CHAPTER VI
O I do know him--tis the mouldy lemon Which our court wits will wet their lips withal, When they would sauce their honied conversation With somewhat sharper flavour--Marry sir, That virtue's wellnigh left him--all the juice That was so sharp and poignant, is squeezed out, While the poor rind, although as sour as ever, Must season soon the draff we give our grunters, For two legg'd things are weary on't. _The Chamberlain--A Comedy_
The good company invited by the hospitable citizen assembled at hishouse in Lombard Street at the "hollow and hungry hour" of noon, topartake of that meal which divides the day, being about the time whenmodern persons of fashion, turning themselves upon their pillow, beginto think, not without a great many doubts and much hesitation, thatthey will by and by commence it. Thither came the young Nigel, arrayedplainly, but in a dress, nevertheless, more suitable to his age andquality than he had formerly worn, accompanied by his servant Moniplies,whose outside also was considerably improved. His solemn and sternfeatures glared forth from under a blue velvet bonnet, fantasticallyplaced sideways on his head--he had a sound and tough coat of Englishblue broad-cloth, which, unlike his former vestment, would havestood the tug of all the apprentices in Fleet Street. The buckler andbroadsword he wore as the arms of his condition, and a neat silverbadge, bearing his lord's arms, announced that he was an appendage ofaristocracy. He sat down in the good citizen's buttery, not a littlepleased to find his attendance upon the table in the hall was likely tobe rewarded with his share of a meal such as he had seldom partaken of.
Mr. David Ramsay, that profound and ingenious mechanic, was safelyconducted to Lombard Street, according to promise, well washed, brushed,and cleaned, from the soot of the furnace and the forge. His daughter,who came with him, was about twenty years old, very pretty, verydemure, yet with lively black eyes, that ever and anon contradicted theexpression of sobriety, to which silence, reserve, a plain velvet hood,and a cambric ruff, had condemned Mistress Marget, as the daughter of aquiet citizen.
There were also two citizens and merchants of London, men ample incloak, and many-linked golden chain, well to pass in the world, andexperienced in their craft of merchandise, but who require no particulardescription. There was an elderly clergyman also, in his gown andcassock, a decent venerable man, partaking in his manners of theplainness of the citizens amongst whom he had his cure.
These may be dismissed with brief notice; but not so Sir MungoMalagrowther, of Girnigo Castle, who claims a little more attention, asan original character of the time in which he flourished.
That good knight knocked at Master Heriot's door just as the clock beganto strike twelve, and was seated in his chair ere the last strokehad chimed. This gave the knight an excellent opportunity of makingsarcastic observations on all who came later than himself, not tomention a few rubs at the expense of those who had been so superfluousas to appear earlier.
Having little or no property save his bare designation, Sir Mungo hadbeen early attached to Court in the capacity of whipping-boy, as theoffice was then called, to King James the Sixth, and, with his Majesty,trained to all polite learning by his celebrated preceptor, GeorgeBuchanan. The office of whipping-boy doomed its unfortunate occupant toundergo all the corporeal punishment which the Lord's Anointed, whoseproper person was of course sacred, might chance to incur, in the courseof travelling through his grammar and prosody. Under the stern rule,indeed, of George Buchanan, who did not approve of the vicarious modeof punishment, James bore the penance of his own faults, and MungoMalagrowther enjoyed a sinecure; but James's other pedagogue, MasterPatrick Young, went more ceremoniously to work, and appalled the verysoul of the youthful king by the floggings which he bestowed on thewhipping-boy, when the royal task was not suitably performed. And beit told to Sir Mungo's praise, that there were points about him in thehighest respect suited to his official situation. He had even in youth anaturally irregular and grotesque set of features, which, when distortedby fear, pain, and anger, looked like one of the whimsical faces whichpresent themselves in a Gothic cornice. His voice also was high-pitchedand querulous, so that, when smarting under Master Peter Young'sunsparing inflictions, the expression of his grotesque physiognomy, andthe superhuman yells which he uttered, were well suited to produce allthe effects on the Monarch who deserved the lash, that could possibly beproduced by seeing another and an innocent individual suffering for hisdelict.
