Вальтер Скотт
Guy Mannering; or, The Astrologer
The Dominie then pressed forward, grinned, chuckled, made a diabolical sound in attempting to whistle, and finally, unable to stifle his emotions, ran away to empty the feelings of his heart at his eyes.
We shall not attempt to describe the expansion of heart and glee of this happy evening.
CHAPTER XXVII
How like a hateful ape,
Detected grinning ‘midst his pilfer’d hoard,
A cunning man appears, whose secret frauds
Are open’d to the day!
Count Basil
There was a great movement at Woodbourne early on the following morning to attend the examination at Kippletringan. Mr. Pleydell, from the investigation which he had formerly bestowed on the dark affair of Kennedy’s death, as well as from the general deference due to his professional abilities, was requested by Mr. Mac-Morlan and Sir Robert Hazlewood, and another justice of peace who attended, to take the situation of chairman and the lead in the examination. Colonel Mannering was invited to sit down with them. The examination, being previous to trial, was private in other respects.
The Counsellor resumed and reinterrogated former evidence. He then examined the clergyman and surgeon respecting the dying declaration of Meg Merrilies. They stated that she distinctly, positively, and repeatedly declared herself an eye-witness of Kennedy’s death by the hands of Hatteraick and two or three of his crew; that her presence was accidental; that she believed their resentment at meeting him, when they were in the act of losing their vessel through the means of his information, led to the commission of the crime; that she said there was one witness of the murder, but who refused to participate in it, still alive-her nephew, Gabriel Faa; and she had hinted at another person who was an accessory after, not before, the fact; but her strength there failed her. They did not forget to mention her declaration that she had saved the child, and that he was torn from her by the smugglers for the purpose of carrying him to Holland. All these particulars were carefully reduced to writing.
Dirk Hatteraick was then brought in, heavily ironed; for he had been strictly secured and guarded, owing to his former escape. He was asked his name; he made no answer. His profession; he was silent. Several other questions were put, to none of which he returned any reply. Pleydell wiped the glasses of his spectacles and considered the prisoner very attentively. ‘A very truculent-looking fellow,’ he whispered to Mannering; ‘but, as Dogberry says, I’ll go cunningly to work with him. Here, call in Soles-Soles the shoemaker. Soles, do you remember measuring some footsteps imprinted on the mud at the wood of Warroch on-November 17-, by my orders?’ Soles remembered the circumstance perfectly. ‘Look at that paper; is that your note of the measurement?’ Soles verified the memorandum. ‘Now, there stands a pair of shoes on that table; measure them, and see if they correspond with any of the marks you have noted there.’ The shoemaker obeyed, and declared ‘that they answered exactly to the largest of the footprints.’
‘We shall prove,’ said the Counsellor, aside to Mannering, ‘that these shoes, which were found in the ruins at Derncleugh, belonged to Brown, the fellow whom you shot on the lawn at Woodbourne. Now, Soles, measure that prisoner’s feet very accurately.’
Mannering observed Hatteraick strictly, and could notice a visible tremor. ‘Do these measurements correspond with any of the footprints?’
The man looked at the note, then at his foot-rule and measure, then verified his former measurement by a second. ‘They correspond,’ he said, ‘within a hair-breadth to a foot-mark broader and shorter than the former.’
Hatteraick’s genius here deserted him. ‘Der deyvil!’ he broke out, ‘how could there be a footmark on the ground, when it was a frost as hard as the heart of a Memel log?’
‘In the evening, I grant you, Captain Hatteraick,’ said Pleydell, ‘but not in the forenoon. Will you favour me with information where you were upon the day you remember so exactly?’
Hatteraick saw his blunder, and again screwed up his hard features for obstinate silence. ‘Put down his observation, however,’ said Pleydell to the clerk.
At this moment the door opened, and, much to the surprise of most present, Mr. Gilbert Glossin made his appearance. That worthy gentleman had, by dint of watching and eavesdropping, ascertained that he was not mentioned by name in Meg Merrilies’s dying declaration-a circumstance certainly not owing to any favourable disposition towards him, but to the delay of taking her regular examination, and to the rapid approach of death. He therefore supposed himself safe from all evidence but such as might arise from Hatteraick’s confession; to prevent which he resolved to push a bold face and join his brethren of the bench during his examination. ‘I shall be able,’ he thought, ‘to make the rascal sensible his safety lies in keeping his own counsel and mine; and my presence, besides, will be a proof of confidence and innocence. If I must lose the estate, I must; but I trust better things.’
