Rob Roy

by Walter Scott

  Upon all and each of these weighty reasons, he charged me with being accessory to the felony committed upon his person; he, the said declarant, then travelling in the special employment of government, and having charge of certain important papers, and also a large sum in specie, to be paid over, according to his instructions, to certain persons of official trust and importance in Scotland.

  Having heard this extraordinary accusation, I replied to it, that the circumstances on which it was founded were such as could warrant no justice, or magistrate, in any attempt on my personal liberty. I admitted that I had practised a little upon the terrors of Mr. Morris, while we travelled together, but in such trifling particulars as could have excited apprehension in no one who was one whit less timorous and jealous than himself. But I added, that I had never seen him since we parted, and if that which he feared had really come upon him, I was in nowise accessory to an action so unworthy of my character and station in life. That one of the robbers was called Osbaldistone, or that such a name was mentioned in the course of the conversation betwixt them, was a trifling circumstance, to which no weight was due. And concerning the disaffection alleged against me, I was willing to prove, to the satisfaction of the Justice, the clerk, and even the witness himself, that I was of the same persuasion as his friend the dissenting clergyman; had been educated as a good subject in the principles of the Revolution, and as such now demanded the personal protection of the laws which had been assured by that great event.

  The Justice fidgeted, took snuff, and seemed considerably embarrassed, while Mr. Attorney Jobson, with all the volubility of his profession, ran over the statute of the 34 Edward III., by which justices of the peace are allowed to arrest all those whom they find by indictment or suspicion, and to put them into prison. The rogue even turned my own admissions against me, alleging, ‘that since I had confessedly, upon my own showing, assumed the bearing or deportment of a robber or malefactor, I had voluntarily subjected myself to the suspicions of which I had complained, and brought myself within the compass of the act, having wilfully clothed my conduct with all the colour and livery of guilt.’

  I combated both his arguments and his jargon with much indignation and scorn, and observed, ‘that I should, if necessary, produce the bail of my relations, which I conceived could not be refused, without subjecting the magistrate in a misdemeanour.’

  ‘Pardon me, my good sir,—pardon me,’ said the insatiable clerk, ‘this is a case in which neither bail nor mainprize can be received, the felon who is liable to be committed on heavy grounds of suspicion, not being replevisable under the statute of the 3rd of King Edward, there being in that act an express exception of such as be charged of commandment, or force, and aid of felony done;’ and he hinted, that his worship would do well to remember that such were in no way replevisable by common writ, nor without writ.

  At this period of the conversation a servant entered, and delivered a letter to Mr. Jobson. He had no sooner run it hastily over, than he exclaimed, with the air of one who wished to appear much vexed at the interruption, and felt the consequence attached to a man of multifarious avocations—‘Good God!—why, at this rate, I shall have neither time to attend to the public concerns nor my own—no rest—no quiet—I wish to Heaven another gentleman in our line would settle here!’

  ‘God forbid!’ said the Justice, in a tone of sotte-voce deprecation; ‘some of us have enough of one of the tribe.’

  ‘This is a matter of life and death, if your worship pleases.’

  ‘In God’s name! no more justice business, I hope,’ said the alarmed magistrate.

  ‘No—no,’ replied Mr. Jobson, very consequentially; ‘old Gaffer Rutledge of Grime’s-hill is subpoena’d for the next world; he has sent an express for Dr. Kill-down to put in bail—another for me to arrange his worldly affairs.’

  ‘Away with you, then,’ said Mr. Inglewood hastily; ‘his may not be a replevisable case under the statute, you know, or Mr. Justice Death may not like the doctor for a main pernor, or bailsman.’

  ‘And yet,’ said Jobson, lingering as he moved towards the door, ‘if my presence here be necessary—I could make out the warrant for committal in a moment, and the constable is below—And you have heard,’ he said, lowering his voice, ‘Mr. Rashleigh’s opinion’—the rest was lost in a whisper.

  The Justice replied aloud, ‘I tell thee no, man, no—we’ll nought till thou return, man; ’tis but a four-mile ride—Come, push the bottle, Mr. Morris—Don’t be cast down, Mr. Osbaldistone—And you, my rose of the wilderness—one cup of claret to refresh the bloom of your cheeks.’