Sir Mungo Malagrowther, for such he became, thus got an early footingat Court, which another would have improved and maintained. But, when hegrew too big to be whipped, he had no other means of rendering himselfacceptable. A bitter, caustic, and backbiting humour, a malicious wit,and an envy of others more prosperous than the possessor of such amiablequalities, have not, indeed, always been found obstacles to a courtier'srise; but then they must be amalgamated with a degree of selfish cunningand prudence, of which Sir Mungo had no share. His satire ran riot, hisenvy could not conceal itself, and it was not long after his majoritytill he had as many quarrels upon his hands as would have required acat's nine lives to answer. In one of these rencontres he received,perhaps we should say fortunately, a wound, which served him as anexcuse for answering no invitations of the kind in future. Sir RullionRattray, of Ranagullion, cut off, in mortal combat, three of the fingersof his right hand, so that Sir Mungo never could hold sword again. Ata later period, having written some satirical verses upon the LadyCockpen, he received so severe a chastisement from some persons employedfor the purpose, that he was found half dead on the spot where they hadthus dealt with him, and one of his thighs having been broken, and illset, gave him a hitch in his gait, with which he hobbled to his grave.The lameness of his leg and hand, besides that they added considerablyto the grotesque appearance of this original, procured him in futurea personal immunity from the more dangerous consequences of his ownhumour; and he gradually grew old in the service of the Court, in safetyof life and limb, though without either making friends or attainingpreferment. Sometimes, indeed, the king was amused with his causticsallies, but he had never art enough to improve the favourableopportunity; and his enemies (who were, for that matter, the wholeCourt) always found means to throw him out of favour again. Thecelebrated Archie Armstrong offered Sir Mungo, in his generosity, askirt of his own fool's coat, proposing thereby to communicate to himthe privileges and immunities of a professed jester--"For," said the manof motley, "Sir Mungo, as he goes on just now, gets no more for a goodjest than just the king's pardon for having made it."
Even in London, the golden shower which fell around him did not moistenthe blighted fortunes of Sir Mungo Malagrowther. He grew old, deaf,and peevish--lost even the spirit which had formerly animated hisstrictures--and was barely endured by James, who, though himself nearlyas far stricken in years, retained, to an unusual and even an absurddegree, the desire to be surrounded by young people.
Sir Mungo, thus fallen into the yellow leaf of years and fortune, showedhis emaciated form and faded embroidery at Court as seldom as his dutypermitted; and spent his time in indulging his food for satire in thepublic walks, and in the aisles of Saint Paul's, which were then thegeneral resort of newsmongers and characters of all descriptions,associating himself chiefly with such of his countrymen as he accountedof inferior birth and rank to himself. In this manner, hating andcontemning commerce, and those who pursued it, he nevertheless lived agood deal among the Scottish artists and merchants, who had followedthe Court to London. To these he could show his cynicism without muchoffence; for some submitted to his jeers and ill-humour in deferenceto his birth and knighthood, which in those days conferred highprivileges--and others, of more sense, pitied and endured the old man,unhappy alike in his fortunes and his temper.
Amongst the latter was George Heriot, who, though his habits andeducation induced him to carry aristocratical feelings to a degree whichwould now be thought extravagant, had too much spirit and good sense topermit himself to be intruded upon to an unauthorized excess, or usedwith the sligh
test improper freedom, by such a person as Sir Mungo, towhom he was, nevertheless, not only respectfully civil, but essentiallykind, and even generous.