He entered with a profound salutation to Sir Robert Hazlewood. Sir Robert, who had rather begun to suspect that his plebeian neighbour had made a cat’s paw of him, inclined his head stiffly, took snuff, and looked another way.
‘Mr. Corsand,’ said Glossin to the other yokefellow of justice, ‘your most humble servant.’
‘Your humble servant, Mr. Glossin,’ answered Mr. Corsand drily, composing his countenance regis ad exemplar, that is to say, after the fashion of the Baronet.
‘Mac-Morlan, my worthy friend,’ continued Glossin, ‘how d’ ye do; always on your duty?’
‘Umph,’ said honest Mac-Morlan, with little respect either to the compliment or salutation.
‘Colonel Mannering (a low bow slightly returned), and Mr. Pleydell (another low bow), I dared not have hoped for your assistance to poor country gentlemen at this period of the session.’
Pleydell took snuff, and eyed him with a glance equally shrewd and sarcastic. ‘I’ll teach him,’ he said aside to Mannering, ‘the value of the old admonition, Ne accesseris in consilium antequam voceris.’
‘But perhaps I intrude, gentlemen?’ said Glossin, who could not fail to observe the coldness of his reception. ‘Is this an open meeting?’
‘For my part,’ said Mr. Pleydell, ‘so far from considering your attendance as an intrusion, Mr. Glossin, I was never so pleased in my life to meet with you; especially as I think we should, at any rate, have had occasion to request the favour of your company in the course of the day.’
‘Well, then, gentlemen,’ said Glossin, drawing his chair to the table, and beginning to bustle about among the papers, ‘where are we? how far have we got? where are the declarations?’
‘Clerk, give me all these papers,’ said Mr. Pleydell. ‘I have an odd way of arranging my documents, Mr. Glossin, another person touching them puts me out; but I shall have occasion for your assistance by and by.’
Glossin, thus reduced to inactivity, stole one glance at Dirk Hatteraick, but could read nothing in his dark scowl save malignity and hatred to all around. ‘But, gentlemen,’ said Glossin, ‘is it quite right to keep this poor man so heavily ironed when he is taken up merely for examination?’
This was hoisting a kind of friendly signal to the prisoner. ‘He has escaped once before,’ said Mac-Morlan drily, and Glossin was silenced.
Bertram was now introduced, and, to Glossin’s confusion, was greeted in the most friendly manner by all present, even by Sir Robert Hazlewood himself. He told his recollections of his infancy with that candour and caution of expression which afforded the best warrant for his good faith. ‘This seems to be rather a civil than a criminal question,’ said Glossin, rising; ‘and as you cannot be ignorant, gentlemen, of the effect which this young person’s pretended parentage may have on my patrimonial interest, I would rather beg leave to retire.’
‘No, my good sir,’ said Mr. Pleydell, ‘we can by no means spare you. But why do you call this young man’s claims pretended? I don’t mean to fish for your defences against them, if you have any, but-’
‘Mr. Pleydell,’ replied Glossin, ‘I am always disposed to act above-board, and I think I can explain the matter at once. This young fellow, whom I take to be a natural son of the late Ellangowan, has gone about the country for some weeks under different names, caballing with a wretched old mad-woman, who, I understand, was shot in a late scuffle, and with other tinkers, gipsies, and persons of that description, and a great brute farmer from Liddesdale, stirring up the tenants against their landlords, which, as Sir Robert Hazlewood of Hazlewood knows-’
‘Not to interrupt you, Mr. Glossin,’ said Pleydell, ‘I ask who you say this young man is?’
‘Why, I say,’ replied Glossin, ‘and I believe that gentleman (looking at Hatteraick) knows, that the young man is a natural son of the late Ellangowan, by a girl called Janet Lightoheel, who was afterwards married to Hewit the shipwright, that lived in the neighbourhood of Annan. His name is Godfrey Bertram Hewit, by which name he was entered on board the Royal Caroline excise yacht.’
