, who minded nothing but cock-fighting,hunting, coursing, and horse-racing, with now and then the alternative ofa desperate duel. The occupations which he followed encroached, in theiropinion, upon the article of Ellangowan's gentry, and he found itnecessary gradually to estrange himself from their society, and sink intowhat was then a very ambiguous character, a gentleman farmer. In themidst of his schemes death claimed his tribute, and the scanty remains ofa large property descended upon Godfrey Bertram, the present possessor,his only son.
The danger of the father's speculations was soon seen. Deprived of LairdLewis's personal and active superintendence, all his undertakingsmiscarried, and became either abortive or perilous. Without a singlespark of energy to meet or repel these misfortunes, Godfrey put his faithin the activity of another. He kept neither hunters nor hounds, nor anyother southern preliminaries to ruin; but, as has been observed of hiscountrymen, he kept a man of business, who answered the purpose equallywell. 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 solittle the spirit of a litigant that he was on two occasions charged tomake payment of the expenses of a long lawsuit, although he had neverbefore heard that he had such cases in court. Meanwhile his neighbourspredicted his final ruin. Those of the higher rank, with some malignity,accounted him already a degraded brother. The lower classes, seeingnothing enviable in his situation, marked his embarrassments with morecompassion. He was even a kind of favourite with them, and upon thedivision of a common, or the holding of a black-fishing or poachingcourt, or any similar occasion when they conceived themselves oppressedby the gentry, they were in the habit of saying to each other, 'Ah, ifEllangowan, honest man, had his ain that his forbears had afore him, hewadna see the puir folk trodden down this gait.' Meanwhile, this generalgood opinion never prevented their taking advantage of him on allpossible occasions, turning their cattle into his parks, stealing hiswood, shooting his game, and so forth, 'for the Laird, honest man, he'llnever find it; he never minds what a puir body does.' Pedlars, gipsies,tinkers, vagrants of all descriptions, roosted about his outhouses, orharboured in his kitchen; and the Laird, who was 'nae nice body,' but athorough gossip, like most weak men, found recompense for his hospitalityin 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 fourthousand pounds. Nobody in the neighbourhood could conceive why shemarried him and endowed him with her wealth, unless because he had atall, handsome figure, a good set of features, a genteel address, and themost perfect good-humour. It might be some additional consideration, thatshe was herself at the reflecting age of twenty-eight, and had no nearrelations to control her actions or choice.
It was in this lady's behalf (confined for the first time after hermarriage) that the speedy and active express, mentioned by the old dameof the cottage, had been despatched to Kippletringan on the night ofMannering's arrival.
Though we have said so much of the Laird himself, it still remains thatwe make the reader in some degree acquainted with his companion. This wasAbel Sampson, commonly called, from his occupation as a pedagogue,Dominie Sampson. He was of low birth, but having evinced, even from hiscradle, an uncommon seriousness of disposition, the poor parents wereencouraged to hope that their bairn, as they expressed it, 'might wag hispow in a pulpit yet.' With an ambitious view to such a consummation, theypinched and pared, rose early and lay down late, ate dry bread and drankcold water, to secure to Abel the means of learning. Meantime, his tall,ungainly figure, his taciturn and grave manners, and some grotesquehabits of swinging his limbs and screwing his visage while reciting histask, made poor Sampson the ridicule of all his school-companions. Thesame qualities secured him at Glasgow College a plentiful share of thesame sort
of notice. Half the youthful mob of 'the yards' used toassemble regularly to see Dominie Sampson (for he had already attainedthat honourable title) descend the stairs from the Greek class, with hislexicon under his arm, his long misshapen legs sprawling abroad, andkeeping awkward time to the play of his immense shoulder-blades, as theyraised and depressed the loose and threadbare black coat which was hisconstant and only wear. When he spoke, the efforts of the professor(professor of divinity though he was) were totally inadequate to restrainthe inextinguishable laughter of the students, and sometimes even torepress his own. The long, sallow visage, the goggle eyes, the hugeunder-jaw, which appeared not to open and shut by an act of volition, butto be dropped and hoisted up again by some complicated machinery withinthe inner man, the harsh and dissonant voice, and the screech-owl notesto which it was exalted when he was exhorted to pronounce moredistinctly,--all added fresh subject for mirth to the torn cloak andshattered shoe, which have afforded legitimate subjects of railleryagainst the poor scholar from Juvenal's time downward. It was never knownthat Sampson either exhibited irritability at this ill usage, or made theleast attempt to retort upon his tormentors. He slunk from college by themost secret paths he could discover, and plunged himself into hismiserable lodging, where, for eighteenpence a week, he was allowed thebenefit 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 someacquaintance with the sciences.
In progress of time, Abel Sampson, probationer of divinity, was admittedto the privileges of a preacher. But, alas! partly from his ownbashfulness, partly owing to a strong and obvious disposition torisibility which pervaded the congregation upon his first attempt, hebecame totally incapable of proceeding in his intended discourse, gasped,grinned, hideously rolled his eyes till the congregation thought themflying out of his head, shut the Bible, stumbled down the pulpit-stairs,trampling upon the old women who generally take their station there, andwas ever after designated as a 'stickit minister.' And thus he wanderedback to his own country, with blighted hopes and prospects, to share thepoverty of his parents. As he had neither friend nor confidant, hardlyeven an acquaintance, no one had the means of observing closely howDominie Sampson bore a disappointment which supplied the whole town witha week's sport. It would be endless even to mention the numerous jokes towhich it gave birth, from a ballad called 'Sampson's Riddle,' writtenupon the subject by a smart young student of humanity, to the sly hope ofthe Principal that the fugitive had not, in imitation of his mightynamesake, taken the college gates along with him in his retreat.
To all appearance, the equanimity of Sampson was unshaken. He sought toassist 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 theychose to give him, and the poor for nothing; and, to the shame of theformer be it spoken, the pedagogue's gains never equalled those of askilful ploughman. He wrote, however, a good hand, and added something tohis pittance by copying accounts and writing letters for Ellangowan. Bydegrees, the Laird, who was much estranged from general society, becamepartial to that of Dominie Sampson. Conversation, it is true, was out ofthe question, but the Dominie was a good listener, and stirred the firewith some address. He attempted even to snuff the candles, but wasunsuccessful, and relinquished that ambitious post of courtesy afterhaving twice reduced the parlour to total darkness. So his civilities,thereafter, were confined to taking off his glass of ale in exactly thesame time and measure with the Laird, and in uttering certain indistinctmurmurs of acquiescence at the conclusion of the long and winding storiesof Ellangowan.
On one of these occasions, he presented for the first time to Manneringhis tall, gaunt, awkward, bony figure, attired in a threadbare suit ofblack, with a coloured handkerchief, not over clean, about his sinewy,scraggy neck, and his nether person arrayed in grey breeches, dark-bluestockings, clouted shoes, and small copper buckles.
Such is a brief outline of the lives and fortunes of those two persons inwhose society Mannering now found himself comfortably seated.