Accordingly, this appeared from the manner in which Sir MungoMalagrowther conducted himself upon entering the apartment. He paidhis respects to Master Heriot, and a decent, elderly, somewhatsevere-looking female, in a coif, who, by the name of Aunt Judith, didthe honours of his house and table, with little or no portion of thesupercilious acidity, which his singular physiognomy assumed when hemade his bow successively to David Ramsay and the two sober citizens.He thrust himself into the conversation of the latter, to observe hehad heard in Paul's, that the bankrupt concern of Pindivide, a greatmerchant,--who, as he expressed it, had given the crows a pudding, andon whom he knew, from the same authority, each of the honest citizenshas some unsettled claim,--was like to prove a total loss--"stock andblock, ship and cargo, keel and rigging, all lost, now and for ever."
The two citizens grinned at each other; but, too prudent to make theirprivate affairs the subject of public discussion, drew their headstogether, and evaded farther conversation by speaking in a whisper.
The old Scots knight next attacked the watchmaker with the samedisrespectful familiarity.--"Davie," he said,--"Davie, ye donnard auldidiot, have ye no gane mad yet, with applying your mathematical science,as ye call it, to the book of Apocalypse? I expected to have heard yemake out the sign of the beast, as clear as a tout on a bawbee whistle."
"Why, Sir Mungo," said the mechanist, after making an effort to recallto his recollection what had been said to him, and by whom, "it may be,that ye are nearer the mark than ye are yoursell aware of; for, takingthe ten horns o' the beast, ye may easily estimate by your digitals--"
"My digits! you d--d auld, rusty, good-for-nothing time-piece!"exclaimed Sir Mungo, while, betwixt jest and earnest, he laid on hishilt his hand, or rather his claw, (for Sir Rullion's broadswordhas abridged it into that form,)--"D'ye mean to upbraid me with mymutilation?"
Master Heriot interfered. "I cannot persuade our friend David," he said,"that scriptural prophecies are intended to remain in obscurity, untiltheir unexpected accomplishment shall make, as in former days, thatfulfilled which was written. But you must not exert your knightly valouron him for all that."
"By my saul, and it would be throwing it away," said Sir Mungo,laughing. "I would as soon set out, with hound and horn, to hunta sturdied sheep; for he is in a doze again, and up to the chin innumerals, quotients, and dividends.--Mistress Margaret, my prettyhoney," for the beauty of the young citizen made even Sir MungoMalagrowther's grim features relax themselves a little, "is your fatheralways as entertaining as he seems just now?"
Mistress Margaret simpered, bridled, looked to either side, thenstraight before her; and, having assumed all the airs of bashfulembarrassment and timidity which were necessary, as she thought, tocover a certain shrewd readiness which really belonged to her character,at length replied: "That indeed her father was very thoughtful, but shehad heard that he took the habit of mind from her grandfather."
"Your grandfather!" said Sir Mungo,--after doubting if he had heard heraright,--"Said she her grandfather! The lassie is distraught!--I kennae wench on this side of Temple Bar that is derived from so distant arelation."
"She has got a godfather, however, Sir Mungo," said George Heriot, againinterfering; "and I hope you will allow him interest enough with you, torequest you will not put his pretty godchild to so deep a blush."
"The better--the better," said Sir Mungo. "It is a credit to her, that,bred and born within the sound of Bow-bell, she can blush for any thing;and, by my saul, Master George," he continued, chucking the irritatedand reluctant damsel under the chin, "she is bonny enough to make amendsfor her lack of ancestry--at least, in such a region as Cheapside,where, d'ye mind me, the kettle cannot call the porridge-pot--"
The damsel blushed, but not so angrily as before. Master George Heriothastened to interrupt the conclusion of Sir Mungo's homely proverb, byintroducing him personally to Lord Nigel.
Sir Mungo could not at first understand what his host said,--"Bread ofHeaven, wha say ye, man?"