‘Ay?’ said Pleydell, ‘that is a very likely story! But, not to pause upon some difference of eyes, complexion, and so forth-be pleased to step forward, sir.’ (A young seafaring man came forward.) ‘Here,’ proceeded the Counsellor, ‘is the real Simon Pure; here’s Godfrey Bertram Hewit, arrived last night from Antigua via Liverpool, mate of a West-Indian, and in a fair way of doing well in the world, although he came somewhat irregularly into it.’
While some conversation passed between the other justices and this young man, Pleydell lifted from among the papers on the table Hatteraick’s old pocket-book. A peculiar glance of the smuggler’s eye induced the shrewd lawyer to think there was something here of interest. He therefore continued the examination of the papers, laying the book on the table, but instantly perceived that the prisoner’s interest in the research had cooled. ‘It must be in the book still, whatever it is,’ thought Pleydell; and again applied himself to the pocket-book, until he discovered, on a narrow scrutiny, a slit between the pasteboard and leather, out of which he drew three small slips of paper. Pleydell now, turning to Glossin, requested the favour that he would tell them if he had assisted at the search for the body of Kennedy and the child of his patron on the day when they disappeared.
‘I did not-that is, I did,’ answered the conscience-struck Glossin.
‘It is remarkable though,’ said the Advocate, ‘that, connected as you were with the Ellangowan family, I don’t recollect your being examined, or even appearing before me, while that investigation was proceeding?’
‘I was called to London,’ answered Glossin, ‘on most important business the morning after that sad affair.’
‘Clerk,’ said Pleydell, ‘minute down that reply. I presume the business, Mr. Glossin, was to negotiate these three bills, drawn by you on Messrs. Vanbeest and Vanbruggen, and accepted by one Dirk Hatteraick in their name on the very day of the murder. I congratulate you on their being regularly retired, as I perceive they have been. I think the chances were against it.’ Glossin’s countenance fell. ‘This piece of real evidence,’ continued Mr. Pleydell, ‘makes good the account given of your conduct on this occasion by a man called Gabriel Faa, whom we have now in custody, and who witnessed the whole transaction between you and that worthy prisoner. Have you any explanation to give?’
‘Mr. Pleydell,’ said Glossin, with great composure, ‘I presume, if you were my counsel, you would not advise me to answer upon the spur of the moment to a charge which the basest of mankind seem ready to establish by perjury.’
‘My advice,’ said the Counsellor, ‘would be regulated by my opinion of your innocence or guilt. In your case, I believe you take the wisest course; but you are aware you must stand committed?’
‘Committed? for what, sir?’ replied Glossin. ‘Upon a charge of murder?’
‘No; only as art and part of kidnapping the child.’
‘That is a bailable offence.’
‘Pardon me,’ said Pleydell, ‘it is plagium, and plagium is felony.’
‘Forgive me, Mr. Pleydell, there is only one case upon record, Torrence and Waldie. They were, you remember, resurrection-women, who had promised to procure a child’s body for some young surgeons. Being upon honour to their employers, rather than disappoint the evening lecture of the students, they stole a live child, murdered it, and sold the body for three shillings and sixpence. They were hanged, but for the murder, not for the plagium [Footnote: This is, in its circumstances and issue, actually a case tried and reported.] – Your civil law has carried you a little too far.’
‘Well, sir, but in the meantime Mr. Mac-Morlan must commit you to the county jail, in case this young man repeats the same story. Officers, remove Mr. Glossin and Hatteraick, and guard them in different apartments.’
