At War with Society; or, Tales of the Outcasts

by Rodrigues Ottolengui

  The Thieves' Wedding.

  I have already alluded to the subject of the flinty-heartedness of thefraternity among whom I have so long laboured, and I may illustrate thesame feature by another case, which is calculated as well to shew apeculiarity somewhat better known--the elasticity of their enjoyments,if the rant and roar of their mirth can go by a name expressive of aheartfelt affection.

  Is there any reason in the world why thieves should not marry one withanother? or rather, were we to bear in mind the words of the priest,importing the necessity of faith and confidence in each other, might wenot rather expect that these celebrations should occur oftener than theydo? The nature of the connexion might, indeed, suggest an addition tothe formula, to the effect that they should be made to promise not "topeach" on each other; and as for the words, "Whom God hath joinedtogether let no man separate," these might be dispensed with, to savethe judges and such as I from breaking a law of the Bible. The "duty,""obedience," and "affection" might remain as approved by experience. Buthowever decorous these unions, (and pearls, you know, have been calledunions, as well they might,) it is certain that we see very few of them.When they occur, they are very genuine, in so much as the contractingparties _know each other_,--a peculiarity almost entirely confined totheir case; but, as I have said, they occur very seldom. They seem tohave a sort of instinct that they are liable to changes of _dwelling_ aswell as changes of _country_, and hence their notion that it is betterfor both males and females to join their fortunes and affections in thatloose and easy way, which enables them to snap the silken bands when itis necessary to assume the iron fetters.

  So much of prosy prelude to that gay scene which occurred in Bailie'sCourt, head of the Cowgate, in January 1855, when Richard Webb andCatharine Bryce were, amidst the strains of the Tam Lucas of the feast,made man and wife. That they knew each other was beyond doubt, for hadnot the gay Catharine been twice condemned for shop-lifting, and Richardcarried the honours of as many convictions for the minor crime of theft?Yes, it would be well for our Beatrices and Birons if they knewbeforehand tempers so well developed. When did you ever hear of thievesdisgracing themselves by going to the divorce courts? They are contentedwith the justiciary, or even the sheriff. They despise, too,restorations of tocher; and as for the one turning witness against theother's frailties, you never hear of it.

  This celebration, when I heard of it, appeared to me curious. I don'tsay ludicrous, because marriage is an august ceremony, originated inParadise, and so very often ending there. And why should not M'Levy beamong his children, to whose happiness he had devoted so many years ofhis life, of toil and danger? I know that you will say, Why should henot be there? And to be sure there he was. I got indeed no invitation,any more than I did when the handsome hawker was to have been joined, bya "closing thread" well birsed, to the disappointed snab. When peopleare insulted in this way, they get over it by calling it anoversight--yet they don't put the parties right by going as I did, andshewing that degree of magnanimity which consists in heaping coals offire on the head.

  As Bailie's Court, in the Cowgate, does not often respond to the strainsof a marriage fiddle, there behoved to be a crowd, and it behoved thatcrowd to be witty at the expense of the happy pair; for when were notthe poor, who form such crowds, envious? When I arrived, I found themall in that kind of uproar--hurraing at every new comer--whichcharacterises scenes of this nature; and my appearance quickened thehumour into such bursts as "M'Levy is to join them with handcuffs," "Letup the priest," "Where is your white cravat," and the like--jokes whichwere really not happy, in so much as the nuptial knot had already beentied, and the sacred restraints of the guests were loosened to theextent of the freedom of dancing. On going up stairs, I found that allmy suspicions of affront at not being invited were mocked by an opendoor for all comers, whence issued just such sounds of fiddle, feet, andfun, as one might expect. On my entry, there awaited me an honour whichI believe would not have been awarded to the Lord Justice-Clerk; for myvery appearance stopt the merrymakers when in full spring, just as ifthey were overawed by the appearance of a winged messenger. And nowonder, for I saw there many for whom I had procured lodgings, suppliedwith food, and even sent on an excursion to the sunny climes of thesouth; but no man has a right to enforce more gratitude than what is dueto him, and I was vexed at throwing a cloud over so happy a scene.

  "Go on, my lads and lasses," said I. "You know you belong to me, butthis night you shall have your liberty."

  "Give him a dram," cried the bride.