Upon the name of Nigel Olifaunt, Lord Glenvarloch, being again hollowedinto his ear, he drew up, and, regarding his entertainer with someausterity, rebuked him for not making persons of quality acquainted witheach other, that they might exchange courtesies before they mingled withother folks. He then made as handsome and courtly a congee to his newacquaintance as a man maimed in foot and hand could do; and, observinghe had known my lord, his father, bid him welcome to London, and hopedhe should see him at Court.
Nigel in an instant comprehended, as well from Sir Mungo's manner, asfrom a strict compression of their entertainer's lips, which intimatedthe suppression of a desire to laugh, that he was dealing with anoriginal of no ordinary description, and accordingly, returned hiscourtesy with suitable punctiliousness. Sir Mungo, in the meanwhile,gazed on him with much earnestness; and, as the contemplation of naturaladvantages was as odious to him as that of wealth, or other adventitiousbenefits, he had no sooner completely perused the handsome form and goodfeatures of the young lord, than like one of the comforters of the manof Uz, he drew close up to him, to enlarge on the former grandeur of theLords of Glenvarloch, and the regret with which he had heard, that theirrepresentative was not likely to possess the domains of his ancestry.Anon, he enlarged upon the beauties of the principal mansion ofGlenvarloch--the commanding site of the old castle--the noble expanseof the lake, stocked with wildfowl for hawking--the commanding screen offorest, terminating in a mountain-ridge abounding with deer--and all theother advantages of that fine and ancient barony, till Nigel, in spiteof every effort to the contrary, was unwillingly obliged to sigh.
Sir Mungo, skilful in discerning when the withers of those he conversedwith were wrung, observed that his new acquaintance winced, and wouldwillingly have pressed the discussion; but the cook's impatient knockupon the dresser with the haft of his dudgeon-knife, now gave a signalloud enough to be heard from the top of the house to the bottom,summoning, at the same time, the serving-men to place the dinner uponthe table, and the guests to partake of it.
Sir Mungo, who was an admirer of good cheer,--a taste which, by theway, might have some weight in reconciling his dignity to these cityvisits,--was tolled off by the sound, and left Nigel and the otherguests in peace, until his anxiety to arrange himself in his due placeof pre-eminence at the genial board was duly gratified. Here, seated onthe left hand of Aunt Judith, he beheld Nigel occupy the station of yethigher honour on the right, dividing that matron from pretty MistressMargaret; but he saw this with the more patience, that there stoodbetwixt him and the young lord a superb larded capon.
The dinner proceeded according to the form of the times. All wasexcellent of the kind; and, besides the Scottish cheer promised, theboard displayed beef and pudding, the statutory dainties of Old England.A small cupboard of plate, very choicely and beautifully wrought, didnot escape the compliments of some of the company, and an obliquesneer from Sir Mungo, as intimating the owner's excellence in his ownmechanical craft.
"I am not ashamed of the workmanship, Sir Mungo," said the honestcitizen. "They say, a good cook knows how to lick his own fingers; and,methinks, it were unseemly that I, who have furnished half the cupboardsin broad Britain, should have my own covered with paltry pewter."
The blessing of the clergyman now left the guests at liberty to attackwhat was placed before them; and the meal went forward with greatdecorum, until Aunt Judith, in farther recommendation of the capon,assured her company that it was of a celebrated breed of poultry, whichshe had herself brought from Scotland.
"Then, like some of his countrymen, madam," said the pitiless Sir Mungo,not without a glance towards his landlord, "he has been well larded inEngland."
"There are some others of his countrymen," answered Master Heriot,"to whom all the lard in England has not been able to render that goodoffice."
Sir Mungo sneered and redde
ned, the rest of the company laughed; and thesatirist, who had his reasons for not coming to extremity with MasterGeorge, was silent for the rest of the dinner.
The dishes were exchanged for confections, and wine of the highestquality and flavour; and Nigel saw the entertainments of the wealthiestburgomasters, which he had witnessed abroad, fairly outshone by thehospitality of a London citizen. Yet there was nothing ostentatious, orwhich seemed inconsistent with the degree of an opulent burgher.