Gabriel, the gipsy, was then introduced, and gave a distinct account of his deserting from Captain Pritchard’s vessel and joining the smugglers in the action, detailed how Dirk Hatteraick set fire to his ship when he found her disabled, and under cover of the smoke escaped with his crew, and as much goods as they could save, into the cavern, where they proposed to lie till nightfall. Hatteraick himself, his mate Vanbeest Brown, and three others, of whom the declarant was one, went into the adjacent woods to communicate with some of their friends in the neighbourhood. They fell in with Kennedy unexpectedly, and Hatteraick and Brown, aware that he was the occasion of their disasters, resolved to murder him. He stated that he had seen them lay violent hands on the officer and drag him through the woods, but had not partaken in the assault nor witnessed its termination; that he returned to the cavern by a different route, where he again met Hatteraick and his accomplices; and the captain was in the act of giving an account how he and Brown had pushed a huge crag over, as Kennedy lay groaning on the beach, when Glossin suddenly appeared among them. To the whole transaction by which Hatteraick purchased his secrecy he was witness. Respecting young Bertram, he could give a distinct account till he went to India, after which he had lost sight of him until he unexpectedly met with him in Liddesdale. Gabriel Faa farther stated that he instantly sent notice to his aunt Meg Merrilies, as well as to Hatteraick, who he knew was then upon the coast; but that he had incurred his aunt’s displeasure upon the latter account. He concluded, that his aunt had immediately declared that she would do all that lay in her power to help young Ellangowan to his right, even if it should be by informing against Dirk Hatteraick; and that many of her people assisted her besides himself, from a belief that she was gifted with supernatural inspirations. With the same purpose, he understood his aunt had given to Bertram the treasure of the tribe, of which she had the custody. Three or four gipsies, by the express command of Meg Merrilies, mingled in the crowd when the custom-house was attacked, for the purpose of liberating Bertram, which he had himself effected. He said, that in obeying Meg’s dictates they did not pretend to estimate their propriety or rationality, the respect in which she was held by her tribe precluding all such subjects of speculation. Upon farther interrogation, the witness added, that his aunt had always said that Harry Bertram carried that round his neck which would ascertain his birth. It was a spell, she said, that an Oxford scholar had made for him, and she possessed the smugglers with an opinion that to deprive him of it would occasion the loss of the vessel.
Bertram here produced a small velvet bag, which he said he had worn round his neck from his earliest infancy, and which he had preserved, first from superstitious reverence, and latterly from the hope that it might serve one day to aid in the discovery of his birth. The bag, being opened, was found to contain a blue silk case, from which was drawn a scheme of nativity. Upon inspecting this paper, Colonel Mannering instantly admitted it was his own composition; and afforded the strongest and most satisfactory evidence that the possessor of it must necessarily be the young heir of Ellangowan, by avowing his having first appeared in that country in the character of an astrologer.
‘And now,’ said Pleydell, ‘make out warrants of commitment for Hatteraick and Glossin until liberated in due course of law. Yet,’ he said, ‘I am sorry for Glossin.’
‘Now, I think,’ said Mannering, ‘he’s incomparably the least deserving of pity of the two. The other’s a bold fellow, though as hard as flint.’
‘Very natural, Colonel,’ said the Advocate, ‘that you should be interested in the ruffian and I in the knave, that’s all professional taste; but I can tell you Glossin would have been a pretty lawyer had he not had such a turn for the roguish part of the profession.’
‘Scandal would say,’ observed Mannering, ‘he might not be the worse lawyer for that.’
‘Scandal would tell a lie, then,’ replied Pleydell, ‘as she usually does. Law’s like laudanum: it’s much more easy to use it as a quack does than to learn to apply it like a physician.’
CHAPTER XXVIII
Unfit to live or die-O marble heart!
After him, fellows, drag him to the block.
Measure for Measure.
The jail at the county town of the shire of-was one of those old-fashioned dungeons which disgraced Scotland until of late years. When the prisoners and their guard arrived there, Hatteraick, whose violence and strength were well known, was secured in what was called the condemned ward. This was a large apartment near the top of the prison. A round bar of iron,[Footnote: See Note 9.] about the thickness of a man’s arm above the elbow, crossed the apartment horizontally at the height of about six inches from the floor; and its extremities were strongly built into the wall at either end. Hatteraick’s ankles were secured within shackles, which were connected by a chain, at the distance of about four feet, with a large iron ring, which travelled upon the bar we have described. Thus a prisoner might shuffle along the length of the bar from one side of the room to another, but could not retreat farther from it in any other direction than the brief length of the chain admitted. When his feet had been thus secured, the keeper removed his handcuffs and left his person at liberty in other respects. A pallet-bed was placed close to the bar of iron, so that the shackled prisoner might lie down at pleasure, still fastened to the iron bar in the manner described.
Hatteraick had not been long in this place of confinement before Glossin arrived at the same prison-house. In respect to his comparative rank and education, he was not ironed, but placed in a decent apartment, under the inspection of Mac-Guffog, who, since the destruction of the bridewell of Portanferry by the mob, had acted here as an under-turnkey. When Glossin was enclosed within this room, and had solitude and leisure to calculate all the chances against him and in his favour, he could not prevail upon himself to consider the game as desperate.