  And straightway, to be sure, I got my glass of whisky; but not contentwith that gift, they pulled me into the middle of a reel, where I am notsure if I did not actually dance,--nay, I won't answer for it that I wasnot whirled round by some very passable arms, not only for good colour,but for softness.

  I remained only for a short time. I had gratified my curiosity, and Iwished to save them from the embarrassment of a presence in many wayssuggestive of associations. I had not been disappointed; but I am surethat when I appeared again to the crowd without having Webb or Catharinewith me, or at least some of the guests, they were disappointed--soenvious, I am sorry to say, is that common nature of ours, and soimpatient of the joys of others. Another thing gave a kind ofsatisfaction. I saw no chance for this celebration being disgraced bypocket-picking--an occurrence so common in crowds--for here truly therewere no pockets to pick, that is, no pockets with anything in them,beyond a quid of tobacco and a pipe, or at most a few pence. You willsee how this fond hope was destined to be disappointed.

  Having joined my assistant, who waited for me at the foot of the stair,we went along to the Cowgate on the look-out; and having finished oursurvey, we turned to retrace our steps by the scene of the marriage. Itwas a frosty night, I remember, with thick snow, heaps of which werethrown up on the sides of the cart-ruts. As we were thus proceeding, Iheard coming up the rapid steps of a runner; and who should this be butBill Orr, one of my own. He stumbled against a heap of snow, and fell atmy feet.

  "What's all the hurry, Bill?" said I, as he was getting up.

  But Bill clearly did not like the question, far less did he like theanticipation of being laid hold of, for he was up in an instant andoff, much quicker than a wind-driven snow-flake.

  "Where's the pursuer?" said I to my assistant; "Bill Orr is not the manto run at that rate to get out of the snow."

  The pertinancy of the question was no more apparent to me, than to you,or any one who notices the common actions of mankind, which display aproportion in their vivacity corresponding to the degrees of impulse;nor did the notion leave me that something was wrong with my old friend,and I was accordingly on the outlook. On coming again to Bailie's CourtI was attracted by some noises, not at all like the fun I had witnessedbefore in that quarter; and on going forward, ascertained, from thelamentations of an old poors'-house pensioner--a very old woman, who inspite of her age and poverty had been attracted in that cold night bythe festivity of the marriage--that she had been robbed; yes, apoors'-house pensioner robbed of the sum of four pennies and onehalfpenny. Ludicrous enough; ay, but pitiful enough too, when youremember that that fourpence-halfpenny would keep, and was intended tokeep, that very _poor_ pauper a day out of the very few she would see onthis side of the grave. Don't wonder, therefore, at a grief which wasintense, if it did not amount to as strong an agony as those shrivellednerves could bear without snapping. I had here my sympathies; and ifanything could add to my disturbance, it was that in spite of my hopesthis auspicious wedding was disgraced.

  "Be easy, my good woman," said I; "I will get both yourfourpence-halfpenny and the heartless rogue that took it."

  "God bless you, Mr M'Levy; ye've saved mony a ane's property, and ye'resent here this night to save mine."

  And had she no right to think fourpence-halfpenny entitled to bedesignated _property_? It was at least her all; and when all is lost, itis, I suspect, of little importance whether it be a thousand pounds or apenny. Nor was she less miserable than one would b
e at the loss of afortune,--only the _tear_ was not there, perhaps because an out-doorpensioner does not get nourishment with sap enough in it to produce thatpeculiar evidence (which is said to be limited to our species) of humangrief.

  And now there was another contrast between what was going on up-stairsand that which was enacted below. There, merriment was the produce ofthieving; here, the offspring of the same parent was sorrow.

  "Wait there, my good woman," said I, "till I bring you your property andthe thief."

  And upon the instant there arose a cry of, "Hurra for M'Levy," which Ireceived with becoming modesty.

  So away I went back the road I had come; nor did I diverge till I cameto the house of Mrs M'Lachlan, who sold beer and whisky to be_consumed_ and to _consume_ on the premises, where, in a room,surrounded by some of his own tribe, who should have been at themarriage, I discovered Bill Orr, with his own stoup before him, in allthe confidence of security, and in all the joy of his fourpence-halfpenny.

  "What was your hurry, Bill, when you fell?" said I. "You haven't told methat yet."