While the collation proceeded, Nigel, according to the good-breeding ofthe time, addressed his discourse principally to Mrs. Judith, whom hefound to be a woman of a strong Scottish understanding, more inclinedtowards the Puritans than was her brother George, (for in that relationshe stood to him, though he always called her aunt,) attached to him inthe strongest degree, and sedulously attentive to all his comforts. Asthe conversation of this good dame was neither lively nor fascinating,the young lord naturally addressed himself next to the old horologer'svery pretty daughter, who sat upon his left hand. From her, however,there was no extracting any reply beyond the measure of a monosyllable;and when the young gallant had said the best and most complaisant thingswhich his courtesy supplied, the smile that mantled upon her prettymouth was so slight and evanescent, as scarce to be discernible.
Nigel was beginning to tire of his company, for the old citizens werespeaking with his host of commercial matters in language to him totallyunintelligible, when Sir Mungo Malagrowther suddenly summoned theirattention.
That amiable personage had for some time withdrawn from the company intothe recess of a projecting window, so formed and placed as to commanda view of the door of the house, and of the street. This situation wasprobably preferred by Sir Mungo on account of the number of objectswhich the streets of a metropolis usually offer, of a kind congenialto the thoughts of a splenetic man. What he had hitherto seen passingthere, was probably of little consequence; but now a trampling of horsewas heard without, and the knight suddenly exclaimed,--"By my faith,Master George, you had better go look to shop; for here comes Knighton,the Duke of Buckingham's groom, and two fellows after him, as if he weremy Lord Duke himself."
"My cash-keeper is below," said Heriot, without disturbing himself,"and he will let me know if his Grace's commands require my immediateattention."
"Umph!--cash-keeper?" muttered Sir Mungo to himself; "he would have hadan easy office when I first kend ye.--But," said he, speaking aloud,"will you not come to the window, at least? for Knighton has trundled apiece of silver-plate into your house--ha! ha! ha!--trundled it upon itsedge, as a callan' would drive a hoop. I cannot help laughing--ha! ha!ha!--at the fellow's impudence."
"I believe you could not help laughing," said George Heriot, rising upand leaving the room, "if your best friend lay dying."
"Bitter that, my lord--ha?" said Sir Mungo, addressing Nigel. "Ourfriend is not a goldsmith for nothing--he hath no leaden wit. But I willgo down, and see what comes on't."
Heriot, as he descended the stairs, met his cash-keeper coming up, withsome concern in his face.--"Why, how now, Roberts," said the goldsmith,"what means all this, man?"
"It is Knighton, Master Heriot, from the Court--Knighton, the Duke'sman. He brought back the salver you carried to Whitehall, flung it intothe entrance as if it had been an old pewter platter, and bade me tellyou the king would have none of your trumpery."
"Ay, indeed," said George Heriot--"None of my trumpery!--Come hitherinto the compting-room, Roberts.--Sir Mungo," he added, bowing to theknight, who had joined, and was preparing to follow them, "I pray yourforgiveness for an instant."
In virtue of this prohibition, Sir Mungo, who, as well as the rest ofthe company, had overheard what passed betwixt George Heriot and hiscash-keeper, saw himself condemned to wait in the outer business-room,where he would have endeavoured to slake his eager curiosity byquestioning Knighton; but that emissary of greatness, after having addedto the uncivil message of his master some rudeness of his own, had againscampered westward, with his satellites at his heels.
In the meanwhile, the name of the Duke of Buckingham, the omnipotentfavourite both of the king and the Prince of Wales, had struck someanxiety into the party which remained in the great parlour. He was morefeared than beloved, and, if not absolutely of a tyrannical disposition,was accounted haughty, violent, and vindictive. It pressed on Nigel'sheart, that he himself, though he could not conceive how, nor why,might be the original cause of the resentment of the Duke against hisbenefactor. The others made their comments in whispers, until the soundsreached Ramsay, who had not heard a word of what had previously passed,but, plunged in those studies with which he connected every otherincident and event, took up only the catchword, and replied,--"TheDuke--the Duke of Buckingham--George Villiers--ay--I have spoke withLambe about him."