‘The estate is lost,’ he said, ‘that must go; and, between Pleydell and Mac-Morlan, they’ll cut down my claim on it to a trifle. My character-but if I get off with life and liberty I’ll win money yet and varnish that over again. I knew not of the gauger’s job until the rascal had done the deed, and, though I had some advantage by the contraband, that is no felony. But the kidnapping of the boy-there they touch me closer. Let me see. This Bertram was a child at the time; his evidence must be imperfect. The other fellow is a deserter, a gipsy, and an outlaw. Meg Merrilies, d-n her, is dead. These infernal bills! Hatteraick brought them with him, I suppose, to have the means of threatening me or extorting money from me. I must endeavour to see the rascal; must get him to stand steady; must persuade him to put some other colour upon the business.’
His mind teeming with schemes of future deceit to cover former villainy, he spent the time in arranging and combining them until the hour of supper. Mac-Guffog attended as turnkey on this occasion. He was, as we know, the old and special acquaintance of the prisoner who was now under his charge. After giving the turnkey a glass of brandy, and sounding him with one or two cajoling speeches, Glossin made it his request that he would help him to an interview with Dirk Hatteraick. ‘Impossible! utterly impossible! it’s contrary to the express orders of Mr. Mac-Morlan, and the captain (as the head jailor of a county jail is called in Scotland) would never forgie me.’
‘But why should he know of it?’ said Glossin, slipping a couple of guineas into Mac-Guffog’s hand.
The turnkey weighed the gold and looked sharp at Glossin. ‘Ay, ay, Mr. Glossin, ye ken the ways o’ this place. Lookee, at lock-up hour I’ll return and bring ye upstairs to him. But ye must stay a’ night in his cell, for I am under needcessity to carry the keys to the captain for the night, and I cannot let you out again until morning; then I’ll visit the wards half an hour earlier than usual, and ye may get out and be snug in your ain birth when the captain gangs his rounds.’
When the hour of ten had pealed from the neighbouring steeple Mac-Guffog came prepared with a small dark lantern. He said softly to Glossin, ‘Slip your shoes off and follow me.’ When Glossin was out of the door, Mac-Guffog, as if in the execution of his ordinary duty, and speaking to a prisoner within, called aloud, ‘Good-night to you, sir,’ and locked the door, clattering the bolts with much ostentatious noise. He then guided Glossin up a steep and narrow stair, at the top of which was the door of the condemned ward; he unbarred and unlocked it, and, giving Glossin the lantern, made a sign to him to enter, and locked the door behind him with the same affected accuracy.
In the large dark cell into which he was thus introduced Glossin’s feeble light for some time enabled him to discover nothing. At length he could dimly distinguish the pallet-bed stretched on the floor beside the great iron bar which traversed the room, and on that pallet reposed the figure of a man. Glossin approached him. ‘Dirk Hatteraick!’
‘Donner and hagel! it is his voice,’ said the prisoner, sitting up and clashing his fetters as he rose; ‘then my dream is true! Begone, and leave me to myself; it will be your best.’
‘What! my good friend,’ said Glossin, ‘will you allow the prospect of a few weeks’ confinement to depress your spirit?’
‘Yes,’ answered the ruffian, sullenly, ‘when I am only to be released by a halter! Let me alone; go about your business, and turn the lamp from my face!’
‘Psha! my dear Dirk, don’t be afraid,’ said Glossin; ‘I have a glorious plan to make all right.’
‘To the bottomless pit with your plans!’ replied his accomplice; ‘you have planned me out of ship, cargo, and life; and I dreamt this moment that Meg Merrilies dragged you here by the hair and gave me the long clasped knife she used to wear; you don’t know what she said. Sturmwetter! it will be your wisdom not to tempt me!’
‘But, Hatteraick, my good friend, do but rise and speak to me,’ said Glossin.
‘I will not!’ answered the savage, doggedly. ‘You have caused all the mischief; you would not let Meg keep the boy; she would have returned him after he had forgot all.’
‘Why, Hatteraick, you are turned driveller!’
‘Wetter! will you deny that all that cursed attempt at Portanferry, which lost both sloop and crew, was your device for your own job?’