  Diana started, as if from a reverie, in which she appeared to have been plunged while we held this discussion. ‘No, Justice, I should be afraid of transferring the bloom to a part of my face where it would show to little advantage. But I will pledge you in a cooler beverage;’ and, filling a glass with water, she drank it hastily, while her hurried manner belied her assumed gaiety.

  I had not much leisure to make remarks upon her demeanour, however, being full of vexation at the interference of fresh obstacles to an instant examination of the disgraceful and impertinent charge which was brought against me. But there was no moving the Justice to take the matter up in absence of his clerk, an incident which gave him apparently as much pleasure as a holiday to a schoolboy. He persisted in his endeavours to inspire jollity into a company, the individuals of which, whether considered with reference to each other, or to their respective situations, were by no means inclined to mirth. ‘Come, Master Morris, you’re not the first man that’s been robbed, I trow—grieving ne’er brought back loss, man.—And you, Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, are not the first bully-boy that has said stand to a true man. There was Jack Winterfield, in my young days, kept the best company in the land—at horse-races and cockfights who but he—hand and glove was I with Jack.—Push the bottle, Mr. Morris, it’s dry talking—Many quart bumpers have I cracked, and thrown many a merry main with poor Jack—good family—ready wit—quick eye—as honest a fellow, barring the deed he died for—we’ll drink to his memory, gentlemen—Poor Jack Winterfield—And since we talk of him, and of those sort of things, and since that d—d clerk of mine has taken his gibberish elsewhere, and since we’re snug among ourselves, Mr. Osbaldistone, if you will have my best advice, I would take up this matter—the law’s hard—very severe—hanged poor Jack Winterfield at York, despite family connexions and great interest—all for easing a fat west-country grazier of the price of a few beasts—Now, here is honest Mr. Morris has been frightened, and so forth—D—n it, man, let the poor fellow have back his portmanteau, and end the frolic at once.’

  Morris’s eyes brightened up at this suggestion, and he began to hesitate forth an assurance that he thirsted for no man’s blood, when I cut the proposed accommodation short, by resenting the Justice’s suggestion as an insult, that went directly to suppose me guilty of the very crime which I had come to his house with the express intention of disavowing. We were in this awkward predicament, when a servant, opening the door, announced, ‘A strange gentleman to wait upon his honour;’ and the party whom he thus described entered the room without farther ceremony.

  CHAPTER IX

  One of the thieves come back again! I’ll stand close.

  He dares not wrong me now, so near the house,

  And call in vain ’tis, till I see him offer it.

  The Widow

  ‘A STRANGER!’ echoed the Justice,—‘not upon business, I trust, for I’ll be——’

  His protestation was cut short by the answer of the man himself. ‘My business is of a nature somewhat onerous and particular,’ said my acquaintance, Mr. Campbell,—for it was he, the very Scotchman whom I had seen at North-allerton,—‘and I must solicit your honour to give instant and heedful consideration to it.—I believe, Mr. Morris,’ he added, fixing his eye on that person with a look of peculiar firmness and almost ferocity—‘I believe ye ken brawly what I am—I believe ye cannot have forgotten what passed at o
ur last meeting on the road?’ Morris’s jaw dropped—his countenance became the colour of tallow—his teeth chattered, and he gave visible signs of the utmost consternation. ‘Take heart of grace, man,’ said Campbell, ‘and dinna sit clattering your jaws there like a pair of castanets! I think there can be nae difficulty in your telling Mr. Justice, that ye have seen me of yore, and ken me to be a cavalier of fortune, and a man of honour.—Ye ken fu’ weel ye will be some time resident in my vicinity, when I may have the power, as I will possess the inclination, to do you as good a turn.’

  ‘Sir—sir—I believe you to be a man of honour, and, as you say, a man of fortune.—Yes, Mr. Inglewood,’ he added, clearing his voice, ‘I really believe this gentleman to be so.’

  ‘And what are this gentleman’s commands with me?’ said the Justice, somewhat peevishly. ‘One man introduces another, like the rhymes in the “house that Jack built,” and I get company without either peace or conversation!’