"Our Lord and our Lady! Now, how can you say so, father?" said hisdaughter, who had shrewdness enough to see that her father was touchingupon dangerous ground.
"Why, ay, child," answered Ramsay; "the stars do but incline, theycannot compel. But well you wot, it is commonly said of his Grace, bythose who have the skill to cast nativities, that there was a notableconjunction of Mars and Saturn--the apparent or true time of which,reducing the calculations of Eichstadius made for the latitude ofOranienburgh, to that of London, gives seven hours, fifty-five minutes,and forty-one seconds----"
"Hold your peace, old soothsayer," said Heriot, who at that instantentered the room with a calm and steady countenance; "your calculationsare true and undeniable when they regard brass and wire, and mechanicalforce; but future events are at the pleasure of Him who bears the heartsof kings in his hands."
"Ay, but, George," answered the watchmaker, "there was a concurrenceof signs at this gentleman's birth, which showed his course would bea strange one. Long has it been said of him, he was born at the verymeeting of night and day, and under crossing and contending influencesthat may affect both us and him.
'Full moon and high sea, Great man shalt thou be; Red dawning, stormy sky, Bloody death shalt thou die.'"
"It is not good to speak of such things," said Heriot, "especially ofthe great; stone walls have ears, and a bird of the air shall carry thematter."
Several of the guests seemed to be of their host's opinion. The twomerchants took brief leave, as if under consciousness that somethingwas wrong. Mistress Margaret, her body-guard of 'prentices being inreadiness, plucked her father by the sleeve, and, rescuing him from abrown study, (whether referring to the wheels of Time, or to that ofFortune, is uncertain,) wished good-night to her friend Mrs. Judith, andreceived her godfather's blessing, who, at the same time, put uponher slender finger a ring of much taste and some value; for he seldomsuffered her to leave him without some token of his affection. Thushonourably dismissed, and accompanied by her escort, she set forth onher return to Fleet Street.
Sir Mungo had bid adieu to Master Heriot as he came out from the backcompting-room, but such was the interest which he took in the affairsof his friend, that, when Master George went upstairs, he could nothelp walking into that sanctum sanctorum, to see how Master Roberts wasemployed. The knight found the cash-keeper busy in making extracts fromthose huge brass-clasped leathern-bound manuscript folios, which arethe pride and trust of dealers, and the dread of customers whose year ofgrace is out. The good knight leant his elbows on the desk, and said tothe functionary in a condoling tone of voice,--"What! you have lost agood customer, I fear, Master Roberts, and are busied in making out hisbill of charges?"
Now, it chanced that Roberts, like Sir Mungo himself, was a little deaf,and, like Sir Mungo, knew also how to make the most of it; so that heanswered at cross purposes,--"I humbly crave your pardon, Sir Mungo, fornot having sent in your bill of charge sooner, but my master bade me notdisturb you. I will bring the items together in a moment." So saying, hebegan to turn over the leaves of his book of fate, murmuring, "Repairingane silver seal-new clasp to his chain of office--ane over-gilt broochto his hat, being a Saint Andrew'
s cross, with thistles--a copper giltpair of spurs,--this to Daniel Driver, we not dealing in the article."
He would have proceeded; but Sir Mungo, not prepared to endure therecital of the catalogue of his own petty debts, and still lesswilling to satisfy them on the spot, wished the bookkeeper, cavalierly,good-night, and left the house without farther ceremony. The clerklooked after him with a civil city sneer, and immediately resumed themore serious labours which Sir Mungo's intrusion had interrupted.