  "Perhaps to get to this jug of ale in a cold night," replied the rogue.

  "No," said I; "you wanted away from the poor old pensioner whom yourobbed of fourpence-halfpenny."

  Bill was choked with the truth.

  "Mrs M'Lachlan," continued I, "has Bill paid for his stoup?"

  "Ay, I never trust till the ale's drunk," replied she; "for sometimes ittaks awa' the memory, and they get confused, and say they paid afore."

  "A penny the stoup?"

  "Ay."

  "And therefore I expect there's threepence-halfpenny in your pocket,Bill. Turn it out." But he wouldn't, and I was obliged to extract it.

  "And now, Mrs M'Lachlan," said I, "though stolen money cannot bereclaimed, when I tell you that our friend Bill here stole it from thepocket of an old woman-pensioner, you'll not refuse to repay it."

  "No, though it were a shilling," replied she, as she put down the penny.

  "Now there is one I shall make happy," said I, as I put the money in mypocket, and taking Bill by the coat I carried him off, without evenpermitting him to finish his pot, the remaining contents of which wouldbe a halfpenny to Mrs M'Lachlan for her penny.

  So pulling Bill along--I might safely have allowed him to walk betweenme and my assistant, but I felt some yearning to hold him tight--I tookmy "pearl of Orr's Island" to Bailie's Court, where there waited for memy poor pensioner, as well as the crowd, who no doubt wanted to seewhether I would fulfil my promise. The moment they saw Bill in my handsthey raised three cheers, more grateful to me than the _eclat_ of havingrecovered a thousand pounds. There stood the woman, and before her Bill,the personification of lusty youth preying on shrivelled old age; butBill was as unmoved as a stone, and I thought of making him feel alittle, if that were possible. I knew I had no right to give up themoney, but I was inclined to make an exception, were it for nothing elsethan to save the credit of the thieves' wedding.

  "Now," said I, "Bill, you will give this money to the woman to whom itbelongs."

  And the rogue, finding it useless to disobey, took the money and handedit to the woman, in the midst of another shout. I never received somany blessings from a sufferer all my life as I did from this poorpensioner; and the feelings of the crowd, depraved as many of them nodoubt were, shewed that there was something at the bottom of the mostcallous spirits that responds to justice. But I was not satisfied, for Imade him declare to his victim that he was sorry he had robbed her,--anadmission due to the fear he entertained of being torn by the angrypeople. Nor was even this all, for I sent up to the wedding-party for adram to the sufferer, whereby I still maintained the _honour_ of themarriage, and had the satisfaction to see the old woman's eye lighted upas bright as that of the bride.

  And having gone through all these manoeuvres, which afforded me nolittle satisfaction, and perhaps more to the crowd, I again took hold ofBill, and dragged him as roughly to the Office as was compatible with myobligation not to punish a man before sentence.

  Sometime after, Bill was tried by the High Court. He was an oldoffender, and this had its weight with the judge; but it was easily tobe seen that the peculiar circumstances of the case had more than theirusual weight. The judge became quite eloquent, and no doubt he had agood subject to handle, but a very impenetrable object to impress. Billwas as unmoved as ever; I am not sure if he did not laugh,--anotherexample of what I have so often stated, that the hardihood of thesecreatures is not modified by punishment, nay, even transportation. YetI have no doubt that if this young fellow's heart had been handledsoftly when it was capable of being mollified, he might have been ofsome use to his kind, if not a credit to himself. We have sometimesreason to doubt the effect of training even among the children ofrespectable people, but I suspect such a result arises from their beingotherwise spoiled. The parents let out at the one end the web woven bythe schoolmaster at the other, and thus education loses the character ofits efficacy. With the "Raggediers" in an industrial school, no suchspoiling would be permitted. The good tendency would be all in one way;and the devil would not, through the parents, be permitted to pull inthe opposite direction. What though Bill Orr got a _year_ for every_penny_, and one to boot for the odd halfpenny! He would be the sameBill Orr at the end as he was that night of the thieves' wedding.

  So much for another phase of the "sliding scale," exhibiting, as itdoes, the facility with which the thief can _descend_ even to the zeroof criminality, as exemplified in this pitiful robbery,--the veryminimum point, I may say, in the whole scale of theftuous depravity.