  ‘Both shall be yours, sir,’ answered Campbell, ‘in a brief period of time. I come to release your mind from a piece of troublesome duty, not to make increment to it.’

  ‘Body o’ me! then you are welcome as ever Scot was to England, and that’s not saying much—but get on, man, let’s hear what you have got to say at once.’

  ‘I presume this gentleman,’ continued the North Briton, ‘told you there was a person of the name of Campbell with him, when he had the mischance to lose his valise?’

  ‘He has not mentioned such a name from beginning to end of the matter,’ said the Justice.

  ‘Ah! I conceive—I conceive,’ replied Mr. Campbell; ‘Mr. Morris was kindly afeared of committing a stranger into collision wi’ the judicial forms of the country; but as I understand my evidence is necessary to the compurgation of ane honest gentleman here, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, wha has been most unjustly suspected, I will dispense with the precaution—Ye will, therefore,’ (he added, addressing Morris with the same determined look and accent,) ‘please tell Mr. Justice Inglewood, whether we did not travel several miles together on the road, in consequence of your own anxious request and suggestion, reiterated ance and again, baith on the evening that we were at Northallerton, and there declined by me but afterwards accepted, where I overtook ye on the road near Cloberry Allers, and was prevailed on by you to resign my ain intentions of proceeding to Rothbury; and, for my misfortune, to accompany you on your proposed route.’

  ‘It’s a melancholy truth,’ answered Morris, holding down his head, as he gave this general assent to the long and leading question which Campbell put to him, and seeming to acquiesce in the statement it contained with rueful docility.

  ‘And I presume you can also asseverate to his worship, that no man is better qualified than I am to bear testimony in this case, seeing that I was by you, and near you, constantly during the whole occurrence?’

  ‘No man better qualified, certainly,’ said Morris, with a deep and embarrassed sigh.

  ‘And why the devil did you not assist him then,’ said the Justice, ‘since, by Mr. Morris’s account, there were but two robbers; so you were two to two, and you are both stout likely men?’

  ‘sir, if it please your worship,’ said Campbell, ‘I have been all my life a man of peace and quietness, no ways given to broils or batteries. Mr. Morris, who belongs, as I understand, or hath belonged, to his Majesty’s army, might have used his pleasure in resistance, he travelling, as I also understand, with a great charge of treasure; but for me, who had but my own small peculiar to defend, and who am, moreover, a man of a pacific occupation, I was unwilling to commit myself to hazard in the matter.’

  I looked at Campbell as he uttered these words, and never recollect to have seen a more singular contrast than that between the strong daring sternness expressed in his harsh features, and the air of composed meekness and simplicity which his language assumed. There was even a slight ironical smile lurking about the corners of his mouth, which seemed, involuntarily as it were, to intimate his disdain of the quiet and peaceful character which he thought proper to assume, and which led me to entertain strange suspicions that his concern in the violence done to Morris had been something very different from that of a fellow-sufferer, or even of a mere spectator.

  Perhaps some such suspicions crossed the Justice’s mind at the moment, for he exclaimed, as if by way of ejaculation, ‘Body o’ me! but this is a strange story.’

  The North Briton seemed to guess at what was passing in his mind; for he went on, with a change of manner and tone, dismissing from his countenance some part of the hypocritical affectation and humility which had made him obnoxious to suspicion, and saying, with a more frank and unconstrained air, ‘To say the truth, I am just ane o’ those canny folks wha care not to fight, but when they hae gotten something to fight for, which did not chance to be my predicament when I fell in wi’ these loons. But, that your worship may know that I am a person of good fame and character, please to cast your eye over that billet.’

  Mr. Inglewood took the paper from his hands, and read half aloud, ‘These are to certify, that the bearer, Robert Campbell of——of some place which I cannot pronounce,’ interjected the Justice,—‘is a person of good lineage, and peaceable demeanour, travelling towards England on his own proper affairs, &c. &c. &c. Given under our hand, at our Castle of Inver—Invera—rara—ARGYLE.’

  ‘A slight testimonial, sir, which I thought fit to impetrate from that worthy nobleman, (here he raised his hand to his head, as if to touch his hat,) MacCallum More.’

  ‘MacCallum who, sir?’ said the Justice.