‘But the goods, you know-’
‘Curse the goods!’ said the smuggler, ‘we could have got plenty more; but, der deyvil! to lose the ship and the fine fellows, and my own life, for a cursed coward villain, that always works his own mischief with other people’s hands! Speak to me no more; I’m dangerous.’
‘But, Dirk-but, Hatteraick, hear me only a few words.’
‘Hagel! nein.’
‘Only one sentence.’
‘Tousand curses! nein.’
‘At least get up, for an obstinate Dutch brute!’ said Glossin, losing his temper and pushing Hatteraick with his foot.
‘Donner and blitzen!’ said Hatteraick, springing up and grappling with him; ‘you WILL have it then?’
Glossin struggled and resisted; but, owing to his surprise at the fury of the assault, so ineffectually that he fell under Hatteraick, the back part of his neck coming full upon the iron bar with stunning violence. The death-grapple continued. The room immediately below the condemned ward, being that of Glossin, was, of course, empty; but the inmates of the second apartment beneath felt the shock of Glossin’s heavy fall, and heard a noise as of struggling and of groans. But all sounds of horror were too congenial to this place to excite much curiosity or interest.
In the morning, faithful to his promise, Mac-Guffog came. ‘Mr. Glossin,’ said he, in a whispering voice.
‘Call louder,’ answered Dirk Hatteraick.
‘Mr. Glossin, for God’s sake come away!’
‘He’ll hardly do that without help,’ said Hatteraick.
‘What are you chattering there for, Mac-Guffog?’ called out the captain from below.
‘Come away, for God’s sake, Mr. Glossin!’ repeated the turnkey.
At this moment the jailor made his appearance with a light. Great was his surprise, and even horror, to observe Glossin’s body lying doubled across the iron bar, in a posture that excluded all idea of his being alive. Hatteraick was quietly stretched upon his pallet within a yard of his victim. On lifting Glossin it was found he had been dead for some hours. His body bore uncommon marks of violence. The spine where it joins the skull had received severe injury by his first fall. There were distinct marks of strangulation about the throat, which corresponded with the blackened state of his face. The head was turned backward over the shoulder, as if the neck had been wrung round with desperate violence. So that it would seem that his inveterate antagonist had fixed a fatal gripe upon the wretch’s throat, and never quitted it while life lasted. The lantern, crushed and broken to pieces, lay beneath the body.
Mac-Morlan was in the town, and came instantly to examine the corpse. ‘What brought Glossin here?’ he said to Hatteraick.
‘The devil!’ answered the ruffian.
‘And what did you do to him?’
‘Sent him to hell before me!’ replied the miscreant.
‘Wretch,’ said Mac-Morlan, ‘you have crowned a life spent without a single virtue with the murder of your own miserable accomplice!’
‘Virtue?’ exclaimed the prisoner. ‘Donner! I was always faithful to my shipowners-always accounted for cargo to the last stiver. Hark ye! let me have pen and ink and I’ll write an account of the whole to our house, and leave me alone a couple of hours, will ye; and let them take away that piece of carrion, donnerwetter!’
Mac-Morlan deemed it the best way to humour the savage; he was furnished with writing materials and left alone. When they again opened the door it was found that this determined villain had anticipated justice. He had adjusted a cord taken from the truckle-bed, and attached it to a bone, the relic of his yesterday’s dinner, which he had contrived to drive into a crevice between two stones in the wall at a height as great as he could reach, standing upon the bar. Having fastened the noose, he had the resolution to drop his body as if to fall on his knees, and to retain that posture until resolution was no longer necessary. The letter he had written to his owners, though chiefly upon the business of their trade, contained many allusions to the younker of Ellangowan, as he called him, and afforded absolute confirmation of all Meg Merrilies and her nephew had told.
To dismiss the catastrophe of these two wretched men, I shall only add, that Mac-Guffog was turned out of office, notwithstanding his declaration (which he offered to attest by oath), that he had locked Glossin safely in his own room upon the night preceding his being found dead in Dirk Hatteraick’s cell. His story, however, found faith with the worthy Mr. Skriegh and other lovers of the marvellous, who still hold that the Enemy of Mankind brought these two wretches together upon that night by supernatural interference, that they might fill up the cup of their guilt and receive its meed by murder and suicide.