  ‘Whom the Southern call the Duke of Argyle.’

  ‘I know the Duke of Argyle very well to be a nobleman of great worth and distinction, and a true lover of his country. I was one of those that stood by him in 1714, when he unhorsed the Duke of Marlborough out of his command. I wish we had more noblemen like him. He was an honest Tory in those days, and hand and glove with Ormond. And he has acceded to the present government, as I have done myself, for the peace and quiet of his country; for I cannot presume that great man to have been actuated, as violent folks pretend, with the fear of losing his places and regiment. His testimonial, as you call it, Mr. Campbell, is perfectly satisfactory; and now, what have you got to say to this matter of the robbery?’

  ‘Briefly this, if it please your worship; that Mr. Morris might as weel charge it against the babe yet to be born, or against myself even, as against this young gentleman, Mr. Osbaldistone; for I am not only free to depone that the person for whom he took him was a shorter man, and a thicker man, but also, for I chanced to obtain a glisk of his visage, as his fauseface slipped aside, that he was a man of other features and complexion than those of this young gentleman, Mr. Osbaldistone. And I believe,’ he added, turning round with a natural, yet somewhat sterner air, to Mr. Morris, ‘that the gentleman will allow I had better opportunity to take cognizance wha were present on that occasion than he, being, I believe, much the cooler o’ the twa.’

  ‘I agree to it, sir—I agree to it perfectly,’ said Morris, shrinking back, as Campbell moved his chair towards him to fortify his appeal—‘And I incline, sir,’ he added, addressing Mr. Inglewood, ‘to retract my information as to Mr. Osbaldistone; and I request, sir, you will permit him, sir, to go about his business, and me to go about mine also; your worship may have business to settle with Mr. Campbell, and I am rather in haste to be gone.’

  ‘Then, there go the declarations,’ said the Justice, throwing them into the fire—‘And now you are at perfect liberty, Mr. Osbaldistone—And you Mr. Morris, are set quite at your ease.’

  ‘Ay,’ said Campbell, eyeing Morris as he assented with a rueful grin to the Justice’s observations, ‘much like the ease of a toad under a pair of harrows—But fear nothing, Mr. Morris; you and I maun leave the house thegither. I will see you safe—I hope you will not doubt my honour, when I say sae—to the next highway, and then we part company; and if we do not meet as friends in Scotland, it will b
e your ain fault.’

  With such a lingering look of terror as the condemned criminal throws, when he is informed that the cart awaits him, Morris arose; but when on his legs, appeared to hesitate. ‘I tell thee, man, fear nothing,’ reiterated Campbell; ‘I will keep my word with you—Why, thou sheep’s heart, how do ye ken but we may can pick up some speerings of your valise, if ye will be amenable to gude counsel?—Our horses are ready. Bid the Justice fareweel, man, and show your southern breeding.’

  Morris, thus exhorted and encouraged, took his leave, under the escort of Mr. Campbell; but, apparently, new scruples and terrors had struck him before they left the house, for I heard Campbell reiterating assurances of safety and protection as they left the anteroom—‘By the soul of my body, man, thou’rt as safe as in thy father’s kail-yard—Zounds! that a chield wi’ sic a black beard, should hae na mair heart than a hen-partridge!—Come on wi’ ye, like a frank fallow, anes and for aye.’

  The voices died away, and the subsequent trampling of their horses announced to us that they had left the mansion of Justice Inglewood.

  The joy which that worthy magistrate received at this easy conclusion of a matter which threatened him with some trouble in his judicial capacity, was somewhat damped by reflection on what his clerk’s views of the transaction might be at his return. ‘Now, I shall have Jobson on my shoulders about these d—d papers—I doubt I should not have destroyed them, after all—But, hang it, it is only paying his fees, and that will make all smooth—And now, Miss Die Vernon, though I have liberated all the others, I intend to sign a writ for committing you to the custody of Mother Blakes, my old housekeeper, for the evening, and we will send for my neighbour Mrs. Musgrave, and the Miss Dawkins, and your cousins, and have old Cobs the fiddler, and be as merry as the maids; and Frank Osbaldistone and I will have a carouse that win make us fit company for you in half an hour.’